On Gratitude, part 153

This week I was gifted with so much; through my friendships, lessons, inner evaluations, many of which drew tears.  I would like to share with you some gratitude that has made me pause this week.  

I harvested the last crop of mint from our garden

witnessed mushrooms in unexpected places

watched this thumbergia plant flower over and over again despite the calendar date.

I received this Frida Kahlo necklace as a gift from Sherry, my fellow Frida persona with who(m?) I share a reciprocal adoration  and who makes life more real for me on a day-to-day basis in so many unexplainable ways

I watched this spider catch many flies, grateful he stationed himself far *enough* from my house to enjoy observing him and his ways

Another extraordinary event that happened was that I was gifted a spot in Anne-Marie Bennett's next Soul Collage class, something that I have ached for over many, many moons and now, thanks to a very generous heart, will let me jump into with all that I can bring to it.   So whilst I thrash around in the shadows, I have been acutely aware of the ones who show up to light my way, spur me on and keep me accountable for where my feet trod on my path.  I humbly bow to all of you in thanks and gratitude for holding space for me, for loving me for who I am.  

Shadow Land

I have crawled under the flap in SouLodge for the next five weeks, or longer, judging by how long it usually takes me to go around the medicine wheel.  It is time to swim down deep in the shadows, stir up the mud, let it blind my vision and ooze between all of my bodies.  The form of my grief and shame and regret is that of a blob.  It is sticky, black, tar-like and warty with pockets of gaseous and noxious bubbles.  It covers my light, hides my smug superiorness.  It traps my capabilities, squashes my confidence that everything is going to be alright.  I blame it for all of my unhappiness, lack of confidence and lack of faith.  I refuse to take responsibility for it.  It is an aggressor and I am weak in its presence.  I succumb.  A victim to it.   It numbs me and then I judge silently in my head.  A harsher critic has never been known.

Owl came to me this week with messages of deception.  Layers to peel back, with the prize of the centre nugget of truth revealed.  Hornet and wasp have built my female warrior armour to take each one of these negatives spoken and alchemize them down to their own centre nuggets.  It is going to be a long, and very interesting, autumn.

Resilience

This morning I saw resilience here

and here

and here.

I spent the night up north, opening up the futon sofa and sleeping in front of a fire with my favourite bug.  When we woke it was -3 Celsius.  I needed to see the beauty that gritted its teeth and flowered "anyway" in spite of the temperature's grab to cut it down.  I need to take inspiration from these small, simple flowers and find my own resilience "anyway".  I need to waken that corner of my heart that believes I can flower while external influences grab at it to tamp it out.



Thank you to all who have left comments here the last while.  I have not found the words to respond to many but know that I deeply appreciate your presence and kindness.

Going With The Flow

I have just accepted the fact.  I am no longer in denial.  

I'm not fond of it but I am trying to just be with it.  

The Wave Jumper

My Favourite Bug

and I are headed out to the west coast for a little fun time.   I am chucking out what is expected of me and answering to the call of my heart.

And speaking of heart, a birthday message from my Starbucks barrista last week (I wonder if he knew...)!

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.

Yes I Am

another year older as of today.  I used to think that life would get easier as I got older and am still somewhat resentful that it seems to get more...er...challenging.

One solace I have found is in this relationship I have had with what Riley and I call our Wolf Head

which is a piece of drift wood in the beaver dam on our cottage lake.  For the last three years we regularly go and check on our wolf.  Early mornings in our kayaks with no other destination, we decide to check on our wolf.  This summer we found him with some moss growing on him which, to me, makes some of his features more pronounced.  I am now seeing more of coyote (hello Wile E.) than a wolf and laughing at myself for all that coyote brings in.

This turn around the sun finds me less aware of a kind of celebration to mark the change in my chronological year and more in a retrospective of how I have spent my last year and what I would like to be spending my precious time on in the coming year and beyond.

Which is why I can hardly believe that all I can tell you with certainty today is:

1)   I hate my computer.  I hate its tortoise-like processing, how I can ask it, very nicely, to do something and come back after making and eating a sandwich to find it still whirring away, despite cleaning out caches and the hard drive and desk top.  The green part of me hates it being five years old and obsolete, the practical side of me hates my debt load and poverty mindset that prevents me from upgrading;

2)  proudly, this past the weekend I, alone, hauled our pedal boat out of the lake, emptied the accumulated water inside and stood it up against a trio of trees for the winter;

3) in the last few days I allowed myself to be bullied by a nasty neighbour to fill in a trench dug on MY OWN PROPERTY with nothing but a snow shovel and bits of sand, to save my driveway from being washed away (again) after an expensive repair last year; the humiliation of this is still overwhelming.

The sum total of what I can declare for certain is sore muscles, a sense of a minor victory and crushing defeat.

What I wish during my next trip around the sun is finding the words to speak my truth always, to find more kindness for myself and others and so much more that defies words.

August Break

First day of school.  A new year, a new attitude.

I'm the one who is not ready.  I want another July and then I might be ready.

Wolves - August Break

It has been a year since I started reading it

and now with only 100 pages to go I will confess it has hit me hard and deep. And I wouldn't have it any other way.  Awrrooo!

August Break

137 feathers

because this chicklet needs liftoff.

