Secrets and Sadness

We all have secrets, of this I am most certain. Who can fully know our minds? Our hearts? Our inmost desires and dreams? Our pain?

Some happy secrets shoot out of us like sunbeams through stormclouds. More frightening secrets tend to fester deep and angry like cancer.

Some secrets heal us, some slowly kill.

The secret to secrets is to know when the secret is destructive before the damage is irreparable. To know and to act. To act and to share. To share, to become vulnerable, to cry, to share some more, to allow another to carve away a chunk of secret in order to carry that portion for you. To let go.

To simplify.

To allow time to heal what we ourselves are powerless to tend.

To trust that our Benevolent God is working carefully, knitting what looks like an utter, knotty mess into something beautiful, somewhere, for someone.

To stand and not fall. To maybe waver, but stand. To trust when all control is out of our hands, when we stand naked in the howling storm of situation, wind-whipped, drenched, mud-spattered. We stand.

We just stand.

'Infobesity'

Contemplation can be defined as paying attention. It is about a way of seeing. We live in a world today where we are deluged with information. The emails come in. The mobiles ring. A text here. A website there. Excited by the process, we can all too easily become people who are skimming over the surface of life. John Naish has described our condition as infobesity, seeing it as a different sort of fatness and producing profound stress. There is a sense that we need to slow down, to settle and pay attention to things in a new sort of way.~~Chris Sunderland, The Dream that inspired the Bible

Recently Cecily posted this quote over on her blog. My Tassie friend and I are often on the same wavelength even while we are in opposite seasons. It's kind of fun and sort of mystical how that works.

I shall let the quote speak for itself, and allow you, dear reader, to ponder it with me.

1/1/11

Happy Fresh Start!!

I love the blank slate that I realize when I awaken on January First. It's just another day, sure, but we humans are benefited by the notion of resetting our personal clocks. Feels hopeful, somehow, like we can junk all the bad stuff and start anew.

Works for me!

So far, so good.

Lasagna on the way, sunshine beaming down, happy chattering sounds of kids in the other room, and the pup is curled up in bed resting.

Good omens, all.

Let's make it a good one, eh?

Seasoned Love

My friend Tim's heartfelt thoughts concerning his 13th anniversary to his beloved wife brought tears to my eyes. Lovely.

"Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away." ~~ George Eliot

Isn't that just beautiful! This kind of love is born from experience, from the struggles of life. It is not immature love, nor fairy tale love.

It's the real deal.

November 30, 2010: Love Never Ceases

Here it is, the last day of NaBloPoMo, thirty days of blogging in November. I made it!

What can I say about the experience of pulling something out of my head or heart every day for a month? In looking back I see a marvelous reassurance, one certainly not expected. With four kids, each in a sort of transition, a husband busy and in need of a supportive wife, plus life such as it is for all of us, I find myself daily pulled in at least a dozen directions, most of which are not predictable. Most nights I lie down in bed deeply sighing with relief to have made it through and at the same time wondering how in the world I did.

Thirty posts. I ponder, noticing what? Noticing that a constant pulsing flame of me remains unharmed, unthreatened, creative, hopeful, faithful. Surprise, for I know that it is fed by something 'other'. If that flame lived and died by my own feeding and care I know it would long ago have been sacrificed to aid others, for I can use all the help I can muster, so draining is life.

Not only does this steady spirit-flame remain, but it does not ever flicker. As though completely independent of my control, its existence warms, supports, confirms. I often complain that while I take care of everyone else who takes care of me? It's a selfish complaint, and an unfounded one.

Examination of this blog-post experiment reveals reassurance that, yes, Someone constantly cares for me in unique and beautiful ways. The fire never goes out. Hope remains. Energy and creativity for another day. Stamina to walk while being bombarded with life's urgency and absurdity. Belief that all things happen for a reason. Trust that my Supply-Source is Good. Love abundant enough to care not only for those I cherish, but to maintain the soul of me.

My response? Delight and an outpouring of love for this Source, this God, this Creator of life who delicately, faithfully gives good gifts which are sometimes wrapped in scary-looking packages.

Thanks for reading! I'll be back again. Soon.

November 29, 2010: 29 Degrees

It's cold - for us - this morning.

It's also the last week of fall term classes at the Culinary Institute.

We're coming off a fun-filled holiday weekend.

Cassie: "Oh man. Talk about a crawl to the finish line."

Yep. It's that sort of morning.

We'll get there, where ever there is.

Have a great last Monday of November, 2010!

November 28, 2010: Sunday Morning and All is Well

Train noises. Mournful horns. Chug-chug-chugging. Clinking clanking. Grandfather engines and cars autographed with proud hobo etchings move carefully through our community.

I hear the trains from my bed at night and in the morning. I like the sounds. They comfort and reassure.

With roots reaching back into our American past these friendly behemoths remind that hard times and good times come and go but the human spirit endures through all.

Trains settled the American West, built and destroyed towns and cities with their presence or lack thereof. Trains have seen us through wars, economic hardships, natural disasters, presidential elections, and glory days. Songs have always been written about trains, terrific songs which seem to strike a similar, almost primal chord in everyone.

