Paradise in Plain Sight

The first time I  saw Karen Maezen Miller's name was on the book jacket of Momma Zen.  I was experiencing a rare alone moment as a new mother, drinking a Starbucks coffee in a large bookstore when I found myself trembling in front of the display.  The subtitle, "Walking the Crooked Path of Motherhood" were the words that made me feel less like everything I was doing was WRONG WRONG WRONG, less as if I was totally screwing everything up.  I was a new, midlife mom and definitely walking that crooked path.  I laughed and wept through every page, then started the book over and absorbed them.  Then came Hand Wash Cold, more brazen and hilarious observations on how to survive humanness through the endless and thankless task of laundry and, oh yes - the path of zen.  I devoured that one too, then started it over again.  Now, Paradise in Plain Sight has arrived and I don't want to finish it.  I know I can start it over again but I am really breathing this one in the first time around.

Anyone who has read Momma Zen or Hand Wash Cold will have heard about "The Garden" but for the benefit of any who - gasp - may not have heard of Karen Maezen Miller, I will tell you that she bought a small neglected house that had a 100 year old equally neglected zen garden.   In Paradise in Plain Sight she eloquently speaks of the kismet that brought her to that door and her road to rediscover the garden.

But don't take my word for it.    From the chapter entitled, Moon, "I was in that peculiar misery that follows as soon as you're handed what you ask for.  Up close, it doesn't looks quite the same."  From, Path, "Once you admit you are lost, everything you see is a sign pointing home."  This lovely bit from Curb, "The best parts are nearly always the parts we think we don't have.  At least, that is how it looks from the curb, where we judge ourselves at a distance from everything and everyone else.  We can stand on the curb for a long time, turn it into a crossroads from which every direction seems unappealing or even dangerous, afraid to take even a single step, so accustomed are we to feeling unlucky, unloved or stuck.  That day, I felt like all that, but I was about to get my way.  Everything was about to change.  It always is." And some favourite bits from my (so far) favourite chapter, Weeds, "Weeding is not a popular pastime, even among gardeners.  Weeds are the very emblem of aversion.  Weeding doesn't produce a rewarding outcome.  No grand finale, no big reveal. There's absolutely nothing to show for it. ...The most common weeds in the yard are crabgrass, dandelion and chickweed.  The most common weeds in the world are greed, anger, and ignorance.  This is the way to weed.  Anchor yourself low to the ground so you can get a good look at what you're dealing with.  Use a spade to loosen the hardpack and go deeper.  The next part is tricky.  Take hold of the stem and apply your attention, allowing the root to release.  Haste and carelessness will only aggravate the situation.  Sometimes you can get the root on the first tug.  Other times you'll just tear off the top.  Even if you don't get it all the first time, that's okay.  It may take two or three, ten or twenty, one hundred thousand or a million times, to get the root completely."

Yes, yes, yes.  And you can see and hear the lovely Ms. KMM here.

There Was An Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly

Some days you are the spider 

and some days you are the fly, or the wasp in this case.  I'm not the first to say that but the metaphor spoke in my head when I caught this duo at my back door this afternoon.  Energy and dynamics are flying around my neck of the woods like black flies in June.  I, for the most part, feel more like an observer than a participant, with the exception of, maybe, scratching my allergy infested eyes.  Political turmoil and hoo-ha (an official Theodor Seuss Geisel term, I'm sure) in my own backyard, a birthday passed and although not a milestone number, I am feeling that each one that comes around is a milestone in itself.

Soul Food

Today I am deciding what is going to feed me. Lately I have had trouble digesting many things that I am usually accustomed to eating. I am finding things spicy when before they were never spicy enough. I am often not hungry and yet eat something simply because it is time. I need to hydrate more even though my thirst level, too, has dropped. And yet I feel like I am gaining weight. I am expanding and change is afoot and I can't nor do I want to stop it. Today I am deciding what is going to feed me.

Am I The Only One?

