My blues have gone.
But, now there are Yellows!
Never entirely ~ Wordless Wednesday.
“Dare to be naive.”
– Buckminster Fuller
I have dreams, I have hopes, and I have aspirations.
Can I wait around for some fairy Godmother to to tap me with her wand?
Nah, probably not; I’ve got things to do, time is awastin’, and I’m not getting any younger.
Because I don’t speak of these things much, (until I am ready to share); it may appear to others that I just jump into things, willy-nilly. This could not be further from the truth, I research ad-nauseam. Make a plan, then research some more. (Are you nauseous yet?) I am almost ready! We’ve spoken to our local LDC and are set for our second meeting.
The Llamas are excited. Really they are.
The goats delirious. Can’t you just see the excitement in their eyes?
No? Look deeper.
…and the dogs, well, the dogs could give a hoot.
There are no balls, bones, or games involved, so they just choose to ignore the happenings around here.
They pretend they can’t see the yarn wrapped around their paws, in their water dish, and atop their heads. They lie on top of fabric scraps; try to take freshly stitched sweaters for their own, try to wear cowls, and make chew toys of thread spools.
It is going to be lots of work, lots of fun!
And the best part; I get to do it all in our freshly(to be) built barn.
The dogs really do like that part.
Alright then, let’s get to work.
Uhmm, where are you all going? We’ve got work to do.
Ah, well. There must be something in self-reliance.
“If you are a dreamer come in If you are a dreamer a wisher a liar A hoper a pray-er a magic-bean-buyer If you’re a pretender com sit by my fire For we have some flax golden tales to spin Come in! Come in!” ― Shel Silverstein
Be well, Jess
How much do you try to fit in those little shreds and patches of time between the usual things to be done.
I tossed the laundry in to the basket, grabbed the bowl of pins. loaded up the washer with the next load then headed out to hang them in the sun and breeze.
Walking back from the clothes line out back near the far pasture; I notice some weeds in the garden. I stop to pull the few I noticed; as I pulled, I noticed more. The seeing, pulling, and shifting went on for some time. My back was sore, then I looked at the clock, I had been at it for 3/4 of an hour. I had missed the rinse cycle on the washer, no softener in this load.
What continues to astonish me about a garden is that you can walk past it in a hurry to get to the next task at hand, see something wrong, stop to fix it, and emerge an hour or two later breathless, contented, and wondering what on earth happened.
Do fill the cracks of time so tight you couldn’t slip paper between the minutes? Do you accomplish more when you think you don’t have enough time?
I have a list of things to be done a mile long. This list seems to the should haves, at the end of the day I wonder why I didn’t hem those pants (sorry Mike), why didn’t I trim the dog, (sorry Finn), why didn’t I trim his hair, (sorry honey).
“What may be done at any time will be done at no time.”
– Scottish Proverb
I did however: weed the garden, hang the laundry, help Jenn with her knitting, do the dishes, make the beds, vacuum the rugs, feed the animals, throw the ball for Lexi, clean the chicken coupe, plan dinner, write this post, respond to emails, and its only noon!
“It is not enough to be busy, so are the ants. The question is, what are we busy about?”
– Henry David Thoreau
I have much to learn.
Walking and conversation seem to go hand in hand. Inspired conversation, thoughts from deep within, the longer the walk the deeper the conversation.
I think I could write an interesting memoir of outstanding walks I have taken with others, during which togetherness was not only shared but settled tenderly into the landscape of memory.
When I was a child, my sisters and I used to walk, from the busstops to home, through parks, across fields and up and down hills.
We talked of many things, some meaningful (to very young children) and some completely outrageous, and quite a few very tall stories emerged on those walks.
Whatever the content of the talking, those walks and those conversations remain important memories for me of my attachment to my family, and to nature.
We used to stop along the way to look for Lady Slippers, a protected native orchid. We found a few. We found Poison Ivy more often.
The content of these walks have become blurred, now they’re more a painting in my memory. There, As a whole, no particular parts. Cherished.
“As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives.”
