Blind Justice

Lady Justice is depicted as being blindfolded, whenever she appears. This signifies that in the eyes of justice, everyone is treated equally. No one is more important than anyone else. No one's rights supersede anyone else's. This is even stated in the Declaration of Independence: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men (sic) are created equal,..." 

So, I am confused hearing that the Supreme Court of the United States is deliberating about whether the president is equal to everyone else, or if he or she is exempt from justice. How is it even possible that we are contemplating this? Why would we want our elected leader to be free from the laws that all of the rest of us are responsible to live up to? What is the benefit in this? It seems to me that this is a short step away from said elected leader declaring him or herself president for life rather than succumbing to elections when their term was up. (Which we already had a brush with, if you remember!)

It seems to me that we would want a president who was a role model; someone who leads the way in showing people how to live responsibly, honestly and upholding the laws of the land. I cannot get my head around the possibility that any honest person would want to put themselves above the law. To me, a leader should be one of the staunchest supporters of the laws of justice. At the very least, being a leader should mean doing one's absolute best to consider the needs of the whole nation above their own personal desires and whims. 

If a person thinks they are above the rules that govern everyone else, then their life has no moral center. If someone does not have a plumb line by which to judge when they are on course and when they are off, then that person could end up pretty far off course very quickly. And if that person was the president, then when this happened they take the entire country with them. Consider the problems this would create!

If the Supreme Court decides that the president is above the law, then Lady Justice may no longer be blindfolded, but her hands will be tied. Nothing good can come of this, and it horrifies me to know that people who are supposed to guard the integrity of our country do not see this as a terrible violation of one of the very principles they should be upholding. 

Not Knowing

 

I have a very hard time dealing with uncertainty. It is difficult for me to relax into a moment when I do not know what is coming next. I like to plan ahead as much as I can, so that I can count on accomplishing the things I set out to do in a given time frame. This morning I even did a meditation that focused on helping me be more present in this particular moment, and not falling back on the habit of always thinking ahead to my next step. 

I should have known that the Universe would set out to solidify this learning experience. 

There is work going on at the condo in which Gary and I are living at the moment. We have been dealing with obnoxious sounds of drills and the toxic fumes of paints and solvents for the past few months. But now the ante has been upped. Today, or tomorrow, the painters will start sealing and then refinishing the walkways outside our door. Once they begin, we will not be able to leave or come back to the apartment between 8:30am and 3:30pm. This will be true for the full three days that it takes to complete the process. 

Did you catch that I said "today or tomorrow"? That's because the process depends on the weather, and it might rain today, so the site supervisor has to decide whether to start today or wait until tomorrow. 

Those of us who live on this floor are having a hard time with the uncertainty of it. One neighbor had a delivery of sheet rock scheduled which they had to cancel, and may have to wait to have delivered after the flooring material has fully set - at least a week from now. Another neighbor has an appointment for her drapes to be cleaned at 11. She is waiting to see if they start the walkway or not before she cancels. I am waiting too. I finally found a new home for an old sofa we have, and the thrift shop folks are coming to get it at 1pm today... or not.

Gary and I plan to leave Florida for our trip back to Vermont on Wednesday, but we may not be able to roll heavy things on the new floor by then if it rains today and the workmen don't start working on the walkways until tomorrow. Oh, and there is also a new futon we are supposed to pick up and bring into the apartment on Tuesday, which may or may not be too heavy to roll over the new and still curing floors.

Suffice it to say that there is a whole lot of uncertainty in the air here. As a result, I have the golden opportunity to really work my meditation practice hard as I attempt to be present with what is rather than worrying about all of the possibilities that might be. I don't feel up to the task, but I actually don't have a choice, so here I am, waiting, and breathing as slowly and steadily as I can manage.

Make Way for Ducklings

 

I counted the ducklings again this morning. Despite the possibility of heart-plummeting disappointment, I can't help myself. Every time the Muscovy mother duck wanders into view I stop whatever I am doing and count the ducklings as they scurry to catch up to their mama. Although their mama is not what I could call conventionally attractive, the ducklings sure are, with their brown and yellow markings and fluff ball looks. 

When they hatched a few weeks ago there were thirteen adorable little ones. This morning there are ten. Their numbers have been holding strong at ten for several days now, which I count as a good omen. Last year, their numbers went from a solid dozen down to two remaining ducklings by the time they were ready to go off on their own. They do live in the wilds of this suburban environment where birds of prey and unwitting humans also roam. This morning I saw them in the lawn near the lagoon, but other days I have seen them basking in a puddle in the middle of our parking lot - a far less safe place for them to wash up.

My friend and I saw them searching for tasty morsels amidst the foliage surrounding the pool a few weeks ago, and while we thought they were pretty darn cute, I have overheard other folks comment on their presence in far less complimentary ways. One evening a duckling fell into the pool and had to be rescued by a by-passer with the pool's skimming net. Suffice it to say that it makes me nervous when the ducklings so blatantly avail themselves of the condo features meant for human enjoyment.

