Monday, April 29, 2013

Beauregards Farm

Loved writing this blog for several years now...with farming and photography and other dreams I have not mastered yet, I have certainly and finally decided to let True Calling rest.  Visit me at Beauregards Farm on the web and see what's new, what's up and what's what.  Thank you for your consideration and kindnesses through the years...therapy came from nowhere I could see but everywhere, from you- I could feel love and concern;  it made all the difference.  Semper Fi.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

The dumpster dive, the tuna salad, the story...

(originally published 02/02/09)

A retelling of a tale... about a Big Fish.
Big Fish hooked!
The lunch room was empty, he had forgotten to bring along a companion to his tuna salad sandwich- a reading companion. And the remnants from the lunch crowd earlier produced no magazines, or even a snippet of the sports page. So he took to digging in the trash...for reading material. He was desperate, bored- tuna salad made too blandly could only be savored by reading material- taking one's mind off not enough mustard and too much mayo. His dumpster dive produced a Sunday edition of the Bangor Daily News- and even it was only a segment- the sappy kind that women read or sissy boys get all emotional over. An AP article caught his eye because of the gardening byline- he loved to garden. The tuna salad experience was looking up. He read and ate...finished up his lunch and threw the BDN back into the bin. And worked his way through till the end of his day- punched the time clock and headed home. That's it. End of story?! 

Man goes to work, has tuna salad for lunch, reads sissy segment in paper only because there was nothing else more he-man like to entertain him, tosses paper into garbage and finishes out his day.

Except- something he had read in that article tugged at him as he pulled into his driveway, some 20 odd miles away from his work place. Something weird, mysterious- so alluring, he turned his Toyota around and drove back, willingly- to the place of hard work for some 30 plus years- parked his truck, nodded to the guard (who probably thought it was pretty odd to see the man back at work after only clocking out some 40 minutes ago...) made a beeline (well, maybe not a beeline- more like a pilgrimage...OK, this part I'm trying to make sound more interesting) for the lunch room. To go dumpster diving again. Only- this time, there was no tuna salad, no need for passing the time with a good read...this time- the need was- truly, he didn't know. He only knew that something made him silly enough to waste time and a gallon of gas. So- for the second time that day, the man dug through the trash- this time more excited, more deliberate, more...nuts.

The dumpster dive, the tuna salad, the story... for whatever reasons, these strange combinations drove the man right out of his mind...and into his heart. He picked up a pen and paper and wrote to the subject of the story on gardening...just to say hello. Just to say I'm thinking about you, just to say-

"I've never done anything like this, I hope you don't think I'm odd- I just felt compelled to write to you and tell you I think you're a beautiful person. I just wanted to get in touch, hoped it would mean something to you, to let you know you should keep doing what you're doing..."

That's what Big Fish do...out of the ordinary, extraordinarily kind, wondrous things. They send an envelope to the Community Center in the local nearest little town, with a note explaining-" Please put this lady's address on this envelope if you would, and forward it to her. I'm from Maine and just needed to get this message to her. Thanks."

As of September 2007, this Mainiac and I have been pen pals. He didn't even own a computer or cell phone- he preferred going to the ocean, gardening , walking in the woods, listening to the radio. The Radio!!! I have since transformed him just a little bit- now there's a CD player, a computer (he hates it), and he did own a cell phone for a little while, but chucked it somewhere, probably into the deep Atlantic off some rocky shore.

He flew out here last March...and the rest, as they say- is history. He now commutes infrequently, meeting folks from all over the globe in his travels. He doesn't know a stranger, gives his seat up in busy airports to little old ladies and women with children. Tips his hat, and says stuff like-"Hey Bud!" and "Wat an Aushol!" and "Deah-could I have a drink of watah?" On his first ever trip here, he was a bit nervous- so the guy next to him, naturally charmed I'm sure- gave him a red key pass. (Apparently, there are secret little wonderful club rooms in certain airports where, with one of these keys- you get treated like Mick Jagger.) And now the guy(from Seattle) visits Maine to see the Big Fish and they've formed a friendship. Every time my BF flies, he meets, or better word- connects to other folks through his friendly, Maine-bear hug-like charm.

(So many times I get- "Why'd you come to Maine?!!  How did you meet The Big Fish?"...well, this story is how and partially why.

 And, our story continues...I am now a Mrs. Big Fish as of 12/21/12 and could never have conceived of this particular happiness.  We grow together.)

