Belonging is when
we are born into a family,
shaped by those around us,
the moments in our lives,
the travels of the heart
Deciding where we belong
~ a grand adventure full of vulnerability and excitement,
placid lakes or frothing rapids of change.
To live calmly
amid the noise of life ~
a challenge that returns
belonging to our heart.
“I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.”
~ Maya Angelou
(1928 ~ 2014)
Belonging is when…..
Entertaining the face…..
Confidant that there is…..
Observing those things…..
Mending the tears…..
Entering life as it……
“The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, essayist
(1803 ~ 1882)
In the spaces between
family name
schools
group membership
we live alone
to know ourselves.
To belong to the wider world
fills us with vulnerability.
In groups of family or friends
we risk being lost.
Lost in
ideas,
opinions
beliefs
image
until we know that
belonging begins in
the silence of in-between.
“Longing, felt fully, carries us to belonging.”
~ Tara Brach, psychologist
I own very little in this life.
Chairs and a table,
a rocking chair and a bed,
the walls of my condo,
other little bits and bobs.
The greatest that I own are
my memories even though
they are poked through
with holes on some years,
clear as crystal on more.
Memories that cling to the stuff I own.
Memories of family,
book shelves filled with books and
why they are there,
the sounds of discussions and laughter
photographs, paintings, and stories
resonate with the voices of what I own.
“The greatest ownership of all is to glance around and understand.”
~ William Stafford, poet
(1914 - 1993)
Sibling Rivalry
Ben Richardson was not happy. Not happy with himself, his little sister Abby or his mother. Abby was getting all the attention and he was out in left field. He was the one who should be out talking with Samuel about guy stuff, but she had gotten all Miss Scientist about her bees! He missed his little sister that had followed him around as soon as she started to walk. Now she was turning into a girl. She didn’t need her big brother any more. Without calling, Ben rode his bike over to Jimmy’s place, a two km. ride but no big deal for him. His mother thought it was, but he was mad at her too for spending so much time with Abby. And Miss Dez! He thought that she was his friend. If she had been a guy, they would have been pals.
Arriving at Jimmy’s he saw only one car in their driveway, Jimmy’s bike leaned up against the garage. He shrugged it off. Mr. Carter probably had their pickup somewhere. He propped his bike up against the small bungalow, climbed the few steps to the porch. Knocking on the door, he heard Mrs. Carter call out “Come in, Ben I’m in the kitchen. I saw you come up the drive.” Following his nose, he was suddenly hungry. “Is Jimmy here? I saw his bike outside. I didn’t text him to tell him I was coming.” While Mrs. Carter was drying her hands on her apron, she saw Ben glancing at the rows of cinnamon buns on the counter. “Would you like one, Ben? They’ve cooled long enough now.” His desire to find out where his friend had gone, vanished. “Yes, ma’am, I sure would, please.” She set a cinnamon bun on a plate and poured a glass of milk for this polite young man. Hunched over his plate and with his mouth full, he asked about Jimmy’s whereabouts. “I’m sorry, Ben. He’s gone into Hartley with his dad. We need some bedding plants for our garden and Mr. Carter needed some help. If we’d known you were coming, they would have loved to have you along. They haven’t been gone long so won’t be back for a couple of hours.” Finishing his bun and the milk he said “That was the best thing I’ve had all day, Mrs. Carter! It’s ok that Jimmy’s not here. I’d better get going back home anyway, I didn’t tell mom where I was going.”
Mrs. Carter looked troubled. “Don’t worry, she knew I was going for a bike ride. I’ll tell her when I get home.” He had still been angry with his mom when he left and had muttered that he was going, but he didn’t tell Mrs. Carter that part. “Just tell Jimmy to text me when he gets home, and thanks for the snack. You make the best cinnamon buns!” She smiled. That was quite a complement, because Cook, at the Estate, made good cinnamon buns too. As soon as she saw him ride away, she called her friend Joanie on her home phone. No answer, but she left a message that Ben had been there and was on his way home.
~~~~~
Ben got on his bike, waved to Jimmy’s mom and was off again. He felt like he should be more upset about missing his friend, but didn’t. He noticed a rabbit scrunched down in the ditch between Carter’s orchard and the road. “What are you doing here, little guy?” At the sound of his voice, the rabbit’s ears twitched and it hopped into the orchard. Farm houses were close to each other on the island, he waved at anyone that was out working in their yards. There where times on the Estate he felt so away from anyone else until he was out riding. Like it wasn’t really where he belonged. In the distance and growing nearer, he could hear a guitar, the melody unfamiliar.
