Happy Thanksgiving Monday

  

Light shimmers 

 in the darkest times.

Sometimes we concentrate so hard on the darkness,

we forget to see the light 

until

suddenly, we are overwhelmed, speechless.

Gratitude.

Time for Reflection

 

 

Wordless Wednesday offers time for reflection.

Words and image are copyright Carol Steel.

 

Shediac River, New Brunswick

At the Shediac River, Saturday's breezes and the bright sun

created intriguing changes on the river.

The wind wrinkled the river; nothing reflected

in the pulsing ripples except the sunlight.

                 Later, the wind settled and

                   the sun's angle changed;

                      the Shediac River 

                        became like glass.

Sometimes life is like the river, full of hot air and waves, throwing off the flow of your day.

At others, the day is so smooth; all you need do is look,

to really see what is reflected clear and bright, back to you.

And sometimes, what is reflected back to you is crisper

and more in focus than what

you thought you saw

and understood before.

All photos are mine.

Balance is What I Need

"Happiness is not a matter of intensity but of balance, order, rhythm and harmony.”

~Thomas Merton

I have been busy this week; busy enough to interfere with my writing.  That doesn’t feel good on many levels.

I need to write every day; balance amongst the ordinary tasks that one must do, the unusual surprises that arise and the daily discipline of writing.

This week, schedules were complicated. Gary returned to work on a six-month contract, so our routines have changed, and work-at-home-sharing has shifted.  We are both tired from the change, though adjusting rapidly.

Both my mother and I had doctor’s appointments and multiple tests and the resulting trips to the pharmacy this week; many hours of time!

Perhaps the week felt busier because the weather has been delightful; finally lovely melting summer has arrived.  I wasn’t able to enjoy the peacefulness of the yard as much as the weather coaxed me to do, so felt resentful about all that took me away from that pleasure.

As the week progressed, I have become more and more weary until finally today I was in tears over nothing—an unusual situation for me and further evidence of exhaustion and not enough “me” time.

Why do I have to keep re-learning this lesson?  The answer, I suppose, is that I keep ignoring that if I don’t look after my own needs, they will impinge upon the rest of my life.

I’ll do better at this.  It is a growing edge in my life, one that calls for attention and creativity.

It’s time for a “Carol Day” where nothing from the outside is allowed in and total focus can be given to what I need.  From that meditative beginning, I can find ways to achieve balance on a daily basis.

Balance is what I need.  Balance is really what we all need!

photo is mine

Riding the Motorcycle

Riding the Motorcycle

Riding a motorcycle offers ample opportunity to enjoy all the visual details of each place we pass.  However, the most amazing details are the olfactory ones—the smells that one can’t always appreciate, or even notice while driving in an air-conditioned car, with the windows closed.

Fields of clover and of Queen Anne’s lace are fragrant-perfume experiences, as are driving by fields of sweet new-mown hay or freshly cut lawns.  As we drive near woodlands, a cool balsam-y smell of dampness, moss and leaves wafts toward us.

Along the coast, we get wind of the tang of salt water, the briny scent of wet sand and pungent seaweed, and sometimes, the nose-wrinkling odor of brackish salt water marshes.

The road itself offers up smells, sun-warmed oily tar and the suffocating stink of dead skunk.  From the bike, there is a hint of hot metal coming from the pipes, exhaust smells and a whiff of heated rubber from the tires.

I notice a subtle trace of chemical smell coming from my new helmet, a perfume of coconut from the sunscreen on my face, the appealing scent of my husband’s skin.

 

Driving out in the fresh air really increases the sensitivity to smells—both good and bad—now we smell everything, even scents we don’t usually register.

We drive by chip shops and restaurants, our noses full of the pungent greasiness of fried foods.  We stand in line for ice cream and breathe the electric-heat smell from the ice-cream freezers, the cool milky scent of ice-cream, a trace of musky pong from the others in line, beach-goers full of salt and sand and sweat.

Unfortunately, we can also smell the faintly rank garbage can in the parking lot, foul and fermenting in the heat.

Near the end of the day, we drive home sniffing comforting wood smoke from campfires and fire pits, and take in the juicy fragrance of meat grilling on a barbecue.

