pressed flowers and other revealing things

 These ones stayed..............

I lost count on the number of boxes I filled with books during one of the most humid nights of this summer.   There were times when I hesitated.... caught by a memory of when one of them had been added to the shelves.  A Christmas present...anniversary.....birthday gifts.  The much coveted novel, enjoyed immensely.  For the most part however, I was on a roll.  With a glass of wine on hand, and my musical preferences to keep me company, I spent hours decluttering, cleaning and stacking the boxes for future retrieve.  

My focus tumbled around 2:45 am.  Not quite the witching hour.  Almost. 

I came face to face with a  large reference tomb of a book . My resolve melted momentarily.  It had nothing to do with the book itself.  Rather, it was the pieces of paper towels sticking out of through the pages that caught my eye.  Caught breath.  Wavering balance.  My initial reaction was to recoil like I had seen a water moccasin curled up on the bottom shelf hissing at me!  It was just a book for goodness sake.  How in the world can something so inanimate create such a visceral reaction?  Well, try living in a house whose familial foundation was startled by thundering betrayal.  There are little emotionally ticking trinkets mocking you for months afterwards.  Bloody loud they can be! 

As soon as I saw them, a realization hit me in the gut.  Inside the creases of the paper towels were beautifully pressed flowers.  Pansies, daisies, forget me knots I had picked from our first house and placed in the book many years ago to dry.  My intentions back then were to use them to decorate candles or note paper. 

But, then I got busy.  The craft project was forgotten. The flowers were abandoned.

Two children to raise.

A career that kept me busy.

A home to run. 

A marriage to....................?

I took a bit of time to look at the flowers laying open on paper. My hands open to hold them.   I took in their delicate beauty.  I remembered where I had picked them...out of the garden of our first house.   I cried a little.  Not enough moisture to bring them back to life.....just enough to moisten my cheeks.  Then, I tossed them into the trash. 

I've tossed a lot of stuff along with rearranging pictures and painting walls.  Enlightening....... and lightening. Everytime I've reached that place when I could let go of "the stuff"  my whole body feels like it is somehow defying gravity for a thin air second. 

To get to this head space, I have worked hard taking one step at a time.  There are some who feel that I should be farther along the path. How do I know this?  I hear it.  Then, there are some who comment on how well I'm doing.  I hear this too.  Who the hell knows..... except me.  I am where I am.......   More importantly, I am fine with where I am.  Right here.  Living.  Moving forward at my own pace.  If there is anything I can control, its my own pace and my own readiness to tackle yet another piece of the "letting go" puzzle.  Those overcrowding yakety yak books were my chosen target the other night. When the urge hits, you've got to move into that headspace and go to it even if it takes all night long..... which it did. 

I put the kettle on as the sun raised it's orange eyebrow over the river horizon.  The boxes of dusty books were stacked high in my kitchen along with a few holding memories of past gift giving days.  My shelves had been scrubbed down with lemon scented cleaner.  More minimalist, they were reborn with the novels and reference books that were mine and the kids as well as a few bright coloured clay vases, a couple of woven baskets, a few framed photos....  I swear I heard the white painted wood heave a sigh of relief as I stretched out my own muscles while realizing for the first time how tired I was.  

Content too. I hadn't felt that broad contentment in a long time......

The sun rose into the peace of a hazy summer morning, accompanied by the choir of birdsong that always makes me feel happily connected with the ground my barefeet touch.  At that moment, I felt alone, but not lonely.  All of those sense of accomplishment emotions were lightly stirring the remnants of my energy.  Gladness. Wing fluttering gladness kissed by the sweetness of honey nectar.   It was a moment this summer that I will never forget because even though it seems like just another chore found on a "to do" list, it was so much more than that.  

A few of the people in my life who have walked with me knew what I had been up to that night.  I can honestly say that their spirit tapped me from time to time and kept me moving forward. I was always in good hands. When it was late enough in the morning, I phoned one of them........ in  a tired but satisfied voice, I announced that my latest decluttering mission was accomplished.  

Full of encouragement that only comes with understanding he invited me over to his place where there was a cool bed in an air conditioned room......... away from the rest of the familiar world.  I took him up on his offer, and as he went about his own chores, tackling his to do list, I slept more soundly than I had in months, lullabied by the constant whir of cool cool air, while being checked on from time to time by the caring eyes of a dear friend. His kindness I will always hold onto.