A real guitar. He liked those better than the electric ones. Humming along, he said to the birds “Maybe I should get a guitar and take lessons, be a musician. I wonder what mom and Abby would think of that.” When he was little like Abby, he had wanted to be so many things. A policeman, a fireman, a helicopter pilot but when he found out the dangerous things they would do he decided he just wanted the sirens, the big firetruck and flying. He had wanted to be Samuel, but didn’t like getting his hands in the dirt like Samuel loved. Mr. Digby, now his grandpa James, was really nice and always listened to him, but was only ever in his office. Ben didn’t like all the paper work. Too much like school. It was hard when he heard the other boys talking about their dads. His dad had gone away for work, but came home as often as he could. When the pandemic was bad he couldn’t come home anymore and hadn’t returned. His mom never talked about him anymore and when he asked she changed the subject. So grandpa James was sort of like a father, but not quite.
A horn tooted behind him, waking him from his thoughts of a missing father. He realized he had swerved to the middle of the road. He quickly got off to the side and waved as a familiar tan CRV went by. The driver slowed and pulled to the side of the road. A little thrill of fear went through Ben’s middle. Breathing a sigh of relief, it was Miss Emelina! “I wonder what she wants?” Emelina half ran to him, watching for other traffic. “Ben, where have you been?! Your mother is worried sick about you.” He didn’t understand. He told her he was going for a bike ride, maybe was a little angry when he told her. She was always busy with Abby so he didn’t think it would make a difference to her. “Come, put your bike in the truck and let’s get you home. Your poor mother is with your grandmother and Cook. Abby is with my sister. You've given us all quite a scare.” Emelina remembered a time when she and Dez were having problems and Dez ran away. They were a bit older than Abby and Ben, but it caused their parents the same upset she had seen with Joanie that day. “Are you having difficult time with Abby?” Somebody really understood! He didn’t know if he should say anything else, but he hadn’t had anyone else to talk to. “Yeah, kind of. It’s like it doesn’t matter if I’m there or not anymore.” Emelina didn’t really know how to talk to a boy, but decided to try. He seemed as upset as his mother. “I have something that’s been in a closet for a long time, waiting for me to give it to someone special.”
Ben was sceptical, some dumb old sweater that had belonged to her first husband. “I don’t know if you would like it, but it needs someone who will play it again.” Ben started listening again. “What is it? I could look at it if you want.” Emelina said a little thank you to Michael wherever he was in the heavens. “Do you play guitar?” Ben grinned. “Not yet, but I sure want to!”
~~~~~
“But I’m in the water, too, I wanted to say. And there are plenty
of eyes on you. No one’s watching to see if I stay afloat.”
~ Kawai Strong Washburn, Sharks in the Time of Saviors
Stepping into circles
where there are no corners
it’s easy to be brave
when around the circle
smiles of welcome blossom,
and hands reach out to help
Stepping into circles
where there are no corners
it’s easy to belong.
“There are patterns which emerge in one’s life,
circling and returning anew,
an endless variation of a theme.”
~ Jacqueline Carey, Kushiel’s Chosen
just off shore ~
our communities,
our families
kept from us
the winds of
science and politics that
push us forward slowly
~ holding us still ~
pushing us forward again
Living within our bubbles,
our connections stretched ~
fear of no longer belonging
floundering through each day
making lunch.
“A dream you dream alone in only a dream.
A dream you dream together is reality.”
~ John Lennon
with restricted movements,
fear of infection kept at bay
from a distance ~
from unknown crowds ~
even one or two ~
still taking risks
in the grocery store
in a taxi
on the bus
walking in the park
when I am so uncertain
but still I keep writing
feeling the space
trying to find the right fit
in my own home ~ just me ~
no longer skirting the fray and fringes of life
~ tired of the skirting ~
lost in it’s folds,
blinded by the draperies I’ve hidden behind
always wanting more
not knowing what ‘more’ is
until here I am fitting, sitting, writing
at my kitchen table knowing life is abundant.
My cup overflows and I am grateful.
Not for the pandemic that kills ~
but for the space it has foisted upon me
“Make the most of yourself….for that is all there is of you.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
 |
| Dandelion Chain Painting by Ruth Van Egmond of Original Fine Art, Victoria, B.C. |
