Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

Worry and tension bleed into and out of sleepless nights. A nagging fear seeps into the joy of the morning. Mercury moves out of retrograde while Mars remains. A full Blue Moon comes and goes. Tales of strife and woe carry on the wind, whispers of agitated citizens sound from the television, and the general but ever-increasing malaise of the world creeps with insidious and sinister intent into our most hallowed moments. There are perilous times. Tumultuous times. And the year isn’t quite done yet.

I’ve been trying to do what I would normally do in times of stress: seek out beauty and calm, in art and literature and nature, all from the brightest spot in our home – the living room. It’s become the place where the mind can travel, with books of art exhibits we never got to see in person, plants from the four corners of the world, and a cozy conversation couch that is mostly shrouded in silence these days. I don’t mind the quiet, though, and it is here that I have crafted a space to see us through the coming fall and winter in a place of peace and repose.

This is the room where I meditate, sitting lotus-style on the little rug in the middle of it all. It’s also the room where I read, or simply sit to ponder the passing of a day, or the pause before bed in the evening. It goes through its own seasons in the span of twenty-four hours, from the dim gray stillness of dawn through the sunny brilliance of noon, to the hushed, softly-lit tenderness of night. My favorite time may be the late morning, when these photos were taken, as the sun pours in even on certain clear winter days, reminding us there is still light in the world. 

“I will not give you counsel, saying do this, or do that. For not in doing or contriving, nor in choosing between this course and another, can I avail; but only in knowing what was and is, and in part also what shall be. But this I will say to you: your Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while all the Company is true.” ~ J.R.R. Tolkien, ‘The Fellowship of the Ring’

There’s basically been a line at Trader Joe’s since March. (The one time I passed by and there wasn’t one, I did a U-turn on Wolf Road and screeched into the parking lot to get some Sweet, Savory & Tart Trail Mix, but aside from that there’s always been a line.) With that in mind, coupled with a needed dose of friendship and fun, I called upon Skip to see if he was game for waiting in the line and then grabbing a bite to eat afterward.

Of course as he pulled into the parking lot next to me and we made our way toward the entrance, there was no line whatsoever. I located the necessary trail mix, some spicy nuts, salsa verde, and a bottle of pickled jalapeno slices. Sadly, there was no Kringle to be found ~ sorry Betsy. Skip is apparently a regular at the place, directing me to where everything was kept ~ alas, there was no more butternut squash mac and cheese left either (Skip bought a dozen the last time he was there which is why the rest of us can’t have nice things).

The grocery shopping done for the day, we ventured into Colonie Center for the first time in months. It was an apocalyptic scene ~ stores were all open, but no one was in them. In some places there weren’t even salespeople to be found. It was disheartening and somewhat upsetting, and Skip mentioned this whole shopping scene was likely on the way out. Walking through the empty mall and its empty stores, I felt a profound demarcation of time. The world had shifted dramatically in the past few months. Friendships remained true, but time was passing. A way of life seemed to be passing too. As we traversed the disturbingly empty caverns of Macy’s, and its suits and shoes and sweater vests, we both kept bringing up the idea that there was nothing to dress for anymore. Remote work and learning rendered anything below the chest all but obsolete, and a tie felt foolish to bother with at this point. Even if we miraculously returned to normal tomorrow and this all turned out to be a bad dream, I felt profoundly changed, and the importance of fashion and clothing were suddenly seen as relatively minor, if they counted for anything at all.

We made our way to the bookstore. It was early but the mall was already closing. Lights blinked off as we looked at games and I sought out advice on gifts for the twins. An attempted glimpse at what was what normal revealed to us that everything had altered, to the point where we both were slightly shook by the transformation. A new world was upon us, and I was glad that Skip was there to bear witness to it as well. The company was indeed true. 

“We should not be held back from pursuing our full talents, from contributing what we could contribute to the society, because we fit into a certain mould ― because we belong to a group that historically has been the object of discrimination.” â€• Ruth Bader Ginsburg

“I think unconscious bias is one of the hardest things to get at. My favorite example is the symphony orchestra. When I was growing up, there were no women in orchestras. Auditioners thought they could tell the difference between a woman playing and a man. Some intelligent person devised a simple solution: Drop a curtain between the auditioners and the people trying out. And, lo and behold, women began to get jobs in symphony orchestras.” – Ruth Bader Ginsburg

“Work for what you believe in, but pick your battles, and don’t burn your bridges. Don’t be afraid to take charge, think about what you want, then do the work, but then enjoy what makes you happy, bring along your crew, have a sense of humor.” – Ruth Bader Ginsburg

Here we are in November, on the cusp of an election that has the world on edge because we can no longer trust that justice, truth, and democracy will prevail, and my nerves are so frayed that I’m not quite sure what to do. Mere meditation is helpful, but it’s not everything, and with weighty matters like this up in the air, its beneficial effects last for just so long. Sadly, aside from voting, there’s not much I can do, and my brain has to catch up to my heart to ease that worry and tension. There is only so much one person can control, and it’s often even less than we’d like to think. And so, in these tumultuous times of danger and uncertainty, I will do my best to close my curtains to the outside world of negativity and doubt, of anger and ignorance, of uncertainty and disagreement – my focus will be on beauty and peace, on the simple haven within my own heart and home. On with the last days of October 2020… 

Fall ascending.

