Seeking the Sun

How do I temper my loneliness,

My despair in being alone?

I twist and turn seeking the Sun,

Only then,

Will I live

and

flourish.

In a Constant State of Learning

All is quiet now, after a day of unrelenting drumming on the roof.  Everything is beyond the saturation point, as this has been the seventh wettest June in history.  Note that there are several more days of June left to be experienced on the calendar.  Earlier the heavy mist allowed for outside activity, but by late morning I had settled into a cozy rhythm of reading some pretty heady articles about the history of writing and the social responsibilities of a student writer as guided by passion and the influence of technology on education reform.

The world is increasingly complex (an understatement). Are we adequately preparing our youngest citizens with what they need to navigate this world intellectually, morally and socially?  We must not lose sight of common sense, while at the same time keep our eyes on the standards and rigors ensuring a deep, but broad experience in the process of learning.  This is no easy matter. Will education reform keep up and meet student demands considering the fast pace of our ever-changing technology?  My intent is always to do the right thing philosophically and morally (I must know myself well) and keep abreast of the latest research. There is constant evaluation of the congruency of my deep philosophical beliefs, best practices and the effective application of these beliefs and practices. It is clear why I am in the constant state of learning and refining.  That is the very best I can do.

Feathers for Breakfast

Poor little birdie!  Naughty kitties. This is what I woke to this morning.  It could have been any one of our felines, all hunters.   We shall take paw prints to determine the guilty party.  My husband needn't wonder why the hummingbirds do not come near our house despite the tantilizing sweet, red dyed artificial nectar that hangs high.  Poor little birdies.

No Fog Here

The lady took forever to pull out of the curbing to reveal a parking place right in front of the entrance to the library.  I waited and waited and waited.  Sadly, so did the people behind me.  We all waited.  Once the space was free, I realized that it was a yellow curb.  The rule is to never park on a yellow curb.  So, the search for an available parking spot continued.

I pay attention to rules and laws.  Fear is a mighty motivator.  I am not a proponent that fear is the most humane factor, but in my Catholic upbringing, it is certainly something I thought alot about and still do .  Seldom am I in a fog or quandry about what I should or shouldn't do, my moral compass leads the way.  The family that loves me dearest, finds all my predictable patterns to be most comical.  As a mother, someday the laws will protect and the fear of consequences will help those I hold dear to think twice before engaging in some behavior that may harm themselves, others or property.  Good or bad, right or wrong-this is who I am.

Finding God

Simple, yet profound words like, "I found God.  Things are going to be different." are suppose to make all the difference?  Rub all the hurt away, the lies, the stealing-gone. Just memories.  You do not know just how much I want to believe.  I hang onto the hope that this time will be different.

A storm approaches.  The air feels cooler and the rain begins to drum.  Water renews, refreshes the spirit.  This storm will pass.  This I know to be true.  Knowing that your storm will pass and fade into the folding of the years, will help this mother rest easier.  Perhaps, I need to continue my search for God.  That may save both of us.

Don't Delay

After all these years, it is most often flowers that bring my mother to mind.  She had a stand of peonies from which she carefully snipped the heavy blooms and brought them into the house.  The fragrance was often overpowering, but the delicate, full yet  feathery incongruent raw edges of the petals made the flower all the more intriguing.  We always lamented that their showy visit was much too brief.

The message or lesson:   Find beauty within and show your God-given gifts to benefit others.  Don't delay.  In reality, our time is brief.

Beauty

Look within,
And find
The beauty.

Clarity

June's Full Strawberry Moon

In late June, my thumbs and forefingers were constantly stained.  The tiny, sweet wild strawberries were gently plucked and popped sun-warmed  into my mouth one by one.  They never amounted to enough to do anything fancy with like a pie or jam, so this was a logical solution.   As a kid, I would wander around the open fields near my house searching for a new little spread.  

Now, I have moved away and live a responsible adult life. There seems to be little time to search for  treasures in the wild.  It has been a few months since I have walked in the woods.   Stress has wormed its' way into my brain and heart and taken over.  I feel possessed.   Movement on this earth is presently filled with pain.  Disconnected, I am only surviving.  

