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 internet...data 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.)

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-

the mask

 Smiling, bubbly-

she says,

"How are you,

you working yet?"

"No"

I say-

"Not Yet."

(Do you really want to know how I am?  I'm settling an estate, and taking care of several broken hearts, you know, since my son passed. Work?  Hell, I just recently started breathing and walking at the same time again.)

"Are you feeling better now?"

and I respond,

"Oh yes, much better, thank you."

(I don't know how to reply to you, if I tell you how I really feel, you shrink away, so I'll wear the mask that makes you most comfortable, we will not speak of death.)

"You must have been so proud of him, serving his country, at least he made it home alive."

and I squeak,

"Oh, I am proud, and yes, what joy we shared!"

(How trivial you make it sound, like him coming home was the most I should expect, I expected- dreamed of his future, what might have been, I was most proud of him for believing in himself,

his mark was not fully cast on this world.)

"You know", she says "God always opens a window when he closes a door."

"Yes, I know that, thank you."

I seethe.

(Lady, stand here in my shoes, look for windows, they must be covered in the thickest of veils, because all I see is he's gone.)

Finally, she offers-

"Well, take care, call me if you need anything, and smile honey, it's not the end of the world!"

Weakly I reply,

"Thank you for your concern."

(I don't know your number, shall I look in the book and call you when I'm so desperate for him that I could just melt away? Not the end of the world? Maybe not for you, but my world ended when his death collided with my life, oh how I wish it were the other way around.)

For They Existed

"And when great souls die, 

after a period peace blooms, 

slowly and always 

irregularly. Spaces fill 

with a kind of 

soothing electric vibration. 

Our senses, restored, never 

to be the same, whisper to us. 

They existed. They existed. 

We can be. Be and be 

better. For they existed.” 

― Maya Angelou

5:10 In the Deep A.M

The thoughts that occupy my mind these days are mainly on seeds, growing, transplanting and mowing.  There seems to be little to no time for any sort of non-productive recreation, the time to plant is now and seedlings- much like infants, demand full care and attention.  Thankfully, I arise very early.  My coffee break begins then around 5:10 in the deep A.M, just as the sun peeks over the Pocomoonshine knoll.  I travel to a spot in the yard where I might sit in the finest first sunspot, out by the chicken coop- near the Wysteria yet nearer to the Oak tree.  It is so early that the owl in the west woods still calls and the chickens barely whisper as they must hear too, an early warning of mealtime talk from a great predator’s beak to her babes-

“We are not only nocturnal, little ones.  In this first luster of light, many new and bright young things wander out into the sunrise glow and welcome the new day with songs that announce their position.  Breakfast time chicks, I’ll be back soon…”

The old hens stay put, but the young carefree rooster flies up to crow on a fence post…just like his brothers did and I can’t help but wonder if he wonders where did they go?  One morning, they were here too- the next, POOF- out of the thin air something plucked them up in mid-crow.  This farm does not much need a rooster so if he crows and goes,  I’ll heed to nature’s way and not make a big deal out of it. Although that fine cocksure Bantam is sure a welcome sight with his glistening black long tail feathers and white though dappled plumage.  Truly, I would hate to seem him go but what can you do when there are hungry babies in the woods with a sharp-eyed mama owl always on the prowl, vigilantly feeding her young?

Sip my coffee, listen to the birds- breathe deep and long and never shallow for the work of the day waits patiently as a keen eyed owl and can overwhelm just as quick as her swooping nature- one must be fit mentally, physically and perhaps most importantly to this wide eyed grower- spiritually attuned here by this light, this new day sun to take in each grateful breath and exhale just as thankfully for the opportunity to work with the earth. 

I am one year older- true, but my back is stronger and holds up better or perhaps I move slower and surer- maybe it’s the fluid way I work into the day, no longer rushing head on in but first, adjusting my heart to the love of the doing.  Every day I wonder still…and am filled with just being.

 Here…now.

Take care-