A month later, when I walk into my living room (which will in itself be transformed very soon) I can feel the refreshened difference.  This particular weight is gone.  All it took was to reveal the flowers caught in the spine of a book to let go of years of dusty words.  When the time was right.  It is that simple.  You just gotta be ready on your own terms.....

ps.  You know, the last time I had pulled an all-nighter before this task filled adventure sure had a different reason for it!  And it had nothing to do with chores!!!!  hahaha!  gotta have another one of those types soon too!  :)

you win some....

 a cross of limbs

But you might get lucky now and then

You win some, you might get lucky now and then

You win some

 Mark Knopfler, Get Lucky

I have learned to find stillness inside my core.  Not all the time.  When I need to seek it. Music guides me there. With its soothing melodic sound, I allow it to surround me like a warm comforting shawl wrapped around my whole body. Soft earthy colours that gently touches my senses but doesn't impede my freedom to allow life's hymns to penetrate my flesh. In fact, it seems to do the opposite.  It opens me up to receiving the flow of thought and feeling as I breathe.  Accompanied by candlelight clarity and ancient hymns, I have learned to seek out a relaxed sanctuary where I can embrace vulnerability with a sense of soul safety.  

Sometimes, I don't have to set up my own little chapel of stillness.  Sometimes, it finds me when I'm least expecting it or when I need it the most..... when the sounds of my world resemble clashing cymbals, offbeat noise generated by loud obnoxious fumes generated from life out of hand.  Ringing in my ears.  Ringing in my soul.  I've learned to recognize those off kilter moments, especially if I am physically and/or emotionally spent, and do something about it.  Then, I gather my outgoing energy and turn it inwards.  Just for a brief respite until I can reach the end of a stressful, busy, loud noisy day when I can snuggle into the comfort of the shawl for a longer period of time.  It makes me smile as I write this. Regeneration. 

Paradoxically, it's a process of regaining some control of what is allowed to penetrate me and what I long to release by letting go of the controls.  Recently, I learned itt's a form of centring.  Integrating head and heart with something far deeper and mysterious in the core of my soul.  That is where the guiding light is.  Down this dark shadowy tunnel, a guiding light awaits.  Its glow awakens calm, courage, clarity.  Its glow invites resolution by letting you safely look deeply into the place where tears are made.  Not the ones that flow down cheeks. These soultears are the ones that weep into muscles and bones.  They touch upon the tension and untie the bruising knots that stiffen the body and mind.  Just by breathing.  Alone.  In candlelight clarity.  Inside ancient hymns.  Healing happens.

Since I'm not a person prone to following directions or rules, my drummer beats to its own cadence.  In the summer, I sat outside on my back deck under the stars surrounded by the warm wafting breeze, enraptured by the fireflies while listening to music.  Sometimes I had a hot mug of tea close by.  Sometimes I poured myself a glass of crisp white wine to sip on.  Behind me, music would play out of the speakers, filling the air around me with loving familiarity.  A whole evening would slip away as I sat in peace, allowing the thoughts and feelings transfer in and out of my consciousness as I listened to a few selected CD's.  One of them was Mark Knopfler's, Get Lucky.  This fall, I misplaced the CD.  I don't have a clue where it went because I never took it outside of the house.  Mysteriously, it disappeared and it has bothered me that I have lost my copy.  Since then, I have found other pieces of music..... some classical, some traditional choir music..... some jazz melodies.

Memories, ideas, beautiful faces from the past, fears, grief, gaps of wondering if I would ever find the answers.  It helped me to immeasurably learn that not only are there many important situational events in life that have no resolution, it doesn't matter if you just let go of their hold on you. Ah, but then there were moments of clarity when the messages reached me........ of how blessed I am.  How loved I am.  How contented I felt.  How you win some.  How letting those tears hiding inside the soul come alive when the light is shone on them. 

This gift I have been given first revealed itself over a year ago when I attended the Greenbelt festival and found myself exhausted and jittered with stressy complications walking into an ethereal feeling room called Soulspace.  I wrote about the experience, here, here and here.  (I had a lot to say!  It was so new to me that I wanted to capture its full essence....)  Yes, I had to fly across the deep Atlantic pond to find a way to stillness!  I am forever grateful because it has been my companion, my guide, my way of resolving the pain and hurt I have felt during my marriage break-up more than any other activity.  It was only this fall though that I learned while at a writing/meditation retreat that what I had been practising was a formal way of praying!  And to think I thought I was moving to an original beat! Of course it is a process tied into the school of the eternal. 

