Definitely Not a Haiku

Summer heat in Vancouver
Breakfast out with my sons
Dogs play, fence built, flower bed cleared
Chicken and sausage on the grill
Potato salad and corn on the cob
Sharing supper with my sons.
Backyard security

“I love my family.”

~ Manute Bol

Securing Memory

The keyword for this month’s writing option was treasure. Hmmm....What things or qualities do I treasure? My vision. Cataract surgery is coming up soon. My sons. Always a joy despite a few bumps in the road. My independence. For so many reasons that would take too many words for this short piece. My career. A trajectory I am still loving each day. My friends. Always ready with laughter and deep experience to share. 

And then there is a good coffee cup ~ pottery, china, ceramic. A mug that holds tea, coffee, hot soup, herbal tea or the ginger hot concoction when a cold virus intrudes.

A cup or mug that fits my hand. Holds just enough hot delicious liquid, but not too little or too much. Rather similar to the porridge in the Goldilocks story ~ just the right amount. The curved ear from rim to belly of the mug for my fingers to ‘get a grip’.

When all of those details are satisfied, which cup I select depends on the day or time. Each mug holds a special memory as the satisfying warmth seeps into my hand. A real and tactile release of memories. Is the treasure the cup or mug, or is it the memory? Does the warm drink early in the morning harken back to summer mornings on the farm? Later years, a holiday for a family visit? Or is the treasure a tangible link to the security of family and growing up through the soil of life.  My mugs ~ each of them a treasure. And not to forget my tea cups and saucers filled with apple orchards and lanes. Laying a table for Sunday dinners when my young hands touched the very plates, cups and suacers that rest quietly in my cupboard. They wait patiently for these much older hands to set a table for a meal shared with today’s friends or family. 

Treasures are many things. Only some are monetary treasures and are such a tiny piece of life, even though money threatens to consume each day. Chests of gold, silver and jewels piled and spilling onto a Persian rug are beautiful to see (and yes I wouldn’t mind having some.). Money, stashed in banks solid as Gringott’s at Hogwarts protected by dwarfs, or maybe just in the bank down the street, does have a certain appeal for me. I am a solitary person and always have been. Shy and aloof in my crowded family of nine or in crowds of friends and colleagues, but when my hands gently wrap around the warm cup - with coffee, tea or herbs - family or friends automatically swirl up to me with the aroma from the mug welcoming me home, telling me that I am safe and secure.

“There is all the difference in the world between treasure and money.”
~ Roderick Townley, The Great Good Thing

The Roots of Security

On the uncertain slopes of our lives ~
in the mists of morals and ethics
on the edges of job or family
in the midst of community or education
hidden by tangled tradition and habit
experience secures personal place 
by untangling traditions, reshaping habits ~
Creating safety as our roots grow ever more deeply.

“Let us not look back in anger or forward in fear, but around in awareness.”

~ James Thurber

Protective Devices

Locks and keys
Keycards and digital locks
Walls, fences and heavy doors

Keeping us in or out
Protection from unknown dangers
Security fixed from the outside

Boundaries of invisible fine mesh belief
Emotions, vision and hearing
Energy and stepping forward or back

Keeping our heart, mind and being in or out
Protection for our soul and spirit
Security comes from the inside.

“Your perspective on life comes from the cage you were held captive in.”

~ Shannon L. Alder

Heartache - SECURITY - Theme for June 2015

Heartache

Steven went out his front door, locking the door behind him. 
Even though he knew that his home was secure with all it’s windows and doors locked, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his life wasn’t secure. 
Coming down the street, he saw the police officer and her partner driving through the neighbourhood on their way to the police station as they did each morning. 
Unless someone contacted them, Steven wondered how alert the officers were when they were on their way to work. 
‘Really', he thought to himself, ‘why on earth are you so paranoid all the time!?’ 
Insisting to himself that all was well, all would be well and all had been well for all the many years he had lived in this neighbourhood, Steven shook his head and kept on walking to work.  
Then it dawned on him that his heart, so sore with the sudden and tragic loss of his best friend and lover, had made him look around every corner, suspicious of everything and everyone, always worried that someone - anyone - would injure him.
Yes, his heart was sore, his soul felt empty, but he really wanted to trust life again and feel secure once more within himself.

“No one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear.”

~ C.S.Lewis, A Grief Observed

A New Theme

Safety
Energy
Comfort
Universal
Respect
Intimacy
Trust
Yearning

“Dream about things that envelop your being like a comfortable blanket.”

~ Truth Devour, Wantin

The Nature of Humility

Humility is shy

React from fear or anger
Speak from ego or arrogance
Think untailored thoughts

Humility scampers away

Humility is patient

remaining quiet and distant
while we rage or cry
while we learn and grow

Humility arrives suddenly in the moment.

“True merit, like a river, the deeper it is, the less noise it makes.”

~ Edward Frederick Halifax