How Important is It?

Sunlit

Distracted by the growth

The flight of stairs long, 

the day was hot but 

there would be days 

when green would turn to brown, 

snow and ice would coat the stairs

climbing to the top ~

   difficult, 

     unlikely

how important was my goal? 

find another way!

chip, chip, chip at the ice to make the stairs safe?

oh, just let it all go!

or

find warm and cosy for me and my pen

how important is my goal?

“Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished 

by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all.”

~ Dale Carnegie, writer

(1888 ~ 1955)

The Heart of the Matter

Longterm plans ~

Step by step

moment to moment

two years ~ five years

a goal to ‘get there’

when diverted to 

a stumble, a fall

focus challenged  

ego bruised,

heart battered

standing once more

step by step

moment to moment

five years or more

the goal to be present.

Standing tall

in the darkness of pain

more than a challenge

a threat to life itself

devastating to any plan

second to second

baby step by baby step

no number of years

the only goal

to stay alive

to be present

to make a new plan.

“The most common way people give up their power 

is by thinking they don’t have any.”

~ Alice Walker

Again

Again

“I’m too old to start again.” Standing at the mirror, a full length one at that, Adele agreed with her reflection.“So, we won’t. We’ll start something much bigger. Just you and I.” Adele Marie Wilmington had been a successful business woman. Retirement came to her with a surprise. She, and her staff, thought she would be carried out the door before she would accept retirement. The clothing design company had been her baby. From her mother’s kitchen table designing ball gowns for paper dolls to school fashion shows and on to a Master’s Degree in Fashion Design, she never stopped looking at clothes and fabrics. Often quoted with her directive to staff: “You can’t have one without the other. Fabric makes the garment and the garment makes the fabric.” There was one day when she knew she was done with the whole business. She had a special love for natural fabrics: real cotton, real wool, real silk. Business models had made it necessary that she bowed to the synthetic world of fabric. So much so that even business felt false and synthetic. When she heard herself being called a legend, and ‘the grand dame of fashion’, at first she was proud but slowly she heard it in a different light. For some she’d been put on a pedestal, for others……well, she saw the smirks, overheard one or two snide comments about ‘too old’. Most of her contemporaries had either retired to Florida or some island in the Caribbean. Unfortunately she’d had to attend too many funerals. The C.E.O.’s she dealt with were young enough to be her children and even one her granddaughter. The day she retired, she came out of her office above the cutting room floor and called for silence. A very large room, it took the supervisors time to rush around and have all scissors and measuring tapes put down. The models, in various states of undress or draped in Adele’s cherished fabrics, impatiently did as they were told. She spoke into a microphone “I have an announcement to make, but first I want to thank everyone for your hard work. I know some of you have been here since I began this company. Your leadership bringing everyone else on board has been invaluable. For everyone else who has joined us, you have made this company what it has become. My dream.” A catch in her throat, she hesitated, dabbed her eyes with her ever present delicate cotton handkerchief. Continuing she said “Today, I am retiring effective 5pm. I will no longer be in the office but will work from home until I decide who should take over from me. My secretary, Annie Fitzgerald, will be in charge along with the floor supervisors.” A gasp rose from the floor in unison. Then the murmurs about who and what and why today began. Adele clapped her hands. “Everyone, please, return to your work. My office door will be open for anyone that has questions or concerns.” Her secretary had been informed that morning of an ‘announcement’ and had a light lunch and coffee ready for her employer. Adele’s office, at the level of a second floor suite, had a small balcony where she retired to after the tension of her bold action. There, looking out over a city park, she breathed deeply of the air that felt fresher, even with any traffic fumes. Her shoulders felt lighter. She hugged herself, preventing herself from cheering to the people below, like Scrooge on Christmas morning.

Now here she was at home, her shocking white hair pulled back in her signature bun, wearing a long, flowing white silk caftan, gold slippers showing her pedicured toes. “What big thing are we going to do?” She and her reflection laughed out loud. “We’re going shopping for crayons and paper dolls. If I have to go to Toronto, Vancouver, Paris or New York City to find just the right ones, that’s what we’ll do. I have to find myself all over again because none of us are ever too old for that.”

“It’s never too late to go out and get that feeling back.”

~ Loretta Switt

Book Review: Glass Houses by Louise Penny

“Burn our ships” Whatever could that mean? Three words written on a napkin gleaned from a casual comment over a luncheon with a colleague Chief Superintendent Armand Gamache took that note and locked it in his desk drawer. Along with it was a notebook with his plan to do what?

The story opens in a courtroom without air conditioning. Gamache is a witness, after the fact, for the prosecution. The Chief Crown Prosecutor Barry Zalmanowitz is grilling him about the facts surrounding the murder in Three Pines. The two men intensely dislike each other. Judge Corriveau sees a tension between the men that she doesn’t understand. Gamache’s plan, that had yet to be fully revealed, would never have been approved, because it involved illegalities on the part of the Chief Superintendent. His purpose was to protect the public.

