What There Is

Wondering what there is at the end 

   

   of the journey of life is 

full of imaginings and worries 

until I tire of wondering 

setting my bare feet into new grass 

      to feel cool earth. 

Wondering what tomorrow will bring 

~ easy to let go of because 

I’ve known many tomorrows, 

for the imaginings and worries 

are thin and without substance.

Wondering what my purpose in this world 

could be seems empty of meaning.

So I just enjoy the surroundings of home 

and the sun setting over the roof tops.

“You see, the what if's are as boundless as the stars.”

~ Sally Gardner,  Maggot Moon

Always a Risk

Prairie Garden 
Royal Saskatchewan Museum 

 

Running toward tomorrow 

always risks 

losing out on today.

Go fast enough to get there, but slow enough to see.”

~ Jimmy Buffett, singer, songwriter

From the Eaves

 

Summer’s end hangs drying

from the eaves 

not wanting to let go 

of the warmth of summer.

“Summer’s lease hath all too short a date.”

~ William Shakespeare

Bright Spot

She sat. Her elbows rested on the table. She stared out the window hoping she would find the answer out in the sky, in the trees, some piece of inspiration that was avoiding her gaze. Her children, still toddlers, were just waking from their naps. Good. A distraction. They’ll be hungry and I’ll fix them a lunch. Her inspiration was really those precious little ones. Right now they were clean, but after a PB&J sandwich, their sticky fingers made her happy. That was always the bright spot in her day - feeding her little ones, washing them up after and getting big smoochy kisses from them. Oh yes, it was always a repeat performance, but when topped with those soft toddler hugs, she was happy to do it all again. And that toddler brightness would never dim, but her heart would carry it even as she watched them grow. Letting go would not be easy, but their lives would be theirs to shape.

“When I approach a child, he inspires me in two sentiments ~

tenderness for what he is and respect for what he may become.”

~ Louis Pasteur

Canned Salmon

I had a thought today, 

not sure when or where. Could have been when I walked under flower scented trees or when  examining the plump juicy grapefruit at the grocery store. 

At the time it was clear and precise but I let it float away when I remembered I also needed canned salmon. 

So I will let my lost thought drift like the clouds in the clear blue sky. Maybe it will speak to me again in the song of the birds because I did let it drift.

“Give thy thoughts no tongue.”

~ William Shakespeare 

Keep the Drains Open

Keeping drains open is 

difficult on cold winter’s 

nights when snow falls 

almost malevolently 

to cover the hard work 

and salt from yesterday 

when it was a false spring. 

I swept aside the beautiful white powder and dyed it turquoise to keep drains open til morning light. 

It’s not so easy to keep our 

inner drains open for worries 

that eat away at our souls. 

No salt to melt frigid feelings 

of fear. No broom to sweep them 

away into an open drain. So we 

take a breath, lift our palms 

up to the air, to imagine them 

flying away like moths that they 

are. Fragile, dusty and pesky.

“Worry drains the mind of its power and, 

sooner or later, it injures the soul.”

~ Robin Sharma, lawyer

Letting Go

 

Rising on the smoke of sage

  belief wafts skyward

letting go of earthly control.

“Nothing belongs to you of what there is, 

of what you take, you must share.”

~ Chief Dan George

On an Afternoon Walk - Wind Blown

 A heart centre of green 

reaching for the sun

hanging on, not ready

to let go and fly free.

“Everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn.”

~ Elizabeth Lawrence

Chapter Two, Episode Forty-Four - Letting Go - Situationally Theirs

Letting Go

Humming tunelessly, Elizabeth hung up her sweater, put her purse away and got out a fresh apron.  Always the first to arrive, she turned the kitchen lights on, filled the tea kettle and set it on to boil. Both James and Martha fussed at her about getting an electric kettle, but the water just didn’t boil the same. No one believed her, but she could always tell. Martha kept an electric kettle in her little office. Made a cup of tea for her on the busy days - days that hadn’t been seen for a long time. Since Mr. Michael died things had been slow. Especially when that pandemic thing hit the world. They’d all been sent home for weeks. She’d been quite out of sorts not being in this big old kitchen. Cook stopped what she was doing and listened. The back door opened and closed. “Hello? Who’s there?” James and Martha wouldn’t be in for another hour at least. Miss Em was still upstairs. She had stayed home last night but was up. Cook could hear her moving around. She put down her dishcloth. “Martha? Is that you?” 

