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Showing posts from 2017

Turn the radio up.....

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After finding a couple cassette tapes in the old jelly cupboard, knowing exactly what was on at least one of them, I pulled this out of the closet and shed tears when I heard my little voice. I remember making that tape. I remember where I was when I was making it (the front porch of the house I currently live in), what I had on (a pink shirt/short outfit from Dutchmaid), the sound the little tape recorder made when I pushed record. I remember making up those songs. I was probably three years old at the time. Little me, singing, I pictured my hair in a ponytail on top of my head, which created a waterfall effect, and urged my cousin to give me the same nickname. My cousin mostly called me PITA. I'm pretty sure I was a PITA much of the time. She loved me though. And used to stick up for me when I would get in trouble. Long past the time anyone should have been. My mom, my cousin, and I, made a tape one New Years Eve of the Top 100 Countdown on one of our favorite lo

Rambling Thoughts, Part One.

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I have a dream. This dream does not involve expensive, fancy cars.  It does not involve a house full of innovative, life-altering gadgets and appliances.  It does not involve a corporate career which brings a six-figure income.  I really don't care about a six-figure income.  But let's be honest here...without a college degree (of which I also don't have a dream of obtaining), and the motivation to plant my ass in a chair, surrounded by dreary, grey cubicle walls all day, shuffling the remains of dead trees around, there will be no six-figure income in any decade of my life.  Unless I actually finish one of my books and it becomes a best-seller and someone decides to make a movie about it.  I was a stand-in for Elizabeth Moss once, maybe she could play me?  Though Kristen Bell a la Veronica Mars is more my thought (Kristen, if you're reading this, keep your calendar open in five or ten years). As usual, I digress.  Back to that dream. I don't know tha

Ticking away

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Time is such a fickle thing.  Determined by a multitude of circumstance. Malleable, conforming to presence based on where one is from moment to moment.  There is never enough of it for the ways I wish to be able to utilize it in.  Yet there is so much more of it than I ever truly realize. When I was younger, I would often spend so much time sitting, waiting for whatever was coming.  The event that was days away seemed to be so far off, yet it would arrive and be gone in a flash. The hour between the time that I was ready to be picked up by a friend and the moment that they actually arrived seemed to drag on for days.  The moments of boredom that came when I played with everything and it was only mid afternoon and it was so long until bedtime and what would I ever do with all those hours? Oh how I would use that idle time now if only I knew how valuable it was then.

Before and After Socks

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Every project has a story behind it.  Some have multiple stories.  The Solaris Shawl that I knit last year had a bit of baseball in it, as well as an entire train ride across the country and back, weaving pieces of home and away, as well as the past and the present with the future.  It took me months to complete with all the involved stitches, short rows, counting and counting, backing out, starting over.  In the end I gifted it, and sent all the pieces of me that went into it along with it. Socks are fairly easy for me these days and if I'm able to work consistently I can finish a pair within two weeks.  And I use the same pattern for every new pair, so the only time I really need to read the pattern is when I turn the heel.  Even then I'm getting closer to having that part memorized. This pair was different.  I started these in July and just finished them ten minutes ago.  October 11th.  Four months.  I've not really knit otherwise in that time.  An easy, basic scar

The Weight of it All

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Early in the spring, the blossoms of an apple tree bring the beginning of a cycle, as they fill every inch of its' branches, creating a brilliant display against the blue skies and greening grasses.  The limbs reach up, seeming to open to the warming sun, and it's usually a welcomed reminder of beauty after the darkness of winter. As summer rolls around, the trees pull strength from the sustenance provided by all that is given them during this season, to create the life that they will eventually provide to us when the time comes to harvest. And as the time to harvest comes, you can see the progression that the tree has made from those first days of spring.  The fruit is abundant, and the weight of what it bears pulling its' limbs towards the ground. It's quite a different sight and evokes such a contrasting energy than that of spring. In my own season of grief, I look upon these apple trees, realizing how closely they mimic my own feeling of overwhelm.  I feel

Overwhelm

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"bury or drown beneath a huge mass" "defeat completely" "give too much of a thing to (someone); inundate" "have a strong emotional effect on" "be too strong for; overpower" It's that moment when you say you have a million things going on, and a million is not an exaggeration. It's looking at the room full of things that you know you have to sort through, piece by piece, and make decisions on the dozens of options for where they will go.  And it's the knowing there is more than just one room. It's when you sit down to try to work, knowing that it is a good distraction from all the million things going on, but you are unable to fully immerse yourself in it because the million things do not go away just because you are able to set them on a back burner for a moment. It's getting one minor, simple task completed, feeling like you just climbed a thousand steps. It's falling as

The Anger Phase of Grief. Alternate Title: My apologies to Mike M.

