Spirit Rising

 

Spirit, strong but hidden, beneath 

the should haves and  must do’s 

until it vanishes 

in life’s beautiful image. 

With abruptness, 

this quiet spirit will rise 

and step into any fray.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.”

~ Max Ehrmann, Desiderata

(1872 ~ 1945)

Barely Unfurled

What drew me to this rose today?

the pink of it’s newness did call to me but did not notice and pass. 

Close, I took this image as if the delicate rose deserved a place on this page. Or maybe I deserved to 

carry it’s tenderness with me, knowing that ‘this too shall pass’ as the summer also blossoms only to fade and vanish 

never to be seen again but a new tender rose will blossom on the same rosebush in the new year. 

“Come out here where the roses have opened. Let soul and world meet.”

~ Rumi

Hacked!!

Beneath scattered digital images and posts and emails, a hacker - or more than one - grasped an open virtual door to spread their unpleasantness to all my friends online.

Thank you to friend that notified me of the invasion.

Almost immediately, I received two, almost identical, messages from unknown persons offering to help me with my hacking problem. I declined.

“We need to have a talk on the subject of what’s yours and what’s mine.”

~ Stieg Larsson, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Re-post: An Idea's Time

An idea 

flowed onto my head between droplets of warm water

blew through my hair between the branches of an old oak

fluttered onto my shoulders cupped in a falling leaf

floated into my ear on bird song, insistent for capture on the page ~ moulded and shaped in image, metaphor and language tools of heart, soul and mind.

“The idea is to write it so that people hear it and it 

slides through the brain and goes straight to the heart.”

~ Maya Angelou

Authors note: 

Original muse written May 16, 2014

Edited November 20, 2023

Coattail Child and Me

 Never more, 

     never again,

would I walk away 

from myself except

to turn away from 

the image in the mirror

to live a life that fits me

even if the child that rides

my coattails dawn to dusk 

wants to stay hidden and quiet

Never more, 

     never again,

will I walk away from myself
and, taking the coattail child’s hand, 

we’ll live a life that fits us both.

“When we get comfortable with our own strength, 

discomfort changes shape, we remember our power.”

~ Jen Knox, The Glass City 

January 2023 Theme ~ Smile!

Standing still slowly……..

Miles ahead; miles behind…..

Images flash before…….

Laughing into the wind…..

Enthusiasm about…….

“I have many problems in life. 

But my lips don’t know that. 

They always smile.”

~ Charlie Chaplin

Image isn't Everything

Image isn't Everything

“Demanding that life treat us fairly is not all that fair is it?” I was stunned when that came out of his mouth. He didn’t have the air of someone who even had a brain in his head. Or maybe that was just my own bias. He was the wrong age to start with. Too old to have the wisdom of a child and far too young to have the wisdom that comes with age. Two clichés that I had heard for years. He did look like an educated man, but in a tailored three piece suit with a briefcase at his side. I thought I had been talking quietly to myself and was annoyed with him when he spoke. We were sharing the same weather worn park bench overlooking the ocean ~ he on one end and me on the other. Things had been going badly for me in my marriage, my job, with my teenagers and then my car broke down in the middle of the day on my way to the doctor. The dog had torn up the furniture. The straw was when I ….. was…I don’t want to go there. That was when this well-dressed Yoda spoke up. Without another word, he picked up his briefcase and walked on to whatever was in his day. I felt like crying but something broke in my stubborn self pity. Looking up at the sky, clouds that had once seemed so threatening, were beautiful. They released their burden onto my upturned face. The ancient trees and manicured gardens behind me seemed to smile and say thank you. I will never see that man again but will always be grateful for his gentle words that day.

“You will face many defeats in life, but never let yourself be defeated.”

~ Maya Angelou

Chapter Two, Episode Ninety-eight - The Girl in the Mirror - Situationally Theirs

The Girl in the Mirror

“Couldn’t you tell?” 

~~~~~

The two sisters had been apart while Dez tried to find herself again. Be independent again. But she was between the proverbial rock and hard place. She needed her job and she needed her sister. Exposing herself to Em was taking her back to high school. She had tried to paint herself up and dress like her sister……. once. The girl in the mirror just wasn’t her. And now the girls at the spa ~ girls two generations younger ~ had painted her up into some kind of doll and pushed her to upgrade her too comfortable wardrobe. The woman in the mirror just wasn’t her. And the way she pushed away from her sister just wasn’t her either. It never occurred to her that her sister may have some better ideas about how she could be coiffed and made up. At the same time, the sudden break had done its job. Given her time to shake off the soft grip of the Estate. She hadn’t expected such a dramatic change. In the few kilometres to the estate, she had rehearsed an apology. Short and to the point. She hoped that Cook had been able to keep her sister there.

~~~~~

Cook quickly put her cell phone in her apron. She hoped that her boss did not suspect that she was faking that phone call. “Miss Em? Can you stay a minute for tea?” Cook thoughts raced. What could she say next? “I’m….I’m worried.” What was she worried about? “You’ve mentioned that you’ve not seen your sister. I’ve thought about it and we’ve not seen her out here for too long. And then Samuel thinking……..there’s someone here!” A car had ground to a sudden stop at the back of the house. Cook took a big drink of her tea. “Maybe it’s just Samuel now.” 

