Tag Archives: contemplations

whomping willows and winter

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I’ve been remiss with my posting. Partly it’s been because I became inordinately focused on a story I fondly refer to as my Telescope Girl story, but sadly it was a short-lived burst of enthusiasm. Mostly it’s because I’ve fallen into deep hibernation. Damn this lightless, dark and dreary (and let’s not forget wet) northern hemisphere.

My excessively romantic self sometimes thinks living in Scotland would be a cool and genial idea and then I think about how much I complain about the weather up here in the north american northwest and… seriously… what is she thinking that self-deluded part o’ mine?

I have been writing poetry, though, and posting the pieces to Facebook. Maybe I’ll back-post them here. Maybe.

So I’ve been cocooning. Hard. The sun has been out for part of the day, mostly due to blustery winds blowing all the rain clouds astray (try as the might to hang on to their little piece of sky). My son commented earlier that the big cedar in the back yard was looking an awful lot like the Whomping Willow, but it’s not nearly wispy enough, though it’s trying real hard at a proper impersonation, I’ll grant it that.

I’ve been conducting movie marathons. My son (who happens to be on spring break and is probably the only one of his entire senior year class that isn’t flying away to some exotic and/or warm destination – poor deprived kid) charitably called it “doing research” when I commented that I ought to be furiously writing instead of drowning in films. I thanked him for the assist in the reframe.

It’s becoming clear that I just need a guru of sorts to walk in and bend my ear (and maybe hold my hand… and give me hugs to prove that I am human, because I’ve all but lost touch with the physical world), provide koans to illicit some sort of action other than this lethargic and near paralyzing processing of things I’m not even capable of articulating. Too much, and more coming up like a bad dinner with a flu bug. (Apologies for the ghastly visual… well, not really, but I figure if you’re here and reading, you’re pretty much prepared for the worst anyway, right?)

Ugh… and I’ve been getting headaches. Intermittent, but persistent. Last week it was lower back pain that lasted for a week. Along with the intermittent headaches. I feel all around shitty, to be honest. And the weirdest fucking dreams I’ve had in a long time… some of which I forget so much of that I can’t even piece enough together to record any of it, but am just left this strange feeling of weird.

Tonight Amanda Palmer et al. will be at The Vogue Theatre downtown and I’d like to go, I really would, but it requires showering, and getting dressed, and getting change for the bus, and getting on the bus and the Skytrain, and walking around and being in a crowd of strange people and blasted with loud people and noises, and not feeling like a disembodied zombie… and I’m not sure I’m capable of that much at the moment.

Now if I could teleport, we’d be in business. But I’d really like to see them, especially since Neil will be there as well, and damn, he’s like at the head table of my Writing Gods & Great Influencers dais. I should go. We’ll see. Maybe a couple of thousand milligrams of vitamin D and lots more mega cups ‘o coffee later I might be up to it.

And it hailed too, during the whomping willow rendition, little minute flecks of hail. But there’s no snow and I suppose I’m doing better than THESE people (poor bastards).

But hey… I baked some chocolate brownies.

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mango-oranges and the essence of happiness

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I was out and about, walking the neighbourhood on this semi-sunny winter’s day. I’ll take a break from the rain where/whenever I can get it.

Home now – early afternoon and it feels like late afternoon, what with the “golden hour” glow. The days may be lengthening but it still feels like awfully short days.

There was a huge bear of a husky type dog parked out in front of Starbucks, and I couldn’t help myself – we visited. It’s ears and head were soft and smooth, while the rest was wiry and downright huggable. I’m glad it allowed me to spend some companionable time with it.

I’m getting ready to journal. I lit some white sage and waved it around the place, brewed myself a cup of coffee and I’m ready to start on some pages – or at least the first.

I’ve started with a quote from Thoreau (“There is no beginning too small.”), provided by Lisa Sonora Beam as the first of her free 30 Day Journaling Project. I have also sketched the three runes that I pulled the other day (kenaz, dagaz, nauthiz), as I contemplated this new year from its crest.

