PEACE

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In that place that is not now, distracted from the present, and not knowing why, tears fall. Then fall more.

Sometimes an instinctual urge has no name or explanation. Get out. Walk. Doing will help you feel productive, not paralyzed as this new wave of unspoken needs and change take hold.  

Eventually the mind will meet the emotions and the unnamed feelings will make sense; or they won’t. Until then ride the waves and do the work needed to maintain health in all realms; emotional, mental, spiritual and physical. 

Walk, confront the negative voices, bring that dissociated mind back to what is around you now. A scent lifts me, the aroma of lilacs or lily of the valley. The cat splays out on the floor in the sun stretching her expansive furry body able to look adorable even in her sickness. Life goes on…

The feelings move through. Another day arrives, each one a new flavor. 

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TENDER HEART

photo by patricia

When hurt by those close to me in the present day, the hurt, more like a surface scratch, becomes infected by the past. It expands, deepens, and the old wound opens up bleeding causing more pain than what presently occurred. It can take days to move freely from it. It happens again and again because some wounds from the past don’t heal. Like trust, or the inability to trust.

People being human have feelings and their own stuff. Their ‘stuff’ causes them to react unkindly, insensitively and hurtfully. The instinct is to hurt back when one is hurt. Knowing this helps to move beyond another’s flaws and also can become a nod as to what needs looking at within myself.

Why did that cause tears to flow, and flow, then well up again days later? It is not what my loved one has done, but what others have done long ago. This needs attending to; careful dabbing of the wound, attentive, gentle love, a cool caressing hand to the forehead, rocking one’s tender heart lovingly in curiosity, openness and acceptance.

That is what heals… attention to what is internal with warmth, tenderness and as much care as one would offer their most loved one. Because aren’t you one?

The Lake

Our little creek has swollen with the rains…

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Decaf works best for me, yet spiking it with caffeine seems to make it taste better. Yesterday the spiking was too heavy and the day got away from me. No way to find the wholeness continually searched for. What could have been a peaceful day was fraught with separateness unable to enter the dwelling of my body and stay there. My mind buzzed…all from a small amount of added caffeine. 

Doing what I do best, beating myself up, I bow my head over my burning hand on the counter and wept. I wept for the stupidity of pulling the crock pot over to the sink still plugged in. The hot bean liquid splashed all over my hand. And finally wept for the bag of chips I ate the day before and wanted to confess about but couldn’t till then, “All 6 ounces Samuel. I ate the whole bag!” 

He cleans up the mess and says, “So what.” 

Holding my hand under cold water, I watch as he eats out of his bag of chips. “I love this salsa,” he says, grabbing more chips.

We had shopped together, an unusual occurrence due to my extreme impatience. I knew better than buying myself chips, albeit baked, but thought skeptically that I could eat just small amounts at a time. He grabbed his bag of tortilla chips.

“No!” I said, when he pointed to the peanut butter stuffed pretzels. I cannot have junk around. I eat it!

Going over to the table I pick up his bag and look at the ounces. 12. He had eaten half a bag, same as me, but he wasn’t smashing his face in the cement like I had been doing. 

All the talk of self-love, self-compassion, self-forgiveness…where does it go? Every time I make a mistake, or mistakes, it comes smashing down, and it stays. 

“There’s always tomorrow,” he says. 

“And I’ll make more mistakes tomorrow!” I retort. 

Yet this morning I feel calm as the sun rises warming my face through the window. This part of me that is so hard on myself is staying. I need others who help me come out from the mire when I’m stuck, and luckily I have them…

my birthday surprise from Samuel

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SUNRISE

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I have tried to train myself to different hours, going to bed later to wake later but it doesn’t work. I’m asleep by 10 pm awake at 5 am. That’s OK since much beauty awakens in the early morning and I thrive on it. It allows for much needed alone time since Samuel has retired. Even the best of mates need space… 

I await the grand-children and my son and daughter-in-law for egg dyeing and quiche later this morning… 

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One Kind Word

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One kind word can change someone’s day, week, year, even life. When feeling down one can recall the kindnesses of others even decades later… One kind word is all it takes.

Thank you fellow bloggers who uplift and support,

and each ones does…

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INTUITION

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photo by patricia

Is that out of the head and into the spirit, the gut, the soul? That is a new way of living that brings wholeness. Getting there took determination, and my battle-scarred body, psyche and mind crave rest; a slower paced life that now unfolds.

And if I can do it, anybody can. But the work entailed? I can tell you, if I was asked to go back being 20, 30, or 40, … NO, I would not. 

I hung cloth diapers by the wood stove, yet found so much satisfaction keeping the ‘home fires’ burning while Samuel was working. The old enamel stove sat like a queen in the kitchen keeping me warm twice by it’s cooking and the energy expelled filling her. 

The less one has the more things are appreciated.

I sit by our coal stove now as my 64th birthday approaches in April and still feel the coziness of being warmed by a fire, the cat curled up by my feet. The door to the porch is slightly open as spring birds sing, geese honk down by the creek and ducks belt out a hello. As the gentle rain melts the last patches of snow, the morning doves once again make a nest atop the clematis vine clinging to the screen only feet away. 

The anticipation of spring shall hold me through until green comes to the trees and lawns. The breath goes deeper releasing tensions carried all winter. Ahh, spring…

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The Wild Ride of Spring

photos by Patricia

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Spring in February? The birds say it’s so. The only trouble with spring is the brain chemistry going awry, up, up, up one day, then thoughts of calamity and doom the next… Tigger then Eeyore. Waking in the night brings odd thoughts that need reining in, and thoughts of the ‘family of origin.’ Comfort is found nesting in fictitious memories where love abounds, though day to day life excludes any interaction focusing only on those that accept and love all of me.

It is a daily chore to also focus on connecting with my body. Others seem so connected and take that ability for granted. Both fear and satisfaction are found in the groundedness of residing fully in the home of my body. The fear comes from the life long habit of residing elsewhere, perhaps my head, but also from pain and what will go wrong next or wear out. Satisfaction comes in tending to my body’s needs in a caring thorough way. (like other ‘normal’ people do) 

The day erupts with unusual warmth and hope rushes in where winter gloom had permeated. Ten laps today. Samuel joins me while resting after my walk pulling out the canoe. The melted snow along with recent rains have swelled the creek over its banks. This allows for longer excursions. He brought his clippers to clear branches. We make it to the beaver lodge, then the pond area by the falls that the beaver created with his growing dam. Evidence of his work is everywhere. It is so noisy now by the creek since my bird friends have returned, a joyful ruckus that had long been silent. 

Later Samuel delivered the grape pie to my son Shane and his family, but there had been enough filling to also make a hand held pie for Samuel and me… yum!

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