 

The heady perfume of peonies greets us as we return to our own driveway.

On the motorcycle, all the subtle odors of summer reach our nostrils, a full range from the malodorous to the sublimely aromatic.   This heightened sense of smell makes the ride a sensory rich experience.

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday

Life has got to be lived—that’s all there is to it.

What are birthdays?  Markers of time past, time passed, future time?  Celebrations of who we are, where we’ve been, where we’re going?  Parties, celebrations, festivities?

A birthday is a special time set aside to celebrate the wonderful, singular “presence of you in the world.”  It’s a day to search and reflect both backward and forward in life, and to have fun celebrating your self.

Gary has been observing his birthday festivities for quite a few days now.  D. gave him luggage bags for his bike on June 1; M. gave him a Las Vegas Harley T-shirt on June 9.  My mother and sister each gave him cards and a generous gift last week. 

L. & K. hosted him for a superb gourmet supper with a planked salmon BBQ and a much appreciated bottle of rum on June 26. 

His sister came to visit with a card and great hugs yesterday.  Our good friends made a wonderful chicken and spare rib supper last night, ending with strawberry shortcake and a chatty evening visit in their screened porch. After that, he spent nearly an hour on the phone getting caught up with his younger son.

His older son and daughter-in-law have invited him over for supper and a visit with the grandchildren next week.  Today, we’ll do whatever he wants and go out for a meal and a movie later.  There will be other contacts and more birthday wishes and surprises.

Gary has been well fussed over and will continue to be so for days to come.  At this rate, his birthday could last for weeks!

Life has got to be lived—that’s all there is to it.

Life’s passages have got to be celebrated—the more celebrations, the better!

For today, Happy Birthday to you, Gary!

Summer Day

Summer Day

Today is breezy, warm and sunny, almost too good to be real.

I’ve spent part of the day in the yard, weeding, weeding, weeding, but took time in between for sitting, resting and enjoying.

The air is full of murmurs of rustling leaves, whispering to all who will listen, “Summer is here.  Enjoy it. Breathe in the fragrances of the Russian sage by the door, the cinnamon scented pinks, the mock orange near the windows and the heavily perfumed irises.”

The sound of lawn mowers powering through the long, rain-nourished grass, the cacophonous racket of trimmers and weed whackers break the quiet.  Neighbours are out in their yards chatting about the weather and commiserating over all of their “To-Do” lists.

On the streets below our house, we hear motorcycles roaring by, shifting gears, cars motors droning, and the giggling laughter of children home from school, finally out for the summer.

Above and behind all the motor noises are the breezes ruffling the leaves, trees swaying and reminding everyone, “Breathe-in summer, enjoy.  Feel the luxurious heat caressing your skin, enjoy.  Listen to the soothing sounds of nature all around you, enjoy!”

I hope everyone treasures and takes pleasure in this superbly sunny day.

I did!

Life and Death in our Yard

The recent heavy winds have shorn the yard; tearing rose-pink blossoms from the crab apple tree, ripping the splash of yellow from the forsythia, scattering the bright tangerine petals of quince and pummelling the fuchsia of the bleeding hearts.

Blooms are fading and disappearing in the cycle of bud, bloom, die, bud…

Though the service berry and chokecherry trees have lost their talcum of frothy pink-white flowers, the rowan trees still show clusters of tiny cream buds and flowers.  At the front of the house, rhododendrons bloom in butter yellow.

 

The purples and mauves of lilacs scent the sunny air promising summer.

Tiny golden pansies and tipped-cup lily of the valley peek from dark green leaves.

 

The yard is dying and birthing and always evolving in this constant cycle of life that is the natural world.

Wisdom

Wisdom comes from what

we learn from others and from

experience, [growing] to a point where it can be shared.

~Mary Catherine Bateson

Spoken at the Legacy of Wisdom Conference, April 17, 2011

Most often I find my wisdom in hindsight.  I am seldom “wise” instantly; it is only in reflection that I learn and see my lessons.

What have I learned lately from others?

Make changes with optimism; what I expect is what I’ll get.

Listen before I give an opinion.

