Creating Change at Christmas

        Creating Change at Christmas

There had not even been one drop of snow. I suppose the correct wording would be ‘flakes of snow’. Not even the tiniest dust mote of snow! But the sky. It was as blue as any winter sky could get - on the west coast. All around me, what should have been white, softly sculpted mounds of glittering cold white frosting was soggy, wet, damp and muddy pavement.  

Oh, there was lots of green space and it really was quite beautiful. Fall colours decorated the trees, sidewalks and streets in reds, golds and yellows. All of those golden rusty leaves had yet to be picked up by the city crew and their leaf blowers, compacters and shredders - all noisy and loud.  

Looking back over her own words, Francine could see with disappointment that she was unhappy with her lot. Well, she seemed to have been unhappy with her lot for most of her life. She could quickly paint a very real looking smile on her face, but when left to her own devices for very long, her face once more became drawn and sad.

How to effect a change where no change could be seen? She had been told so very many times to change her attitude. Stop whining. How would that change how her heart felt?

There was to be one more Christmas with one more litany of woes expressed by all and sundry about hating the season. Hating the season! As a child it had been all excitement. Getting out decorations, hearing the stories - family stories and church stories. Baking. All so wonderful. And the snow, the skating rink. Ah, skating: Another piece of the past that she missed! Would there be any possibility that she could return to her home town and relive all of the Christmas’s past?  

Not likely. But despite the usually gray and rainy skies of her new home, she could decorate her own home, even with the tiniest of Christmas trees, and in any other manner of her choosing. Christmas baking in her brand new stove could infuse her home with sweet aromas of this past so dearly missed. If her family could not be with her, she could invite friends for a bit of Christmas cheer. She missed the choir - there were choral events and galas to attend throughout this small city.

And maybe, just maybe....... remodeling childhood lessons with a grateful and gentle attitude would release the tight bands around her heart and she would hear her lost angels sing once more.

“You can clutch the past so tightly to your chest that 

it leaves your arms too full to embrace the present.”

~ Jan Glidewel

Finding Stillness Once More

One early morning

an anxious dream woke me

clumping thoughts of 

how much 

how many

If only it were gardening

one seed at a time

one bulb at a time

one weed at a time,

one corner of the yard at a time

grand outcomes imagined

scheduled timing,

commitments or image

all put aside

how quickly stillness darkens again with worry

temptation to reshape drifts of fallen leaves into sodden wet piles

quickly deterred by the promise of damp cold,

A drier warmer shelter makes my tasks almost attractive

So I begin to putter - 

one item at a time

my hands busy with 

reshaping the drifts of my life into clean, fresh order.

My tasks disappeared more quickly and painlessly 

than my muddled self thought, 

leaving time for errands out in a world decorating 

itself in Christmas and holiday flamboyance.

As I walked from bank to store to shop

I felt stillness had returned ~

noise of traffic and busyness of streets surrounded

rather than invaded my hurry to get things done.

“Adopting the right attitude can convert 

a negative stress into a positve one.”

~ Hans Selye

Entering Stillness

In this still small place at my desk

the beating of my heart is regular, steady and reassuring, faint over the slow regular turn of my fireplace.

Gentle sounds of the smooth scrape of my ring as I pull my journal across the desk ~ a slide of leather against leather,

my pen smoothly dents the ivory page in bouts as long as the shape of a letter or word as my hand slides in whispers across the page.

The low dull purr of a heavy truck gathering leaves from cluttered gutters and sidewalks, muffled slam of a door from the house across the alley, intrudes on the stillness.

The scree of a lone gull penetrates this soft, quiet blanket disappearing as quickly as it came.

Stillness is not dark, but filled with soft light that supports and carries me into a later world of bright lights and busyness.

Entering this stillness feels like the inside of a quiet country sanctuary in summer when air is warm and light filters through stained glass windows.

The darkness surrounding me has lifted.

“Learning how to be still, to really be still and let 

life happen ~ that stillness becomes a radiance.”

~ Morgan Freeman

Creatively Challenging

Challenge and creativity

have entertained my thoughts since the gauntlet was passed to ‘come out writing’ from overstuffed cupboards and closets.

Plans and projects designed 

to fit the challenge are simmering with beginning and faltering steps taken.

Blouses, jackets and denim jeans of a special color or texture are to be cut into quilting squares to give new life to old memories.