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

ebb and flow

Schoodic Point~Maine
"Only when the tide goes out do you discover who's been swimming naked."

Warren Buffett

"You must know that you can swim through every change of tide."

“We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of time and resist in terror- its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible in life, as in love, is in growth, in fluidity – in freedom.”  
Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Fifty One

Wonder is my religion and love is the only answer to most of the questions.

 There are more questions than answers.

 Question answers.

Think for your self and you'll always have the answer to your own problems.

Thinking for your self is extremely difficult made especially more so if you're overtly concerned of what others think of you.

Spontaneously letting go in dance, laughter,  blowing milkweed seeds, trudging through the woods hoping to encounter some unknown, going left instead of right- is truly living.

Hugging someone when all others seem repelled by their extreme vulnerability is kindness, is compassion.

Express your self, it's what you're here for.  With pen or brush, camera or sewing needle, wood or plant material- build it, create it.  Should you enjoy this, I promise at the end of your work- the piece will speak to you of you.  And you will know it and smile, without a care if anyone else gets it.

I am weird.  I have always been weird.  I hope I continue to be weird.  Being weird is a big way to live,  I cannot live marginally...I tried, but I couldn't do it.

I started writing a blog in 2007, I don't know why.  Contrary to popular belief, I hardly know anything- I hope that people will turn to the outdoors for wisdom.

You cannot know just how truly resilient and strong you are until you test your self.  TV, internet, newspapers test your patience not your resolve- get out and move something, anything- just go.

Few books have affected me since my son died like John O'Donohue's writings...his words bring peace of a different sort and I cannot say for sure just what sort, I only know there is recognition for me in his writing- I owe him the same effort so that others might feel comforted too.

It is true when something is lovingly created, you can feel it, taste it- see it.  Not so when something is manufactured to be "natural", not even close.

Cross country skiing in a silent pace is a lovely experience- hearing only your own breath, your dog's breath, the  muffled poke and pop in the snow of the poles and the gentle gliding swish of the skis upon a white fluffed insulated earth.

I love the outdoors every day- more...and am always elated to find that is ever true with each passing experience.

I find I say "I don't know..."  more often than I ever did.

My favorite color is still green, green, green!!!!

I love homemade wool socks and mittens, and cherish each pair I have.

I have a little statue by my laptop, an auction find "The Thinker"...just looking at him studying the unknown with his hand upon his chin reminds me to assume nothing and yes, here we go again- ask questions! (This is especially helpful when using the overload makes one dumb!)

Above the desk is a bulletin board where all things interesting to me, have been messily saved- like words from a newspaper stated in a particular way-"Beau tugs at heartstrings from a distance.", or tea bag  encouragement- "You must live for something higher, bigger and better than you." or "You must know that you can swim through every change of tide." (That's a really good one...if you know that, you know all you need to know.)

I still love my Levis!

Forgiving is harder than giving birth, getting stitches, breaking a bone, getting smacked- it's a real zinger to all stations of your psyche because at issue is trust.  Once trust has been abused, it's really hard to forget that and you shouldn't...forgiving is one of those gentle strength issues, when one can master that balance, one can learn to forgive.  But do remember where the infliction came from, that is being aware and being aware saves trust before it is completely lost.

I have learned not to waste my time on folks who are mean spirited.  That's a deep meanness and it serves no purpose trying to reach them- they are lost and like being so.(But it doesn't hurt to check in every now and again...)

I used to think if you smiled at the world, it would smile back at you.  I don't find that to be so true anymore although it used to be more common.

I told my Dad once that I do gather information from others much brighter than me, but in the end- I use all that information and make my own decision regardless of another's belief.  Dad had said I would have to be careful with that kind of thinking since I was a girl. Yep.  Us girls can't be trusted to think our own thoughts and act accordingly....HA! (This was a loooong time ago, he might have changed his tune a bit...)

The older you get, the more you lose- friends, family, time.  It's hard to reconcile one's feelings towards losing what once was so commonplace to you, what was once so comforting.

I find something to be grateful for every day.  I suppose ten years ago I might have said "tried", but it is so- one can find something to be grateful for every single day.  On your pillow, say the thing or things that brought unexpected joy that day...your dreams that follow will be rich in meaning.

I pray every day for all.  Love, joy, peace and beauty to bless each and every one of us.  I do not forget to pray...I hope some day we will know what we pray for.