So, why do I bring it up this morning....... a seemingly typical November day that is about to welcome daylight in shades of grey?  It has been a while since the music from my summer moments sitting out in warm healing breezes under the stars returned.  But, when I open my eyes, I swear I could hear it playing...... you win some........ you might get lucky now and then........ you win some........ Knopfler's reliable voice was playing in my psyche.  Needless to say, I awoke calm.  I awoke with a smile on my face of memories of stillness... of sitting alone but never feeling alone.  

No need to seek out the place of centring.  It found me.  Its a part of me now.  Symbolically, this is truly a good thing.  Because this morning, I will meet the person who has played a key role in the pain and grief I am gradually to let go of.  For the first time, I will meet a stranger who already is meaningful in my life journey, who has altered it in ways I never predicted.  Revisiting the music and stillness I gravitated to last summer has set me up with a sense of readiness for this encounter.  It will allow me to express myself in a manner that has a tone of forgiveness towards a human being and not the ugly monster I had conjured up in my head.   All the nasty accusations have disappeared from my internal conversations....... I'm ready to be human to another human.

Healing comes under different shawls of comfort.  Healing comes when stillness leads you to the internal light that shines on a place where tears are made.  Healing comes when you feel the breath of God in every breath you take, knowing you're not alone.  Healing comes when the hymns of life transform the energy from the outside zip to the inside stories unfolding.  It's soul work.  Not easy.  It was the hardest work I've ever done...pushing through all of those raging feelings, learning how to pray in my own manner.  But, now that I am capable of it, I'm free.  And lucky.

Ps. By the end of the day, I will have another copy of that CD! 

time under the bridge....

I gave away a lot of time

Productive time

Destructive time

wasted away time

never to be on time.

water under the bridge time

I gave it away.

Gone....

waiting and waiting....oh, how often I did this....

filling gaps between here and there

with 

urgent energy

anxious persperation 

desperate pleads

hot anger fueling loose lips

breathing deeply......letting go.........

stalled, stood up, stupified, steaming....breathless

trapped by the thief of my time....

please, please....... we're going to be late, I'd say

PLEASE, PLEASE!!!  WHY CAN'T YOU BE CONSIDERATE OF MY NEEDS? 

I bellowed alot .... 

became a banshee.... 

I hated the sound of my voice.

I hated who I had allowed myself to become.  

I'd say.... 

Why couldn't you..........

pick me up when you said you were going to

meet me at the agreed upon time

phone me if you were running late

put me first and not the person who "held" you up once again

be ready..........??

Where was the respect?
I became a temper tantrum ready at my calling...

Today I sat in a reception area waiting......... familiar story.  The "lady in waiting..." I know it off by heart.  It had only been an hour since we had agreed upon a time to meet!!  15 minutes went by, and my mind wandered..... alarmed with worry, wondering if something serious happened and triggered once again by the dance we allowed to continue....me being the worrier of doom and gloom, he being the controller of those precious moments that make up a life.  Mine.   While I was feeling my stomach begin to churn, and the sweat begin to seep out of my angered pores, I realized something.....

I own it.  I gave  my heart  and soul time and it was just stomped on without a spit of gratitude. So now?  It's not up for grabs.  My time is my own.  I am free to use it, share it, apply it, give it with love to someone who will respect it.  I let go of those chains that I allowed to burden me for a long time....... chains of time..... sliding off me.......

Let the clock tick on from here, chiming freedom.  I am learning.  I am no longer the "lady in waiting...." that role has been passed on.

cargo of emotions.....

There you are, clipping along life's highway thinking you've got it all under control.  Full gas tank, good air flow, the perfect collection of tunes to accompany the beautiful blur of the landscape you're passing on by. The road is yours....... no one else in sight for miles.   Freedom never feels more alive than an open road with yellow dashes of collective anticipation.  Sing away!  Drive on!  Motion forward.....  Life seems so manageable...... so optimistic.

Far away, in the rear view mirror, you see a large lumbering vehicle coming up over the lip of the hill you've just driven along........ gaining ground.

