A Writerly Afternoon and Julia’s Dilemma

Garden at a bus stop in Oak Bay

The Writer’s group I’ve belonged to for the last many years, started up again for the 2017-18 season yesterday afternoon. Some of us don’t see each other throughout the summer so it was wonderful to see, visit and laugh with each other for an afternoon. The main event for our meetings is reading our pre-assigned topic. The topic for September was ‘Locked doors’. My post from last evening, The Goldilocks Effect, was the completed assignment. And then, as usual, our host gives us a writing assignment at the end of our meeting. Yesterday, it came with parameters:

For the character’s name Julia, in ten minutes we had to answer three questions: where was Julia leaving from, where was she going and why. This very short piece, was really short because I was tapping it out on my cell phone!

Here is my response to those questions:

Julia’s Dilemma

Julia just had to get out of there. She wasn’t even supposed to have been away as long as she was. Her aunt, and not her favourite aunt, had demanded her presence. “And bring your calendar. We have a schedule to keep if we’re going to arrange your father’s birthday for next week.” She had finally gotten out of her aunt’s organizing and planning, only being a glorified secretary with her ideas being ignored. Her date, a gorgeous guy she had recently come to know, was waiting for her at the coffee shop two blocks away so she wasn’t worried about how long it would take to get there. Just enough time for her aunt to release her from what she called ‘family duties’!

I wasn’t quick enough or clever enough to work in my word choice for this month - ‘perspective’. However looking at this little bit of writing, I could see how Julia’s perspective and her aunt’s perspective about what was immediately important was considerably different.  

“There are no facts, only interpretations.”

~ Friedrich Nietzsche

The Goldilocks' Effect

Learning about locked doors in childhood 

wanting to follow a trail of bread crumbs 

drifting up to and past 

giant doors, medium size doors and teeny tiny doors

wooden doors that only seem locked by 

childhood rules and regulations 

mom said this and dad said that 

with promises suggestively dire 

to stop us from going through 

when only in a year or two or three 

rules change to magically open them wide

‘Now you can go through the door

see what’s on the other side’

is it a place to dance in the flowers, to nibble at knowledge, 

is it a grown up grind or an exciting wide open universe 

into the narrowing and shifting sands of time and perspective 

until under a rock, behind a tree, in the wisdom of our ancestors and teachers 

we find a key that opens a next door, and another and another.

We can choose, grab hold and swing through living and life 

on each open road or shaded lane or windowed hallway

with curiously coloured choices 

that beckon and call us until 

so much noise, so many numbers of days and weeks and years 

stop us from doing much 

but running back and forth 

asking questions, giving directions, responding to 

bells and whistles and voices of past, present and future 

until we see that the only important doors

are those of our minds, our hearts and our souls 

and yet there is always another and another

the mystery of our bodies and of the universe 

ever presenting us with paths we each will take 

with no musts or have-to’s

except to be safe and secure in the knowledge 

of our own set of keys within us to choose 

which door to open, 

which door to turn away from 

and which door is just right.

“You suppose you are the lock on the door. But you are the key that opens it.”

~ Rumi

Puppy Love

Puppy Love

My heart feels sore tonight. Sore as though someone had punched it hard. My breath is coming slowly and painfully and tears fall from my eyes. There is no one I miss more than my little dog, Ben. Little Ben that I kept with me since I was 8 years old. Little dogs live a long time you know. Little Ben was 23 years old when he slept away. I guess that made me almost 31.  I sure had to put up a fuss to get my parents to agree to having a dog. They were so afraid they’d wind up taking care of Little Ben. And they did, while I was away at University. Once I was out on my own, I kept him with me. He’d go to Mom and Dad’s for sleep overs sometimes and when I got married, he became our family dog.  

Now, why did I get all moody and teary tonight? Little Ben has been gone for a few years now. He was so good with our baby but was gone before she was two or three. She’s 8 years old now and we’ve just had ‘the talk’. Not the birds and the bees talk, but the talk about taking care of a new puppy. Not leaving it up to Daddy and Mommy. 

Once I put Samantha to bed, and the house was quiet I picked up the picture of Little Ben that we keep on the mantel piece. I guess that’s when I felt the soreness in my heart. He was such a sweet and kind little dog. Little Ben licked all the tears off my face, curled up with me when I was sad and played with me when I was happy. He loved to run and spin around and make me laugh. Hadn’t been able to do that for many years, although he did try, but gave up after even a half hearted attempt, found his bed and went to sleep.

Samantha will get her little dog - or a big one - or a medium sized one. We just didn’t want to give in too quickly.  It will be fun to have a new puppy in the home. A new personality to cuddle and love, and get twice as much love in return. All kids should grow up with a friend as good as a dog, but then that’s just my opinion. 

“Once you have had a wonderful dog, a life without one, is a life diminished.”

