The summer days roll along.
They have that quality about them, that is so much a part of what summer is,
to me.
The juxtaposition between opposites, being both lazy
and busy
hot and sweet,
disconnect and connect.
My days are so full, with kids and art, and company,
with trips and travels, and moments of quiet on the water, just watching the world swirl by.
I am rarely inside, always outside. Dinner comes later and later, and lunch becomes the bigger meal of the day.
My daughter is my shadow.
In ways both good and bad, this is a blessing.
She has kept me filled with laughter, and creative sparks,
She entertains and enlightens.
She also distracts me, interrupts my thought processes, and more often than not ...exhausts me.
in the proverbial words of wisdom
It is What it is.
( or what I make it…)
I have not walked my labyrinth often, or with any regularity.
It is difficult to walk it with her constant stream of consciousness being orally set forth in my close proximity.
Harder still when she wants to walk it with me, or when there is company.
However my Labyrinth is my grounding point.
My deep connection with self and with my faith in something greater than myself.
So when a dozen crows and a Hawk, ( my beloved and intrepid visitor) got into a loud ruckus in it , I sailed off to it to see what was happening.
Crows are scavengers, and can be pesky birds of a good deal of cunning.
It would seem that they raided the hawks nest and absconded with a couple of her eggs.
She was not amused.
I have discovered that there is little we, as humans can do in this situation.
I could not get the eggs back into the treetops to her nest. There are no close rehabs that take eggs,
and it is VERY illegal to try and do anything with these little ones.
It made me deeply sad, and resonated within me this strong urge that I have had to keep safe my little ones from harm.
Unlike the hawk whose hormones will diminish in days and allow her to move along with out regrets,
My heart will carry a bit of sorrow, and I will tend to my little ones with even more vigilance.
Nature is not a gentle Goddess, but one of order and balance.
On summer days
The best of me…
I stood there waiting for her, as if by the sheer force of my will I could have her come walking down the street towards me.
She and I have not stood on this corner in almost 30 years.
How many times we walked, in the freezing snow, the hot sun, and driving rain.
Walked talking or in silence, just so happy to be side by side.
to be together and away from the insanity of our family life.
Walked to the coffee shop, and sat over steaming mugs
sharing our words, and thoughts,
days and dreams.
I was standing there yesterday, wishing she was there too.
I was there for the usual family shenanigans, and wisely she stays far away.
She has been the best part of my life,
she has been sister, daughter, friend, love and light in my life.
She has loved me even when I have been at my most unlovablest.
My beloved has taught me so very much.
Some of my hardest lessons have come thru her. When I have wanted to vilify and crucify those that have hurt her, she gently asks me not to.
Her compassion, and her ability to let things go, has always amazed me.
She chooses so wisely what she will carry and what she discards.
She hears me, when my words are a jumbled mess of emotion and I am not sure which way is up, she hears my heart and comforts me.
There is a bond between us, so that even as I stood there, on that corner thousands of miles from her side, she heard me.
So when my phone rings and it’s her, I am never surprised, just so grateful that she is here
in my life.
I am so amazed that she puts up with me and mine, she is a consistent and constant as the sun. Rolling with my crazy kids, who love and terrify her, putting up with my sporadic correspondence, and haptic phone calls, her love is the air I breath, and I would be so lost with out her.
I am so very blessed that she is here with me,
in spirit
thought and essence
every day of my life.
She brings out the best in me,
and loves me
almost as much as I love her.
~smile~
Shrink wrapped English Cucumbers
On the way home from an arduous day, I decided to treat myself to going to one of those nifty world market type grocers.
Not my usual style, but I was low on milk, and
inquisitive.
Always fun to look at all those fruits and vegies from around the globe.
Thats when I saw them..
English cucumbers.
My dearest FireByrd after staring at this thing in appalled amazement, All things became clear.
I Of course I purchased it
( I know I didn’t get my moneys worth, but I was curious)
I keep looking at it.
It’s so skinny..
Not like the thick robust cucumbers we have here.
It’s kinda flaccid, I mean I am bending it back and forth, wondering if it was ever firm?
Not like the ones I have rock hard, rigid.
The ends of it are kinda pointy and really useless. I think you would have to just cut them off and toss them.
The ones here in America are smooth and rounded over ,the best first bite ever!
It’s so soft and slimy smooth? where is the bumps and ridges? all the texture?
What is with the length? are all English cucumbers this short and stubby? I mean this wouldn’t satisfy even one salad, let alone a weeks worth.
Does your salad shooter even know when it’s in there with the carrots?
