Happiness for my 94 year old father is his new walk-in shower. He is still able to climb in and out of the tub but it was getting harder and harder. It is my pleasure to make this possible for him. The shower head is held onto the mount by magnetic so can be easily pulled off and be put up again. I will shop for a shower chair to him to sit in. My sister and I spent a 12 hour shift with him in ER Monday night. We are all alright. Our healthcare system is the way of our world – kaputs. We are thankful still for what we have and who we are. There’s always a silver lining to everything. I am half a pound lighter. Tickled.
Another beautiful sunny day for this Thanksgiving weekend. I have much to give thanks for – bounty harvest, good health and family. Beannacht is a poem written by John O’Donohue for his mother. It means blessing. And I say this blessing for my mother who passed from this life in October of last year.
On the day when The weight deadens On your shoulders And you stumble, May the clay dance To balance you.
And when your eyes Freeze behind The grey window And the ghost of loss Gets into you, May a flock of colours, Indigo, red, green And azure blue, Come to awaken in you A meadow of delight.
When the canvas frays In the currach of thought And a stain of ocean Blackens beneath you, May there come across the waters A path of yellow moonlight To bring you safely home.
May the nourishment of the earth be yours, May the clarity of light be yours, May the fluency of the ocean be yours, May the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow Wind work these words Of love around you, An invisible cloak To mind your life.
Another hot 30℃ August day, the kind of heat we wanted in July but never got. Makes me wonder what kind of winter we will have. So many unusual and unpredictable weather patterns. How will we navigate the future? Will our planet survive what we have been doing to it? And can/will we change our ways? We seem to be hell bent on going down the same path – fast everything, more money and more stuff.
I am not hopeful but at the same time, I am not hopeless either. I am still interested and engaged in this little life of mine. I am doing my best in not adding to the stress of the planet. Perhaps it means little to the grand scheme of things to say I recycle. But I do. I recycle and compost. I save rain water. I even save water I wash my vegetables with. Perhaps I do go a little overboard sometimes and exhaust myself. But I’m happy to have that extra water to throw on the strawberry plants. They pay back with beautiful delicious red fruits.
I feel very fortunate that I am able to do the work of growing my own food and to share some with family and friends. I am grateful that I find joy and fulfillment in working the soil. It keeps me sane and grounded when life is hard. And it is always hard.
It was so beautiful and comforting to see the sunrise this morning. I took a moment to give thanks to whoever/whatever is responsible for this day. I took time to sit in silence with my morning tea, for this day will not come again. The sun will still rise every day but the light and air will never be quite the same. Nor will the petunias and all the living things. I, too, will never see, hear or feel the same as I do in this very moement.
It is an astounding realization of how precious the present moment is. It brings to mind Mary Oliver’s poem The Summer Day.
Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean— the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down— who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face. Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away. I don't know exactly what a prayer is. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day. Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
Clouds got in my way for a few days. I’m struggling to find my way back. It’s difficult. I’ve lost my momentum and rhythm. Joni Mitchell’s Both Sides Now is one of my favourite songs. It speaks so true about how clouds are for me. I’ve been very much feeling them the last few days. It helps to know that I’m not the only one. For a long time, I’ve felt somewhat defective, an odd ball, a failure being this way. It’s hard to believe that we are all the same. We are. We are all human.
The clouds have at last delivered. It rained. I should say showered. It lasted only a few minutes. The sun is trying to come through. I should be grateful. And I am.
I am grateful for any rain that fell.
I am grateful that there are no smoke in the air.
I am grateful that some of the clouds are lifting.
I am grateful that I am still here, tapping a few words on my keyboard.
I am grateful for Joni Mitchell’s song, Both Sides Now.
I am grateful I can still feel gratitude.
Both Sides Now – Joni Mitchell
Rows and floes of angel hair And ice cream castles in the air And feather canyons everywhere Looked at clouds that way
But now they only block the sun They rain and they snow on everyone So many things I would have done But clouds got in my way
I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now From up and down and still somehow It’s cloud illusions I recall I really don’t know clouds at all
Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels The dizzy dancing way that you feel As every fairy tale comes real I’ve looked at love that way
But now it’s just another show And you leave ’em laughing when you go And if you care, don’t let them know Don’t give yourself away
I’ve looked at love from both sides now From give and take and still somehow It’s love’s illusions that I recall I really don’t know love I really don’t know love at all
Tears and fears and feeling proud To say, “I love you, ” right out loud Dreams and schemes and circus crowds I’ve looked at life that way
Oh, but now old friends, they’re acting strange And they shake their heads and they tell me that I’ve changed Well, something’s lost, but something’s gained In living every day
I’ve looked at life from both sides now From win and lose and still somehow It’s life’s illusions I recall I really don’t know life at all
It’s life’s illusions that I recall I really don’t know life I really don’t know life at all
Going to the gym is another ice breaker to start the day . It’s a habit now. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday I would grab my gym bag and head for the door. It helps that somebody else is going, too and doing the driving. It makes it simple and easy. Of course there are times the habit is broken. The time getting back depends on how long I’ve lapsed. Good Friday is not a good enough reason to skip though the temptation is there.
