August already

I wanted to put up photos of the new nest neighborhood, but life and its partner death had other plans....12 days ago my mother died. I had been with her in Denver for 10 days, talking, singing, crying, sitting, chanting, sleeping, eating, and every day swimming. She died on a Tuesday just as the morning sun began shining in her bedroom window. My cousin Anne up in Evergreen said she has never seen so many hummingbirds clustered at the feeder as that very morning at exactly that same time. The weekend preceding her death, two of my brothers, the youngest one's family, my son, and a very special and dear friend all had visits with her. My mother's last smile was for Peggy, but we all got happy over it.

From 880 sq. feet to about 400 sq. feet. For now, that is the most salient point. From the ocean and the dunes, to a city neighborhood, a block from the Chinese embassy, on the edge of Japantown, and walking distance to S.F. Zen Center. I think Suzuki Roshi is the one who said something like, You have to take everything out of your house, and then see what is it that you want to bring back in.

Selling some stuff. Packing some stuff. Confusion, sadness, grief, rage, tiredness. In the spaces between all of that, there is hope and happiness.

So are these weeks in June composed.