All Things Will Pass

Backyard of my parents former home, Santa Barbara, California

There is so much that I want to give you. You know Steven, when you turn to God, you find riches beyond measure. All things will pass, even earth and heaven, but God is forever. This is a message I received when my mother's spirit visited me today at her former home in Santa Barbara, California. 

I arrived here to gather with siblings as we sell off the remnants of my parent's estate before selling the house. I see so many familiar objects; tableware, furniture, books, kitchenware, clothing, tools, and hundreds of healthy potted plants around the housed . . . I am reminded of my parents lives. 

People lined up early to burst through the gate at 9 AM and begin sifting through things, gathering armfuls. With glee they collect for a fraction of the original cost or value. The house is emptying. Tomorrow it will be over and what is left will be donated. The money collected will go toward fixing the house to sell.

My father died a couple years ago. He was not a materialist and took after his hero, Mahatma Gandhi of India, who cared not for riches but was passionate about social justice. He left little in the way of things, but bequeathed a grand legacy of a lifetime of activism on behalf of poor and oppressed people. (See a tribute).

My mother died some months ago. She was highly intellectual, wrote, made art, and loved to garden until she became too feeble. Her great pleasure was nature. So it made me happy to see the joy in people as they bought almost all of her beautiful plants, still bursting with life and happily thriving in decorated pots. 

I had the thought that eventually we all end up in graves and our things are passed on or discarded. What we take with us is what we have accomplished in our life and our soul. Nothing else.

To Honor The Gods

THE DREAM is taking me backwards, away from my destination of circling the globe. Instead, I am now circling the Mediterranean Sea. How could I be so near to Greece and not visit? The journey brought me to Athens, and now I am on the island of Corfu, off the northwest mainland. Athens felt cramped, with block after block of plain building facades. The National Garden, downtown, needs some serious pruning and tender, loving care. Underwhelming until my walking brought me to the foot of a hill overlooking the city and sea. On top stands the Acropolis. My tired legs pushed on and healed quickly as I stood next to the marble columns of the Parthenon (begun in 447 BC, and the building was substantially completed by 432). Even with the crowds, and restoration work underway, something told me I was having a peak life experience. It was the same feeling I had when I saw Michelangelo’s sculpture of David in Florence. Awe. How could it have been humanly possible to create? The site is dramatic, and impossibly difficult for the fantastic, grand and beautiful buildings that were erected by hand. It was all done to honor the gods, and the gods must have helped because man alone could not have accomplished it.
Now I am in Corfu, away from big city noise. I hear birds outside my window, and footsteps on ancient stone streets. The six-month tourist season is barely beginning. Shops are sleepy, yawning toward the full awakening of the high season. I flew in from Athens, and learned from the taxi driver that the island practically shuts down for six months; the airport closes during the off-season.
Some loneliness comes and goes. Mostly, it is from being rootless, changing places often, and not having the easy pleasure of conversation and association. The last four countries have spoken Arabic, Hebrew, Turkish and Greek. Anyway, I am experiencing so much . . . and only begun! I have my ticket for a boat that sails all day and overnight from Corfu on the 19th of April to Venice, Italy, where I have a good friend, Cristiana who is waiting for me. And she speaks English!