DAY 12 UBC – E IS FOR EFFORT

E is for Effort

The ham is in the oven. It is Thanksgiving Monday. I am a little tired. I had trouble laying down to sleep last night. It’s that time of year of allergies and dry air. Time to get the humidifier out soon. But I’m none the worse for wear. I’m keeping on top of my goal for October. I’m still looking for the gold in everything. It’s day 12 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I’m almost halfway through.

Some days it is more of a struggle with everything. That’s just life. That’s how it is. So you just have to give it a little more effort. I miss my daily walks with Sheba. They have been part of my every day for almost 14 years. The guy misses them, too. So this morning we walked each other to the park, along Sheba’s route. We passed her sitter, Carol’s house. Carol doesn’t live their anymore. But we still think of it as hers.

It’s a bit of sad affair. The yard is full of weeds and overgrown shrubs. We saw a chair lift, something recently added, by the front door. We knew that the man’s wife has MS. We’ve never seen her in the 2-3 years they’ve lived there. We’ve only seen the dogs in the backyard that was full of their poop. The man was seldom seen. The lift is a reminder to us that we know nothing of their circumstances or challenges. Keeping up the yard is probably very low on their priority list. Let us not be their judges.

On this Thanksgiving Day, I’m reminded how much I have to be grateful for. Being healthy and physically independent is huge. So I am tired. I can rest. I didn’t sleep well last night. I will sleep better tonight having had a morning walk and raking the front yard. So ends another day and effort. It’s not fancy. And it is not great or profound. I showed up. Mary Oliver sums it up nicely in her poem, Praying.

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.”

GIVING THANKS

 

Thanksgiving Monday. All is well. The snow is falling gently on the spruce trees. The Buddhas sits unperturded, breathing in and out, beneath their branches. The earth is in repose, having worked hard all these days. I hear its rhythmic breathing along with the Buddhas. I do likewise. In 1 2 3 4. Hold 1 2 3 4 5 6 7. Out 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8. It’s so restful. Letting it all go.

For all the talk about letting go, I’ve just come to understand what it means. I suppose it’s the same with so many things. As we grow older, gathering moss and wisdom, our perceptions shift along with our body parts. We are the same and yet not the same. I see that now. There’s no need to berate myself for being stupid, dumb and all the other things. If I had known better back then, I would have done better then. But I didn’t. So here I am now. Resting. Restoring. Relaxing.

I’m giving thanks for the life I have. I’m grateful for this journey of hardships and wonderment. Sometimes it’s difficult for me to grasp that I was born a village girl in China, delivered by a midwife at home. Born but with no piece of paper called a birth certificate. I, myself am testament enough. Look at where I am now. Maybe that’s why I rant so much. I’ve been crying, I’m here! I’m here! all my life. It is to be heard. I like to say I will rant no more, but that’s most unlikely.

But I AM understanding and knowing about letting go. I’m learning from nature. Every year when it is time, the trees let go of their leaves, the flowers give up their blooms to seeds. The plants and animals go into hibernation. Now, when it is time for me to let go of ‘stuff’, I close my eyes and see myself as a tree, dropping its leaves. I hear Nat King Cole singing, Autumn Leaves.