Home to his wife, Reine-Marie in Three Pines, he was content to live a quiet life. Three Pines, not even on the map and very out of the way, had few visitors. It was the night of the annual Hallowe’en party. Every one knew everyone except for the tall person all dressed in a long hooded black costume. He - or she - never spoke. When everyone went home and continued on their lives, the hooded figure reappeared in the morning in the village green to stand silently, ominously looking steadily toward the bistro. The bistro was a cozy gathering place for the residents. With each day that passed, the hooded figure never moving, tension mounted in the village. Research done by Beauvoir revealed that this figure was consistent with the Spanish history of a cobrador del frac. A frock coated collector of debts in reality, but developed by Louise Penny as a conscience. This figure was confronted once by an angry villager, but Gamache stopped him, saying that standing on the green was not illegal. The village grew nervous and afraid, not knowing what they should fear. Gamache, his second in command and son-in-law, Chief Inspector Jean-Guy Beauvoir kept a close eye on this spectre who was doing no harm. 

The two officers of the Sûreté were distracted by a much greater problem. The escalating problem of opiates being funnelled through Québec.Yet when Reine-Marie Gamache discovers the body of a woman in the basement of the church, the story takes on a different urgency. Viciously murdered and beaten, she was dressed in the hooded robe of the cobrador. A bloody bat was found leaned up again a basement wall by the Sûreté. Only when Reine-Marie privately tells her husband that there was no bat when she discovered the body, did Gamache become suspicious.

From the quiet scenic village to an all out drug war, Louise Penny took us slowly, almost painfully, into Gamache’s plan. What was the person in black? Who would be murdered and who was the killer? Why was Three Pines chosen as the narrow end of the funnel for drug runners?

Would Chief Superintendent Gamache jeopardize his carrier, the career of others and the lives of many addicts to achieve this goal? Would it be worth it or should he have not followed his conscience? In the courtroom, would Judge Corriveau have him arrested and jailed?

Drug cartels and the underworld, the supposed incompetence of the Sûreté and who survived. History of rum running and today’s world of running drugs. Louise Penny fit it all together quite snugly. Armand Gamache is her main character in a series of mystery novels from 2005 to the present. This is only the second of her books that I’ve read. Time to read her others!

“It wasn’t really, he knew, about less fear. It was about more courage,”

~ Louise Penny, Glass Houses

Author:Louise Penny

Copyright: 2017

Publisher: Three Pines Creations, Inc.

For information, address:

 St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010

Type: Novel

Format: Hard cover

ISBN: 97801250066190

LCCN: 2017021224

ISBN (international): 978125064889

ISBN (ebook): 9781466873681

Until

Waking every morning is easy. 

Reflexively, eyes flutter open. 

Getting out of bed ~ temporary. 

Staying out of bed ~ a choice.

short term goals dictate ~
like food, coffee and schedules

glossing over living a good life.

To be. To enjoy. As days fly past 

while we breeze through life ~

to be and to enjoy gathers dust ~

Until schedules vanish and life opens

as wide as the sky: To Be. To Enjoy.

“Wake up, and all will not be for naught. Wake up, and all is not lost.”

~ Søren Sørenson

A Mother’s Day Muse - A Worthy Goal

Mother’s Day. There are many ideas about the origins of this special day, as far back as Greek mythology. However, each year the moms celebrated are all around us; many only one or maybe two generations past. And yes, we do honour and celebrate each of the aunts, uncles, neighbours, and friends that have mothered us. 

It can be a frustrating struggle to honour a mom who, because of thorny life experiences unknown to us, has not fit into the ‘good mom’ picture. Maybe that is where we need to go. Into the unknowing, the compassion for the young child, young girl, young adult that tripped into and over life. Am I sounding too sunshine-y? I hope it is not seen that way. 

I am well into my seventh decade. When I review all the mistakes and missteps I have made as a mom, I have gained some of that compassion for those youngsters that became moms too soon, or too late, or who were not mothered themselves. Choosing to live a different, and possibly healthier, path to honour those moms seems a very worthy goal.

“Compassion is not a virtue - - it is a commitment. 

It’s not something we have or don’t have - - 

it’s something we choose to practice.”

~ Brené Brown

Silent Whispers ~ 2

Silent goals for each New Year

barely a whisper ~

no grand visions of endings, beginnings.

what will be or when they will be. 

I stay present with intent to honour 

each little word or phrase 

creating them as elegantly as I am able.

“Accepting oneself does not preclude an attempt to become better.”

~ Flannery O’Connor

Chapter One, Episode 127 - Stop and Think - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

An interesting coincidence! Just as I am Hitting Pause on any new episodes, here is Dez re-evaluating her place with the Estate in Stop and Think. (A 'Staff meeting' is in the offing in the next week).

Revision, scattered throughout, involved removal of unnecessary pronouns, redundant phrases, more clearly, showing Dez's thoughts. 

