"... Well something's lost, but something's gained In living every day ..." / "Rule #24: When you eat real food, you don't need rules" / Winter Solstice 2023

As someone who struggled with an eating disorder from age 10 to age 37, this book serves as a gentle reminder that my nearly two decades of war with food are long over because instinctively I began to eat in the way that is suggested by Michael Pollan's 83 general rules.  

Rule 83:  Break the Rules Once in a While

Enjoy every sandwich.

(Warren Zevon)

Then there is Rule #52:  Have a glass of wine with dinner.

There is one personal rule I don't ever break and that is that I don't drink alcohol in any form anymore.  I used to drink wine and had no trouble stopping after drinking a small amount, but that small amount always resulted in an unbearable craving (a sign of alcoholism) that made it virtually impossible for me to stop eating.  I didn't want to be an alcoholic and so I turned to more and more food instead of more alcohol.  Of course, food couldn't stop a craving for alcohol. It was astounding to discover that my eating disorder disappeared when I stopped drinking alcohol -- that my eating problems were actually alcoholism.  Wine is a delightful healthy food for most people throughout the world but for alcoholics like me it only led to insatiable craving for food and years of unrelieved depression that ended 36 years ago in May 1987 when I had my last drink (a champagne breakfast in a restaurant with my parents), followed by my last bout of suicidal depression.  

*

Winter Solstice.

The sun rose here at 8 a.m. and will set at 4:16 p.m.  

A turning point.

Celebrating the return of the light with friends near and far, while enjoying the improved quality of sleep I enjoy during most, but not all, of the long dark winter nights.  

Calendar Series:  28th Month (Return / The Turning Point)

-- am's painting from 1988

"... It stays pretty green ..."

(Joni Mitchell)

Boo!

My favorite Halloween song ever!  Otherwise, I'm not a big fan of Halloween.  Smashed pumpkins bring up feelings of grief every year since that tradition appeared.  I don't remember smashed pumpkins in my childhood.  Of course, there is a smashed pumpkin element to Warren Zevon's song.  So it goes.  Paradox.  Mystery.  Shadows and Light.

Ah-hoo...
Werewolves of London
Ah-hoo...
Ah-hoo...
Werewolves of London
Ah-hoo...

OOH HA!

Listening

*

Twenty-one Gun Salute Meditation / A Show Of Peace / Fistful of Rain / Train of Thought

From an article titled Forgiveness 2018, from a Parabola magazine article by Tracy Cochran:

"Like many men of his generation, my father was a veteran of World War II. At the conclusion of his funeral, an honor guard fired a Twenty-one Gun Salute. This ritual came from the custom of ships firing off all their guns to show that they came in peace. With no time to reload before they were in range of the shore, the ship was voluntarily defenseless. To ask for and offer forgiveness is to put down arms, daring to show ourselves as we are without defenses. This New Year, may we all dare to put down our guns–to take off our armor. Why not sail into the New Year disarmed and vulnerable? The unknown. The unknown is our own greater potential. May we and all beings be forgiven and peaceful and begin again. ♥"

I had no idea that the 21-gun salute ritual came from a custom indicating that the men with guns came in peace, defenseless.

Mama put my guns in the ground
I can't shoot them anymore
That cold black cloud is comin' down
Feels like I'm knockin' on heaven's door
(lyrics by Bob Dylan)





"... In a heart there are windows and doors
You can let the light in
You can feel the wind blow
When there's nothing to lose
And nothing to gain
Grab a hold of that fistful of rain ..."
(lyrics by Warren Zevon)

Morning Meditation 12 November 2017: Bob Dylan and his Heart and the Door / Warren Zevon (Heaven's Door, Your Heart)

FORGETFUL HEART
WRITTEN BY: BOB DYLAN WITH ROBERT HUNTER 

Forgetful heart. 