I’m feeling contemplative and feel the need to – well – contemplate. I’ve been out of touch with myself for a while. I need to reconnect.

I paid my rent. I picked up a bit of food.

It strikes me that I seem to appreciate things more when I have to consider (very carefully) where my money goes and what it is spent on. Like buying a mango-orange (because I’ve never had one before) and then cutting it up and savouring it, slice-by-slice, because I had to pull from the little I have to purchase it. I had to choose it in favour of something else. It’s sad that I must always be at the end of financial fluidity to grasp this… preciousness. Somehow, when abundance flows, the magnitude of my appreciation diminishes. I know that is my issue (perhaps not just mine but the world’s in general).

When I have, I seem to become desensitized and less grateful, or want else and more. When I yearn, I feel like I am missing out. But here, in this place of barely having but HAVING, there is the sense of fleeting and immense gratitude. Things taste better; feel stronger.

Again… if only I could hold this space when I am not so desperate, when abundance flows and I am still fully aware of the gifts, every single one.

Perhaps my chosen word for the year : FOCUS : will help me with this. Because focus connotes so much more than it’s meaning at face value and is applicable to much, from choosing projects, then working on them in a concentrated manner, to figuring out what I can contribute to the world and make a living from it, to… the delicate taste of a mango-orange rolling on my tongue.

I suppose happiness is not a constant – things ebb and flow and it is the way, but I think recognizing it when it’s there and holding space and appreciation for it when it happens, that is the key to it.

love & foundations

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I’ve been reading through Kelly Rae Roberts’ “Small Steps” blog posting list, and this one really resonated with me.

I am one of those people who seems to need love in order to find stability… courage… daring… in their life, and yet it has been so sparse in measure. I wonder, sometimes, how much more I could have accomplished if I had felt the way she does, about the knowingness of the foundation underlying the everything upon which all else is built. To feel solid in the binding together of two souls. To realize that nothing else really matters but that.

This is when I feel nostalgic and filled with a soft sadness. Like I’ve missed out on something epic, having tasted it but never truly experienced it fully. True, I have my son, who continues to amaze me simply because he exists, but in many ways I feel lost in my own self, as though I never could figure out what to pull out of myself, and each time I reach in, I miss catching the big fish, coming out with wet hands holding a whole lot of nothing as I watch the fish swim away into my depths again.

So. This is me, on a Tuesday before the last day of my vacation, feeling slightly sad. But grateful nevertheless.

self containment

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It occurs to me that I haven’t been doing much writing or journaling lately, here or elsewhere, my posts mostly photographs or descriptions of things. (Perhaps you are all thankful for that – I do go on about things, sometimes.)

I have to admit that I’ve been in a weird place for a while, and my constant self-examination was becoming tiresome (to myself; perhaps to you too).

The rain has returned after two glorious weeks of uninterrupted sun. It trickles and shooshes, somewhere between mist and shower. It calms, sometimes. Certainly it inspires me to stay indoors, though during the week I have no choice but to go out into it. I tell myself I won’t melt, but the moisture is effusive – it permeates everything. (Enough about rain, already.)

It’s quiet in here this morning. Earlier, as I lay in bed and was going through email messages on my smart phone and started link hopping, I eventually arrived at this post.

It is beautiful and simple and touching. Something that I don’t seem to be able to evoke when I write lately, so I’ve chosen to give it a rest. Mostly because if I can’t write something gorgeous and moving (and definitively lacking in despondency), why bother writing at all?

When I write, it feels like one long and wailing lament. But then… but then I think I can’t be the only one to feel this way, to feel the contraction and the need to pull myself in, the need to contain myself, because overflowing is just dangerous and wreaks havoc. Better to let things settle and reach coherence, to harden like a diamond.

So I see, and I notice, and I rejoice in little bits, by giving hand wrought things and smiles, by being present with those who surround me, by being attentive to the rain tapping at the eaves.