A few years ago a wildlife specialist was hired to capture the whole bunch, mama and ducklings, in order to relocate them further from human habitation, but that ploy obviously did not have a lasting effect. And this year, no one seems to be making noises to do the same, or perhaps I am just not privy to those conversations.

These ducklings are such a sign of the season, a sign of Spring and a sign of hope. Easter cards and decorations celebrate their hopeful cuteness. It breaks my heart a little, when my headcount shows that another duckling is missing, but I can't seem to stop myself. I feel like I am one of their protectors, somehow. When I count them, I send blessings to them, along with prayers that they make their way safely through another round of the sun. It is the least I can do, in gratitude for their presence, for their perseverance in the face of the enormous odds stacked against them in this environment that is becoming increasingly inhospitable to all forms of life. Their perseverance, their presence, is just the sign of hope I was looking for today.

Beach Cleaning as a Heart Practice

MacArthur State Park is one of our favorite beaches to spend time at while we are in Florida. There is an estuary to explore in kayaks, where we see all kinds of birds flying overhead or hidden in the mangroves around the shoreline. There is a boardwalk across the estuary, and finally, an expansive sandy beach where we can sit or walk for hours undisturbed. 

Storms can alter the shape and scale of beaches overnight, and one day we were shocked to see MacArthur Beach littered with all kinds of debris thanks to an overnight storm. The wind was still blowing when my daughters and I walked down to take a closer look. We saw the remains of someone's freshly built dock - the wooden planks and stairs, although scattered many feet apart, were still raw and freshly treated. A small boat, mostly made of foam and plastic, lay half buried in the sand. We sat for a while on a piece of lumber, and watched the crashing waves as the wind continued to blow strong and steady.

It was too windy to sit for long that day, but the next Gary and I returned and picked up a bucket and trash grabber that were stacked near the entrance to the beach. Walking up the beach that day we each collected a bucket full of plastic bottle caps, bags and fragments well on their way to becoming microplastics that cause so much harm in the worlds oceans. There were ropes and sharp bits of glass and wood, as well as a syringe that definitely gave me pause, walking barefoot as I usually do when I am there.

Since that day, when we go to the beach I often grab a bucket and add litter pick up to my relaxing beach walks. This practice helps me to feel that I am contributing in a positive way to keeping the environment I care about in better shape. It also slows me down. 

I am a person who has spent most of her life hurrying from one place or activity to another, taking very little time to reflect or pause between. How ironic that something that feeds into my need to keep myself occupied and feeling like I am accomplishing something worthwhile is also teaching me about the value of its opposite! It is important to learn how to simply BE, how to slow down to the speed of life. I know this intellectually, but find it difficult to actually practice it. Now, thanks to my desire to contribute by picking up litter, I am reaping the benefit of actually taking time to notice my surroundings, down to the smallest fragment of plastic or shell or seaweed or stone.

The discernment process of determining the difference between trash and treasure is serving me well as I allow myself the time to discern what is next in my life. I am not very patient, least of all with myself, but this is helping, and it enables me to do some good while I wait.

 

Under Construction

 

Gary and I are in Florida now, a winter destination that we appreciate for its warmth and our ability to walk outdoors despite the fact that there are snowstorms back home in Vermont. Last year before we came down to Florida for our first extended stay, I wrote about the concept of home. This year, knowing what to expect from this place, I am feeling more settled here. The irony though, is that the building in which our condo is located is undergoing major renovations. From 8am until 5pm there is the unnerving sound of drilling, concrete dust floating through the air, and the odors of paint and sealants. Windows are covered with blue plastic or plywood sheets to protect them (and us!) from flying debris. The pool is inaccessible during the daytime hours, and coated with the aforementioned concrete dust and debris of indeterminate nature, even when swimming is allowed, although probably not advised.

A week or so after our arrival, once the flooring had dried and painting was (mostly) complete, we were told that we could once again use our balcony. Gary and I were thrilled. We moved the furniture back out, cleaned windows and were prepared to enjoy our favorite spot in the entire apartment. The staging was still attached, with ropes and wires hanging down 12 stories from the roof, supporting scaffold cages that could be raised and lowered to where the workers were needed. But this seemed like a small thing compared to the ability to enjoy our balcony once again.

Despite having the balcony back, our quiet mornings were not guaranteed. Several mornings, I heard the whine of the staging motor begin as I sat out there in my pajamas and robe, enjoying a cup of tea. I would dash inside to change into something acceptable (to me) for company. Soon enough, the faces of a construction worker or two rose into view. Sometimes they stopped at our level and hopped out to clean windows, touch up the paint or address another last-minute issue. Other times they were just passing by on their way to upper levels of the building.

So, yes, we are here in Florida, enjoying the warmth and sunshine. And yes, we are also living in a construction zone. Most days we wander off to another location for a few hours - the beach, the library, a nature trail - returning as the workday winds down. It is a different kind of balance than the one I anticipated in coming down here, but it works for us. It also pushes us to get out and about rather than sitting too long in one place.