Lost your power of recall 

Every little detail
You don't remember at all
The times we knew
Who would remember better than you

Forgetful heart
We laughed and had a good time you and I
It's been so long
Now you're content to let the days go by
When you were there
You were the answer to my prayer

Forgetful heart
We loved with all the love that life can give
What can I say
Without you it's so hard to live
Can't take much more
Why can't we love like we did before

Forgetful heart
Like a walking shadow in my brain
All night long
I lie awake and listen to the sound of pain
The door has closed forevermore
If indeed there ever was a door.

Copyright © 2009 by Special Rider Music and Ice-Nine Publishing

Update:  Just after posting, I found this about doors in Jewish tradition.  Coincidence?

Like A Rolling Stone Meditation / When There Is No Resurrection, We Are Allowed To Mourn And To Discover That Love Is Stronger Than Death

When I woke up this morning at 5 o'clock, my first thought was of Mary Magdalene and her grief.  Something moved me to read the four very different second-hand versions of her experience on the third day after Jesus died (Mark 16:1-11, Luke 24:1-11, Matthew 28:1-10, John 20:1-8), which left me wondering what Mary Magdalene would have written about her experience on the third day after Jesus died.  

I remembered that Jesus said, "Blessed are those who mourn."

Below is a photo of an ancient rolling stone in Israel:

And when Joseph had taken the body, he wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, And laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn out in the rock: and he rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and departed.  (Matthew 27:59-60 KJV)

Then I found this, from which I copied and pasted the following:

Burial customs 

When Jewish people heard that someone they loved had died, they tore the front part of their inner clothing. The tear was several inches long,  a symbol of grief: it represented the tearing pain in their hearts.

It was the women’s task to prepare a dead body for burial. The body was washed, and hair and nails were cut. Then it was gently wiped with a mixture of spices and wrapped in linen strips of various sizes and widths. While this was happening, prayers from the Scriptures were chanted.

The body was wrapped in a shroud, but was otherwise uncovered.

Tombs were visited and watched for three days by family members and friends. On the third day after death, the body was examined. This was to make sure that the person was really dead, for accidental burial of someone still alive could happen. 

At this stage the body would be treated by the women of the family with oils and perfumes. The women's visits to the tombs of Jesus and Lazarus are connected with this ritual.

'The Dead Christ', by Andrea Mantegna

The ossuary

After visiting the tomb on the third day by which time it had decomposed. The bones were then collected and stored in an ossuary, a ‘bone box’, with the large bones at the bottom and the smaller bones and skull placed on top.

Some years ago in the fall, after visiting the grave of the man I loved for so many years, the man who had died the previous spring on Passover, I visited a beautiful Catholic monastery that is located on a mountain hillside overlooking the Pacific Ocean in Big Sur.  I was exploring the possibility of joining the Catholic Church because it was the church of Cesar Chavez, Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, Bruce Springsteen, and St. Francis, among others, and of several dear friends of mine, all of whom had found what they were looking for when they made the Catholic Church their home.  The stumbling block for me was that I didn't believe in the resurrection.  I believed that people I respected and trusted believed, but that was as far as I could go.  

That fall day in Big Sur, there was a retreat taking place at the monastery and a kindly monk in his 50s or 60s was speaking to the group in the church when I entered it.  No one seemed to mind my presence or question it.  I sat down and listened. After the monk finished speaking, as people were milling around, I formulated the question that I wanted to ask of him.  

My question was, "Is it possible to be a Christian without believing in the resurrection?"  

As I recall, his face became very stern.  As I recall, he said, "There is no Christianity without the resurrection." That was that.  That was the end of the conversation.  I appreciated his honesty and saw a door closing for me.  Just now, reading about Warren Zevon's experience and his questions for a Catholic priest, I see another door opening.  Maybe it was the one Warren Zevon was knocking on and that Bob Dylan sang about knocking on, the door we can't see with our eyes:

"And there's no exit in any direction / 'Cept the one you can't see with your eyes"

(Bob Dylan, lyrics from "Series of Dreams")

Who knows?  I sure don't.  

And I have nothing but love and respect for those who do believe in the resurrection.  May we all live in peace, no matter what we believe or don't believe on Easter Day 2016.