It is my connection with the earth and beauty that will breath life into my lifeless form.  I can take lessons from my life as a child.  Intuitively, I knew what I needed.  With the full moon comes clarity.  I know what I need.

Mid-Rush Pause

This first official full day of summer was a rush, rush kind of day- pacing from one appointment to another with a mix of errands for variety.  Outside the doctor's office, there was a long stand of wild roses.  I literally stopped, closed my eyes and imagined the sweet scent.  As I inched toward the car, I leaned into rose after rose sighing between encounters until I slowly crawled into the front seat infused with a sense of well-being.

A Spectacle

It took some advanced planning and faith in the workings of the tide to complete the process of refurbishing the hull of this schooner.  It began earlier this morning and by noon; it looked ship-wrecked. Because of my limited experience with beached vessels;   I forgot about the principle of Arichimedes and imagined chains with a lot of pulling and prodding to upright the ship and return it to the bay.  By late afternoon, the crew had scraped the barnicles off the hull and began the job of painting its' belly. Before the moon appeared in the sun-lit sky of pre-dusk, there was no evidence in our little cove that the ship had caused such a spectacle among tourists and natives alike.  Cars and motorcyles haphazardly parked on the dusty sides of the crumbling pavement of Route 3, horns honking disapproving of the abrupt stops to gawk and take photos.  With all the high technology of today, often the simplest solutions involve the wisdom that comes with our co-exsistence with nature. 

Shrieks and Orange

What Do We Have To Do With...

This and...

This Innocently Curious Feline?

Early morning shrieks force all the air that has been stagnant in your lungs all night to be expelled.  It also leaves everyone in an uproar.  Following the scream, a giant wave of orange squawkers winged across the yard and into the coop for safety.  In all honesty, I wasn't sure that Duke (Elizabeth's big orange kitty) didn't get tangled in the mix. Curious and a fierce fighter,  Duke peered in through the open door while I was getting the water for the chickens from the coop.   Association:  Birds cats. Help! The impulsive yelp scared everyone in the neighborhood including Duke and my husband.  

Fed and Nourished

Pulsing with anger,
Fear,
And an aching heart,
The lies,
The deception
Feed and nourish
The hurt.

Will
The
Grip
Loosen?
Will
Pain
And
Sadness
Ever
End?

Hopeless.
I think
Not.

A Scare

Everyone missed the note that was left on the counter.  Everyone sped to their own conclusions about why Rex was not in the house where he was last seen napping with all four, long legs stretched full length contented.  "Camp?" Ears perk, head cocks.  We continue, "You wanna go to camp?!" The inflection rising on the word camp sends Rex spinning toward the door.

While Rex was romping with this worn out tennis ball, diving for little sunfish and waiting patiently for a boat ride that never came because of mechanical failures, his Daddy was home alerting the police of his strange disappearance, driving around the neighborhood calling Rex's name.  Daddy's left pocket bulging with dog treats and string cheese in hopes of a happy reunion.  Fear swelled when he thought of he way people drive around here, most reckless and certainly not looking out for our puppy.

I got the dreaded phone call at work, "Rex is missing," my eldest son began, "and Dad is having a fit." My mind began to gather facts and consider possibilities.  Seldom does he run away and not come right back if the gate is left open, I thought. Someone took him for a walk or a ride. During break I texted one of my likely daughters hoping for a quick answer. No reply. Lunch time a text is sent again, but in my frantic state I ask too many questions.  The reply is yes, but to what question?  Can't you just tell me that Rex is with you and safe? 

My cell pressed against my left ear listening intently-hoping,"I left a note for Dad on the counter.  I took Rex to camp." my daughter explained.   While Rex splashed in the water and ran after chipmunks, the rest of his family was frantic imagining.  A life without our boy is truly unimaginable!

Happy Day for Fathers!

King Jerry ordered his favorite breakfast a "Kit's Burrito" at Cafe This Way surrounded by other dads celebrating the day. The remaining hours of the day designed by Jerry himself consisted of a solo flight to camp on his motorcycle that roars, wetting lines in the pond and eating a huge wedge of left-over shower cake (which meant no supper for King Jerry.) I now leave the King on his appointed winged backed chair ripping through another book.   His Father's Day recognition will culminate with holding witness to a fight in Beantown later next month between our beloved Red Sox and theYankees.

