Stuff wears out.
There was an old bottle of shampoo, Neutrogena T/Gel Total, that was sitting on a shower shelve for five years. I don’t like it and only use it when there is nothing else in the house. David used it. But I have used it now and again and again, and last week, It was empty. Time to toss the bottle. For just a moment, I was nostalgic. Was this the last household item that belonged to David? Could I throw it away? I could add a few more dramatic questions–in my head, I did–but without drama, I threw it in the bathroom trash can. A few days later, Julia emptied that can into a bag to be put into the trash.
Without drama, but I was aware of it leaving the house. Continue reading
Category: Pondering Quietly
Some deep thoughts in the shallows of my mind, some shallow thoughts . . . somewhere else.
Photosynthesis
On Saturday, Julia and I sat in the sun drenched widowed front of a sausage shop feasting on Chinese-southwestern inspired links and real French fries. None of it our usual fare. Then again, the amount of sun pouring through those windows didn’t feel like usual fare either. So much so that I squinted as I typed and Julia’s glasses turned a very dark gray. But we did not move. I squinted as long as I could little and let every inch of exposed skin drink in the light.
Perhaps I photosynthesized. Julia did not humor my hypothesis.
February ended in a gentle breeze and I was convinced that spring was around the next corner, not more than a month away. We spied some green shoots in the front garden. Of course, the first of March, it snowed chasing away my belief in early spring.
I will carefully begin gardening again this spring. A month at a gym and religiously doing my PT exercises is beginning to reap results. There are actually days without pain meds and activity stopping pain. And I can bend down! I have never before taken such joy in retrieving dropped paper. I can even put on my socks without sitting down. Still, I have been grumpy so much of the last few weeks. It has been a long sloshing trek towards wellness. I am not there yet. Still a bit scared to go to a yoga class. What if I re-insure myself? No reason to believe that this will be the case but . . .
Oh, I hate “buts”! There was a point during the last month when I confronted the notion of not gardening again. Of not returning to yoga class. Of making a much more sedentary life. I took it in and tasted it, like one does with fine chocolate. I understood something new about possibility before I spit it out and headed to the gym.
I cannot help but be an optimist. Perhaps cockeyed, to be sure.
some almost resolutions
Morning, for another hour. Sitting cozy in the living room with a fire crackling and some very grand Viennese waltzes on public radio. Belly full of Irish Oatmeal with pecans and maple syrup. Texting New Year’s wishes with Cheshire and another friend. Working though resolutions and a late holiday letter. Dithering really. Trying very hard, and succeeding very well to allow for the simple joys of the day to wash over me.
One overarching resolution rises to the surface, although my articulation of it falters: to allow. To allow without pushing. To allow and embrace what comes. To allow and accept. To allow and open to the bumps in the journey and the smooth parts too. To allow in the present without reference to regrets from the past or expectations of the future. To plan, to be sure, plan Julia’s school work for today and tomorrow, plan returning to Italy, plan to learn Italian, plan to see friends and movies and theater, plan Mindful Circle and plan on writing, plan on healing my body and becoming strong. But to do so without thought of success or failure, without expectation and grasping.
Is this a resolution or a fantastical wish? Or both?
And one more. To be grateful for all of it. Good, wonderful, fantastic, sad, frustrating and down right heart breaking. To feel the privilege of every breath.
And then to comment on this picture. My favorite photo of the last year. Taken at the Museo Egizio de Torino, Egyptian Museum of Turin. These two little vessels found in some ancient tomb. Most of that wonderful museum is serious and impressive, the best Egyptian tomb collection that I have ever seen, possibly in the world. But when I set eyes on these two little vessels, found in some noble tomb, I laughed out loud. Such silliness. Such idiosyncrasy. Such character. So, so, so different from everything else! Were these done by a master burial potter? Or his 9 year old off spring? Did they really belong in the tomb or were they snuck in to delight the maker? Or were they lovingly placed by a kind uncle? Or were there hundreds and hundreds of this style vessel once made and then lost because of accident or intentional destruction? Perhaps the answers could be easily found. Perhaps not. If I could have a little vessel like one of these, it would delight me, possibly for the rest of my life. But for now, even without any answers, I come back to the picture over and over merely to feel the delight and smile.
Happy New Year.