Without stopping to hang up her coat, Dez burst into the kitchen. “Cook, you can stop covering for me now. Em, I’m sorry. Sorry for the way I just left. Sorry for not telling you where I was. Sorry for……”

Emelina was almost in tears. “Dez, stop. You’re home now and that’s all that matters.”  Cook had slipped away from the table to let the sisters talk. She smiled a ‘welcome home’ to Dez as she stepped away. Quietly, Em said “Let’s go upstairs and talk.”

~~~~~

“Couldn’t you tell?” The sisters had been talking for an hour, Dez doing most of the talking. All the reasons behind her short absence. How she felt like she was sliding into her sisters world. How vulnerable and out of place she felt. Emelina interrupted her. “My world? It was all an act, Dez. It has always been an act. I don’t know why, and I’ve never wanted to find out. I just know that I needed the image, the perfect glossy magazine image, just to feel safe. It’s always been like an armour. Over the years it just became normal and comfortable. Now, even in the casual clothes I wear, I want them to be just so. You really couldn’t tell?”

“Years ago, I just thought you were just prissy. Then stuck up and holier than thou.” Dez shook her head. “And I was never good enough in your eyes because I liked blue jeans and sweat pants. Never cared about hairstyles.” Emelina smiled slowly, looking ready to burst out laughing. “Looks like you still don’t care about hairstyles.” Dez started to look offended, for about a second, and then she burst out laughing. “Oh, Em, I am so ashamed….no, I’m not. I just feel stupid. I don’t know how to manage this mess. And these nails! They’re horrible. If this is supposed to be a suit of armour then it’s just not working for me. Can you help me out?

~~~~~

Cook had gone home. Before she left she called up to the sisters that supper was ready for them and that they could just leave the dishes in the sink. She’d take care of them in the morning.  After they had eaten, and cleaned up the kitchen they got to work. Dez told her sister all about her job, the things she liked and the things she didn’t like. In the meantime, Em was stripping the polish and fake nails from Dez’s hands. Back upstairs, Dez sat at Em's vanity. Em stood behind her sister, combing her hair. They looked at each other in the mirror. “I can’t do anything about your hair tonight. But I know a hairdresser that can fix up this mess. I don’t like it either. It just isn’t you.”

“I have laughed, in bitterness and agony of heart, 

at the contrast between what I seem and what I am!”

~ Nathanial Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter

Chapter Two, Episode Ninety- four - Hiding in Plain Sight - Situationally Theirs

Hiding in Plain Sight 

Calming music, soft voices of Spa employees and clients, and an aura of peace surrounded Dez. The gentle tinkle of the bell at the door gripped her. The pert young thing who had oriented her to the telephones, the importance of new client forms and general office management had gone off to Mexico for a destination wedding that they all had talked about in the staff room. She was on her own. With a new modern hairstyle, manicured and painted nails, her new wardrobe ~ she felt uncomfortable. Pretending to file something and make notes about something, she had not seen who came in. It was probably just the mail but, annoyingly, she was nervous. She’d been a waitress in more that one diner, slung beer with the best of them, cleaned restaurant kitchens, worked in a dry cleaning store, managed an apple orchard and set up beehives. How was she to greet clients? Her mouth had gone dry. 

“Excuse me, please. I have an appointment with Sarah.” Swinging her computer screen to face her, she asked “Your name please?” Her fingers were poised to pull up Sarah’s appointments, when Sarah approached. 

“Mrs. Beaufort, it is so good to see you after all this time.” Before Dez could say anything, Sarah and Emelina walked down the hall to Room 2. She breathed a sigh of relief. Her sister glanced back once, but Sarah ushered her into the Aesthetic Room. “Is she a new employee? What is her name?” 

“I’m not sure what her name is, but yes she is a new employee. Now, here. I have your foot bath for you. Slip your sandals off and I’ll set them aside. There’s a hook for your purse. Have you decided on a colour for your nails - both toenails and fingernails? Same colours or something different.We have some new ones here.” Scarcely taking a breath, Sarah knew Emelina from a previous location and had recently joined this Spa.

“I have really missed our regular appointments, Sarah. I’m pretty good doing my own pedicures, but I’m not so good at the manicures. I’ve had to have my sister help me with that when I can.” Sarah looked up at her from massaging her feet and legs.

