If Only These Pigeons Would Learn to Meditate

Every day I move towards forgiveness. -- interpreted by Deepak Chopra

Forgiveness is hope is forgiveness is hope is forgiveness is hope . . . -- Karen's interpretation

TUESDAY -- April 28, 2020

• The meditation. The tea. And all that great stuff happened early. I am feeling well.

• Good stuff. You know. Worked hard on the Other Project. Partner is very motivating, has a REAL story to tell.

• Those pesky things which pop up, would ordinarily take me back to bed with Fake Nomadic Independents, sold as reality. But today, I left the apartment to deal. In the middle of my recommended isolation. This is good stuff.

• But first, I swung one pound hand weights around. Ten minutes, for 56 calories.

• Then visited the Older Project. (Old)Project. Cute, eh? Brought characters from an old story back to the present. It was fun. A lot has changed.

• A canna-cookie messed up my sleep for the evening. But I was able to connect with lots while under cookie influence. Still awake at 1:38 am. But I have rested. Have not been awake this late for a long time.

WEDNESDAY -- April 29, 2020

• Light, meditation & meditative motion, a touch of hydration -- 8:34am

• November Project 6K Challenge. 3.73 miles, 1 hour: 7 minutes.

• I returned home, opened my window, and lit eucalyptus and cloves. I just happened to have them both. In doing so, I sent the following out into the universe: focus, warmth, stimulation, comfort, invigoration, tranquility, freshness. It explains a lot about how I feel after a three and a half mile run.

Thursday -- April 30, 2020

• Meditation, movement, light, pee, scale, hydration, shroom, brew, window, candle = 6:45am.

• This morning I am 133 pounds. Today is the 21st day of my menstrual cycle. I am in the Luteal phase, so my next period should arrive in nine days. I am THE MOST regular pre-menopausal woman you'll ever meet.

• Matisyahu's music videos on YouTube fill me with artistic hope.

My Dearest Pigeons,

We have had this conversation numerous times during my self quarantine. I totally respect you for your wings. In the middle of all of this, you get to travel to wherever you wish. My greatest mode of travel is my running shoes, so my wish to you is to fly, and be free. This fire escape is so limiting, especially for the young, which I know you're planning on having.

You may have noticed the candles, outside, on the window sill. They are my message to you. Again, please, fly, and be free. I truly hope you have appreciated the essential oils I have added to the votive holder. Eucalyptus, and Peaceful Sleep: oregano, tangerine, lavender, camomile, yiang yiang, sandalwood.

@nowfoodsofficial

@gardenoflife

@ommushrooms

@matisyahu

@youtube

@frontiercoop

@oprah

@deepakchopra

So (sigh) this morning was the second to last day of Deepak and Oprah's 21 Day Meditation Challenge. I'm a little sad. Like my favorite people are leaving the party. But I'm so glad that I committed to this. It has healed and changed me. For sure. It brought me back to meditation, which was seriously lacking in my life.

Deepak opened today's meditation with today's driving thought "Everyday I Move Towards Forgiveness."

This I am familiar with.

I come from a family in which I watched as the immigrants and first generation got into the most horrific battles. My own grandmother had such a major conflict with her son, that they separated and NEVER spoke again. Here's the rub with "NEVER." My uncle died 20 years before I was born. I never got to meet him. I am left solely with stories about an argument, which occurred 80 years ago.

So that night I arrived home to 10 engines worth of firefighters inside the charred remains of my apartment house, I was very angry.

I was first greeted by the Fire Marshall. He asked if I had seen my roommate K earlier today, because he may be in trouble.

"Trouble? What kind of trouble? Is he okay? Is he alive?" These questions bounced around my head, but I couldn't get them to come out of my mouth.

I turn, and there is a 12 year old-esque cub reporter, who had been at home listening to a police scanner. She asked how my roommate K was doing. I offered to rip her face off if she didn't back the F up, which she did, shocked with her hand on her chest.

My Other Roommate's suitor told me that she wanted Other to stay with her tonight. "Why the F are you telling me this. Have you spoken to Other?"

And I snapped. "OKAY! I WANT ROOMMATES AND ROOMMATES ONLY IN [SURVIVOR ROOMMATE]'S CAR."

We pile in as if we're about to drive down to Philly for cheesesteaks. I tried to encourage everyone to stick together tonight, you know, get a hotel room or something. But everyone had found shelter. I spent the night in a Brooklyn hotel, and then the next month with my dear friend Captain, before finding a place in Crown Heights with my Other Roommate.

I was offered the opportunity to meet K's parents when they came to New York to poke through the rubble of his belongings, but again, I WAS still angry and I REMAIN a wise ass. So I just decided to let it/them/it-all go for the time being. Plus I was still experiencing the grief of having lost my boyfriend 18 months earlier, and my mom 10 months later.

It was a lot.

It would take a few months, and several holidays, to realize that K wasn't an arsonist. I don't think he thought that there was potential for him to take other lives with his own. K snapped. He locked his bedroom door, crawled into bed, and lit himself on fire. The Medical Examiner would tell us a few days later that he did not use an accelerant.. Look, I was hurting, depressed, angst ridden, a widow, an orphan, and homeless. But I would never do anything like THAT. Because in spite of everything, I wasn't suicidal. It seems like way too much work to me.

I spent New Year's Eve alone in my Crown Heights apartment. I was two months away from an anxiety relapse myself. But I spent my evening writing a card to K's parents, wishing them my apologies and my condolences. I told them what an incredibly amazing roommate their son was, and super bright. I used to marvel at the fact that he wasn't even remotely Brazilian, was very St. Louis, but spoke fluent Portugese.

I didn't want to carry bad energy into the new year. I went downstairs to the corner mailbox and tossed my letter in. I went back up to my apartment to usher in the New Year. And at the stroke of midnight, a Nostrand Avenue reveler celebrated with "BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG . . . BANG!" Six gun shots, shouted Happy New Year, and then sped off.

No one was hurt. No one was out there. Just me at my fourth story window looking out on President Street.

I miss Crown Heights.