What I saw when I looked up / What I heard when I listened up

All the questions and answers

In the last analysis, it is our conception of death which decides our answers to all the questions that life puts to us.

-- quote from Dag Hammarskjöld (1905-1961)

All I know from my limited experience is that many of the questions that life's diverse teachers have put to me are kōans, beginning with these questions from one of my earliest teachers:





Some answers in the wind, from the album, "The Wind," 2003, Warren Zevon (January 27, 1947 - September 7, 2003):



Now and then when I get an idea for a picture, I think, how ordinary. Why paint that old rock?  Why not go for a walk instead? (am's italics). But then I realize that to someone else it may not seem so ordinary.

When I think of death, I only regret that I will not be able to see this beautiful country anymore ... unless the Indians are right and my spirit will walk here after I'm gone.

-- quotes from Georgia O'Keeffe (November 15, 1887 - March 6, 1986)

Q:  Is this worth posting on my blog? Why write this down? Why not go for a walk instead?
A:  Something moves me to spend this time working on this blog post. What can it be?

("Person with Questions,"watercolor, gouache, and pastel on paper, early 1984, by am)

Easter weekend meditation / Something of a Zen koan / Long before the sky would open

... And Jesus was a sailor

When he walked upon the water

And he spent a long time watching

From his lonely wooden tower

And when he knew for certain

Only drowning men could see him

He said, "All men will be sailors then

Until the sea shall free them"

But he himself was broken

Long before the sky would open

Forsaken, almost human

He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone

And you want to travel with him

And you want to travel blind

And you think maybe you'll trust him

For he's touched your perfect body with his mind ...

(Leonard Cohen, lyrics from "Suzanne")  

Jesus was all right, but his disciples were thick and ordinary.  It's them twisting it that ruins it for me.

(John Lennon)

... You don't need no passport

You don't need no visa

And you don't need to designate or emigrate

Before you can see Jesus ...

... You don't need no church house

And you don't need no temple

You don't need no rosary beads or them books to read

To see that you have fallen

If you open up your heart

You'll see he's right there

Always was and will be

He'll relieve you of your cares ...

(George Harrison, lyrics from "Awaiting On You All"-- 1970)

We don't ask for more cathedrals.  We don't ask for bigger churches or fine gifts.  ... We ask the Church to sacrifice with the people for social change, for justice, and for love of brother.  We don't ask for words. We ask for deeds.  We don't ask for paternalism. We ask for servanthood.

(Cesar Chavez -- Christian, farm worker, labor leader and civil rights activist -- speaking in 1968)

If we are wrong, Jesus of Nazareth was merely a utopian dreamer that never came down to Earth.  If we are wrong, justice is a lie, love has no meaning.  And we are determined here in Montgomery to work and fight until justice runs down like water, and righteousness like a mighty stream.

(Martin Luther King, Jr., speaking in 1955)

Sweet silver angels over the sea

Please come down flying low for me

One time I trusted a stranger

'Cause I heard His sweet song

It was gently enticing me, there was something wrong

When I turned, He was gone

Blinding me, His song remains reminding me

He's a bandit and a heart breaker

My Jesus was a cross maker.

Sweet silver angels over the sea

Please come down flying low for me

He wages war with the devil with a pistol by His side

He's always chasing him out of windows

And He won't give him a place to hide

But he keeps His door open wide

Fighting him, He lights a lamp inviting him

He's a bandit and a heart breaker

My Jesus was a cross maker.

Yeah, Jesus was a cross maker.

(Warren Zevon sang "Jesus Was A Cross Maker," written by Judee Sill)

Martin Scorsese's Jesus in "The Last Temptation of Christ" was a cross maker:

Judas:  If you were me, could you betray your master?

Jesus:  No.  That's why God gave me the easier job -- to be crucified.

Vietnamese Zen Buddhist, Thich Nhat Hanh wrote a book called Going Home: Jesus and Buddha as Brothers.  

