Friday, February 19, 2010

Like a bird in the air...

Good morning.  I was excited to come on here and write about my snowmobiling adventure yesterday...but, the fire had other not wanting to catch this morning.   It took me all of 30 minutes to get the blaze lit.  I made my way to the bottom of the kindling box and scraped up all the little splinters of wood to establish a mini fire, finally- starting oh so small, I got the flames to feed on the bigger pieces.  The weather here has been warmer than usual, humidity a bit high and those things together make starting that first morning fire all but routine.  So- where was I?  Oh yes!  Snowmobiling...

The seed order lay still unprocessed as of yesterday morning, the bed hadn't been made, morning dishes in the sink- not piled too high.  Why, I hadn't even changed out of my warm jammies and bulky morning sweater- slow start to another slow day of no farming, dreaming about it, scheming and then some- just a midwinter lull in spirit.
Out of the blue, the telephone rang- a neighbor called to see if I was up for a ride.  I looked at my surroundings, knew I had things to attend to, made excuses and finally thought- "Oh what the hell, why not?!"
Threw on my old trusty Carharts, wrapped my feet in some warm luxurious wool socks, scowled at my inappropriate for this climate boots- tugged them on anyway and out the door I stumbled into the hazy sunshine.  Snowmobiling!  I had never been before...

The experience at first was one of haste, then trepidation- I barely knew Joanne, yet I was willing to climb on board and let come-what-may... come.  I like this lady.  She has been an outdoorsy type all her life, grew up in Grand Lake, knew the woods and trails like she knew her own hallways at home.  Snowmobiling is an active adventure here in Maine, seems just about everyone does it, lives for it and makes the best use of the all to ready snow supply.  There are many, many miles of trails- perfectly groomed for the "sleds" and their riders.  Our ride took us up Wabas mountain trail, down through woods and hollers, past lakes and streams.  A mighty bald eagle greeted us at one turn in the bend, coming upon a slew off one of the many great lakes here in this area- we were met by an instantaneous-suck-your-breath in-now-breathe sight.  I see eagles here all the time, but never had I come so close to that wing span, that great whump-whump and up he rose, slowly- majestically soaring above us now and then off to the cover of the greater woods beyond the trail.  No time to unzip the pocket where the camera lay in it's moisture proof pocket...but I won't forget.  Had I taken my eyes off the scene, I would have missed too much- would have spoiled that instance with fumbling and focusing.  I felt my face full of smiles, the whole ride- to be out there in the middle of intersecting trails through a vast wooded area, sharing the atmosphere with a scene stealing majestic eagle, I couldn't help but just be there...with John Denver's "Sweet Surrender" playing in my head.

Take care-

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

a tale of two soaps

You know, if you think about isn’t really a noun- it’s a verb, an action- and when it takes flight, completely free of any human control, it becomes of itself.  Now I can’t write it like it’s supposed to be said…I get all squirmy.  I guess the point I’m trying to make here- when one expects material diamonds that’s what one may get.  But when one ceases to expect, instead- surrendering, throwing one’s hands up into the air, saying “I just don’t know how this is all suppose to play out,  I give up!”  Somehow, somewhere- it is heard as a prayer, a sincere giving in,  the walls come tumbling down…and all the unexpected diamonds in the rough begin to shine.

Now the trick to keep love flowing and flying is to leave it alone.  To quit poking holes in it with too many questions…very hard for this here over thinker.  What if I don’t expect anniversaries, longevity, even flowers come Sunday- can I live with that?  I don’t know...verb that it is, love keeps me on my toes.

  I chased love across a parking lot the other night, as it became angry- and followed it to bed where it mellowed.  It became talking and laughing and finally- sleeping.  The morning found it curiously seeking a remedy, but none was needed as it became forgiving, simply by letting go and laughing.   Love becomes action if one allows it, I think.  When one tries to commandeer love- like putting a dam up and trying to contain all of it’s goodness in a pool, something of it ceases to flow- stagnating it. 

