THE SACREDNESS OF WORK

Every morning a friend posts a picture of her artwork with an appropriate piece of prose. Today she posted a Celtic blessing with a phrase I particularly keyed into - "the sacredness of work". I just love this because how wonderful would it be if we viewed everyone in our daily lives as people performing sacred acts of work. If I've learned anything through this damn pandemic, it's a renewed appreciation for the helpers in our daily lives. I am especially grateful for those who dutifully show up, smile and make life more bearable just by being decent human beings! We are all starving for joy but it's sometimes right there in front of us - grinning! Hello! Thanks for showing up today! 

Illustration from Pinterest

TRUE NORTH

So many, many times during the past few months I've had this feeling of losing my way. I wasn't sure which direction I should follow. The phrase, "lost in space", aptly defined my navigational system. I justed wanted to find my way back "home". I wanted to find my way back to all the comforts and safety structures of time and place. Nothing in my purview seemed familiar or made sense anymore. I wasn't even sure that I was mentally functioning appropriately. There were inexplicable confrontations (but definitely deserved in my opinion), sketchy feelings of "flight" rather than "fight", and a general sense of purposelessness (if this is even a word). I needed to present a front of holding it ltogether so family and friends wouldn't be worried. And, in all practical purposes, this was true. But inside my head was the face of that famous "Scream" picture by Edvard Munch. I was functioning in a dream state that I knew I would wake up from - but didn't. Then there was that one pivotal moment when at 2:00 a.m., I decided to put my car outside of the garage so I could sweep out all the leaves that had blown in - and also to just scream and cry a little, even hoping a black bear would come in and put me out of my misery. But for some reason I went over to a Woolrich hunting coat hanging in the garage and put my hand into the pockets hoping to find an answer to this madness. And there it was - a tiny compass, and somehow in that moment, I knew I would find my way back home. A friend recently held my hand and reminded me that there are no coincidences in this life, just signs pointing the way.

"You’re my true north. No compass would point me in any other direction but to you."

 -Kristen Hope Mazzola, Crashing Back Down

SOMETHING'S HAPPENING HERE

It feels like the last two years has been some kind of apocalyptic episode. Was it like this for those who lived through the pandemic of 1918. Every afternoon I watch the local school bus drop off students. I've always enjoyed watching this everyday scene play out - kids bouncing off the bus, happily chatting with friends - lighthearted, not a care in the world. Today, I watched them solemnly lumber off the bus, heads down, silently walking home. I was overcome with such sadness at the sight of these children, so seemingly burdened by the world. I sobbed uncontrollably. How have we come to this? Children so unhappy. Covid has weakened the spirit of everyone and it's taken its toll on our children. Our government, our people, have failed to be grownups; and our children are paying the price. Some days are just so damn hard.

Photo by Blended Images

WHERE DO I GO FROM HERE?

A friend stopped by the other day. We hadn't seen each other since 1973. "So", my friend asks, "where do you go from here?" Good question, right? One that I get asked quite frequently. But to be honest, I don't have the foggiest idea what comes next. When catastrophic change erupts into your life, there is this sense of surrealness that lingers all around you like a foggy mist. My friend tells me that the question comes out of love and concern knowing that I need to start the hard work of finding a new purpose. In my head I know this, and I also trust that this epiphany will manifest itself when the time is right. I tell this to my friend who seemed somewhat satisfied with my response, at least enough to move on to reminiscing about our lives and catching each other up on what we've been doing the last fifty years. To be honest, I almost declined this visit but it turned out to be a true gift as we recalled our past times together and how these memories contributed so much to who we are today - how important those early friendships in life are! We laughed, we cried, and we were grateful - and we were surprised to be able to pick up the conversation right where we left off in 1973. Our three brief hours together erased the almost 50 year time lapse. Where do I go from here? Time will tell my friend. But the journey is less scary when you have friends cheering you on. That much I know for sure.

MISTLETOE MEMORIES

           Illustration by the Spotted Frog (Etsy)

January 5: All About Twelfth Night 

Down with the rosemary, and so

Down with the bays and mistletoe;

Down with the holly, ivy, all,

Wherewith ye dress’d the Christmas Hall.

–Robert Herrick (1591–1674) 

MISTLETOE

    My mom always hung mistletoe from the small chandelier in our foyer. I fondly remember seeing my grandparents and parents smooching under that mistletoe every year. Most often, it was left up long after all the Christmas decorations were put away. Just forgotten, unnoticed. Except.

    Except, when a boy I was very fond of noticed that it remained hanging long past the holidays. He smiled each time we said good night and kissed me sweetly accusing me of keeping it there so he would always kiss me goodbye. He promised that someday he would write a play about this cherished mistletoe that remained in place long after Christmas to remind us all to always kiss each other goodbye. I wonder if that play was ever written. I think it would have been a hit.

   

THE TENTH GOOD THING ABOUT BARNEY

The night before Jim married me, he brought me a gift. It was a kitten, our Rass. During courtship couples share their past with one another, and I had shared that my heart was broken twice by having to give up rescued cats.  One (Alley), that my mother took to a farm because she didn't want a cat in her house, and a second (Tigger), that  I found a home for after my landlord told me I couldn't keep him.  Yes, Jim presented me with the absolute perfect wedding gift. Nineteen years later when Rass died, someone gave us a book by Judith Viorst called the, TENTH GOOD THING ABOUT BARNEY.  It helped our family grieve as we read it together. As I enter this new year alone, I've been thinking about that book, and how just thinking about ten good things,  helped the grief.  So, in that vein, I offer my, The Tenth Good Thing About Jim.  Here's my list.

1. He gave me a kitten as a wedding present. 

2. He brought me wildflowers from the woods.

3. He cooked for me.

4. He taught me to love fly fishing and showed me the beauty of trout and salmon streams.

5. He cross country skied with me.

6. He supported and encouraged all my passions.

7. He could always make me laugh.

8. He felt my heartaches and cried with me.

9. He loved our children, fiercely.

10. He told me every day that he loved me, and he  kissed me each night before bed.

He was a good husband.