When I feel ready to give an opinion, don’t!  Listen again.

Everyone has the right to make his or her own decisions.

Do what I say I will do.

Help willingly without expectation of appreciation.

What have I learned lately from experience?

If I don’t care for my own needs, I soon become grumpy about looking after the needs of others.

There is nothing in life that is in my control, except my own self.

There is happiness to be found in sharing the joy of others.

I must seek to understand my self; cease expecting understanding from others, for they are on their own journeys.

All will be well in the end.

Gaining wisdom is often a hard slog for me.  I over-analyze ceaselessly often missing the clear and simple lessons in front of me, forgetting that some stuff “just is” and that there is no “why” for some situations.

It seems to be my path to worry and puzzle, then to rest and realize that wisdom is sitting right beside me, reading the paper, waiting for me to notice!

Thoughts on Writing

It’s after midnight and I can’t sleep.  My head is busy and won’t rest.

I am making lists in my brain of “To Do’s” so thought to rise, and put the list on paper to cease the jangle of racing ideas.

I want to start writing in a more purposeful and intense way.  If I get up earlier in the mornings, I can spend several hours writing before my other tasks call me away.  If I use that self-discipline, I will be more grounded. 

If I don’t write enough each day, I feel agitated and slightly “off”, with a sort of un-wellness and frustration.  If I don’t write enough, the words roll around inside my head creating uneasiness.  If I don’t write enough, then when I do settle to write, the words come tumbling, dashing, jumbling out so quickly that I cannot contain all of them and some are lost. That feels bad too.

I enjoy blogging and photography and the short windows into my day that these provide.  But blogging doesn’t allow enough scope; I need and want more.  A challenge.

I need to find a way through to the more and a way to capture time away from distractions, to write for several hours in a row, each day.  I’ll begin tomorrow or really, later today at the other end of this morning.

I also need to be clearer about what I want to say.  It isn’t enough just to write, there must be something to say that’s worth saying.

I am tired now and starting to sense that I am talking about my own belly-button lint, the way folks ramble on about the mundane, on blogs…

Before I become really obnoxious, I’m off to bed.

Too late, you say?

Morning Routines

I started to download a blog entry early this morning and couldn’t.  A note came up on the computer screen saying, “Blogger is not available”.  Further explanation—temporarily shut down for maintenance.  Frustration!  Not that I mind the concept of maintenance, it’s always a good idea.  It’s merely that I like to start the day with a blog post.  It’s my routine.

Oh well!  I go downstairs to get the newspaper and anticipate reading it, fragrant dark coffee in hand.  I brave the early morning wet and wind to search the mailbox.  The paper isn’t here.  It’s late…again.  Hmmm, I wonder if the newspaper printing plant is down for maintenance, too.  It is so often.

The sky is odd looking, a rippled low ceiling of clouds, whites and greys; like a freshly-ploughed field, all furrows and ridges, and a weak whisper of pale blue sky.  The wind is gusty, carrying the scent of rain and a deep chill.

A steady drone of car traffic on the street below is punctuated by the throaty rumble and vibrating down-shifting of motorcycles at the traffic lights.  Everyone is hurrying to work or appointments or coffee shops.  The early morning freight planes are low down today, reverberating thunder over the roof top as they leave airport runway number twenty-four, roaring out, on their way to everywhere.

Nicholas vocalizes kitty-chirps and tiny mews as he keeps me company and watches for this morning’s birds to arrive at the feeders.  We each have our waking rituals.  He sits hypnotized, meditative and waiting.  The other two cats are staked out on the floor, near the kitchen sink in hope of the clatter of their food dishes.

The house is quiet.  The clock ticks.  The world starts to wake, birds are trilling, calling to each other.  Nicholas is attentive.

The tall lanky paper boy comes trudging up the steep front driveway, bent over slightly from the weight of the Thursday paper with its heavy ads.  His blue hood nearly covers his face, sheltering him against the unpleasantly cold dampness; all that shows is a piece of his thick black hair.  The metal lid clanks as he wrestles and squeezes the thick paper into the mailbox.  He turns and plods out the even steeper upper driveway and over to the neighbour’s house.