How spoiled I am that I get to savor each mouthful of a single cucumber for weeks on end.
Seeds? are there any seeds in this thing at all? How in the world do you export these when they must be in short supply over there? Seriously, how can you propagate them with out seeds? I want a cucumber that when I bite into it,
my mouth is full of seeds! seriously! thats the best tasting part!
TASTE? did I mention taste? This english cucumber tastes like the plastic wrap it came in,
yum.
How I miss the fool bodied flavor of the American cucumber that has been warmed by the sun on the furrows of my garden.
Darling Byrd, I now completely understand that look of wonder on your face when you held up
with both hands
that lovely cucumber from my garden.
I’m sorry gal, really I am. I guess it’s true, we do everything BIG over here on the other side of the pond, even our cucumbers.
Tea
I sat today with a pile of mail.
I give to charities, it is my way of doing some small thing to make the world better.
It is part of my walk with the divine, and my outward expression of gratitude.
My heart was heavy today, as I looked thru some 15 odd requests from charities
for money.
It sits so hard in my center to throw them away,
I feel such grief at the faces of those in hunger, and ravaged by wars.
Sometimes, if I am lucky and they are mostly paper, The little one and I recycle them into seed papers to send to friends.
Have you ever done this? It’s fun, and it’s a good way to use up the junk ( or not junk) that comes via the post.
This is an easy explanation here, I just add the seeds before I screen.
So peanut and I were talking about one of the requests,
one that I hold very dear to my heart.
One that I know a great many wonderful Fellow bloggers contribute to:
Women for women.
Here at wordpress they have a wonderful blog, that you can read about what these courageous people are doing.
So the little one was trying to understand what the flyer was about, and asking me why it made me so sad.
Do you not just love the heart of innocence? So trying to explain to her about the women in Bosnia, and the atrocities they have suffered, and continue to go thru, was a hard thing to express to a 10 year old. She gets upset when it’s weeks before she gets ice cream, how do you relate all the suffering to one whom you spend your every waking hour trying to shield from the harshness of the world?
Yet in their infinite wisdom, children get it, on some level, they understand the wanting and the needing.
So those of you in the world with wisdom, what do you say when a child asks you
” but why do we have wars?”
From my heart ” I don’t honestly know, or understand.”
With all the sage wisdom of a child she says ” people should make tea, not war. Then they can sit and talk about the problems and find ways to fix them , like you and your friends do!”
( yeah, tears here, in profusion, and DO NOT BE thinking I have ever been successful at fixing anything in the world other than my car and the plumbing!!!)
I have not been able to throw lately, my illness has been prohibitive of it, so my etsy charity shop has been a bit empty, but I ran with the little ones idea, and drew first a tea cup, and then had the fabulous neighbor digitize it to make it an embroidery design, and I have put it on an apron and a tea-shirt! ( pun intended! LOL)
I know that most folks are struggling like we are, and that some days I wonder where the world is headed. I know there are more people in need than I can help, I may be a dreamer, but I know I am not the only one.
So the next time you sit with a cup of tea, or a mug of coffee, perhaps for just one moment you might think ” make tea/coffee not war” and if perhaps enough of us hold this sentiment close in our hearts, we can manifest a change, invoke the power of possibilities.
A feather on the breath of God.
It was a very long day.
The night had been restless, filled with to much coughing, and to sore of a body.
I had worked all day, The smile pasted firmly on my aching countenance.
When I climbed behind the wheel to begin the long drive, I wondered why I was pushing myself so.
The little peanut sat beside me, she told me about her day.
She told me funny stories, she asked me strange and serious questions, she sang along with the CD’s, until after about and hour and a half
she drifted off, staring silent thru the window.
When we pulled into the long farm road driveway, she popped up
” Are we here?” she asked.
When she spotted her friend, she grabbed her Hare, and asked me to stop the car.
I did, and watched with tired joy as she raced to her pal, and they hugged.
At 10, they have a connection that I can see. Like life long friends, they pick up right where they left off, sharing laughter and secrets.
I parked the car and wandered into the house.
I had made this journey to celebrate a wonderful friends Graduation from the Masters program.
When I first met her 10 years ago, she had just started college, and for the past ten years I had been teasing her that when she graduated we would no longer be able to be friends. She and I would laugh, because she knew and understood my distaste for those in the “therapist” profession, the one that she had chosen.
I think she is 60, the little gal my daughter adores is her granddaughter.
I wandered around, some faces were familiar, most not. She sat in center stage, looking relaxed, and maybe a bit self conscious, but she wears both very well.