“No, Cook. It’s just me, Brigitte.” Tall, green eyed and lovely, she ordinarily burst through the back door, whipped off her helmet and looked for something sweet to eat. Today, her voice was quiet and strained. Even her motorcycle seemed to be quieter.

“Brigitte! I didn’t hear you drive up on that motorcycle of yours. How lovely to see you. Where have you been? Come, the coffee’s just finished dripping and I was just about to set down with my tea. Have you had breakfast? Miss Em will be down in a few minutes.”  While she talked, she had set places for Brigitte and Miss Em. Brigitte had little to do but pour herself some coffee and stay out of Cook’s way. She wasn’t feeling very sociable but she loved Cook. What she had to discuss with Miss Em had coloured her mood. Her sleep had been off for the last week. Maybe it would be good to sit with Cook before she talked with her boss. She didn’t know she was coming so having breakfast together may be a good way to start.

~~~~~

When Emelina read Brigitte’s email, she knew that something was up. It was short and terse, asking only for a meeting. She didn’t say she was coming in to work, just wanted a meeting. Emelina was up a bit earlier on the scheduled day, having another meeting in town with the accountant later that morning. Mr. Winston had contacted her about his final updated drafts of the documents Emelina had requested. Hoping her meeting with Brigitte wouldn’t take long, she went downstairs ready to go to town as soon as she was done.

“Good morning, Cook.”…… “Oh…Brigitte..you’re here already.” Seeing her, head down, at the table, Emelina was suddenly uncomfortable. “Are you all right?” 

Cook caught the tension in the room. “Breakfast’s ready, ladies. You know my rules…no business talk at the table - especially the breakfast table.” The tension in the room eased only slightly out of respect and caring for Cook. Cook - always ready with firm but kind words and something to eat. She served up bacon and scrambled eggs, toast from her home-baked bread, fresh tomatoes from the garden and a jar of apple jelly. 

“Good morning, Miss Emelina.” Brigitte smiled uneasily “I just about called you Mrs. Beaufort but you’re Mrs. Crawford now.” She helped herself to breakfast and ate silently, only glancing up occasionally if she was spoken to.

“This is silly, Brigitte. Whatever is wrong?” Emelina had finished her breakfast and was watching the young woman she’d known for almost five years. Her caretaker for most of those years when she was grieving and totally lost. Losing Michael had been devastating for her. Finding the new relationship with Jeremy had been a surprise and a blessing. When the pandemic forced she and her sister Dez together, and all the staff had been lost to her, Emelina woke up to such a different life. When Brigitte had returned after weeks away, there was no longer any need for a caretaker. Emelina was so grateful that Brigitte was interested and excited when her job changed to one of Personal Assistant. Which made this meeting even more awkward. Brigitte’s sad demeanour suggested that she wouldn’t like what Brigitte had to say. 

“Can we walk, Miss Em? I don’t want to sit in an office or even upstairs in the living room. We can have privacy out there. If we walk the far side of the track, even Samuel wouldn’t hear our conversation.”  Emelina nodded at Cook and rose from the table, stacking their plates. “Just leave those, Miss Em. I’ll take care of it.”

“Let’s go, Brigitte. You do look like you need some fresh air. Are you sure you’re all right? Here’s a tissue.” Brigitte had tried desperately not to cry, but her eyes had their own ideas, tears bubbling at the edges of her eyelids. 

~~~~~

The two women were silent until they reached the track. Brigitte could hold it in no longer. “Miss Em. I am so sorry. I will be leaving you and the Estate.” Her tears flowed fast. “Oh, Brigitte. Why? Is there not enough work for you out here? Your care and your patience got me through so much. And then this last many months, helping me become almost a real business woman……….. I just don’t know what to say.” Emelina was stunned. “Miss Em, I’ll still be here for another month. School doesn’t start until September.” Seeing her employer so shaken by her news, Brigitte’s tears immediately dried up. “You’re going to school?” Emelina sounded dazed. 

“Yes, Miss. Being your Personal Assistant was so interesting - the business part of it. I’ve decided that I’m still pretty young, I’ve already done a lot of travel and my years out here have been fantastic. I’ll miss all of you.” Her words were stumbling over themselves, finally freed from the worries of the past weeks. “It’s only a Business Admin Degree and maybe I’ll be able to come back sometime and help you out….that’s if you would want me to.”