– Henry David Thoreau
Get out there, it’s good medicine.
I am the walkingist girl around, we (my husband or daughter and I) try to put in 6 miles a day, though we don’t always achieve this; weather has her own say in things.
It has been quite a summer, I don’t feel as though I am any further ahead than when I began.
I do suppose, our crazy, busy, complicated lives are very different, though much the same.
We try to keep it simple; life is a lot.
A lot of dreams. A lot of work. A lot of family and friends. A lot of expectations and a lot responsibilities.
Inevitably there is a lot of juggling.
The juggling game changes from time to time, it moves from juggling your own needs with the needs of sick family member; their needs take momentary precedence.
The juggling changes when a loved one enters your life anew. You welcome the ball changes.
Life is never enough.
Never enough time.
It flies by, try as you might to capture it, holding it close so that it doesn’t slip through your fingers…then it’s gone.
Years pass, you hardly notice.
Wish as you might, they are gone.
Never enough energy. There is always one more task to be completed.
Just when you think you’ve reached capacity, another undertaking manifests. You find a new spark.
Would it be conjecture to say you feel the same?
Accomplishing more than you ever thought possible.
Daring to dream of that which should be unattainable.
Do you ever say things, but they didn’t come out exactly as you had planned? One of my daughters, Jenn (actually both) did often as a child, she mixed 2 sayings into one – often. Rocket surgery was but one; still makes me chuckle.
Usually used when I was helping with math homework. “It’s not rocket surgery, Momma”;. Immediately followed by, “When will Daddy be home”?
My other daughter, Juli; well, if she didn’t know the words, she would just make up her own. Once she officiated a marriage, she “married” my husband and I, at age 4. Complete with a gown she hand crafted, a very creative soul she is.
It went something like this:
Howie, do you take Jessica to be your awfully bledded wife? As long as she lives.
Precious she was. (still is)
When our youngest was born, she was certain we should watch her “extension cord” carefully. Always the caring sister.
As I was driving home from the dental hygiene clinic today (Jenn is a student hygienist), I was thinking how fast she has grown; and how funny she was as a child, though she was sure she wasn’t funny at all. She would try to memorize jokes, from the elephant joke book bought at the school book sale, in an effort to be as funny as her older siblings.
Juli was a natural princess actress and wasn’t about to lose her crown, she didn’t find Jenn amusing most days…on the other hand, Juli’s rendition of Marilyn Monroe’s ‘Happy Birthday, Mr. President ‘ was a hard act to follow.
Aah, the memories they provided.
Indian Lore, Celebrate Earth Day a day late.
There was an old lady, from the Cree tribe, named Eyes of Fire, who prophesied that one day, because of the (man’s) Yo-ne-gis’ greed, there would come a time, when the fish would die in the streams, the birds would fall from the air, the waters would be blackened, and the trees would no longer be.
There would come a time when the “keepers of the legend, stories, culture rituals, and myths, and all the ancient customs” would be needed to restore us to health. They would be mankinds’ key to survival, they were the “Warriors of the Rainbow”.
They would tell them why our earth is sick, they would show the peoples that this (the Great Spirit), is full of love and understanding, and teach them how to make the Earth or “Elohi” beautiful again. They would teach of Harmony among people in all four corners of the Earth.
Once again, they would be able to feel joy in solitude and in councils. They would be free of petty jealousies and love all mankind as their brothers, regardless of color, race or religion. They would feel happiness enter their hearts, and become as one with the entire human race. Their hearts would be pure and radiate warmth, understanding and respect for all mankind, Nature, and the Great Spirit.
They would once again fill their minds, hearts, souls, and deeds with the purest of thoughts. They would seek the beauty of the Master of Life — the Great Spirit! They would find strength and beauty and the solitudes of life. Their children would once again be able to run free and enjoy the treasures of nature.
The rivers would again run clear, the forests be abundant and beautiful, the animals and birds would be replenished. The powers of the plants and animals would again be respected and conservation of all that is beautiful would become a way of life.