Happy Father's Day to my sweet King who would slay the dragon to save me.

Nature's Sparkle

I cannot bring myself to categorize these delicate puffs as weeds.

Make Soft the Way

Carpet
Lush,
Green
Softens
Each
Step

Clear Vision

This is a magnet- a magnet for tiny, little dust particles not visible to the naked eye, until they make contact with my eye glass lens.  Finger prints remain fairly stable on the smooth curved surface.  I cock my head until I find the perspective that gives me the clearest vision.   There is a certain sense of accomplishment functioning in a vision blur all day. Typically I rise in the morning, press them onto the bridge of my nose only to discover that another layer lay at rest through the night.  In the middle of a tedious visual task, I note the dirt, slowly remove the glasses from my face and hold them at arms length and under a serious squint determine the extent of the grime. There never seems to be time to tend to this. I should invent an particle sensitive pair of automatic self-cleaning glasses.  Hmmmmm, let me think about that one!

Alone

Old thoughts and patterns

Deeply implanted,

Become hardy,

Ever present,

Yet barely visible 

To Take

Notice

Once gone

Transformed

I gasp,

In recognition of the absence,

Too much 

To Bear

For where have I

Wandered alone?

No Wonder

The silence kills,

Making room

In my head, 

For

Chatter,

Worry.  

No wonder.

You carry

No tomorrow

No plans,

Just living

Off

Quick

Hits 

For

The

Moment. 

A Little Intervention

     One of my favorite movies a number of years ago was Sliding Doors starring Gweneth Paltrow.  The film portrayed the possible parallel lives led by Gweneth's character had she chosen to depart the subway at two different stops. This afternoon we had a doctor's appointment with our son and then made an impromptu stop at the local health food store.  There we lingered a bit over the supplements searching for the correct one suggested by the doctor.  Rudely, I made a cell phone call in the middle of the tiny store.  There was little place to hide as I queried the nurse in a hushed voice, a little embarrassed at my brash behavior.
      Suddenly, a customer interjected, "I don't mean to pry, but I take XYZ.  Maybe that is what you want," she continued,  "What is it for, I might ask?"
      "Brain function," we answered in unison.
      A third voice chimed in.  We turned to see a short, dark curly-haired clerk shake her head, "You don't want that (XYZ).  It's a hormone." We all laughed and the reason that I called the doctor in the first place was to guarantee that I was purchasing the correct product with the proper dosage, since our local drug store did not carry the item that was ordered by the doctor a week ago.
     I am not sure why I looked back at the woman and her husband comparing the multitude of choices of Vitamin C. I heard the tall man mumble something.  Recognizing him first, I looked back at the "tried to be helpful" woman.  She stepped toward me.
     "I think I know you," I began.
     "Barb?" I just tried to call your home.  We were hoping that we could see you and Jerry!" Friends from away who had stayed with us multiple times.  We share a common Faith.  Hugs, laughter and the realization that life unfolds as it is intended.  No coincidence here.  Just a little divine intervention.

Blessings in Times of Stress

Knowing that God does not test  beyond your limits or capacity never really has brought me comfort. Repeating this knowledge over and over by quietly mouthing the words did nothing to internalize this truth. Perhaps I did not exercise patience, but I have found an effect, relatively quick fix for stress. It sounds trite, but I count my blessings.  I  focus on all the good in my life. During challenging and painful times my altered thinking spreads a healing balm to many wounds. I am grateful that I have come to understand this knowledge.  

To Create

Create.  My world is forever changed.

Odd Tilt

I saw you and we spoke for the first time in two weeks. "I love you and miss you. I worry."

"I don't live here anymore," you reply.  

Our society places great importance on the milestone of accumulating eighteen years of life on this planet.

Without a job, education and a fully developed brain he is on his own. No one to remind him to wear sunscreen. Remember you burn terribly without it. 

There is no one to make sure he gets to school. I wonder if he stays up all night and sleeps all day? What is he eating? Where is he sheltered during torrential rains like we had last night? I know nothing of his new life.   