Who ...

- wipes the table after a meal (or before)

- ditto the stove and counter tops

- notices the trash pail needs to be cleaned and cleans it

- vacuums

- gets rid of stuff

- picks up and puts away loose clothing and shoes

- changes the sheets

- ditto the toilet paper and paper towel rolls

- buys toilet paper, tissues and paper towels without fanfare

- locks the door at night

- gives a damn

- closes the window when the rain is coming in

- bears the brunt

- puts gas in the tank

- makes sure the homework is done, the bathing suits and soccer shoes fit

- empties the dishwasher

- cries alone in frustration

- hides her favourite desserts (so she can be sure there will be some left when she is finished doing all of the above)?

No, no, I didn't think so.

Assert my boundaries?

Well, the wildlife keeps nodding at me here in suburbia. I was walking the dog tonight and, rounding a corner was none other than one of those black mammals with the distinctive white stripe down her back. A car coming in the opposite direction started honking and flashing his lights at us, stopped long enough to let us run across the street. My first thoughts were:

1) that's an awfully large squirrel

followed by

2) that's some cat with it's bushy tail up in the air

No photos, drats. But a few words from Ted Andrews' pocket version of Animal Speak on skunks:

"Now is the time to assert your boundaries. Others may be taking advantage. Demand respect and move forward at your speed."

I find it really odd for a skunk to be out and about early March when it has been so effing cold. And I might just take it as an oddity of nature except for Mr. Andrews' take on the barred owl (the gentleman we saw in my last post perched high in my backyard tree) which is, "Spirits are calling. Pay attention to all of the signs. Although small, subtle and quiet, heed that gentle voice of your intuition."

So this skunk was neither small nor subtle. Do I need to set my boundaries? Oh yeah, I've known that for a long time. Moving forward at my own speed is something I often ignore because of fear. Eep! I guess I will consider ourselves lucky to have just been, ahem, warned.

Working in the Negative

This week when I have risen at my usual hour of 5:00 a.m. I have noticed that it is still kind of dark outside. The first sign that the days are, in fact, shortening. May I sigh now? Riley's summer vacation is officially half over. I have a feeling the second half will go faster than the first half and yet when I think back on this last month, it hasn't necessarily sped by. Yes, I have often looked at the calendar and thought, "Egads! Already July ...fill-in-the-blank... Maybe it is because I have done so much with my time, I have travelled, helped a friend prepare to make her move back to the southern hemisphere (hi Sally!), spent some time grieving, and some time digging deep and learning more about me and what we casually or not so casually call "this life". I have also started another group blog with my animal communicator friends. One thing I learned on that journey was that I am not walking this earth alone in my grief.

And yet it's all baby steps.

Tuesday and Wednesday this week were tough, tough days for me and it reflected on my relationship with Riley. Our kids are so receptive, so reflective of who we are at any given moment. At least mine is. My moods affect his moods and well they should. But whenever I dive into a funk, I often surface with quite a bit of guilt. Guilt for being snappish, needy in my own way, unable to give freely, I cocoon.

The shadow side of ourselves is a fascinating study. I don't like spending a lot of time there, but I do visit, take day trips, short breaks where the dark is acknowledged and embraced. It is no mistake that at this time I took up my rusty old Speedball lino cutting tool,

the one I bought for my first year university printmaking class, and started cutting into some of the stock of rubber blocks the Queen of Arts had generously given to me a little while back. Cutting away the background instead of working the foreground was where I needed to be. I, successfully, cut a small heart and a crow shape I have often used in collage.

Another sense of negative space came this morning when Riley pulled a loose tooth. Another dark space, showing promise of new growth.

Hand Wash Cold

What can I say about, "Hand Wash Cold"? The worst thing I can say about Karen Maezen Miller's follow up to "Momma Zen" is that it's not long enough. It's the kind of book you want to go on and on. I read little bits at a time, hoping it would last but ultimately I came to the end. I felt as if the author had taken my hand and walked me through the garden of life, explaining the pitfalls, the realities, the foibles and the fumbles. Her stories made me say silently, "Oh I did that. I did that too," and "It's alright. There is hope for me."

