I love Led Zeppelin. I always have.

They've been a soundtrack in my life since my earliest childhood... invoking memories of visiting my mom's friends while they hung out in the attic, amidst black lights, florescent posters and illicit smoke, to my own teenage years of hanging out in my friends' basement, amidst black lights, florescent posters and illicit smoke. Good times, good times.

Attending countless midnight showings of "Song Remains the Same"; inscribing a high school semi-serious boyfriend's pocket watch with a heartfelt line from "Thank You'; totally missing the Plant/Page appearance at Live Aid, but hounding an art school friend for his negatives from the show that he allowed me to develop in photography class. Led Zep might have been all but shelved in my adult life, had it not been for that special moment when boy #2, at the tender age of about 12, heard "Stairway to Heaven" for the first time.

I'll never forget it.. driving with him in the car when it came on the radio, and hearing his awestruck reaction as the last notes faded away, followed by 'who was that band?"

Oh, my dear young son.

Made an immediate detour to the nearest cd store and bought Zeppelin's first four recordings... ah yes, the classics. And I also rented "Song Remains the Same" for old time's sake -- oh, yes, to be captivated once again by Page's gyrations in a sequined jumpsuit, like some kinda Elvis of the Underworld, and Plant's hip huggers worn so low you'd swear you could see pubic hair. Seriously.

One striking thing I noticed, listening to the formidable foursome as an adult, was my newfound appreciation for the amazing and versatile talent of bassist John Paul Jones. (One of my top three bassists, along with John Entwistle and Les Claypool). Yeah, sure, Robert Plant had that wild Welsh wailing thing going, and Jimmy Page's guitar.. howling banshee/whirling dervish/whiny voodoo and all that. But underneath, the thumping bass coupled with John Bonham's percussion mastery... oh my... hits me deep in the lower chakras, if you know what I mean. Made me blush sometimes listening to them in front of the kids. That's what made them what they were and continue to be.. unrivaled.

Case in point, the first track of the first album, "Whole Lotta Love". Sex in rock' n roll form. Put on your imaginary headphones, kick back in your wood-paneled, shag-carpeted rec room and listen to Page's faraway chugging guitar, Jones' deep bass notes soon following along, and then:

The prolonged and meditative silence at Quaker Meeting today was finally broken as the older man who had been seated next me arose to give his message.

In a gentle and poetic manner, he described a memory he had of a day attending our Meeting during the height of spring, as he sat in the meetinghouse with a view of the children who were outside wandering among the small, uniform gravestones in the yard, collecting dandelions. This image -- the children full of life and immediacy collecting tokens of beauty -- sparked within him a musing, and a wonder over the state of the children's awareness.. what he described as "a consciousness, not of what was, but what is." And he suddenly felt blessed and inspired by that holy state of mind.

This man went on to eloquently speak of how this gift of awareness pulls him out of his typical "smallness', smallness of mind and heart, and reminds him of something so much bigger.. the ever presence of 'energy' or love, or joy of God that  surrounds us continuously, that exists in all things.. and is always available to us whenever we choose to be open to it. He spoke of his noticing just a few minutes before bubbles rising up past the window of the Meetinghouse, while not being aware of the presence of the kids outside from which they had originated. To him, in that moment, they appeared to be spontaneous and divine... a humorous nudge from a laughing god.. as if to say 'loosen up and pay attention to the countless blessings available to you in this moment.' To remember not to be so lost in thoughts of what has gone before, or worries about what we think may be coming, that we lose sight of the beauty and love and possibility of this moment we hold in our hands right now.

Amen to that. 

Well, after a good deal of indecision, Sunday afternoon I talked myself into jumping into zoomzoom and surprising my family at the beach. There's something thrilling about displaying uncharacteristic spontaneity; in particular, investing a couple of hours traveling to meet a loved one who's not expecting you, and not being entirely certain what their reaction will be when you get there. And for whatever reason, I found it kinda cool to be 'whereabouts unknown', even in that short time.. as I didn't tell/post/blog/twitter anyone of my decision.

                                                                                                                                                                      Anyway, not much more about that, except to say, I hit the beach yesterday am with J.. first time I actually had my feet in the sand this year. Took a few photos... it was a hazy, gray morning, but in the hour I was sitting there, the fog gradually lifted, creating some interesting effects, such as the gradual eerie emergence of hidden hotels and the mysterious sand-dredging barge off the coast.

Also, J asked me to replicate a sand-sculpting project I created last summer, in which he was sitting waist-high in a hole, and I materialized a race car around him. So, I quickly cobbled together a dragster.. long, pointy nose, small wheels in front, larger ones in back. It was only when I stood up to take a photo that I noticed, with some embarrassment, how completely phallic it appeared (anyone ever see SNL's animated short, "Ambiguously Gay Duo?"). Thankfully, J was oblivious to the notion that he was driving a large penis, (with a number '8' decoratively traced on the body) and that the beach was mostly empty of observers who might otherwise judge my fitness as a mother. (Also, fortunately, it doesn't appear nearly as suggestive in the photos...)

 P.S. "Cloud-Hidden, Whereabouts Unknown" is reference made to a book about the Tao by Alan Watts, also made into a song by Van Morrrison.. I love the phrase, and hope to overuse it in upcoming posts..

(reference to a cake album.. just a fun word association here..)

Continuing on with my 7-day program, today ("The Day of Heart Opening") I am asked to contemplate one of the six paramitas. In Buddhism, the paramitas are pretty much guidelines to live by for happiness.. basically where the rubber meets the road.

They are: generosity, discipline, patience, exertion, meditation, and wisdom. As Susan observes, none of these are really mutually exclusive... they each give rise the next, and when one is invoked, the other come come into play as well.

I've decided to begin wth the first one, generosity. I am invited to notice where it appears or is lacking as I move through my day. Still being alone, I imagine that I won't come up against many of the challenges that I would otherwise, so it'll be interesting to notice this. It can even begin with something so simple as thinking of the many people in my life and wishing them well, regardless of the ease or difficulties within our relationships.

The Maitri (or 'loving-kindness') meditation is a wonderful practice for this. In this practice, you offer loving-kindness, in turn, first to yourself, then a loved one, a friend, a stranger, an enemy, and then all beings, using these words:

                        May you be happy.

                        May you be healthy.

                        May you be peaceful.

                   May you live with ease.
 

It's a wonderful way to open the heart, and an easy thing to do (well, simple, maybe not easy) even out of meditation, while walking down the street, driving, watching the news, or contemplating an annoying co-worker, (and dare I say, certain political figures?)

So, what's at the heart of generosity? Jumping the gun, here, as I have all day to think about this, I see it as a genuine desire to uplift another human being, with whatever we have to offer in response to their needs. And it has to be genuine, not out a sense of duty or personal reward.

Generosity also implies a kind of trust -- trust that's there's enough for everyone when we share, and giving away something that appears to be in my possession in no way diminishes what I have. (I say 'appears' because there is really no way anyone can truly own or hold on to anything. And yet, paradoxically, happiness still lies in the act of giving.)

I think appreciation is also a key to practicing generosity, as it is through appreciating the gifts we have in our lives, we will always feel wealthy, and in a position to share with others without feeling deprived.

Thoughts?

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