At an AA meeting this past week, I started out using one of my favorite quotations and was dismayed to have it finished for me by another member of the group. Shocking. Impertinent. How dare that addict step on my line? Screwed up my timing and my composure all at once. What was the saying, you ask? It was one that originated in the very early days of Buddhism:
“Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.”
I asked that modern oracle ChatGPT about it, and got little more than this dry comment:
This proverb carries a profound philosophical lesson. Enlightenment or personal growth does not exempt you from the basic responsibilities and physical realities of human life. The chores, bills, and everyday mundane tasks will always be there. Before enlightenment, you might perform these tasks grudgingly, wishing you were doing something else. After enlightenment, you perform them with total presence, peace, and mindfulness, finding the same value in folding laundry or doing dishes as you would in profound spiritual reflection.
It was information, but not exactly what I was looking for. So my next stop was an article from Plum Village, the monastery where Thich Nhat Hanh spent the last years of his life, in exile. The title of the piece was HOW TO/ The Zen of Dishwashing. It was lively, witty, and amusing. It was also spot on and my search was ended.
But I now knew that the wisdom expressed in the proverb was not exclusively mine, not if that dimwit across the table from me could quote from it as well. Going to have to use it very sparingly, I thought, and never when he’s at the same meeting.
I am nothing if not petty.
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This has been a very windy Spring so far, reminding me of my first few years in South Dakota, where there were long stretches when I couldn’t launch my canoe even on the small lakes around Yankton. I have never loved it when the water would slosh over the gunwales of that boat. I am an okay canoeist, but not a great one. There are definitely times when I should not leave the cabin, but play another few games of solitaire instead of going paddling. I have always tried to be mindful of this acquired wisdom, and it is one of the reasons that I am still alive and here to beguile or bedevil you.
We’ve got a couple of strings of prayer flags out in the back, strung from the ash tree to the board fence. They flutter at the faintest suggestion of a breeze, giving us fair warning about what the day holds and allow us to plan the morning’s activities with accuracy. When the flags stand straight out from the line we do not venture far from home, thus avoiding much spitting out of airborne sand and other grit. (Actually, when the wind blows like that, I don’t even like to think too much about what the air might be carrying and I might be breathing in or swallowing.)
What these blustery days are really good for is drying clothes outdoors. Low humidity and a stiff breeze are nature’s tumble dryer. I put up one of these racks several years ago, and any day it is not raining is fair game for Dame Robin and her sturdy wooden clothespins.
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A couple of weeks ago, Robin returned from church and opened a conversation that went like this: “You should write down everything you do and where you put everything that’s important in case you die.” It’s the sort of tête-à-tête that senior citizens have from time to time, and while I gave her only one point for tact, I had to award two points for it being a good idea. ‘Twas something I had neglected to do.
Anyway, I am now engaged in writing everything down and placing it in a 3-ring binder. There is no real system that I have for where I put stuff. Sometimes it simply comes down to a space that was available in a drawer in the house or garage and that’s it. Many of those hiding places were so good that even I can’t find them now. God help my descendants.
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Our drive to Santa Fe from Montrose takes 5 1/2 hours, but from beginning to end it is such a lovely trip that you hardly notice the time passing. Until you stop the car and find that your bottom half is stiff and does not want to get out and go anywhere. The scenery is constantly changing, deserts … mountains … forests … valleys … canyons … it never stops, not until you hit Santa Fe itself when it becomes a less exciting urban landscape. For us the charms of the city are near the Plaza, the oldest part of town.
We first visited this town in 1995, and at that time stayed in a quaint BnB named Inn of the Animal Tracks. It afforded a great room, a short walking distance to the Plaza, was not too costly, and served excellent breakfasts and afternoon teas that were provided by a woman who came in just to cook for us. That’s the good news. The bad news is that today it has become some sort of Urgent Care Center, even the front entrance is greatly altered.
Bah. Humbug.
But we did find something that is unchanged from that first trip through Santa Fe, and that is a restaurant named The Shed. The atmosphere is delightful and much of the food was the kind of stuff of the genre that you can’t get back home. I know that something named The Shed sounds a little unpromising but if you take a chance on your next visit here you may like it … a lot. I include a few photos taken there, including one of a life-sized sculpture of a wolf that I couldn’t stop looking at. A startling piece that looked real for a fraction of a second before my brain had time to process it.
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On Saturday we discovered Museum Hill, where there was so much to be seen and done that I don’t understand how we ever missed it. It’s just a mile and a half from the Plaza, but you do need a map or GPS to find it. At least I did, because it is in the boonies. What’s up there?
- Museum of Indian Arts & Culture
- Museum of International Folk Art
- Wheelwright Museum of the American Indian
- Museum of Spanish Colonial Art
- Santa Fe Botanical Garden
- Milner Plaza Labyrinth
Here are a few children playing in the labyrinth. If you could somehow shoo these critters out of there, walking it would be a serene thing to do.
My excuse for overlooking this wondrous collection art and culture is that Santa Fe has so much to see downtown and around the Plaza area that I never looked elsewhere.
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Little Home In The Valley 