Walter, My Friend

My good friend, Walter, flew away a year ago. I miss him, his laugh, his warm hugs, his great heart. This evening a group of about a dozen of his closest friends gathered at his house to recite some prayers in Hebrew (Walter was raised in the Jewish tradition), tell each other our often hilarious stories about Walter, and, of course, to feast on some of his favorite foods. A happy-sad celebration of a man who had a wide open heart.

One of the things we shared was this poem that Walter himself wrote some time ago.

Here it is:

Nature’s Way

Where are you going?

The beauty and ecstasy you are seeking

I am here

Take refuge in the warm nurturing sun

The cool fragrance of the morning dew

The soft raindrops alighting gently on my face

Hills, like huge waves covered with superb shades of green

And colors so sublime

There are no replicas

Bold blotches of deep purple

Dispersed with frosty violet heather

Adorn the mountainside

Like a mammoth patched afghan

Looming in the distance

Thin misty clouds engulf the mountain tops

Conjure up images of a dreamlike fantasy

Beckoning

Come. come see what mystery I have in store.

Stop!  Be still. Listen!

Listen to the whispering wind;

I am yours

All the beauty that abounds

See it, touch it, feel it within

The depths of your soul

We are one.

All the resplendence that you behold

Abides within you.

Where are you racing?

Search no more I beseech you

I am here

Surrender. Or would you blindly speed towards

Your destination without savoring

The power of my sheltering arms?

Perhaps you are not yet ready

Another time then!

When the great subterfuge of pomp and pageant

Fame and fortune spurn your fantasies

I will await you homecoming you prodigal son

And embrace your weary soul

And turn your hardened heart

Back to love.

by Walter Blum






I wrote about Walter on April 5, 2010, the day after he died. You can navigate there the old fashioned way, or just follow this link  HERE.

Walter, My Good Friend.

My good friend in the Dharma, Walter Blum, died yesterday, Easter Sunday at 2:20 in the afternoon. Two daughters, two granddaughters, and his close friend and neighbor, Tiaga, were with him as he passed away peacefully.

 Walter loved life and he loved food, right up to the end.

Walter was a real inspiration for me. His example teaches us that we can continue to open our hearts and live life with gusto even into our eighties.

Walter did not come to the Dharma until comparatively late in his life. After retiring from his metal wholesaling business near New York, Walter moved to California. He first studied at the San Francisco Zen Center some decades ago. He stayed in contact with that community, going to retreats at Green Gulch and Tassajara, even after moving to Sonoma County where he lived in a cabin up on Cherry Ridge Road with a view south towards San Francisco.

The view from behind Walter's cottage as it appeared this morning, April 5, 2010.

Walter walked the Eightfold Path at an age when many people seem content to sit in front of a television set. 

I first met Walter when he served as the substitute Dharma teacher at Bruce Fortin’s Occidental/Laguna Sangha here in Sebastopol. I can remember feeling a rush of joy when I would see Walter sitting up front there on Sunday mornings. Walter’s Dharma talks were memorable, down-to-earth first-person stories about stumbling and fumbling his way along the Eightfold Path. Walter's stories were hilarious. Just as often, sometimes just moments after he'd have us rolling in laughter, Walter might tell a story that would bring him (and us) to tears. I remember many times when he’d have to pause, take some deep breaths, pull out a handkerchief, wipe away his tears, and say, “Look at me! I’m the Town Crier!” He’d smile, tuck the handkerchief back in his pocket, take a few more breaths, and go on.

Later, I knew Walter as a member of Sebastopol’s Sutra Salon. Walter contributed his unmistakable enthusiasm for the Discourses, particularly the Vinaya. He was deeply fond of the Vinaya. Perhaps he liked the Vinaya so much because it recounts the foibles and misadventures of the bhikkus who first followed the Buddha. Walter kept us all going that year.

Last year as our Sutra Salon slogged through the denser books in the Flower Garland Sutra’s 1400 pages, it was Walter who was the one who would offer some encouragement and express some enthusiasm for our yearlong journey through that sometimes strenuous text.