When my dad was a little boy in Oklahoma during the Depression his brothers and he used to sneak down to the train tracks to the large hobo village where friendly men, down on their luck, would tell the little boys stories and offer them tasty hobo stew. Shoplifting techniques were discussed, music played, camaraderie abounded. Pennies were laid on the tracks for heavy train wheels to flatten. Dad still smiles a far-away smile when he recounts those hobo village excursions.

In this age of technology which renders daily tools ancient in a matter of months, keeps us scrambling to stay current while paying for constant updates and 'the latest thing', where personal automobiles are more about luxury than longevity, trains steadfastly roll on moving food and supplies here and there all over the country like stalwart sentries from the past, guarding, watching, reminding of simpler times, hardier people.

Soothing to me are the sounds I hear while lying in my bed or moving about during a quiet moment in the day. "We've been through it all," they seem to say. "You'll be okay. Americans find a way through good times and bad."

Got a hankering for hobo stew, a good story, and lively music tonight.

November 27, 2010: Breathing Room

With the Thanksgiving Feast and Festivities behind, leftovers aplenty for a few days, house not a wreck, kids calm, and most of my Christmas shopping done, I find myself in a sweet spot. I can breathe.

Rather than churning chaotically, I find words settling in my mind like a downy blanket over a calmly sleeping body. Peace.

I'm not going to push it by trying to conjure up an interesting blog post today. Embracing the temporary stillness, the contentment seems the better path.

So, yeah, here's to you, readers, whatever your frame of mind. May this transition from one holiday to the next find you recovering from energy spent, hopeful for joy, love, and goodness in the weeks to come.

Orange juice, yogurt, cacao nibs, goji berries, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Cheers!

November 26, 2010: Get Your Chestnuts Out of the Fire

Jack Frost has been nipping at our noses lately so we'd thought we make some chestnuts roasting on an open fire.

Except we don't have an open fire.

An oven will do.

Yum.

November 25, 2010: Thanksgiving

Mixing it up a little bit by getting back to the beginning.

Pilgrims helping Indians. Indians helping pilgrims. Neighbors celebrating life with neighbors, the strong help the weak, the fortunate the unfortunate.

My family and I will be doing this today in lieu of our own feast and feet-up lazying about on this fine Thanksgiving Afternoon.

We'll feast tomorrow.

Let us remember that we are in this together, we need one another, we are blessed by one another, and life can always be enriched when helping hands are offered.

Whether you lend aid to your community or to the hardworking folks in your own kitchen who are preparing your holiday feast, your efforts are not wasted but are appreciated for the beautiful kindness they represent.

Happy Thanksgiving to All!

(Now, please pass the turkey, spuds, and cranberry sauce!)

November 24, 2010: Secrets and Surprises

I've posted here every day since November first, determined to keep it up until the 30th. This task is not new to me, having previously participated.

But it is so hard this time!

Difficult circumstances turned to blessedness, which could switch back to difficult at any moment, flow in and out of life these days.

Surprises await, fulfillment of dreams long-dreamed promise comfort and joy.

Good news and bad news and frightful news and silly news only a phone call away.

Up and down, laughter and tears, restorative sleeps, wrecked nights of tossing, turning anguish, too many words said, and not enough.

A blog is not the forum for sharing these particular evolving situations. In the past, yes. But not this time. Not these things.

Masking my life from you dear readers and from family squeezes and tears. You don't need to know, and they couldn't handle the things I would share. But, oh, how I want to share, feel the need to open up and pour myself onto my friendly blog pages for you, my steadfast friends, to read and thus know.

So trivia I write here, while my paper journals stack up, pages filled and puffed together, scribbled emotions and details trembling within their covers.

To learn to keep my fingers mute, as I'm learning to guard my blathery mouth, challenges.

To write and say nothing at all when I want to say everything is straight-jacket torturous.

Life overflows. I'm learning by heaps and gulps, my spirit now chastised, now held in protective embrace, confused to sobs, then enlightened to gentle, exhilerated whimpers. But self-hush, self-hush, self-hush.

I feel I am wasting your time, dear reader, and for that I am truly sorry.

Six more posts to go.

November 23, 2010: Sanitation

Chef Clive teaches sanitation to aspiring chefs.

He's British, with a thick Cockney accent.

"After using the rest room what do you do? Ya wash yer 'ands of course. And really wash them. If there are paper towels, use them to dry yer 'ands, and then to open the door. If there's only an air dryer, and, if you're here at the college where we have handicap buttons to automatically open the door, use them. But don't touch them. You use yer ass. Either cheek will do."

And he demonstrates the moves with his own bum.

The class laughs in unison with him.

Sometimes college is very very fun.

And informative.

November 22, 2010: 'Sunny and WARM'

Heard from Ben's bosses just now via e-mail. In La Paz, Mexico, they report that, while there were some challenging seas everyone is still alive. (Whew...) The weather is '85 degrees and the water 76-78 degrees! Sunny and WARM!!'