“Of course, I would want you to. I was just stunned with your news, but so glad for you. You can come back here whenever you want, even if it’s just for a visit.” Emelina was so relieved even though she would miss Brigitte terribly. She had often wondered why a woman so young would stay out on an Estate with a woman who treated her so terribly. Finally, she seemed to have found some direction. “Let’s take that walk.” She took Brigitte’s hand and the two women set out to walk the running track. “Tell me all about which school you’re going to, when it starts, do you need anything……..” 

“There is love in holding and there is love in letting go.”

~ Elizabeth Berg, The Year of Pleasures

Superglue: Fix or Folly

Letting go of worry has not been the easiest thing I have ever done. There have been many lessons about letting go from sages over the centuries and self help gurus of the modern age. But when I get my grip on a worry, it is as though my fingers have been sealed around it with superglue. I hold it up in front of my face and keep turning it around so I can see all sides, but I remain paralyzed to any other action. Over a few days, if I see that some edge of that grip has frayed by belief or torn by even a fragment of hope, I seal it up tight with another gluey drop. I did finally learn what letting go meant when I heard an acquaintance of mine define it. She didn’t use the old maxim about holding a bird too tight in your hand, squeezing it so tightly the bird suffocates and can’t use its wings to fly away. No, this one had to do with just a letter. Remember those? Words penned on a piece of paper, folded and sealed in an envelope (more paper), addressed (hopefully the most recent address), and stamped with the correct postage. All of that to hold your words in tightly. The letting go part? The letter slides from your fingers and through the mail slot of a squatty red box. With barely a glance, you have literally let go of your ideas, words, thoughts and maybe even worries. Understand please, this person I did not particularly like and I did not consider her especially wise. But there it is. A lesson in letting go learned almost thirty years ago, in another land, in what seems a lifetime ago from someone I didn’t like or truly respect. Have I ever seen this example in all my searches through quotations for this blog? No. It is, however, as indelible in my mind as black marker ink on a white shirt.

There is another aspect to this ‘letting go’ issue. I don’t want to let go of this memory, this fragment from my life, this brief intersecting with another human being. I have over time also learned that when I don’t let go of my worries. I am getting some kind of pay off. Haven’t quite got that one figured out yet, except to say that when I do let go of my worries, things that are not my responsibility or that I can’t fix, my life in the present goes much easier. I can find tiny creative thoughts and actions that become balms to my soul. But I have to want to let go. Otherwise I just maintain a never ending supply of super glue.

“It’s not time to worry yet,”

~ Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

In-Between

The strange push pull of

letting go and moving into the new

when both are necessary….desired…

standing….rocking… in between

looking for 

   a place of resilience

    a place of comfort

finding peace and joy in these moments

of letting go into a new beginning.

“There is something special about the beauty in the unclear, 

the ambiguity, the in-between that you can’t totally recognize.”

~ Alessandro Michele

Settling

Satisfaction settles in 

when all worries

take to the sky.

“In order to pick something up, you’ve got to put something down.”

~ Todd Stocker

The Tell

The tell of respect is

A light touch

A firm handshake

A gentle offer of a helping hand

The tell of respect is

Honest eyes and ears

Space stretching wide or near.

Letting go ~ the only help to be given.

“Behaviour is the mirror in which everyone shows their image.”

~ Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

Permission Granted ~ 2

Letting go
  Not necessarily an easy task
    Prying away one finger at a time
      Loosening memory's tight grasp

Letting go of
  a cherished loved one
    times of fun, family and childhood
       or a comfortable, worn old sweater.

Letting go challenges
   how much we control in the moment
      how often we unknowingly reach back
         how willing we are to move forward

Letting go grants permission
   to step outside of the hallowed zone of memory
      to explore with curiosity our precious todays
         to find a new zone within all that we find.

Letting go opens wide
  the closet of childish things
    the curtains that are shadow shrouds in sunlight.
      child-like hearts, minds & souls with kindness, love and respect.

“If you don’t give yourself permission to create

 a new world, chances are nobody else will.”

~ James Altucher, The Rich Employee

Author's Note: Edited January 21, 2024