Walter at his front door. "Come on in!"

Walter and I took individual instruction Monday afternoons from DharmaJim. It was then, during those sublime and memorable Monday afternoons that I came to feel really close to Walter as a fellow traveler on the path. We maintained a Dharma reading practice and studied the Awakening of Faith together.

I asked Walter to join the Society of Friends of the Buddha as a founding member when I first started it up two years ago. He attended many meetings, and on occasion he would bring along his beloved granddaughter, Emily. (He spoke about Emily with so much love that I insisted he invite her to our meetings.)

When Walter and Emily sat together in meditation, it seemed as if I could see the warm glow of love emanating from Walter’s heart chakra. Love that strong is palpable. At our Society of Friends of the Buddha meetings, we discuss basic Buddhist teachings. The lesson Walter would draw from most of these Buddhist teachings would be these words or some close variation of them: “It’s all about opening the heart, Dan! Just open your heart! Open your HEART!”

Walter's heart is now opened up all the way. He is now the first of our group to begin his journey beyond this earthly life to a Pure Land beyond. Friends like Walter don't come along too often.

The rarity of good friendship makes us treasure it with special fondness.

Walter, I will hold your memory close and try to embody the love you gave me.

Walter, my friend, may the journey you've just begun be sweet, lovely, and full of joy.

Walter Update, January 27

Yesterday I took dinner to Walter's family who is gathering to be with him now. Walter just returned home from the hospital.

I had a quiet, soulful visit, twenty minutes or so, just holding his hand. Almost 24 hours a day, Walter is “sleeping.”  He's not eating or drinking now, so he didn't get to taste the food I had cooked for him. That's okay. The hospice doctors say he’s gone inside, to prepare for taking leave of this world.

I didn't want to say too much to Walter. We’ve always connected most deeply wordlessly on a heart level. I wanted mostly just to hold his warm hand and be with him. His breathing is very irregular. Long pauses separate rapid gasping breaths. Finally I know what I needed to say to him, even though I wasn’t at all sure he would hear me. Taking his hand a little more firmly I told him,

“I love you, Walter.” I supposed that he might be conscious of sound and touch, so I said just one sentence more.

“I’ll give your love to everyone at The Sutra Salon.” (I’ve appreciated Walter's regular participation in that group since 2003.)

When I finished saying these very few words, Walter still seemed comatose. But a couple of seconds after I finished, he turned to me and opened his eyes. We looked into each others’ eyes for eternal seconds. We both teared up.He tried to say thank you, but no words would come, just the most fundamental vowel, “ah, ah.”

Walter and I have chanted that “AH” sound together many times. It’s the name of God, isn’t it? “AH” appears in so many of God’s names, JehovAH, BuddAH, AllAH, KrishnAH, RAHma, YAHweh, come immediately to mind....

“AH,” the first sound we make upon birth (often screaming it) and the final sound me make as we exhale, peacefully, in our final breath at death, “ahhh.”

With the hand I wasn't holding, Walter wiped a tear from his eye. With the other he lightly squeezed my hand. Then his hand relaxed and he went back to his irregular breathing. He returned to the work he's doing now, his journey away.

I sat with Walter for a few more minutes. Finally, I let go of his hand, but have been holding him in my heart every minute since.

Walter Update Jan. 10 in 55 words.

Linden Hills is a blog featuring very short stories told in exactly 55 words. I want to provide my readers with a nonfiction update on Walter based on a phone call I got yesterday. What follows is just 55 words:


******************************************************

The phone. “Hello?”

“It’s Gretchen. I’m calling about Dad.” She sounded tired.

“Hi. How’s Walter?”

“Still in ICU—on light chemo. He wakes, sleeps.... I just don’t know...”

“Difficult?”

“Yes.”

“How’s your daughter, Emily?”

“Hard. They were, are, so close.”

“Meditating, here, they glowed. 18 and 85. How can I help?”

“Will you—pray?”

“Yes.”