~ Dean Koontz

In the Shade ~ 1

Gathering together my posts  

about my relationship with epilepsy challenges me to review my past ~ to review 

what I have put out into the ether. There is energy behind my words. Even those words that stumble and mumble. 

Those words and phrases can be fixed, can be crafted to enhance the flow, can be shifted to sharpen the meaning,

can be erased when unnecessary or 

blocking the way. Epilepsy cannot be 

removed ~ merely set in the shade,

life crafted to enhance life's flow

each day crafted to sharpen 

awareness but never erased.

And yet ~ epilepsy has been 

kind to me, controlled carefully, 

managed daily ~ a strange way to 

talk of this uninvited guest

who is more unruly for some others.

“Never underestimate the spirit of a person living with epilepsy.”

~ Tiffany Kairos, (on Pinterest)

Young Love

Young Love

The evening breeze stirred the kitchen curtains. Ominous silence hinted that the storm clouds were real. A single rain bird called. Standing on the porch of our old farm house, I took a deep breath of the moist, still air.

I could hear John’s old pickup coming down the drive. The old green Ford raised hesitant clouds of dust in the sunset. He was coming in from taking our twins to the bus leaving us alone for a whole week while the twins visited their grandparents in the city. We hadn’t been alone together since their birth in 2006. I felt like a school girl waiting for her date. While John had been away, really only a couple of hours, I had raced upstairs, showered, styled my hair and spent at least a half hour trying on my few clothes. Should I dress up? Should I wear my fancy lounge clothes I saved for special holiday days? When I looked at the pile of clothes on the bed and then at the clock, I quickly pulled on my new jeans and new shirt. I left the neck of the shirt open just a bit more than usual. After all the kids wouldn’t be here and I was tired of being buttoned up to the neck. With a final fluff of my clean hair and just a tiny whiff of John’s favourite perfume, I glanced out the bedroom window. I could see headlights in the dusk, backed by the billowing clouds off to the east. I hung up as many clothes as possible and threw the rest in the laundry hamper.

Before John reached the house, I stepped inside, letting the screen door close quietly. The table was set. just wine glasses and wine chilling in the silver ice bucket, a wedding present that had only been used once. The knock on the door made my heart skip a beat. Taking a deep breath, I turned our old stereo on. Our wedding song softly filled the silence.

“Karen? Are you there?” I still loved the rumble of his voice, but tonight it was as though I heard it for the first time.

“Hello John. Yes I’m here. Please come in. Everything is ready for you….for both of us. Did the girls get off ok?” 

“They were so excited to go on the bus by themselves. Almost as excited as I am right now. To see you looking so soft and beautiful. Here..I’ve brought you some flowers.”

“Oh John. How kind and really sweet. You got my favourite - beautiful white daisies. Thank you.”

***

We woke in the morning in a jumble of sheets and still in each others arms. Only a rooster welcomed the brilliant peach and golden dawn. The morning silence was as golden as the dawn. The thunderstorm in the night filled our bedroom with flashing lightening and booming thunder. Moist cool breezes stirred the white muslin curtains. 

“Among my stillness was a pounding heart.”

~ Shannon A. Thompson, Seconds Before Sunrise

Passive Resistance

Words swirl around in my mind

just out of reach of my fingertips 

so I look at the sky and 

wonder how many shades of blue

horizon to horizon dome our world

gilt edged wings fly gulls into the azure space

in the peace of morning quiet by the ocean

while the muse plays a game of hide and seek

I sit quietly and watch the sky, mountains and shore

feel the warmth of the sun on my toes

breathe in air freshened from the night

listen to distant rumble of early traffic

letting the muse play 

while I soak in the morning  ~

A kindness to the muse and this writer.

“Being gentle doesn’t stop us fighting for our dreams.”

~ Fennel Hudson, Traditional Angling - Fennel’s Journal - No.6

Vanished

I’ve lost it. 

‘It’ isn’t something solid, visual, with shape or form.

‘It’ is invisible, until I make it visible. 

But only visible on the page or the screen. 

So how do I find something so illusive?

go for a walk?

bake some bread?

get quiet or turn the music up?

get really tired or be rested and energetic?

Oh, I know! Get my nails dirty in the garden.

The fickle muse vanishes without so much as a

‘See you later!’

Rather unkind, don’t you think?

But I’m a patient person…

I'll continue to create anyway!

So there.

“Inspiration is the windfall from hard work and focus. 

Muses are too unreliable to keep on the payroll.”

~ Helen Hanson, author

Going Forward

Looking at our past lives

through all of our years

whether reading old journals or 

paging through old photographs

or just remembering 

other times, places and friends

can bring smiles and laughter,

sadness and tears, or just plain embarrassment ~

“How could I have done that……

         …….said that

              ……..worn that outfit?”

Bringing kindness into those pictures of the past helps to 

 ….polish old smiles and laughter

   ….. and softens painful past memories.

“Be kind to yourself, so you can be happy enough to be kind to the world.”

~ Misha Collins, author