Although I was raised as a Christian (first in the Lutheran Church and then in the Episcopal Church), I stopped going to church when I was 18 years old.  From that time on, I have explored many religions and spiritual traditions and am grateful for their teachings, but I have not chosen to affiliate myself with any of them.  

I do find the story of Jesus to be a mysterious and compelling one -- something of a Zen koan -- and I continue to listen with all my heart when certain people talk about their understanding of and trust in Jesus.

Prayer

A song written by Warren Zevon and sung by Jill Sobule.

"... when the present meets the past ..."

Listen

Reminded of the past today and focusing on the present. It's been a peaceful morning. There is sunshine here, nearly 60 degrees on the porch, and the birds are singing.

"You cannot create a statue by smashing marble with a hammer, and you cannot by force of arms release the spirit or the soul of man."
-- Confucius

(photo by am, looking east from my porch in early April 2012)

LIKE A BIRD ON A WIRE / FUNAMBULE

I believe that it was on New Year's Day when a friend recommended "Man on Wire". She said that she had thought of me while watching it with friends on New Year's Eve. She thought that I might like to see it. When I went to the video store, all the copies were rented out.

A few days later, another friend recommended "Slumdog Millionaire." Despite her distress in response to extreme violence toward children and scenes of torture that are at the center of the story, she said that the movie had changed her life in a positive way. We both experienced physical violence when we were children, so I trusted her recommendation and her warning about the subject matter. A third friend invited me to see that movie at a local independent theater. The movie is overwhelming on many levels, positive and negative. And difficult to recommend without warnings. There is a thread that runs through the movie that had to remind me of the lyrics of "My Back Pages":

Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth
Rip down all hate, I screamed
Lies that life is black and white
Spoke from my skull. I dreamed
Romantic facts of MUSKETEERS
Foundationed deep, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.

On the day before yesterday, I rented "Man on Wire" and watched it yesterday afternoon. There was something that made me think of this video. The black suit, the tall hat, the juggling, the scenes on the bridge.

Then I remembered this:

do Not create anything, it will be
misinterpreted. it will not change.
it will follow you the
rest of your life. when asked what you
do for a living say you laugh for
a living. be suspicious of people
who say that if you are not nice
t' them, they will commit suicide.
when asked if you care about
the world's problems, look deeply
into the eyes of he that asks
you, he will not ask you again . . .
(from "Advice for Geraldine on her Miscellaneous Birthday")

After days and days of snow and unusually cold weather, we are experiencing our usual January weather, and that has caused some flooding in parts of Bellingham and Whatcom County. This is the first time in my memory that schools have been closed because of flooding in various areas of Whatcom County.













I recommend "Man on Wire."

"IT MATTERS TO ME"

Warren Zevon said, "It matters to me," in a story Crystal Zevon tells in her book, I'LL SLEEP WHEN I'M DEAD: THE DIRTY LIFE AND TIMES OF WARREN ZEVON. Don't know how I would have made it through the last year of R's life without the benefit of having read Crystal Zevon's book, written at the urging of Warren Zevon.

"If you do it, you've got to tell the whole truth, even the awful, ugly parts, because that's the excitable boy who wrote them excitable songs." (quote from the above video -- the segment where Crystal Zevon is relating Warren Zevon's words about the book he wanted her to write and which became I'LL SLEEP WHEN I'M DEAD: THE DIRTY LIFE AND TIMES OF WARREN ZEVON, published in May 2007.)

I titled my blog "Old Girl of the North Country" in December 2006, before had I read Crystal Zevon's story about Warren's song, "Old Girl."

"It matters to me."

ELEVENTH DAY / QUESTIONS

Knockin' on the door, I say, "Who is it and where are you from?"
Man says, "Freddy!" I say, "Freddy who?" He says, "Freddy or not here I come"

("Po' Boy," lyrics by Bob Dylan from "Love and Theft," released September 11, 2001)

Will you stay with me to the end?

("Please Stay," lyrics by Warren Zevon from "The Wind," released August 26, 2003)