I'll let the photos Sam and Nancy sent me of Ben speak for themselves. (In case you are new to my blog, Ben, my eldest, is crewing for Sam and Nancy on their 42' sailboat along the shores of Mexico. As you can see, it's a rough life.)


I think you can agree that Mexico agrees with my son.


Nothing like snagging a big fish out of the ocean...or so I'm told.


Twelve pound tuna and one happy fisherman.


Sam and Ben in the cabin of the Windfall.


Ben snorkeling somewhere off the Mexican coast. Since I adore swimming, I really turn green with envy when I look at this photo. And then I grin with delight. What an adventure!

Thanks, Sam and Nancy, for letting me use your photos of my son!

November 21, 2010: Respite

In a meaning-full life one must create moments of respite here and there. Otherwise the meaningfulness turns into busyness turns into hecticness turns into resentment.

Tom and I grocery shopped early Saturday morning relieved to beat the mad stampeding crowds soon to overtake stores and shoppers everywhere.

Unpacking the groceries gratefully, rather than my usual habit of talking, unpacking, ordering the kids around, and feeling fatigued from my efforts, I found myself calm. Not just a nice switch, but a choice.

Carrying the radish leaves to the compost pile offered another wise choice; yoga and tai chi atop and beneath golden maple leaves, facing a cheery, low, noon sun. Cool, fresh air filled my lungs, tightened my face, relaxed my mind.

One of the postures implored me to look all around, above, below, behind. What a beautiful day! Gold, blue, white, green, brown, red, orange, black, beagle. Yes, Sammy came out to join me.

Stretch. Bend. Breathe.

Back inside for some yogurt with nuts and a cup of Jasmine tea.

And it was only noon!

I feel great inside and out.

The giving of thanks has begun!

November 20, 2010: Let It Be

"And when the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me. Shine until tomorrow, let it be." ~~ The Beatles

Driving busy streets as the storm boiled all around, I was cheered by a patch of blue holding out overhead in the southeastern sky. I told Cassie, "Look at it. For a long time. Say good-bye. It's supposed to disappear for quite a few days."

Black clouds poured rain. Wind lifted leaves, circling them chaotically. Darkness descended much too early.

The morning after, my sleepy eyes expected to see gray gray gray, wet wet wet.

Surprise!

A luminescent golden birch tree framed by a sunny blue sky filled my window. Arising from bed for a fuller view I was delighted to behold raindrop diamonds on every limb and leaf of every tree, shrub, and blade of grass.

A glorious, fresh, after-the-storm morning!

Let it Be.

November 19, 2010: Holly and Berries

In the midst of yet another busy day I stopped to walk myself and my pup before the skies opened up with their rain from a newly settling storm.

As if crunchy colorful leaves overhead and underfoot weren't gift enough, a shiny-leafed, plump-berried holly bush made itself known as it peeped out from amidst a hedge.

"Look Sammy! Christmas!"

Yes, I said it out loud. Yes, to a doggie. No, he didn't answer.

But my step was livelier for the duration of my most pleasant stroll.

Enthusiastic anticipation.

November 18, 2010: Living the Dream

My son Ben is somewhere in the Sea of Cortez on a sailboat sailing, swimming, and texting his brother.

He emails that I should go there, that I'd love it.

Some places are private and you can't even find a restaurant for non-members, he tells me.

But other places are uncrowded and friendly.

Sigh, back into the car to run errands, to drive the kids around, to pick up farm produce, to mail Netflix...in the Oregon rain.

But you know, I'm living my dream, too. They come in all shapes, sizes, and colors, dreams do.

Happy Sailing, Ben! Happy Driving, Cherie! Happy Day, Reader!

Living the dream.

November 17, 2010: Piles of Paper

"Fill out this form and send it back."

"Fill out this form and sign here and here and here."

"Fill this out and wait."

And wait and wait and wait.

Sometimes I am overwhelmed with the paperwork life shoves into my face.

And then I am glad I don't write in Chinese or hieroglyphics.

It can always be worse.

Name. Address. Phone number.

"All right. All right."

November 16, 2010: Skunkage

Mom and I beat Dad and Tom at pinochle on Sunday; two games to none.

We skunked 'em!

Just like old times. The boys put up a valiant fight, however. It was a rousing and fun tournament.


Dad winds the old family clock. It was a wedding gift to my grandmother and grandfather, Dad's parents. I think. I believe Dad told me that his mom carried that clock in her lap from Oklahoma to California during the Dust Bowl years. It meant an awful lot to her. I remember it chiming in her home. I always thought it was the most fantastic thing.

It still is.

Watching Dad wind the heirloom made me smile. Such careful hands, as though he felt his mother watching and approving his gentle touch.

'Twas a good day spent with my parents. Sure wish they lived closer so my entire family could enjoy them more often. They miss us as much as we miss them.

Maybe even more, for life is very quiet at the senior residence.

November 15, 2010: Sandy's Solution

My friend Sandy has a terrific idea. Christmas: Made in America.

I'm going to do my level best to find gifts for loved ones that are made right here in the United States. If I can't, I will take Sandy's advice, I'll make something.

What a great way to support our neighbors and friends!