I am sorely tempted to change my website again. I might just press the button after I post this and let things fall where they may. They say curiosity kills a cat. Well, it is killing me and I am wasting time wondering about it. It’s not that anything will get broken, right? It could mess things up but how else can a person learn?
Did I say it’s Good Friday? Sunday is Easter. Time is marching speedily along. I haven’t lost faith but I haven’t felt the reverence and holiness of this time for a long while. I miss it and wonder how I can get it back. It’s been a difficult year of losses. But I am also filled with gratitude for the life that I have and for our world with all its wonders. Of course, there are troubles. There always will be. It’s for us to work together and solve them.
A sunny April morning at 10 am but still dark when I woke at 6. I’m not bouncing out of bed yet. I am more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I am grateful for what I am and for what I have. I am still me. I have my spirit though it is a bit dampened. I have recovered my hearing. It, too, is a bit dampened. I can hear the running of the furnace and the flush of the toilet. I can carry on a converstion, listening and speaking, no longer relying on pen and paper.
Life is good. It is full of wonder and mystery. I try to bask in the warmth and light. I try not to ask too many whys to questions that have no answers. I am still healing. I do not want to lose any unnecessary energy. I try to dwell in moments of “remembered wellness.” I pray and ask for prayers. It all has helped me to be here today – tapping on the keyboard, finding my way back to the things I used to do. I’m doing it slowly, taking James Clear’s advice from his book Atomic Habits. I want to make things easy.
April mornings are still dark enough that I’m not ready to spring out of bed like an eager bunny. I still snuggled into my covers even though I’ve been awake for awhile. I have to work my way out in my head first. First I have to throw off the warmth of the silk quilt and let the cool air rouse me out of bed. Then the rest is history as they say.
I haven’t been keen on going to the gym the last couple of weeks either. I tell myself that it is ok. I’m resting and healing. I do enough. I move enough. I’m resetting, turning myself off to save energy. I am very careful now where my energy goes. I don’t want to lose any needlessly. There’s been many losses this year. I don’t want to cry crocodile tears. In fact, I haven’t cried at all with losing my mother in October. It seemed so strange to lose her after all these years. Then shortly after, I lost my hearing – all of it for awhile. I hadn’t cried then either.
Everything was strange, bizarre and traumatic. It left me no energy to mourn the passing of my mother. It left me no energy to be angry, sad or depressed. I prayed and asked for many prayers. After these many months, I have gained much of my hearing back. I am filled with gratitude and awe. It has been such a life changing year. So much loss and yet so much gain at the same time. I’m grateful for these grey April mornings, too. They’re restful. I don’t have to be an EverReady bunny, going on and on.
It’s another day. Not too many dollars but the sun is out this morning. But then it is almost 9 am. So, no hurrahs. I’m sounding grouchy. I should be more grateful. It is almost October and no hints of imminent frost. I still have tomatoes, zucchinis and pumpkins on the vine. The purple beans are still producing, though not madly now. My raised bed of peppers are heavily laden with peppers. I have new lettuce and Swiss Chard and possibly more cabbage.
I am full of gratitude for my garden bounty. Still, I’m irked. My kitchen sink is not draining well. My upstairs landline for the phone is not working. Seems like a long hike to the basement phone when it rings. And it is in the laundry room. The technician is coming Monday. Maybe it is time to rid of it if the problem has to do with the wiring of the house and not the Sasktel line. But it is hard to let go of an old established security blanket/line.
Maybe I should call a plumber one/some day soon. But not yet. It is still draining. I’ve poured vinegar and kettles full of hot boiling water. I shall have my cup of tea, mutter and procrastinate. I just know that I will have to make that call. But not yet. In the meantime I’ve poured down more vinegar. Let it sit. Wouldn’t it be a delightful surprise if it does the trick?
I’m trying to curb my procrastation ways and stop saying phrases like One/Some day I will…. Those days never come. So while the sun is shining I am going to tackle putting my garden spaces to rest. Today all the tomatoes will be harvested. And the beans as well. I’ve had enough beans. They’re coming down. I see that there’s a -1 forecast for Friday. If time permits, I will harvest the carrots in the community garden today or tomorrow. I’m looking after life’s little and big jobs now. I’m not waiting for spring. Another motto is live by – don’t wait for spring.
Hurray, I’ve written a post in the morning. Consistent practice makes for better. I’m warming up for the October Ultimate Blog Challenge.
We live in such a catastrophic world today where a 14 year old can shoot up a school in Georgia and another 14 year old can set a fellow student on fire. In light of that my own difficulties are just minor skirmishes. In thinking and writing about catastrophes these last few days, I’ve realized that I’ve been blessed.
I have no real catastrophes and nothing to complain about. I’m in good health, have a roof over my head, food in my pantry, clothes on my back and in the closet and a comfortable bank account. I have a multitude of interests and hobbies. I’m still keen on learning. I’m looking forward to the start of my online class on Curing the World’s Diseases next week. At the moment I am enjoying the Healing Kitchen series from Sacred Science. So many things to learn about food and healing.
It has been a dreary drizzling day but the sun just came out and lit my world. I hope it stays longer than a few minutes. But it is enough to lift the gloom from my mood. On with the rest of my afternoon.
onethousandandtwo 