In the garden, if one looks deep enough- is an answer to any life question.  See how a seed germinates in the cold dark, soil.  See the little plant struggle to survive as it finds itself growing in the shadow of a too tall sunflower.  Watch the way it turns toward the source of light from which it came, spindling, stretching bending and sometimes simply going to seed so that it's offspring might outgrow the shadows.

This saying is true- love isn't love until you give it away.

I used to think "so and so" didn't love me because they didn't say so...I learned to look for their love instead of waiting for an announcement that most probably would never come.  People often show what they fear to say, and that is good enough for me.

I still love the Ozark Mountain Daredevils.  Their music and lyrics are a rare mix of youth, delight, nature, wisdom and laughter...they have been my favorite band since 1977.

I think consumerism is man's way of inadequate living.  He knows something is missing but instead of  feeling, dreaming, becoming...he buys his way towards a fulfillment of stuff.  And realizes some day- how empty he still is.

I feel there is a source of all life in all creation, the clouds do form to inform us- the stars mark the darkness with an eternal light source, the sun brightens more than the shadows, the moon guides the tide and forces change in us too.  There is not a flower that blooms without a message of hope.

 When a child loses their way, we should be there to guide- not to condemn.

We should not provide for the capable, it renders them incapable.  There are far too many folks with two good hands out and we fill them.  Why should they try and test their own capabilities when we max out our own in order to "help" them?

I have been preaching sustainable living long before it was cool and trendy.  My children used to be embarrassed by their "hippy" mom.  Now- they think hippy mom was on to something.

Used to be the Hippie couldn't be trusted and the government could be.  Now, it's the other way around...thank goodness for old hippies.

It's time people quit listening to donkeys and elephants and started listening to each other- farmers in particular.  And women.  But most definitely, themselves.

So much of what I have learned has come after many, many too many trials and errors...I have no regrets* with the exception of hurting someone other than myself, for that I am deeply sorry and hope my actions speak of my sincere regard for changing what I am sorry for.  Too many people go on making mistakes in life that affect everyone around them while they come out smelling like a rose.  If you make a mistake and there are a hundred people in line paying for that mistake while you go on unscathed, then perhaps it is not love in your heart but something else.  One should feel shame if others pay for your mistakes.  If you feel no shame, you will continue to hurt the ones you  love, over and over.  I think feeling shame and feeling guilt are two separate things.  Guilt comes from another making you aware and perhaps, then you'll change- this is the way of the world and not the right way as far as I'm concerned, guilt is a fear tactic and is used like a weapon- keeping everyone in line yet out of love's reach.  Shame is something deeply felt by the offender and makes one want to change for the sake of all concerned because love is at the helm and desires more love.

Am I wiser?  In many ways, yes.  In other ways, no... perhaps when I am 99, I will still be wondering.

(*Selling my old 1972 gangrene Ford Pickup truck.  I regret this every day.)

Saturday, February 2, 2013

A New and Now Time

Heck if I know...might have to spend the rest of my life wondering.  To wonder, to ask questions as to the why and the how, scratching my head a bit and then finally go on with the love of living.  Good as answer as any, I suppose.

I know it's been awhile since I've been on here.  Who needs to write a blog anyway?  Similar question to the photo above.  Heck if I know, I just do.  It helps in some ways not to think too much, because I am riddled and rifled with that process.  Writing is like a spitting it out, exercising the brain, squeezing my mind muscle that produces an energy that builds thoughts into words and out...splerrrrt!  Here it is.  Oh my.  It's been too long since I have written, so a spittoon may be in order here.  

Looking back over the last year, much had caught up with me.  Or, had weighed me down, I'm not sure- feels the same either way.  I got too far away from me and my particular spark and tried to light the way for so many others...exhausting.  See, I can't do that. See, that's not what this True Calling is about.  Our true calling is to ourselves, to what lies within us.  And it is here, now and only here, now.  Not there- not back.  Right here, right now is the truest calling I know.  And I'm it.  Rather- I'm in it, up to my eyeballs and seeing what it's like to truly see things as they are.

On the wall, a clock is ticking.  I don't care much to mark time on days like this, I just like to hear that sound.    Behind me the blower of the fan on the woodstove whirs on and on, encouraging the orange flame to glow and heat the place up;  this is sure a peaceful way to start a day.  I've already got a pot of soup going in the crockpot.  Swiss Chard, Italian Sausage, homemade Turkey Broth, garlic from the garden (oh I hope my supply holds out...!)
The beginnings of a good day.  A new and now time.  Every moment.  Thanks for visiting,
Take care-