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Mike: Hi this is Mike. Can I help you? Me: Hi Mike, I'm responding to a text that you sent me in regards to my probate filing.  I see that you're interested in some property. Mike: Yes, I am, thanks for getting back to me.  What can you tell me about the property that you are selling? Me: How's your mom doing, Mike? Mike: Um, my mom's doing fine.... Me: That's great Mike.  My mom's dead.  She suffered a subarachnoid hemorrhage, and a subdural hematoma.  Are you familiar with those? Mike: Is that an aneurysm? Me: Yes, Mike. You're right! Kind of.  It's actually when the aneurysm ruptures.  Do you know this happened when we were preparing for my kids 13th birthday party? Mike: That's terrible, I'm sorry to hear that. Me: Thanks, Mike.  I really appreciate your condolences.  I sincerely hope that you don't ever have to deal with something like that.  You know, I spent the next 13 days with her, at the hospital, holding her hand, beggi

First Game of the Season Grief

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I've not been a fan of football for quite some time.  As a child, I remember watching the Steelers play with my grandfather.  The game was always on during Thanksgiving dinner at my grandparents house.  My dad and my uncle would usually fall asleep on the floor, a result of a good, filling meal. I never usually paid much attention to it, but the sounds are imbedded in my memories deeply.  My grandfathers voice responding to a bad play, muffling the sound of the dishes clinking in the sink as my mom and grandmother would clean up. In high school I got into it a little.  The boy I was dating and some of our friends at the time were pretty into it.  I remember a couple we spent time with; one was a serious 49er fan and her boyfriend was a die-hard Cowboys fan.  The year I graduated, the Cowboys defeated the Bills, and I remember watching it at their house, and falling asleep before it was over. I have a photo of me asleep against the edge of the couch.  I was wearing a pair of bl

Weaving Through The Grief

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My mother was in the Neuro ICU for more than a week.  She was not conscious at all for any of it. Or at least not that I felt.  I spent the majority of twelve days with her.  A few of those days I left for a couple hours while my cousin stayed with her.  Two of those nights I went home and slept in my bed, but immediately went back to sleeping by her side the minute I knew my time with her physical presence was limited. I always have at least one knitting project with me.  During the hospital stay I had two or three in my bag, but I probably only worked on a pair of socks for a total of half an hour in all over the course of those twelve days.  Somehow, every single minute that passed, I was unable to focus on anything other than just sitting there, with my mother, holding her hand, being in her presence.  Walking with her as we both navigated the process of her death. I've found it hard to pick up any knitting lately.  I usually do go through a period during this time of ye

It is okay to say (random thoughts from the currently grieving)

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"I'm sorry." "I don't know what to say." "There really aren't any words." "It must be really hard." "I can't imagine." "I wish I knew what to say." "What can I do to help?" "I'm here if you need anything." Some people have a hard time with these things, but I don't, so it's totally okay to say them to me. "She's in a better place." "She is no longer suffering." "She is still here with you." "She will always be here with you." She will always be a part of me, for sure. And I also find myself in the same place of not really knowing what to say when others go through this too. It is always okay to hug me. And hug me again. And call me. And text me. A million times. Every day. It's also okay to not say anything. It's totally okay to break down in tears. It's okay to look at me with hurt in your eye

Died Peacefully at Home Surrounded by their Loving Family

I am certain that this is something that does happen, as I read it occasionally in the obituaries.  I am also aware that death in and of itself isn't something that usually holds an easily reached peace in most circumstances.  But as I sit here next to my mother, who is on her second day under hospice care and her 11th day fighting death, I realize that I can't remember a time that my family has been afforded the experience of the title of this blog post. My maternal grandfather died at the hospital, of congestive heart failure.  They had just called to tell us he was going to be released to come home.  Granted we knew he wasn't going to live very long, but he wanted to be at home and they were making that happen.  Shortly after hanging up the phone, he died there, alone, without family, in his hospital room. My paternal grandfather died in an ambulance on the way to the hospital after suffering a stroke as he waited outside the grocery store for my grandmother to retur