“I don’t recall you talking about a sister before.” She lifted one foot out of the warm water, wrapped it in a towel and set it on a pad beside the foot bath. “Well, we were lost to each other for many years. We left on not very good terms.” She took a breath. “That’s why I asked about your receptionist. She looked so very familiar but the hair. The make-up. They were all wrong. Even her voice was different.”

~~~~~

It seemed like there were new clients waiting outside the door to come in and keep Dez busy for the next hour. Actually there were only three, but Dez had been so rattled when Emelina almost recognized her, that if felt like there had been twenty-three. When the clients were all being massaged, or manicured, or were relaxing to some other Spa treatment, Dez took a big drink of water, leaned back in her chair and looked for a way out before her sister could see her. Sure, in the mirror she looked good, but she just didn’t look or feel like herself. Maybe if she told her boss she was really sick she could just leave. She had always envied Em for being so very ‘put together’  ~ that’s what their mom would say, anyway. Now she just wanted to be in jeans and a t-shirt, her hair all unruly, little make-up if any and definitely no long painted finger nails. She loved the foot soak and leg rub but the rest of it she could really do without. Oh, she’d tried before, and each time felt almost as uncomfortable as she did now. Now, if she wanted to stay in this job ~ the only one available to her right now ~ she’d have to put up with it. Maybe she could tone it down some how, but probably not today. She saw the door to the Aesthetics room open.

She shoved her chair back and escaped to the bathroom just in time. Sarah would have to take care of payment and rescheduling. Dez needed time to think. Think about when and how she would contact her sister about why she didn’t acknowledge her. Maybe she’d just go out to the Estate? Contact Martha to see when her sister would be there? 

Dez slammed the flat of one hand on the sink counter. “I am almost forty years old and acting like a scared teenager! What the ^&*() is wrong with me? 

“The worst loneliness is to not be comfortable with yourself.”

~ Mark Twain

Only Ice Cream

It was only an ice cream cone 

on a breezy warm fall day ~

Soft chocolate with coffee crystals

swirled high in a crisp vanilla cone.

A small green jelly bean 

atop it’s delicious mound.

I do wish I could show you a picture but somehow 

it disappeared before my very eyes.

“Without ice cream, there would be darkness and chaos.”

~ Don Kardong

Making Meaning

Imitations of what intention really is, splashed all over the place ~

Broad bright beautiful brush strokes on billboards and in media ~ not just TV anymore,

subverting intention to make meaning in our lives ~

merely show us more shiny things to collect and own.

But some can be real road maps 

to show - or not show - 

life’s meaning - advertisements 

for environmental change and changes, 

for the arts whether symphonic or literary, 

for food production and preparation ~

even if any are reality TV shows. 

(I get a sour stomach from the very words ’Reality TV’). 

Being careful about what I dislike  ~ 

are they judgements or just preferences?

Can I flip judgements on their annoying heads

To find what’s missing

To find what I can do

To question whether the image fits with 

my intention to make meaning.

“Almost all absurdity of conduct arises from 

the imitation of those whom we cannot resemble.”

~ Samuel Johnson, The Rambler

Bird Watch

There really are a couple of birds inside those branches!

Numerous attempts this morning to get a photo of either the House Wrens or the hummingbirds that frequent this lovely bush, I decided it had become too big a challenge. They are all so very quick and are camouflaged so well. Only by movement do I see them. For example, just now as I write this one of the wrens went inside the nest, pouching out the very flexible sides. Interior work has begun. I’ve seen this activity several times as I’ve been here at my desk. The nest is very secure, even the breezes haven’t shifted it. So, due to my lack of success, I’ve added a short poem I wrote earlier today for distancing family and friends of mine:

An iridescent hummingbird

zooms and sips

shaded fuchsia flowers.

 “There is unreasonable joy to be had from the observation of 

small birds going about their bright, oblivious business.”

~ Grant Hutchison,  The Complete Lachlan

Quilted Memories

Outlandish stitches of colours and shapes remind me of quilting. I’m not a quilter like one of my sisters, like friends from here and abroad but I do appreciate the skill, creativity and yes the passion of quilters. My one completed attempt, made over thirty years ago, was a little lap blanket that was repurposed to be a faithful yoga mat. That quilted yoga mat, not really long enough, was retired a number of years ago because it had become faded and many of the beautiful little squares had come loose from their stitching. It is so fragile now that it’s resting place is on the back of a rocking chair. Remembering the day that I made it always qualifies as a warm fuzzy. A colleague of mine from my Texas days and I had a quilting day. This friend and very passionate quilter I have completely lost touch with as our paths separated soon after that lovely sunny day. She was a quilter with a collection of brilliantly coloured fabric prints. She showed me the measure and cut for this project, where and how to line up the panels so that I actually created this precious small quilt. 

I tell you about this because it is what I like to call ‘experience in memory’. I have loved going through boxes and suitcases of pictures, and more recently, paging through my digital photo albums. I still prefer the tactile nature of photographs. But I digress. Back to the little tattered, faded lap quilt and yoga mat. Each time I gently pick it up, carefully refold it, or even just glance at it, I remember that day. It’s not the sewing machine or my friend’s home, but is the sunny day working with the passion of that friend about quilting. I have not taken up quilting due to that experience but have appreciated quilters, their passion for quilting and the many quilts that have covered me and in general, grace my home. They each have their stories.

“You should *have* an experience; it shouldn’t just *be* an experience,”

~ Alan Cumming

Denim Shades

Trying on new clothes, full of hope,

entertains so many thoughts, plans and ideas that swirl around with the new brilliant colours or settle into the denim shades of blues and browns.

Thin graceful modelled images not agreeing with the mirror until final acceptance of one's own singular beauty becomes clear

“You were born an original work of art. Stay original.”

~ Suzy Kassem, author