I started this whole post out completely different from what you’re reading here.  Matter of fact- I wrote the whole column last week, after stepping into the shower and becoming profoundly affected by- two bars of soap.  Isn’t that silly?  I even took a picture as soon as I slipped out of there- those two soaps with significantly different ingredients spoke to me of my relationship with the Big Fish.  And I truly cannot explain what it meant to me to see them there- side by side.

  I only know that I feel something unimagined and for lack of better words- not perfect, but it’s right.  And it flows, on and on, in and out…I don’t know what to make of it, I don’t even know what else to say here…ain’t love grand?  Ain’t it a pain? And soapy and soggy and all too wonderful much of the time, and slow like molasses when I wish it would keep up.  And quiet- like snow sometimes and all in a rage like a thunderstorm too.  Sometimes it’s pale- like an eggshell though sometimes it’s as vivid and bright as a twelve year old’s memory of a candy red new bicycle.  It’s cumulative of all the goodness I’ve ever known- this love does that, bringing back those snippets in heaps. 

With all that felt and said in only the way of a true romantic or an unhinged mind…may everyone who reads this find that simple something in their shower or in that dish they're washing, or in that lumpy, crumpled-up bed that needs made…because love made those messes, not to be tolerated or even obligated by ceremonial oaths- I think that’s just how love lives and beckons us to be- aware of it’s sublimities.  

Enough from me…what do you think? 
Is love something we make up as we go along? 
Is it a verb or a noun? 
Is it something you hold onto or is it best let go…should there be expectations?

(Take care-)

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

My word? Wonder.

"Some people ask, “What if I haven’t found my true passion?”It’s dangerous to think in terms of “passion” and “purpose” because they sound like such huge overwhelming ideas.If you think love needs to look like “Romeo and Juliet”, you’ll overlook a great relationship that grows slowly.If you think you haven’t found your passion yet, you’re probably expecting it to be overwhelming.Instead, just notice what excites you and what scares you on a small moment-to-moment level.
If you find yourself glued to Photoshop, playing around for hours,dive in deeper. Maybe that’s your new calling.If you keep thinking about putting on a conference or being a Hollywood screenwriter, and you find the idea terrifies but intrigues you, it’s probably a worthy endeavor for you.You grow (and thrive!) by doing what excites you and what scares you everyday, not by trying to find your passion."
Derek Sivers is an entrepreneur and programmer.  Read and try

Good morning!  I receive weekly emails from a site that has nothing but good news, personal stories of triumph and a heads up on movements on the net that bring about solutions.  The above article depicts the word passion - just one of 70 useful words for 2010 on What Matters Now.  It seemed that many of the words offered had to do with finance and business, but all were composed in such a way that everyone might benefit from applying the  thought process to any task at hand.  Elizabeth Gilbert's word- "Ease".  After reading through the slides, I came upon her rendition, smiled and said-"I love Elizabeth Gilbert."   In my opinion, her thoughts always sum up everything outside of the box, whittle them away and in a nutshell- offer clarity to things I might not have seen had it not been for her clear observation.  I have seen her talks on Ted, interviews on television- she's always the consumate spokesperson for her craft but also like the rest of us- nervously fidgeting, scratching our heads, talking with our hands to draw out the point we're trying to make.  I think she has passion in a headlock, with every word- she wrestles it to the ground and squeezes out every drop.  

The website I visited asked for our own words- what might we add to the list that could change the tide of powerless thinking into a wave of fearless change.  My word?  Wonder.  In looking over my life, for years I merely squandered moments that turned drudgingly into long stretches of just getting by.  When tragedy befell my days, I looked upon the time to come as a constant struggle, not even sure if I had it in me to survive.  It was wonder, after all- that saved me.  To me, wonder is an ever evolving question- but also it is answers, open ended.  I suppose that outlook could drive a person crazy...though in my experience-wonder drives a person towards a life that is as wide as it is hopefully- long.  What is your word?  (And why...!)

Take care-