Stop and Think

She pulled her car onto the shoulder of the road. Turning it off, releasing her seat belt,  she sat back and stared up the tree lined lane. From where she sat she couldn’t see the Beaufort Mansion. A pretty grand name for a plain brick home. Plain only in its design, a gigantic box constructed of bricks, mortar, wood and nails. A box that had contained the lives of families for over two centuries.

When Desperanza Eliot had walked into the Global Grand Bank branch on the early evening of March 25, 2020, she had no idea…..no idea at all…… that her life would become entwined with the lives in any grand mansion at all, let alone Hartley's well known Beaufort Estate. She was plain Dez Eliot. She worked at various jobs. She had friends and relationships. Except for one that had become very important: her sister, Emelina. Estranged from her sister for over ten years, there was no reason for Dez to think that she would do anything but work and go out with friends, go home to her humble apartment, do a sketch or painting, and go to bed. 

But would her relationship with her sister and her sister’s estate stand the test of time? Dez smiled as she remembered all that had transpired in the past four months. Each event, even the encounters with a little ghost, had been the most enjoyable events of her life. She had grown fond of all the people of the Beaufort Estate. Cook, for her delicious, generous meals and snacks. Martha for her welcoming kindness towards Dez. Digby, doing so much more than just a butler. Samuel! His stories of how things grow, history of the estate and the affection he would never admit for Cook. She loved working in the orchard but did not feel that she had made much progress. And the apiary? Still no bees, on hold because she was not completely ready. The bees had been ordered but fortunately, the company had delayed the shipment more than once. Reacquainted with Matt Hamilton, an orchardist and apiarist, he was her 'go to guy' for his practical knowledge of orchards and bees. Knowledge she needed if she were to develop the Estate's orchard. Their relationship had blossomed into an easy friendship.

Dez had needed this stop and think at the roadside so she could grasp once more how she fit in to this world. Should she continue with the work on the orchard under the dubious title of Project Manager? She knew one thing for certain: she would not become estranged from Emmie again. Dez picked up her phone and was ready to call Emmie, but sent her a text instead. “We need to talk.”

“Far away in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, 

but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, 

and try to follow where they lead.”

~ Louisa May Alcott

Next

Larger than life itself are 

‘the slings and arrows’ 

that catch us upside the head
when we least expect it.

Solid stones hitting 

squarely in the solar plexus

catching our breath,

bunching it into a ball of fear,

until breath comes naturally.

A new path opens to opportunity 

for growth and change

despite a still muddied horizon

but with studied clarity of purpose

and belief that challenges create

goals for any next step.

“Don’t waste a minute not being happy, If one window closes, 

run to the next window - or break down a door.”

~ Brooke Shields

Warmer Days

Renewal and rest, when weather drips moisture from the skies, wrapped in warm coziness much needed at this time of year when cheer has paled from ‘Cheers!’and daily life hints at far off busy-ness.

Renewal and rest 

energizes plans and goals for this new year ~ hazy thoughts of warmer days only dreamt about when nestled in the comforting glow 

of a shelter warm and safe.

“Winter is a season of recovery and preparation.”

~ Paul Theroux, travel writer and novelist

Garden News

Welcome to one of my ‘gardens’! My goal was three fold: have an interesting garden, avoid setting a buffet for the deer, and leaving the soil empty of interesting spaces for squirrels to cache their peanuts in. So, I planted succulents. Most of us know they don’t really need water or fussing over. Hardy dry land or desert plants. What I’m showing you this morning is a Crinkly Leaf cactus and a Split Rock succulent. Both are native to arid regions of South Africa. Definitely not the damp of Victoria, BC! They have both been rained on significantly. They are protected from our wild west wind by the rock wall, some tall grasses and enjoy an east to west sun exposure. My little split rock was damaged, I’m sure, by a squirrel testing it to see if it was really a rock. My Crinkly Leaf cactus has sprouted flower stems? I have no idea what those flowers may look like but I’m watching them every day. Marigolds managed to make it into the little garden, hiding a painted stone cottage. They probably use up some of the water that my split rocks don't want. My commitment to having and keeping a garden turned me toward succulents. Deer and squirrels just don’t care for them!

“Garden design is all about concealment and surprise.”

~ Andrew Crofts, Secrets of the Italian Gardener

The Set of Things

Usually a goal 

sets our direction

gives us purpose. 

But, we must set, by ourselves,

with the advice of many others,

our journeys beginnings.

Each step that we take,

also our own, is shored up

by the strength of other pathfinders.

Goals are seen through

wavering mirage patterns set down 

through many todays through many ages.

The quality of our journey,

through bumps, bruises and sunshine

arrives from our singular choices.

Usually any goal is achieved or ~

forgotten, disposed of or transformed

by the disparate shapes and colours of our lives.

“Be grateful for everything. The good, the bad, the ugly. 

Our entire life is a precious gift. It’s all part of our path.”

~ Dawn Gluskin