Those in attendance were asked to bring a story about her, as a gift to her, and I had tucked mine into the book.
At one point everyone was gathered together and asked to speak or read their note about what she had brought into their lives.
I listened,
caught on a thread.
I learned things about her, I had never known. I saw the way the tapestry of her life was interwoven with so many people. I felt the deep well of Love that she held within her self.
I saw how she often sat with death and grief. Just being present for it, and allowing her presence to be a container for those who were grieving to fill with their sorrow.
I saw her laughter, her spontaneity, and that intense creative energy that I had always loved and known, manifest in so many ways in so many peoples lives.
In a way, It was not only a celebration of her achievements, but a coming together to honor that place she has in each of our lives.
I had a moment , of deep inner smile, when I realized why I was there.
Something are not about you, (duh) I was there for her, and for the profound joy I have just knowing her.
When I spoke, I told them all, that I had always seen her as a feather on the breath of god, something from an angels wing, being blown here and there,
and landing just where she was suppose to be.
There,
manifesting love, being fully present for those who needed her.
I love her, she is a wonderful friend, who I feel blessed to know.
I enjoyed several engaging and thoughtful conversations with other people there. I packed up my peanut and drove home.
Driving home through the dark country roads, I realized that we are all feathers on the breath of God, some of us , however, are far more present, loving and aware of the divine in our lives than others.
Missing a candle
The little pottery studio was full.
All 4 of the wheels were in use, and a couple ladies stood at the counter
playing with slabs of clay.
The aroma of fresh brewed coffee wafted thru the air.
There was this larger than life potter walking around laughing and talking to people.
She had this air about her, even though she limped when she walked, her very essence seemed to fill the room.
She walked up to my wheel, and I looked up and smiled.
” Now here’s a picture if ever there was one” she said with a laugh.
I looked at her questioningly.
” The four of you sitting in a row.” she gestured to the women beside me.
” Do you see what I see?” she asked me with a twinkle in her eye.
of course I laughed and said ” no, I am seeing you.”
she said ” you are surrounded by your students, you the Jew, have a Muslim, Christian, and Hindu sitting beside you
all learning from you. It is a Photo!”
We all laughed. She had such a dramatic sweep of arm, but we also smiled, and talked. Our religions did not seperate us, they brought us closer.
I can not tell you how many times at those wheels we would talk, reflect on our faiths, our lives, our children.
We were and are, sisters. The name of our Gods might be different, but our faith in something greater than ourselves, was not.
The women who sat to my left was from Pakistan. She is one of the most amazing women I have ever known.
Over many cups of tea, I have heard the stories of her life. I have laughed with her and cried.
She is raising the most wonderful children.
She does so much to make this world a better place. She sees the heart of people, and always seems to know what to do to lighten a burden,
to coax a smile, to change the course of a day.
I have been missing her these past 2 years, and I decided that I would take my sick but by the boot straps , and put some more things at my charity site.
The money I raise I will donate in her name. So that she is recognized for the light she brings into my world.
She knows what the difference is, and she makes an effort every day to be that difference.
Lessons
In the world outside the computer,
I spend a great deal of time at home.
In my sanctuary.
Practicing my hermit ways,
venturing out on occasions.
When I have trouble with a shop keeper, a quarrelsome customer, or a obnoxious soul at the grocery,
I deal with it, and move on.
They are forgotten almost instantly, as I try to dwell more in the lightness of being.
In the inner world of the computer, things work very differently.
When some one stalks me, trolls me, harasses me, leaves nasty comments and rants about my gender, my sexual orientation, my religious faith, or any manner of their choosing, I can hit delete.
But what do I do when it continues?
When it is here, there, every where?
I don’t understand the mind that obsesses, I can not fathom the heart that loves with restrictions, that places arbitrary value on faith and kindness.
These things are beyond me.
I have thought about them for months, and even when I switched blogs, some of them followed me.
WHY?
To spew hateful words? to say things of little or no value? out of what? spite? illness? loneliness? madness?
I can not say.
But I have found that there is little , if anything I can do about them.
Honestly it is hard to ignore it, when they post a comment under a name you haven’t seen before,
and you glance at it, only to find choice ugly words.
It shocks, and it hurts.
But I suspect that is there intent.
Those words, however, will not change my ideologies, My faith, My love of women and men of any race, color, religion no matter what they look like on the outside, I will Love who I love because of the LIGHT that pours forth from the inside.
So, that being said. I apologize for the comment moderation, I simply do not wish to subject you, ( whomever you, the reader might be) to their malice.
Thank you…
for your understanding.
and for sharing the walk in the labyrinth of life.
