Saturday, April 27, 2013

A kind of goodbye

Took Paramananda to the airport yesterday, after spending the evening and half a day at Half Moon Bay and Pescadero.

We talked about death some, my death, but not a lot. It was mostly just the easy kind of being and conversation that happens with a close friend, and the subtle sweetness and sorrow of knowing that it is probably the last time.

(Rick Fields: in the light of death/

I was telling Julie the other day that sometimes I feel as if I have some kind of contract or agreement with people that I am going to be around at some later date. I will work with you on this or that retreat in two years, or in a several years I will be there to help you with something, or do some project...a hundred little things. I couldn't even say what they are until I'm with the person and I am reminded of what I was planning on being there for that I am not going to be there for. Then I feel that I am bailing out on all that, on all these assumed RSVPs suddenly coming out of nowhere. And I feel bad, even though there's not a damn thing I can do about it. Not that hardly any of this is even conscious.

I'm feeling a bit sad today and that is probably coming out here.

I'd like to get a sublet somewhere leafy and not foggy on the peninsula for a month, but not sure I'm going to be able to manage to look for and/or find one. Sometimes it seems that it is too late.

If anyone out there wants to copy and paste my blog entries (text only, not photos) in chronological order into a document and send it to me or Vidyadevi, that would be super helpful. (Currently the order is backwards if you know what I mean, it begins with the most recent post, not at the beginning!) Lisa Kee graciously did this up to December 20, 2012, so we need what's after that. Just doing one month would be helpful. Vidyadevi and I are starting to work on book editing again. Yay!

This morning, this came in an email from a friend in London:

The space in the middle [between double rainbows] is called 'Alexander's dark band'. I was very struck by that when I first discovered it years ago, and have felt so often that I am in Alexanders dark band - the space between rainbows which is darker than all the surrounding sky. Thought then that you've probably been feeling a bit dark-bandish lately, especialy hearing about the cancer in the brain. It's very hard to remember when you're in that dark band that there are rainbows all round you. So the last photo is to remind you that there are rainbows. Big glorious glowing rainbows.


  1. I'll take January 2013 and send this weekend. I can scan craigslist for short term rentals on the peninsula if you post or email me your price range. :) I'm assuming you'd want to start right away. Also, what's the farthest south you'd want to go?

    Who's that model on your blog post?

    1. How does an almost-blind man manage to look so damn spiffy? It seriously makes me think I should start making an effort.

  2. I can do February and March for sure.

    I never noticed that the space between two rainbows was darker than the surrounding sky. I love the idea of looking for the rainbows that surround us even when times are hard, even if in practice it is difficult.


  3. I've noticed that the sky looked darker between but didn't know it had a name. Good name for band (the kind you play in), probably a punk band. Love the metaphor, too.

    I'll also keep trolling for a place for you, too--probably better pickings on the Peninsula, especially if you want sun. Between Mary and me I bet we can find something. I'll call you if I find something I think you should see--and I can help you go look, too. XO