One year of not drinking alcohol. 

The prettier the flower…

The royal purple.

Purple reprise.

My meditation expanded to 26 minutes just in time. 

Anecdotes of goblins and great men.

Lace on fire.

Dearly purchased pleasures.

A woodland walk when the veil is thinnest: Part One.

A woodland walk: Part Two.

And a woodland walk: Part Three.

Happiness is reflective.

Words of the late hero Elijah Cummings.

Milk silk.

Hunks of the Day included Devon Sawa and Luke James. 

Milkweed is a wondrous native plant, providing food and sustenance most notably for the Monarch Butterfly (in its striped caterpillar form). Its handsome foliage – fresh and green with just a tint of gray to its underside – stays robust and stalwart (with the possible sacrificial leaves for the caterpillars) and pendulous soft pink blooms (favorites of butterflies and bees) makes it the perfect plant for blurring the lines between wilderness and cultivation. No surprise that the showier Butterfly Weed is a close relative (and its blooms are equally adored by the aforementioned visitors).

Most wondrous of all may be the seed pods, which are magnificently architectural before and after dispersal. Here they are caught in the act of launching, each silky umbrel ready to take flight on the flimsiest of breezes, seeking out some nook of earth in which to spend the winter mulling over the next stage of its journey.

“Surely happiness is reflective, like the light of heaven; and every countenance, bright with smiles, and glowing with innocent enjoyment, is a mirror transmitting to others the rays of a supreme and ever-shining benevolence.” ~ Washington Irving

I like that sentiment – that happiness is reflective, mirroring its effects and joy to those all around us. Far too often, I take a cynical view on life, and when you’ve been disappointed and let down by humanity that’s to be somewhat expected. However, I’m also a believer in setting the tone for your life, and your day, and the power of intention most definitely has an effect on all sorts of manifestations. With that in mind, let’s begin the month of November on such a note of hope, and a note of beauty, as captured in these sky shots from a few days ago when the moon was almost full and the clouds reflected the setting sun in such pretty fashion. 

Be the beauty as it may, November does not enter in completely peaceful form. Last night we had a full Blue Moon, Mars is in retrograde until November 13, and Mercury is in retrograde until November 3. I’m attributing these astrological dynamics to Andy’s variable moods of late, and the general uneasiness and insanity of these past few weeks. I’ve been hanging onto the minutes of my daily meditation to keep me as calm as possible, but with election day coming up and all the ensuing mayhem likely to erupt, I may have to take more drastic measures. 

There now, I’ve gone and given in to the malady of pessimism when the whole point of this post was to enter a new month on a note of hopefulness and positivity. And so we take that turn upward, we leave behind the moods of madness and melancholy and turn to places of repose and peace. That is something over which I have complete control – not the actions of others or the failures of humanity at large – only myself and my processing of events. Leave others to get bogged down in the muck of their making; freed from those binding traps, I shall make my own way, and it will be a happier journey because of it. And so we say hello to November ~ I will ride your chilly wind with a warm heart and a pleasant countenance. Peace doesn’t always have to be found within – sometimes you can conjure it from the flimsiest of raw materials. Like a moon in the late afternoon sky… 

“There is nothing like the silence and loneliness of night to bring dark shadows over the brightest mind.” ~ Washington Irving

It’s strange and perhaps slightly psychotic to seek out thrills and dangers when we were raised to avoid such insanity at all costs as children. To dabble in the dark arts and tease the demons of the world is playing with a sort of fantastical fire that feels fine to the touch but may leave a nasty scar. My pursuits remain mostly on the outskirts of such questionable activity, preferring to watch from a very safe distance the paranormal goings-on or haunted scenarios that abound on a night such as Halloween. But when it comes to the forest, that’s a gamble and a dare I’ll always take, because for every moment of doubt there’s a place of beauty, and that will always be worth a risk. 

Leaving the little brook to its gibberish, I returned along the path I had come, rising with the incline and ascending from the shadowy depths just as the sun would render such a change almost imperceptible. We balanced one another, and in that reassurance I could slow my pace again – a pace that had slightly increased when I was down in the deep. 

Pausing to examine the leaves, I was once again struck, like every fall, by the infinite gorgeousness of this variety of colors and forms that nature so generously bestows upon those of us who take the time to notice. If there were ghosts about now, they were of the friendly sort, and I bowed my head in their direction, and they left me alone. 

The light was just slightly different from when I began this short walk, but it was a difference that hinted at more, at a haunting of the woods I had narrowly escaped, or might have simply passed me by without concern. Grateful for that, I let the forest close behind me without saying goodbye.