The poor, sick and needy would be cared for by their brothers and sisters of the Earth. These practices would again become a part of their daily lives. The leaders of the people would be chosen in the old way ~ by those whose actions spoke the loudest. Those who demonstrated their love, wisdom, and courage and those who showed that they could and did work for the good of all, would be chosen as the leaders or Chiefs.
They would be chosen by their “quality” and not the amount of money they had obtained. Like the thoughtful and devoted “Ancient Chiefs”, they would understand the people with love, and see that their young were educated with the love and wisdom of their surroundings.
They would show them that miracles can be accomplished to heal this world of its ills, and restore it to health and beauty. The tasks of these “Warriors of the Rainbow” are many and great.
There will be terrifying mountains of ignorance to conquer and they shall find prejudice and hatred. They must be dedicated, unwavering in their strength, and strong of heart. They will find willing hearts and minds that will follow them on this road of returning earth to beauty.
It will be with this knowledge that we shall find our “Key to our Survival”.
Have you ever noticed, it can appear some are floating on life’s river.
Yet, upon a closer look they are only appear still…
Is it so bad to be still?
Is it so bad not to be actively chasing?
Chasing careers, chasing financial success, chasing recognition, chasing bigger, chasing better; only to catch it to find it not enough.
Can a successful life be one with out notoriety or fame?
Can we still quietly achieve, not announcing every achievement to the world?
Maybe this holds my smoldering distain for social media, where every undertaking is announced, every exploit a plea for approval.
It is ok to be.
Can you know you matter.
Recognition is a basic human need, I know this.
But is this need now on steroids? Has this need become more demanding?
My thoughts offer more questions than answers.
Can success be contentment?
It is okay to stop paddling so hard; it is okay to savor what you have achieved.
To listen. To feel. To enjoy. To savor.
Attend to where l your heart takes you next.
There may be contentment in still waters.
A simple bit of earth has the impressive power of evoking grand dreams. The magic begins with the arrival of winter’s dispersal of seed catalogs.
If you garden and are anything like me you dream, and plan you scratch lines in the soil with the toe of your boot, you carve and through grassy strips creating new beds and expanding the old. You move this here and that there, in hope of better growth. Maybe this next to that would be better…you have illusions of a grand garden (or perhaps delusions).
Notions gleaming with possibility and loosely tangled treasure bounce through your noggin, like spring peepers on your pond.
Ideas flash like a a photographer’s bulb, if only they were as easily created as they are imagined.
I imagine more garden paths, lined with pea stone beckoning you to enter herb gardens filled with basils, thyme, rosemary, and sage, or a bench tucked away in a secret cutting garden.
Fields of french lavender lending their fragrance to dawn’s solitude.
You feel the moss under your bare feet that cling to the damp slate slabs in an outdoor dining area. You sit, senses drenched with wisteria draping from the pergola overhead. Birds, bees, and butterflies going about the daily task of pollination (no chemicals to harm them in sight).
It’s still much too cold here to get out and work the soil, so I sit sipping Earl Grey whilst I bide my time, content to plan and dream.
“My garden of flowers is also my garden of thoughts and dreams. The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers, and the dreams are as beautiful.” Abram L. Urban
Be well, dream, and do.
Is there some deep down craving, a story left untold, a path grown over from lack of treading? Or is it just me that has to push, to find detours, over mountainous obstacles, brought to a dead end; only to turn around, catch my breath only to be propelled forward yet again.
Its only human, I suppose, to want to hide from change. To stay snugged in your box of contentment. Why venture out; it’s warm and cozy there.
We should leave our lives open to serendipity; creative souls are not meant to be boxed in. There are discoveries out there that may make our hearts quiver, or shake us to our souls.
We have dreams, we have fears to conquer. (Well, Sidney; I do)
We have an adventure ahead. Let’s not waste a moment. (You’re not coming with me, are you Sidney?)
How does the saying go? ” “I’m an idealist. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way!” (No wonder Sidney doesn’t wanna come.)
Maybe Cicely will come? Maybe not.