before my severe bulging disc-osteophyte i never understood rv’s, those people who drive through the grand tetons without actually hiking the trails, like the 90% of yosemite visitors who don’t leave the paved paths, but as my anterolisthesis continues to slip, i view life differently, i now see wheelchairs & sitting people, i never assume anything anymore, i used to think non-walkers were lazy, that not standing was weak, why drive when you can run? walk? bike? now i cry when watching documentaries about disabled people, my people, my new story, i used to hike miles and miles with my son, now i barely walk at all, but i can still drive down highway 1, pacific coast, alongside surf, crashing waves, seals, pelicans, whales, you get the drift, the past is over, no time machine is coming to get me, like fugazi said, you can’t be what you were, so you better start being, just what you are, so now i drive, there is beauty in the drive.
Tag: Kindness
2020 Yearbook Dedication
This is a throwback to 4 years ago. Students at The Hamlin School dedicated the yearbook to me that year. We finished 2020 online, and I never saw the Yearbook Dedication until just this week. Those students are now about to graduate high school! Time never stops moving…
Working at the 30th Street Senior Center, 1996
the elderly are grumpy, cloistered together in plastic chairs, waiting for their number to be called, i’m the guy with the microphone calling the numbers, the elevator can only take 8 people down to the cafeteria at a time, i’m so lonesome all the time, since i left my baby behind, on blue bayou, i’m crooning to the mostly spanish speaking geriatric crowd, entertainment for the hungry, they smile, call me young clin-ton, or danielito, charlie is my elevator operator, he gives me a shout when he’s ready for more people, send them my way danny boy, they shuffle their feet, eager to eat a free meal, i say hello to conchita, manuel, margarita, & maria vela, they are all so kind -i only worked at the senior center for 6 months, but they gave me a few hundred dollars & a nice card when i left, periodically i looked through obituaries over the years, one by one they disappeared.
When The Alpha Male Spoke
i tried hard to be a beta, with the deep breathing & walking meditation, soft steps, thoughts of love, be the buddha, what would jesus do, turn the other cheek, my religion is kindness, of course i believe all those things, but underneath i’m still the alpha, the guy who walks in a room & thinks, no, not thinks, knows, deep down, that death is nothing to fear, meaning, fear doesn’t exist, subterranean alpha, so hidden i hardly feel it lurking in my plasma, my dna, my surface is placid, but when push comes to shove i’m no piggy, closer to the lord of the flies, endless abyss of ego, or lack of ego, no self, not scared of losing self, alpha, it’s not a physical thing, no need for hulking muscle mass, it just is, bury me in mantras & i laugh, thanks for the peaceful sayings, but i’m still the alpha.
Swimming As Meditation
i’m experienced in walking meditation. one step slowly in front of another, ball of foot, then toes, and finally the heel, like a dog carefully touching december’s first snow. the point of walking meditation is to go nowhere, except within, and this can happen while breathing each breath, one inhale, one exhale. in the pool where i paddle pushing water with palms and legs and arms, maple leaves glide near me on the surface where i pretend to walk in deep water, treading instead. i sometimes pray, that my back heals, that i can be kinder, that i will live without fear. with glances i watch the trees, today it was a pileated woodpecker, the birds know more than i, about when to move quickly and when to just sit and wait. my quick days are over, the waiting days are here, breathe in, breathe out.
What is Good?
suffering, the buddhists say, because then we can accept what is, rather than grasping for what is not, gelato in late july, saying thank you and meaning it, crisp sparkling water, watching john travolta in grease, mother teresa, love, being of service, apologizing, peaches in early august, dusk, snow on pine trees, cold lake water, dancing to miriam makeba, sitting silently in a church, being grateful, making a snow angel, dreaming you can fly, deciding to be happy
when i left terra linda high school
drive the mustang top down to silbermann’s ice cream, marcels blue moon blasting, five years of teaching completed and they want yearbooks signed, the teenagers, my students. benevolent chaos, i feel like mickey mantle as they hand over pens and pencils for me to scribble words of love on a page. descriptions of what they added to class discussions, how much history they mastered, or their uncanny comprehension of richard wright. they surround me all afternoon, a human blanket, wrapping me in june kindness and melting mint chocolate chip.
Rain
wet is all
and everything depends
on these drops
speaking to us
seeping into soil
down window panes
tickling the worms
in love with
this spring storm
we all are
surrounded by falling
sky, asking important
questions, do you
listen? are you
kind? do you
feed the earth?
Ingrid
Lava Mae
After years of bringing students to volunteer with Lava Mae, I was so happy that my daughter and her friend were able work with them yesterday in the Mission District of San Francisco.
Lava Mae is a San Francisco–based nonprofit that delivers mobile showers and other critical services to the street, where people moving through homelessness need them most.
For more information, please visit: https://lavamae.org/
Daniel W. Polk 