Behind Closed Doors ~ 1

Behind Closed Doors

An ordinary looking brown box, forgotten in a dusty corner, had been found in a last sweep. The attic had been cleared of a lifetime of treasures. How could this box have been a treasure? The brother and sister looked at each other, sharing the same thought - ‘one more item for the trash’. When they brushed fine attic dust away, curiousity got the best of them. Doors. A tiny brass key hole. The doors opened more easily than expected.

A flood of forgotten stories from their grandfather’s knee poured from within. Sunday..November...30.  The day and date posted across the top, with hidden knobs that turned to the next day and date. The white slate on the inside of one door - “Grandfather wrote lists and notes on there!”  “And look! There’s a drawer at the bottom!” Crisscrossed ribbons inside the other door where a dried rosebud had been tucked. Their grandmother’s picture, a young bride, had been in the little frame above the rose bud. Brother and sister talked so fast their words tripped over each other. Soon they fell silent with their memories and the remembered feelings of waves as their grandfather rocked them in his old chair and spun yarns of his youth.

The siblings had been at loggerheads over the last many years. Coming together over this old seaman’s writing desk had crumbled the footings of their irritations and angers. The walls, while not tumbling down, were definitely unstable. Behind the closed doors of the old box, there had opened an invisible, shimmering picture of their childhood friendships. No key for the little wooden doors, lost in some crevice or crack years before, brother and sister each held a key to their own lives. Could they accept each other, live their own lives, and renew their friendship?

The old writing desk did not go to the trash. Each year, at Thanksgiving, brother and sister’s families met. The ordinary looking brown box was brought out. Stories and yarns spilled from the little desk drawer, the upright slots for letters, the doors, and, of course, every one wondered what happened on Sunday, November 30 long, long ago.

“All stories are true. But some of them never happened.”

~ James A. Owen, The Search for the Red Dragon

Etiquette: Nature and Nurture

“Pick up after yourself.”

“Hang up your coat.”

“Leave no trace.”

“Pack it in - Pack it out”

Disconnected phrases yet...

useful outside and in.

A parent’s invisible voice clings to a child’s invisible 'self-only' 

that leaves a trail of disarray.

Hiking in forest, hills, mountains or plains, 

adults teach children reason.

Teaching transferred into house and home

creating trails of neatness and prevents clutter ~ 

a lesson I’m still practicing!

“Etiquette is the science of living. It embraces 

everything. It is ethics. It is honour”

~ Emily Post

Soul Satisfaction

Words flow slowly tonight after this very ordinary day. There was a fearful flicker from hooded eyes lasting only a second that could have gone unnoticed, even if someone had been present. 

But was it fear? 

or was it judgement? 

or was epilepsy seeking to interfere?

Addiction is a funny thing shouldering an entire class system of stigma. 

Alcohol not as bad as cocaine, or heroin. Marijuana in dispute ~ useful or just plain bad. 

Prescriptions providing potions and pills with a pseudo blessing and some vague suggestion of goodness. 

Any drug without a prescription ~ the devil incarnate and just plain evil.

In reality, addiction has little to do with any powder or pill 

until the chemical flows through inner channels under human skin...

then addiction’s power is unleashed. 

Organic vs inorganic, 

the body and it’s potential for addiction, 

the drug, the alcohol

any potential to be addictive 

brings a slow, and not unpleasant, disintegration of self. 

Sometimes rapid free fall 

with frantic and raging destruction of families and communities.

Recovery from this devastation impossible? 

No. 

Each week, each month....I learn of someone’s recovery achieved through bitter struggles and joyous scrambles through the wreckage of a past and into the hopes of the present. Those bits of news I hear, for the recovered are often invisible, warm my heart and satisfy my soul.

“Don’t just work for the money; 

that will bring only limited satisfaction.”

~ Kathy Ireland

Spacious Whispers

Settle into quiet

Stop noisy voices

Turn off the sound

Listen to the silence

between traffic swoosh

hum of the fridge

distant radio playing

breathe into life's center

Invite invisible spaces

between mechanics of life

into mind and heart.

turn off the sound

stop noisy voices

settle into quiet

“Sacred spaces can be created in any environment.”

~ Christy Turlington

Surprise!!!!

Always honouring my birthday (66 years old today), yet seldom with planned ‘birthday’ activities.

Ever up for birthday surprises,

they are not an expectation or a requirement for an enjoyable day.

Sons at work and in another city,

other family and friends also away and in other locations

friends here active in their own lives.

To flow through my day was my only focus.

Brunch seemed a good idea.

Ordered, and almost all consumed (five tiny potatoes left!)

when my phone screen showed me that Jason was calling

We visited, I shared where I was - Oaks Restaurant & Grill - found easily on-line and my son returned to work - I returned to my plate.

“Would you like some dessert?”

My kind waitress suggested that ‘someone’ had paid my bill and really wanted me to have dessert. Brownies seemed to suit and this lovely plate was brought to my table. Chocolate........moist and delicious....

Now who could that Invisible Benefactor have been?

“There is no surprise more magical than the surprise of being loved.”

~ Charles Morgan

A Puppet's Lament

Pink and shiny, crossed over and overlapped

Invisible mesh under our skin

Muscle tapers and attaches to bone

Pulling extremities to and fro

head turns to sound or sight

toes wiggle into socks and shoes

fingers tap-tap or tinkle ivories

rib cage, like bellows, breathe in and  breathe out....

Mere puppets to our muscles

yet we are the puppet master

exercise and stretch

keeps us tuned and well oiled

But.....

stiff and halting

muscles seized up after

a return from a good long morning walk

and later the pool

ready to let the puppet relax for an evening.

“Come children, let us shut up the box and

 the puppets, for our play is played out.”

~ William M. Thackeray

A Moment's Clarity

Confusion

invisible, 

frightening, 

a state of mind

visible in sound and person

only to others

Trapped by uncertain guilt

after certainty has flown 

from plans, dreams and goals,

successful outcomes, 

a predictable future 

examining place in the world

amid murky, flying thoughts

of what should be

a search in vain for 

something solid and real

to feel

to see

Feet feel solid floor and ground

Eyes scan surrounding reality

Standing still slowly,

confusion’s edges still wavering 

peace of mind and calm still threatened

but feet and eyes tell a true story of the moment.

“It is a comfortable feeling to know that you stand on your 

own ground. Land is about the only thing that can’t fly away.”

~ Anthony Trollope