[I have finally started blogging on Mindful Circle, the website for my mindfulness workshops. Please check out the website and the blog if you have the chance. http://www.mindfulcircle.net/blog]
time between
This week, that between Christmas and the changing of calendars, is time this year for a re-set, time to put amendments into practice, time to change or dedicate self to the same. Time to practice resolutions while being released from much of the daily grind. Julia and I could stay inside for days at a time without missing a single appointment. Although there have been years when we have travelled the week, and so many Facebook friends are posting pictures of just that, we lie fallow in our snug house, slowly cleaning up from a week of a houseful of young women, slowly getting Julia back on the schedule of school work that keeps her regulated during our everyday. We don’t even expect our biweekly dinner guests tonight due to flu at their house. We slip outdoors for errands—pick up meds, deliver the letter canceling old insurance, check out library books, CDs and DVDs, and buy bananas and salad greens—and return to tea, a fire and poppyseed rolls. I have such gratitude for the simplicity of these few days.
festival of light
Quiet holidays. Tonight, Julia and I are home. We’ve been in all day. No rushing around. No therapy. No school. And especially, no shopping. As is my preference, I’ve done as much my gift buying online. I am no fan of the frenzied holiday stampede although I admit the need to examine with eyes and finger some potential purchases.
Hunger
I am stopping at my French cafe on the way to a Mindful Circle workshop. I have time to eat my favorite pain aux raison and sip a cafe au lait. As expected the woman behind greets me like an old friend and seems to remember that the last time I came in I had to settle for another pastry. I practice my few French phrases and indeed she corrects my pronunciation. The very center of my pastry is still warm and the baker is still bringing out the fruits of the morning’s labor.
pain
I have been writing. Lots of crappy, more than the usual self indulgent missives. Complaints of pain and great bouquets of self pity. You get the picture.
Enough.
Today, I woke up to great gratitude, however, and wondered if I had something else, better, wiser to say about this latest incursion into this wilderness of pain.
Perhaps.
And I feel wildly, deliciously self indulgent. Enough so that I can imagine it useful to more than my very singular self.
Pain. And gratitude.
morning wars
“But today, there’s this—the happiness that comes from working again . . . ”
Hard day yesterday. Julia not in school until 10:30. Early morning was a war of wills and I got angry. Is it unfair and unreasonable for me to depend on the the upstairs morning schedule sheet and the downstairs morning schedule sheet to get through her morning routine and out the door on time for the school bell to ring?
Short answer: yes.
Julia, more intent on getting a necklace untangled than on brushing her teeth, more interested in the skirt she is making for her equestrian girl doll than in eating breakfast. And me, working quickly through making breakfast and lunch and willing the school readiness train to stay on track. When it skitters off, when Julia’s scheduled tasks derail for the fifth time, I get angry after she tells me, “I don’t want to do any work.” Work? She is doing nothing but self-care. The morning is devoted to getting her out the door, fed, dressed and organized for the day in as pleasant a fashion as possible. She is viewing it as tasks outside of her responsibility, and I take it all personally. She’s struck a rich vein of my frustration. Control of the morning’s process drains away. If only I could throw in some towel and hide my head in the sand.
Path to the labyrinth
Thursday and Julia said she is sad to think about going home. She is horseback riding this morning and if the weather holds we will do it together this afternoon. Weather has not been good by summer vacation standards. We have a lovely lake and beach, and canoes, kayaks and paddle boats. I have not had my bathing suit on to take the swim test, neither has Julia. And the beach has been empty. We have not minded; we are busy. Art activities, four baskets woven, shirts tie died, and painting, puzzling and rainbow loom. Walks and camp fires and an evening dance. Julia has not asked for her iPad and more often I must discipline myself to find time to write.
In the grey with peaks of sun and blue, I find a quiet joy and it is joy aplenty.
Camp AweSum
What I am not doing this morning. Enjoying the view.
Our cabin. Small, comfortable with surprisingly good beds.
The swimming dock.
Sensory swings.
View from our cabin porch
Monday morning around 3: First night at camp and I am not sleeping. For no good reason. Tired from the 4-hour drive up to the northern part of Wisconsin. Lake country up here. And more pine trees lining the road than disiduous varieties. We are installed in a tidy cabin with a view of Moon Lake at Camp AweSum, a week long camp for families with kids on the autism spectrum. Gentle rain falls, light blanket temperature quite nice for slumber and sheets from home that are worn soft with washing and wear. Julia has her own room but a few cracks of thunder brought her into my bed. There is room for both of us but not when I need to turn on the light and dig into a book.
Chasing Joy 