Farewell My friends
Like a Mama bear who goes into the Cave
for a long winters nap,
I am weary.
It is time for me to take another respite
from the words here
upon the page.
I am not deleting, just going to make this private,
and close the doors for a while.
To my wonderful friends in The blog world,
I wish you a new year
full of blessings
love and laughter.
I shall not be around to comment with any regularity
but there will be a candle that burns for you
in the window.
You can still reach me at my email
if you need me.
The studio will still be open
and from time to time a photo
or thought may alight there.
thank you
for sharing this journey with me..
Peace to you
Spreading the love…….
We were waiting on the teen to finish his wrestling tournament, so this is a bit late in the day,
but
we sat and pulled names out of the bowl and laughed!
carried on and had a wonderful time!
I can not begin to express our heart felt gratitude to all of you .
This has been a fun and magical time for all of us.
So with out to much adieu,
I am going to share the list,
The spiral mug~ terri from Bonesigh
The candle holder~ green woman
The handmade wooden spoon~ Wildlife gardener
The blanket~ Nytebird
The message board~ Firebyrd
The collection of bonesigh books~ Bimbimbie
The mentoring sessions~ square peg Karen
Deb’s dvd~ Georg
Deb’s book~ Robyn Rice
The honey~ simply Cara
Carols weaving a story~ Cordie B
The bird boot feeder~ Leanne
The book Whispers of the heart~Anne
The hand knit scarf, your choice,from Miss harleyquinn ~Kim & Ron
Deb’s incredible peacock photo~ Gypsy heart
The tarot reading from FireByrd~ Darren daz cox
A poem from FireByrd~Coral
Brandi’s wonderful affirmation cards~ surface earth
“the Pig of happieness” from Mary~ Windexx
The Masia bracelet, your choice of color, from kim ~ Miss R*
The lovely holiday pins from Mel~ Simone
Your choice from Surface earths store~ laughing wolf
The stunning photo by Mig~ Amanda
The print from cordie B~ Rebecca @ a difference a year makes
The poem from Cordie B~ Kaye Bartolotti
The Calendar from Cordie B~ Kay
Karen’s Mp3 ” choosing me!” ~ Char
Karen’s Mp3 ” Chosing me!”~ Gracie
A wonderful set of cards from Leanne~ Tiggs
The thought provoking and incredible statue from bellpine~ Irish
The deeply moving inner sigh sculpture~ laura
The Angel from I Still Like the view~ Grace
The rainbow bird from bimbimbie~ Lisa Reed
I can not find the words to express how much this has meant to so many people.
Me and mine wish all of you who have stopped or stumbled here, a most joyful holiday season, and a new year rich in blessings, love and laughter.
* please email me adress for where to ship!
and for those who are giving, I will let you know where to ship as soon as I hear from the recipient!
Thanks!!!!
Bones
I didn’t sleep to well last night.
It’s not an unusual occurrence,
but it makes me slow and sluggish
all day.
It was the dreams,
or nightmares if you prefer.
I remember how he looked the summer before last.
Walking up to me smiling, his arms spread wide for a hug.
His hair was two tone, and he was sporting a bandana and a cap on backwards.
His t-shirt had a skull on it, and his skin tight jeans had a pair of boots I would have drooled over back in my Sid and Jello days.
He was 13, with a worldly view of at least 20.
and anger…
So much Anger.
I remember the anger, and the really hard questions.
The ones I didn’t feel qualified to answer, but I tried.
I remember the heart to.
The gentleness and the patience he had with my little one.
The time he took in the store trying to find stuff for his sisters.
The talk about choices, and living with the consequences of those decisions.
He ran away from home this past September.
No,
I don’t know where he is.
He hasn’t shown up here. Although I did tell him
before he left, if he needed something he could always call.
He is living on the streets somewhere in Milwaukee or there bouts.
I spoke with his mom, and she tells me when ever you think a heart can’t break
any more…
it does.
The sister who has nightmares that he’s dead.
The one who misses him, and doesn’t understand why he’s gone.
The littlest one, at 2, who picks up a calculator thinking it’s a phone
and calls him and says” Hey! what doin?You comin home?”
Mom sits on the steps when the police come to the door, to afraid to answer it, to afraid of what they
might say.
I dream of him…
I know what the streets are like.
I lived there when I was a kid, and I know, they are no better now.
There are candles in my window, and I light them…
for those near and those far, for those in need, and one for Bones.
I am shamelessly asking, today is my birthday, and for my Birthday
I would like Bones to let someone know he’s okay.
Thats all.