Ah, morning routines!

Giving Advice

Giving Advice

How easily I fall into the slippery pit of offering unsolicited advice.  I think that my opinion will help, or that the other person doesn’t know what I am wise enough to already understand, or I am horrified at another’s choice and veil my emotions in the guise of advice.  No matter the reason, it is never helpful to foist unsolicited opinions on someone else.

I’m not perfect…

I’ve done it, continue to do it, but am working at catching and stopping myself from advising and offering opinions.  And, I’m actually making positive progress.

My older daughter has taught me a great lesson, more than a few times.  “Gee, I don’t remember asking for your opinion” she’ll say, while fixing me with her huge blue-eyed stare and a slight grin.  Stops me cold!

I’ve cut down on freely dispensing advice, unsolicited opinion-giving and unwanted fretful meddling with my mom, sisters, husband, friends, children and grandchildren.

I am not perfect…

It is freeing, this looking after no one’s activities…but my own, working on changing no one…but me!

Now, if someone wants help, or advice, or guidance or an opinion, I do lots of listening.  What do they really want or need? Usually it is the listening; people crave being heard more than anything else.  Most folks can usually sort out their own problems for themselves.

Even though you "don't remember asking for my opinion", I am sharing this one:

Avoid giving advice and opinions, especially unsolicited advice and opinions.

I'm working at this. 

I'm not perfect, so feel free to say, "Gee, I don't remember asking..."

Just to Be

Just to Be

Just to be.
After days of doing,

a day of being. 

Quiet time.

Feet up

sun on my skin

doing nothing.

Like a cat

stretch, yawn,

and turn. 

A day to loosen

my mind.

Be aware

enjoy

birdsong on bright breeze.

No schedule,

do no-thing

all else will wait.

Be.  Just be.




(Words are mine.)

What Kitties Know

What Kitties Know  

(continued  #10 - #12)

10.    Kitties know that it is wise to let yourself be loved.

11.    Kitties know that self-care is essential to caring for others.

12.    Kitties know that helping feels wonderful.

Kitties are good people.

What Do You See?

“Art does not reproduce what we see; rather it makes us see.”

~ Paul Klee

And, as well, ordinary parts of our every day life “make us see.”

Just for a few moments today, choose something you take for granted every day… something you see, and yet don’t really see because it is part of your routine landscape at home, at work, at school or on the train, in the car. 

Humour me: choose one object, one scene or one familiar face.  Really look at it, study it for a few moments, give to it all of your awareness.  Slow down and concentrate.

What do you see that you have never noticed before?  What new aspect surprises you?

S-l-o-w  d-o-w-n and truly welcome the newness, the freshness that is right there in front of you each day.

Tell me about it.  Post a comment.

Christmas Cactus

My Christmas Cactus plant is off kilter.  It didn’t bloom at Christmas time, but is in full flower now at the beginning of March.  It flourished when it was ready.

Christmas Cactus is thermo-photoperiodic, affected by temperature and by the proportion of daylight hours to hours of darkness.

It sets buds when the day length is about equal to the night length and the temperature is consistently cool.  The Christmas Cactus requires long, uninterrupted dark periods (at least three weeks) of about 12 or more hours per night in order to bloom. 

At this mid point of Maritime winter, we are exasperated with excessive snow and interminable darkness.  Are we thermo-photoperiodic too; are we, as equally, affected by the proportion of daylight to darkness and by temperature?

Might we too benefit from the long periods of chill darkness to focus inward, to become contemplative?   This season offers myriad moments to seek within ourselves, to discern that which is being drawn to the light.  Do we flower when our fertile meditative selves reach the creative balance point between darkness and light?  Do we too become more vibrantly alive as we move from extended coolness to consistent warmth?

The days grow longer and the sun warms; we are drawn to the potency and power of that change.  Thoughtfulness buds, renewed creativity opens and peaks.  We feel it inside ourselves, compelling us.

What flowers within us?  What new part of ourselves do we birth out of our darkness?  What part of ourselves will we nurture to full blown splendour in the invigorating light? 

How is our pulsing inner creativity being stimulated?  When are we ready to bloom?