Foraging

As I was writing in my journal this morning, I glanced up out my window to see if the hummingbirds or bees were feeding on flowers in the border. They weren’t there but a doe was. She nibbled daintily on new leaves on the shrubbery. A quick check to my patio saw another doe doing the same to the shrubbery there. I opened the patio door gently, but with enough noise, to have her lightly bound away. I did the same with the window in my writing room, and that doe did the same. I quite enjoy the deer, squirrels and birds in my neighbourhood on this very busy city street. They are not hidden away but quietly defy any citified stuffiness in their instinct to survive.

My personal foraging has been to open boxes, some packed over 20 years ago when I left Texas to return to Canada. Ordinarily, I’ve just opened them, wondered about their contents, closed them again and put them in a corner. This time, and only one of the boxes, I opened the box and took each item out. Taking only a minute or two to decide, the item was sorted into keep, dispose of or disassemble. I didn’t plan on this process, I allowed it to happen naturally, organically, with only the caveat being that the offending box was not returned to the spot I had taken it from. And these boxes, with no intent of their own, are truly offensive by the continual move wherever life has taken me.  Hidden treasures ~ photographs, memorabilia ~ wrapped in yellowed newspaper, waiting patiently for me to begin foraging once again. Foraging for food ~ not for my body but for my soul. Bits and pieces of my life had slowly faded into a background that had seemed dark and empty. And then I found this beautiful needlepoint bit of advice. ‘Quit whining’ was a standing joke between my self and my nursing colleague Coetta Macdonald when we worked together on the Mental Health and Addictions unit in Lubbock, Texas. Each time something or someone was the brunt of our whining the other would remind that whining was not allowed. A rant now and then, but ongoing whining was definitely out of the picture.

I think we all have our many things to whine about. Whether it’s something or someone at work, at home, or just in community. How someone walks, talks, or dresses. For me, I’ve had to learn about solutions to my knee jerk reaction to whine, to get defensive, or rant on just a little too long and loud. Coetta passed away April 14, 2014 of lung cancer. I suspect she did her own share of whining then. 

I’m grateful she left me with this absolutely hysterical message! It was as though the sun had come out and shone on my bright and very full past. Finding that needlework last evening brought some sadness, but mostly joy and gratitude that the silly banter with a good friend has not been lost.

“Stop whining; start enjoying. And when you look 

back at the past, make sure you’re smiling.”

~ Alex Smith