“In times of joy, all of us wished we possessed a tail we could wag.” ― W. H. Auden
They take over the back yard, emitting sounds that might sound dangerous to others, but I know better. Recognizing the sounds of joy, I sit with my camera and watch; ears flapping, tails wagging, they finally come to rest at my feet. He tries to crawl under my chair, but she will have none of that. I reach in my pocket, handing over a small treat to each of them, before they head off to do it all over again.
“So come to the pond,
or the river of your imagination,
or the harbor of your longing,
and put your lips to the world.
And live
your life.”
- Mary Oliver
There are days that I come to this space with not much to say, but I will tell you this… It doesn’t take much for me to step out my door and find beauty within my small world.
One thing is certain, and I have always known it - the joys of my life have nothing to do with age. They do not change. Flowers, the morning and evening light, music, poetry, silence, the goldfinches darting about
-May Sarton
A dreary, rainy day. I spent some of it taking photos of birds. If you hit the little arrows you can see more photos.
It is like a new pair of shoes, you put them on and they feel a bit strange. You bravely pass your old shoes, comfortable and worn to shreds, as you walk out the back door. It takes time to adapt to the new shoes. They are clean, and more colorful, which makes you smile, but also they feel foreign on your feet, but you stick with them, because you know they are what you need. You think you might save your old shoes for times when you need something old and comfy, so you leave them by the back door, just in case. And sometime later you find the new, colorful shoes alone in the bedroom closet, unworn, and waiting. You slip them on, smiling because they really do make you happy, and once more bravely walk to the back door, where you pick the old ones, open the door, and walk them out to the trash.
““Memory runs along deep, fixed channels in the brain, like electricity along its conduits; only a cataclysm can make the electrons rear up in shock and slide over into another channel. The human mind seems doomed to believe, as simply as a rooster believes, that where we are now is the only possibility”
― Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams
“You seem to look upon depression as the hand of an enemy trying to crush you…Do you think you could see it instead as the hand of a friend, pressing you down to the ground on which it is safe to stand?”
― Parker Palmer
It’s late afternoon and the sun pops out so I jump in the car and head down to the tiny park not far from our home. It is nothing to write home about, this park. But if one follows the trails that lead into the forest you can almost pretend to be out on a hike. Or if you choose to head in the opposite direction, you find a small shoreline along the lake. Often I am the only one there. On this day I walked towards the wood, looking for dabbled light and signs of spring. I had not gone far when I climbed over a fallen tree to get closer to these buds. Suddenly my foot became tangled up in old blackberry vines and I almost fell. I lost my shoe, but managed to stay on my feet. I stood still for a moment, just to make sure I was steady before allowing myself to breathe. I was safe. I think about this feeling safe and find that so much of life is learning to balance ourselves, to stay grounded, to not fall. And if by chance we do end up on the ground, we must use what stamina we have left to find solid ground once again, and move forward. Don’t we owe this to ourselves?