All of a sudden, you're struck by the force of reality, even though you distinctly remember firmly tucking it into the hamper, wedging it between "resolution" and "to be dealt with some other time."  This reality seems to have creeped up from behind without you knowing until its too late, like an oversized transport carrying familiar cargo.  Before you know it, this heavily loaded menace is sitting right on your ass demanding your attention, belching out exhaust stink while gearing down so loudly it drowns out the music and pollutes the airflow. 

Caught again........... and you thought it was going to be a carefree kind of journey.

There's no way to ignore it.  All internal systems move into alert mode.  Emotions rise to flood stage with a rapid force, pushing the adrenaline to kick start a temporary sharpness of the mind.  All you can do is pray that the rancourous vibration of the internal air horn doesn't bellow its shuddering baritone sound. 

Or, you can pull over to let it pass on by............ let the load pass on by.  While you're at it, turn off the car, get out and breathe.  Can you smell the fresh mown grass?  Can you see the clouddrifts.  Can you feel the lowering heartbeat?  Can you hear the voice inside you again remind you that it will pass?  It always does...... But sweet Jesus, it can be so loud and obnoxious and downright frightening while you're sitting in the middle of the cacophony of anxiety. 

ps.  no moving vehicles were tortured while taking this photo.  I was sitting still, as was the truck while we waiting for our turn to be escorted through a construction site on the highway.  He actually waved at me knowing I was taking photos. :)

tingletouch dreams

 

 

Lingering sentiments
echo in the cradled silence
of my thoughts.
Such clarity
I hear you....
Your voice strums
whispered yearnings
woven into coupling cries
making me
ache with desire to step over the edge
beyond fantasy
into a realm of firelight heat.
draw me into you......

so strange..... i swear your i felt your lips leave their tingletouch on mine. I knew it was you because it tasted like temptation and peppermint.

familiarity

 most recent shot of Lisa 

who still allows me to photo stalk her legs, the dear woman!.  

she's gonna have a new baby!

Familiarity offers respite to a clenched soul.  It allows the easing of muscles, while reacquainting with solid ground.  Routine straightens the staggered walk, especially if it encourages a reunion with the groove you've chosen to enhance the more mundane tasks of life.   Early Saturday mornings offer this to me as a gift. My routine is familiar and I own it outright.  It is not tied to being responsible for anyone else.  It is not contingent on anyone but me.  Saturday mornings have always felt like a bouquet of fresh air after a long week of juggling roles and responsibilities. 

No matter what season, it always begins with quiet time sipping the first cup of tea in the morning, some writing, a little reading, and if I'm lucky, awakening along with the rising of the sun.  Awakening is more than just opening your eyes and rubbing the sleep from them.  It is a light toe tapping spring of spirit, that liberates thoughts from their dream state.   It is a process of reflection allowing the chance to seek out a balance.  Unclenching... releasing.... by taking time for myself before the day gets away from me.   Sometimes it works, sometimes there are just too many burdens to filter through.  No matter what, however, it certainly lightens the load somewhat and allows me a chance to catch my breath.  

As much as I'm a true extravert, or maybe because I'm one, I need quiet alone time to regroup.  Saturday mornings is the time I cherish it the most.... free to wander and shake out the restlessness and pent up work stuff.

Before anyone stirs, I'm out the door, camera in hand, on my way to the Fredericton market. Alone.  It's a destination that always puts a smile on my face.  A sense of liberation envelopes me, knowing everyone at home is safe and sound.  I don't have to worry.  If you aren't aware of this.....Mommas worry, even when they really don't have to.  There's always a inherent niggling feeling in the pit of the gut when the activity level is high and everyone is out of the house doing their own thing.  I don't have that on  Saturday mornings.   Just a smile....a light step, a head full of morning awakening stuff and my favourite tunes.   

Rarely do I miss attending.  My favourite time of day to be there is when some of the vendors are busy getting organized.... when there is room to mill about without the mid morning crowds.  My path crosses with friends who work there, and friends who I may not have seen in a while.  It's all about catching up, and sharing a light hearted smile or too.  

Sometimes I arrange to meet a friend for breakfast, but usually my time is free and the conversations I get caught up in are unpredictably interesting.  It's all familiar in a good, good way.............  and if you ever want to join me, you'll find me wandering around taking photos, and inhaling deeply the sights and sounds and wonderful aromas all found within the heart of the city.   I'll introduce you to some of my favourite people too.... they ALL have the best stories to share!!!

early morning light catchers.... just like me. :)