August Break, Friday Haiku

We ARE all one, right?

Our Language Police would faint

over the chance missed.

P.S.  It's a bit cryptic, I know.  But many will get it.

August Break

Because, for me, when I've lost my sense of humour, I've lost everything.

I haven't lost my sense of humour yet.  But prayers, juju and good thoughts my way would still and always be appreciated.

August Break

We went for a scooter ride down to the lake on Sunday.  The rock I picked from my bag to leave behind

for those of you who know what is going on in my world.  So why is it so damn hard?  I am a master at grasping and holding on.  Recently I have heard other people's stories about how they had to let go.  Now I am asking for help.

August Break

I am a person of few words these days so I'm loving the idea of August break.

Views from my kayak

I haven't posted enough here since Blogger changed the format and every time I do show up here, it feels a bit frantic as I click around finding my sweet spot.

I have been having some sweet experiences like outdoor art for everyone

\

finding polar bears during an extended, parching heat wave

and out houses right off the secondary highway

not to mention thinking I was candidly photographing a heavily tattooed man only to get home and find I wasn't so candid with my camera.

Life has been hard and strange and exhilarating and I still don't know which direction I am headed any given day. The best I do is show up and sometimes muck along, sometimes grab the brass ring. Just when I thought I had tempered the change blasting through, I feel yet another wave of light and shadow shaking me up and making sure I am exactly where I need to be.

.

Where I've Been

Here and there.  Not here-here.  But here in my life.

I have been leaving some of the Rock Fairy's messages behind

wishing Anne Lamott would write another book about her spiritual journey because I could use her insights and humour right now.

 So much change, some welcome and some not so welcome.  I am trying to go with the flow, open my heart and let it all in and out,

astonished at how often I stop and wonder, "how can I still be finding my way?"

To paraphrase the Wild  Jane Cunningham, I have been trading in nice for real.

 I have not been using my camera much, feeling worn and tattered with looking at myself through a lens.

Discovering that nothing good ever comes when someone starts a sentence with, "Do me a favour...".

I have been disappointed in the way Keen handled my complaint after a pair of their sandals fell apart after a few short weeks of light wear.  I'm back to my old trusty Nike flip flops, still spongy after all these years.

I have also been living without a watch for about a month now, observing how, although I am still bound by schedule and time, I am letting the minutes and hours pass by themselves, as they will.  It is not a little disorienting.

I have been meeting my shadow face to face and battling it instead of embracing it and holding it close to let it cry itself out.  I have been remembering why I left old habits behind, feeling my crustiness tumble over the colour of my soul

and gratitude in the magic that has appeared.

Turbo Snail III

Don't ask what happened to I and II.

A funny thing happened on the way home

To quote The Universe from my inbox this morning, "Time and space, The Ultimate Adventure".    Some days it really does feel like that.  I had a few moments this week when my inner core was an ant's eyelash away from going postal and I thought, "wow, this is what it feels like to go postal".  Being such a spiritually evolved human being (*snort*), I observed the feelings, then poured myself another vermut and stepped up to My Most Recent Ultimate Adventure.  Which was digesting this snippet from the timeline of history posted in my son's classroom.

Perhaps it is just semantics over the verb "prendre" (tr.: to take) and the negative connotation that overwhelms me to read it in this context.  Perhaps History could be deemed to be a subjective subject after all, couldn't it?

All this makes it so easy to segue into My Most Recent Observation of the Brazilian treehopper (photo originally linked by Marie EVB Gibbons) and how it was most likely separated at birth from this:

the hair from my rogue, hormonally driven follicle pulled from my chin this morning, the recurring hair that I pull about once a month. I have already written about this rogue here but looking back I see that it has grown coarser and more weapon-like over the last few years.

If I could sum up this Past Most Adventurous Week it would include my 12 year old Palm Pilot (the one holding all the telephone numbers and addresses that I consult from time to time but which was still the sacred cow of my recorded contacts)  upped and reset itself, erasing the entire memory.  All that displays on the current "Address" screen are the two 1-800 numbers for technical support which, judging from the age of this puppy, are no longer in service.

Dear Past, I hereby let go of you.  Maybe a little under protest and in a state of confusion, but I acknowledge that it is indeed time to look ahead.  Namaste.

Now, there's nothing like company coming to inspire an over due clean up.  Other than my chin getting plucked, I can thank the Queen of Arts for inspiring me to clean my toilet and for restocking my stock of her art/rocks.

This favourite person of mine 

and I are all set for our summer shenanigans now.

But wait! Before you go, I forgot to show you the astonishing rainbow from two weeks ago

and much about my Thelma-and-Louise Arizona retreat like the 79 cent Big Slurp (32 ounce) unsweetened iced tea  

the Mustang car rented, in true Thelma and Louise fashion, of course

the magic found in the garden

a dog named Belinda we spent two days with

 beetles making more beetles

and a culture very different from my own.

I confess I am a little bit on overwhelm lately with big changes hanging over the future.  Living the concept of constantly being in choice conflicts with the concept of not being able to control my situation which then induces panic attacks, usually in the middle of the night.  It is kind of like taking responsibility and yet feeling as if I am flapping in the breeze.  This life is not for the faint of heart.