Metaphorically she likens how we care for things in our life with how we do our laundry (amongst other things). What was blatantly obvious to me was that although I'll read the directions that may say, "hand wash cold" or "lay flat to dry, do not wring out," I will think that doesn't apply to me because a) I do not have the time for such tedious procedures and/or b) I know better than the manufacturer. Which, in itself, can be a metaphorical read on how I've lived my life.

I didn't waste my time flagging pages that particularly spoke to me because every page, every paragraph rang true. But I think the most memorable line was, "The life we are most devoted to is the life we don't have". Guilty of that. Although less so, much less so than when I was younger. And, "The search for greater meaning robs our life of meaning". But I won't stop there, how about this one, "Having the good life can be so simple when you savor the one you have". As she wrote in her first book, it all comes down to doing what is in front of you. Simple, easy, right? Maybe not but worth the effort because the times when I don't, when I'm running after something that isn't right here in front of me or in my heart, I feel fragmented, I don't see the apple blossoms or the lilacs that just came into bloom. I miss out on the warmth of the sun or how good clean sheets feel.

So, Karen - when is the next one coming out?

Magnificence

Isn't this just the picture of magnificence?

It makes me feel like I'm living in the south when the magnolias are in bloom. Mind you, most of them have reached their peak and instead have created these carpets of petals.

That is not my magnolia but I enjoy it just the same. Here's mine which is, in it's own right magnificent:

A couple of winters ago it was almost destroyed by an unexpected and heavy accumulation of snow that fell early, before I could get its protective bonnet on. It's an inspiration to me that after being submerged, weighted down by unearthly circumstances, struggling through an entire year to push and survive and bloom a few meager blossoms, then sleeping once again through a Canadian winter, it has emerged with a renewed sense of spirit, showing its colors and resilience.

To get to that stage where I, too, can show my colors and resilience despite the winters of my recent moods, my message to myself today:

Ah, Today...

We started our day with a breakfast picnic down by the water. The sun was shining and we could feel the heat by 8:00 a.m. and, oh yeah, it was a pedagogical day. So with a big To-Do list, off we went to set the tone for our day. On the way down Riley suddenly said to me that he feels different. Not different from other days, but different from other kids. Then he said he liked feeling different, so I started breathing again. I love that he does and that he likes it, feels good in his skin. I didn't at his age, I don't remember when I did but I think it might have been just last week. To have accomplished so much by the age of seven! I have noticed lately how he is becoming very much an introvert, preferring to say at home with me instead of running with other kids. Maybe it's a phase, maybe he's cogitating on recent lessons and just laying low. Who knows? Who knows even about ourselves as adults when we go inward. So it was very appropriate that the rock we left behind this morning was this:

I feel so lucky to have been able to spend the day with these:

We have a patch of weird growth that runs down the far side of the fence to the garage. I have haphazardly planted odds and ends there, seeing if anything will take. So far, not much has. This year I decided I was going to try to make something grow where nothing had so far. I was going to till the soil, plant something wild and adventurous then add what was needed to make it grow. Metaphorically it all screamed to me, what I want, need to do with parts of my life I am transposing to this heretofore untameable stretch of weed. This is the "before" shot

and now the "after"

We weeded, fertilized and planted wildflower seeds, hummingbird garden seeds, wild lupin seeds we got in P.E.I. last summer and some Chinese lantern seeds. Now I just need to find a way to dispose of that piece of rotting plywood. Last time we stored a piece of plywood in the garage we invited a hive of over 5,000 bees, but that is a story for another day. As we were cleaning up we caught this little guy having a shower while the grass seed (planted yesterday) was being watered.

It has felt like Saturday all day today. What luck to get two Saturdays this week!