I have made the stock for Thursday’s gravy. How nice that someone else is cooking the bird! Neither of the boys will be home this year and we are staying local, so it’s Low Key Central here.
Cornish game hens were on sale over the weekend, so I cooked up a pair for dinner recently and saved the carcasses. Threw in a pack of wings (a “Cook’s Illustrated” trick — their bony gelatinous makeup helps with stock consistency and flavor). And then the usuals: fresh herbs, onions, potatoes, carrots, salt, and bay leaf. I had another chicken carcass in the freezer. That went in, too. Later, I’ll make cranberry-orange relish.
Meanwhile, the November sun remains warm. Longer than other years? I don’t know. The temperatures dropped radically today, but the light has yet to be rinsed of all its gold.
A circle opened on Saturday here — one of intention and long-knowing. We used to meet often and for decades. Now we meet only now and then. Our prayers and talk turned to many things, but a major theme emerged: the hazards of inserting ourselves into other people’s business. This flowed into honest attempts at ‘claiming our own shit’. A Jungian shadow dance, for sure, only we stayed seated (in marked contrast to what might have gone down 18 years ago!) (“It’s okay to grow older,” said C).
What is worry about another, really and truly, but a form of projecting our own shit onto them? Mother, sister, child, friend, parent — it doesn’t matter. Health problems, organization problems, questions of motivation, ambition, or money — it doesn’t matter. The particulars don’t matter because the line you cross is always the same: it’s either my business or their business (or could also be God’s business, Byron Katie would say).
When it’s someone close that you worry about (especially a dependent), interference may seem legitimate, but it cannot hold. Offering advice and forming expectations always wreck a soft heart!
We talked about ‘compassionate detachment’. About how having boundaries is essential and serves the other.
We said Metta for ourselves and for those we worry about. Always for the self first!! I brought in the Hearts for Charleston Quilt squares and we said Metta again — for the nine who died as well as for the three who survived.Maybe that’s all you really can do for another human being? Utter the words: “May they be peaceful. May they be free of inner and outer harm. May they know joy, wisdom, and compassion.”