With an eighteen year old brain that says, I can do what I want-I hope that you carry common sense with a dose of extreme kindness toward yourself and others. Don't do anything stupid that will get you in trouble.  Use your heart and your brain. Tightly hold onto the knowledge that you are loved and you deserve all that is good in the world. I pray that God watch over you and keep you safe. Your mama loves you.   

   

A few weeks ago you offered advice.  "You shouldn't stress out. Teenagers push against their parents. I need to learn."  

This does not make any of this any easier. Without you, my world is at an odd tilt.

Weighty Lessons

Wishing life was orderly and predictable,
But I don't think mine will
Ever be that way.
Yet the sharp
Abrupt shapes
That the hours
of my days
Form
Hold beauty.
If I will myself
To perceive.
All moments hold
Weighty lessons.

A Gem of a Book

I am revisiting this book savoring every word, gnawing on quotes that I read and re-read for I want to remember them forever.  This is one:

I am a teacher at heart, and there are moments in the classroom when I can hardly hold the joy.  When my students and I discover uncharted territory to explore, when the pathway out of a thicket opens up before us, when our experience is illumined by the lightning-life of the mind-then teaching is the finest work I know.

It is certainly hard to eloquently add to the above statement, and to adequately communicate how grateful I am to teach and continue to learn each day I breathe.

Watchful

Today the heavy burden of being a responsible adult living by many rules crushes my spirit. Even as a kid I was rule conscious. Use the cross walk. Wait an hour after lunch to swim. Don't eat meat on Friday. There were few times when I felt free.  Swimming in the swells of the salty ocean and riding the hand carved carousel at Old Orchard Beach. I always chose a colorful ornamental horse that moved up and down as I held tight so I wouldn't slip off the heavily varnished rump.  Pumping up and down to the haphazard caliope of percussive jingles, horns and bells. Lights. Mirrors.  The circular passage of independence with a quick glance toward the blur that was my mother waving with her eyes crinkled in the corners above a  toothy grin.  My hands gripped the pole as the horse moved in a gallop, my head tossed back  joyful. Around and around  absorbing the minute details.  My horse in a trot while others stood motionless-joyless. My mother's unspoken rules: Be adventurous, always ride a wild horse for I will remain near, if you need me. Watchful.

Now

The vibrancy found in the wild this time of year sustains me.  It is in the moment that I allow myself to slow down and notice the beauty around me that my thinking shifts.  Now is the perfect time to be grateful.

Poetry Continued

 Deep

I'm in deep, 

I push against the weight of the water,

Kicking,

Looking toward the surface 

For light,

Air.

All I receive is darkness. 

Will I ever breathe again? 

 Depleted

The water seeps slowly

Through the fissures,

With barely

A notice,

Until,

The water

Is

All

Gone. 

I am as one,

Dead.

Depleted. 

The Celebration Continues

Gathering in a setting like this is well, something you don't forget very easily.  Today was a mix of sun, black flies, boating, black flies, lobster, steamers and black flies.  The best part though?  Friends, really  family who traveled to celebrate a girl and her accomplishments.

Stories That Bind

Tonight we told stories.  Stories that remain the same over the years and bind us as a family.  Grammy Scott stories about short cuts that actually doubled our travel time and ended up taking us on obsure roads with piglets suckling their mother in the middle of a road that seemed not more than a dirt path. Elizabeth marshmallow fluff girl who wanted to help Mummy with the bank deposit, but not before she slipped her fist into the white goop and calculated our wealth with extra sticky fingers, hair and bare feet. And fiesty Gabrielle who ended up in "time-out" successively when she was under the care of a family friend.  Naughty stories that are funny stories.  My youngest commented about how good it was to laugh.  It is good to laugh.  It is good to tell stories.  It is binding and keeps our history alive.

Here's another story:  Remember June 1, 2013?  It was so hot.  We took a quick dip in Donnel's Pond and rushed home to dress up for graduation.  Remember how surprised Elizabeth was when they announced that she was student of the year for the Fire Fighter Academy?  Did you hear how Mummy, Daddy, Gabrielle and Stanley hooted? Remember?  Remember?