Clothes from the dryer,
soft and clean ~
missing something.
Always missing
the fresh scent of
hanging on the line
in the wind.
The funny dents from
wooden clothes pins.
Automatic washers and dryers
part of a home are invaluable,
but always ~ missing something.
“For everything you have missed, you have gained something else,
and for everything you gain, you lose something else.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, essayist
(1803 ~ 1882)
There is an in-between speed
that has no destination,
no timing,
no when to stop,
when to step on the gas,
a strange and awkward place
where imagination can roam free
to choose a book to read,
a walk to take,
no sense of urgency
until rain pours in violent torrents
when windows must be closed
drains cleared of dried flower petals.
A stop and go time that fills
once more with in-between time.
“Sometimes the space between knowing what to do
and actually doing it is a very short walk.
Other times it is an impossible expanse.”
~ David Levithan, author
When the order of things is
1 ~ 2 ~ 3 ~
and so on….
but the time of things
does not match the order,
how to make sense of it all
just do what needs doing
ignore #2 to answer
the phone when it rings,
accept a sudden appointment
because
it has been too long a wait,
push #3 aside to make room
for the laundry
from the dryer,
put #1 to the back of
the order of things.
It is not my order but an order
I have yet to envision ~
my fingers, my feet and my heart
seem to know differently.
“Deep in human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe
that makes sense, But the real universe is always one step beyond logic.”
~Frank Herbert, Dune
Streets shone
with rivulets of muddy water
dips and hollows filled
to slow its drift
grumbling dark clouds,
painted leaves from dusty to gloss
tree roots
welcomed the drizzling damp
air thick with
rain smell filled my lungs
raindrops pattered my umbrella
and tickled my sandalled toes.
“With the rain, falls the wisdom of heaven.”
~ Paulo Coelho
Running on empty, I barely made it to the gas station at the bottom of the hill. True story!! I had forgotten my dad’s instruction to always fill up for a long trip and as soon as your tank reaches 1/4 empty. This was many years ago as I made a trip to my home in Kelowna from Victoria, B.C.
A car has a gas gauge - what part of my body or mind would be the equivalent of a car’s gas gauge to tell me when to stop and fill up. Tired behind eyes that can barely see, feeling a kind of shaky that wants your feet up and your bottom down, just plain cranky ………. When do we listen to our bodies, to our voices, to our minds. We can look at the numbers on our car’s dashboard, but it is only our senses that we can rely on to tell us to put down the knitting, turn off not just the TV but everything, slow down our pace coming from work. Just as a car depends on it’s owner to keep the oil and gas topped up, our bodies and, yes, our minds, depend on whether we respond to our senses when we are running on empty ~ or not.
“There’s just something obvious about emptiness,
even when you try to convince yourself otherwise.”
~ Sarah Dessen, Lock and Key
over me, through me,
may be missed if I
forget to stand still
slowly or if I rush
through the minutes of
the day to get to some
unknown destination.
Sensations of joy in a
sudden phone call, the
smile of a passerby,
my name called in a
grocery store, a new
baby’s cry, the echoing
calls of southbound geese
~ life’s curtain in the wind.
“There is something hidden in each sensation.”
~ Gustavo Cerati, singer-song writer
(August 1959 - September 2014)
Listen to your heart……
Inside questions…
Sensations that….
Tensions that ……
Emotional waves…..
Nerves of steel….
“We speak with more than our mouths.
We listen with more than our ears.”
~ Fred Rogers,
You Are Special: Neighbourly Wit
and Wisdom from Mister Rogers
City streets quiet
people settling at home;
evening meals at restaurants
or an outing at a theatre,
buses muscle through winding routes, walkers ferried
to their next stop, voices carry through the humid air, words lost in the dense lilac scented air hanging heavy in courtyards and draped over fences.
Spring beckons summers ease.
“Inhale and hold the evening in your lungs.”
~ Sebastian Faulks, Engleby
Like a child
I stopped
ears tuned to distant honking
eyes lifted to the treetops
Where are they?
I can’t see!
head craned back
scanning through
crisping golden leaves~
suddenly
they appeared ~
geese arrowing
from Wascana Lake
~ incredible migration in flight.
“I am a child who is getting on.”
~ Marc Chagall, author
Today I received the keys to
the doors of my new home.
Cupboards and closets empty,
soon to be filled with
the stuff of my life.
Tonight I am filled with gratitude!
Grateful for safety that keys bring
when others have no keys or doors.
Tonight I am filled with humility.
Humbled by the magnitude of
what has just been accomplished.
Tonight I am filled with joy.
Joyful for family and friends who
have stood by me while I stepped off this precipice.
“Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all other.”
~ Marcus Tullius Cicero
~~~~~
Frustrated and disappointed, Em just stared at her phone. She had promised Dez she’d tell her more about the so-called history of the jogging track. Knowing her sister, she wouldn’t be upset.
“Em! Did you talk to Jeremy last night like you said? He’ll be out here next week, right?….What. You didn’t get to talk with him?” Her sister was quiet. “No, I called him this morning and just listened to the racket he was making. He was racing off to work. He won’t be out next week. All their schedules have been changed because one of the main doctors is off with Covid.”
Emelina was right. Her sister was barely fazed. “Not a problem, Em. That gives us more time to……..:” Annoyed, she cut Dez off mid-sentence. “Time for what? Walking about the track again? Seeing what ‘clues’ Michael might have left? For who?” The more she talked the angrier she got. She felt like she was in the middle of something that she hadn’t asked for. It had just been about what Dez had shown her. The balance sheet for the orchard and apiary looked like they were going broke. That took her to Digby and then to Mr. Jordan. All of a sudden, she was listening to Michael’s will again, and for the first time. “Let’s just leave it alone Dez. Let the ten years run out and let Samuel take over that land.”
Dez felt her stomach tighten. Everything had been going so well for over two years. She was starting to feel like she had a family again. She’d given up her apartment for Martha’s duplex on the Estate. She had no more control out here than she had sharing their bedroom when they were teens. She had no savings to speak of, no real job and her sister was paying her rent. If she couldn’t make the orchard and apiary pay, those would be lost to her too. Her mood had sunk to match her sister’s mood. She was crazy to think about a Walking Writing workshop, “I’m sorry, Em. I guess I just got too excited. I’m going into town ~ I’ve got an interview for a part-time job this afternoon.”
“Dez, let me just live with all this for a while. I just don’t know what we’ll be able to do and I do want the two of us to work together on it. I don’t want our old teenage rivalries to interfere. After all, I think we’ve both come a long way. This last two years especially.”
Dez had turned to leave. Stopped and turned back to face her sister. “You’re right, Em. We need to get past this. Work it out. Take some space.” She could feel her mood lifting. “I will go to that job interview. You need to take whatever time you need. This is your property………” She held up her hand. “No, Em. It is. We can work together with ideas. My work is to earn some money and pay my way. I won’t be a drag on your life.”
“And I won’t be the bossy big sister I was so long ago.”
~~~~~
“Of two sisters one is always the watcher, one the dancer.”
~ Louise Gluck
To follow
the walking path
past the lake
To rest
on the dedicated bench
to look out on the lake
or
To take a walk
through leafy shade
past rabbits and squirrels
To take a detour
from here to there
just because I felt like it……
“But the beauty is in the walking — we are betrayed by destinations.”
~ Gwyn Thomas