Thousands of words in research articles about 

addiction care and

nursing knowledge

to be reshaped and given humanity

Lost stories found and revised ~

the search continues in my archived boxes of journals.

Photographs and images,

especially of childhood experiences,

to be collaged or catalogued for posterity.

Fear of dis-remembering

encourages stacking and storing

prevents honoring a life span of these finite things.

Enjoyment while on chugging memory trips

encourages putting it back for another day

prevents development of a memory piece.

p.s. ~ Throwing out a memory with a memory piece is not like throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

“Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.”

~ Pablo Picasso

Just an Ordinary Tree

It's a tree. 

Nothing special, 

just an ordinary tree, 

at least to look upon.

Except to

birds nesting in it’s branches

bugs and tiny critters crawling through cracks and crevices of it’s brown crumbly bark

woodpeckers cleaning those same crevices of dead bugs and fine sawdust

squirrels racing on branches as laneways and bridges

garter snakes nesting in the tiny cave at the base of the big trunk 

where roots snake into the earth.

In spring, tender blossoms open to 

wasps and bees drinking nectar and spreading pollen.

In summer, children play beneath rustling boughs of green,

friends and lovers stroll in the dappled shade of it’s leafy branches.

In autumn, the old tree’s orange-yellow leaves drift to the ground,

a rotting blanket of mulch, while bare branches, light and lacy, become loose filters for low lying fog, sunshine or blue sky.

In winter, spreading sparse branches heavily laden with glistening snow, decorated with hoar frost through out each night, enter bright morning bejeweled in glittering crusts of white.

But it is just an ordinary tree.

“If you would know strength and patience,

welcome the company of trees.”

~ Hal Borland

A Grateful Heart

I visit with you a lot about

steps and paths

roads and highways

what I don’t always visit about are all of the travelers I meet along the way that

journey with me for a bit, offering

smiles and hugs

helping hands

fun and laughter

kind words and wisdom

companionship and shared repasts.

so very much color and shelter from 

family and friends, colleagues and strangers.

While you are all still on your own journeys

you have blessed me with your presence ~ from the

very young with your precious soft hugs

youngsters and teens with the wisdom of youth

young adults sharing fresh new ways of the world

maturing adults settling into a busy world of work and family, and

those, 'maturing' even more, that parallel my own generation

and many elder than I.

For the precious gifts of your presence and your actions

I thank you all and wish all of you 

the very best in your continuing journeys

and hope to walk beside you again in this next leg of my journey.

“Courtesies of a small and trivial character are the ones 

which strike deepest in the grateful and appreciating heart.”

~ Henry Clay

Betrayed!

A set of Fame cards inspiring 

poetry, story or essay

have been lying quietly, 

patiently in my desk drawer

whispering invitations to write

first about a dream - not too bad

then about my pets - not yet polished

followed by tickling my inspiration.

All of them inside jobs relying 

only on memory and memoir

Then it got scary - 

'create a costume from your closet and

come out writing'!

'look through a cupboard or drawer and 

free comedy or tragedy'!

Those last two smack of 

a sneaky way to get me to 

clean out the clutter hiding 

in cupboard drawers 

or behind closet doors!

I am certain that Mary Poppins 

is behind this whole game

calling out Spit Spot

while she gets her carpet bag and brollie out.

I do have a different attitude 

when I open

drawers and doors.......

“In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun.

You find the fun, and - SNAP - the job’s a game!”

~ Mary Poppins

Growing Up

Exterior wall painting in downtown Victoria.

And so it began

and has continued for a long time

almost six and a half decades

and what a ride.

Being raised up

falling down

running ecstatically

through fields of daisies

dragging my feet and my mind

through muddy pastures.

Reaching plateaus with

no goals in sight;

goals stewing inside

seemingly unrealistic and impossible.

just keepin’ on, keepin’ on ~

sometimes just because.

One minute at a time

One day at a time

One week at a time

One month at time

Calendar pages peeling back

to reveal each new day.

             ***

But tonight was a party

with laughter and fun

table groaning with food

choice of beverage
chocolate (cake)

Conversation: conservative and polite?

Not so!

Irrelevant
irreverent

tests of memory about movies and radio

who’s right about what stars

challenges with technology
some politics

banter and chatting

and so very much fun!

“It takes a long time to grow young.”

~ Pablo Picasso