Be Your Own Tracker

From the moment I discovered that my phone has an app that keeps track of the steps I take every day, I've been utilizing it. It's helped me in some ways, but I've also noticed that it hinders and frustrates me in others.  Like all technology, it started out as a love affair with something that I imagine is going to make me more productive and focused and help me attain goals.  But it comes with a cost, creating a constant need to have my phone on my person at every moment for fear of not tracking my progress. I am aware that there are watches out there that you can wear on your wrist which makes having the phone unnecessary, but that's just another piece of technology that I really don't need.  Again, becoming tethered to a "virtual" cloud storing every piece of information about me and my habits is not something that I even want.  Let's just ignore the fact that the watch exists because it's irrelevant as I don't have one, and I won't b

Natural Magic

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I have always felt connected to the natural world and have always enjoyed time hiking, swimming, and basking in the beauty of the landscapes around me.  For a few years now I've been spending more time working towards being truly connected to the Earth.  Learning and paying close attention to how I react to the changing of the seasons, the moon in her phases of filling and releasing, and the energies brought by the position of the stars and planets in the sky and their relationships with each other.  I've spent time learning about the placement of it all when I was born and have discovered more that contributes to what makes me tick other than just the mere astrological sun sign I was brought Earthside under. I've learned to trust my own body and soul when it tells me things. My intuition has gotten stronger as I allow myself to become attuned to nature and the life around me that lives and breathes along with me. The ground beneath my feet is alive and provides a se

The Good Kind of Progress

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There is no end to the amount of wisdom you can find in nature.  Every moment I spend in the company of birds and trees, with my feet on the ground beneath me, is a moment that brings me more wisdom that can not be found in a book or on any website in the cyber world. I have probably spent more time on this trail so far this year than any year in my life.  I don't always go the whole way to the top, and most of the time I take the "less steep" part of the trail that comes around the back of the rock face since it's easier for my dog, but regardless, I feel accomplished every single time.  My body thanks me every single time.  My mind thanks me every single time. Because the reward is in the doing. It's in the getting out there on the trail even when it's 90 degrees outside.  It's pushing myself when it would be just as easy to say "oh it's been a long day, I'll just take a break today and get back out tomorrow." It's getting ou

Calling All Ingalls.....and Waltons

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I spend a lot of my time feeling like I belong somewhere like Walnut Grove, co-habitating with my Charles Ingalls, spending my time in the fields, carrying my eggs to the Olsons and picking out some pretty new fabric to make some new clothes for my family. Except my Mrs. Olson is a total sweetheart and not at all that pretentious lady depicted in the series. My ancestors lived somewhere between the Ingalls and the Waltons, not only living off the land and sustaining themselves with their own gardens and fruit trees, but also taking care of all their elders who also lived with them, and the others in the community who needed it (my Great Grandmother, a midwife, delivered all the babies in our part of Cumberland & Adams County "but her own") . A much simpler time for sure. One that, again, I often wish to be a part of. But I digress. Right now I have a few breakers turned off (two weeks now since I can't seem to get a second or third estimate because out of a

Monday Morning Musings

I wonder how we would view ourselves if we were to actually see, in some tangible form, the things that we expend our energy on.  I imagine my day as a jar and at the end of the day it is full of all the things that I have spent my time on, and images of people I have spent my time with during the day.  Does my jar sparkle?  Does light emit from it like a firefly?  Or is it grey and mucky while the bright points are hidden inside beneath a cloud of fog? What's in your jar?

More Open

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It's always there, you just have to look for it.  The opportunity to take a breath, to notice, to calm, to literally just *be*. This moment is one that brings me calm every day.  It's a routine that we've become accustomed to.  Every time we drive past this spot, we stop and take a moment to say hello to our friends.  Occasionally they are on the other side of the field, and if we stop they will usually come right over.  There is a cow too, and he's become curious lately, but still a little apprehensive. We allow the peace to enter. We allow ourselves to slow down. We allow the present moment in. I've noticed how this moment makes me feel.  Most of the time we stop and at least one of the boys gets out to truly share space with them, but even when it's nothing more than a drive-by hello of sorts where we slow to a crawl and yell "Hello Friends!" or "Doooooonnkey!" out the window, this moment has been teaching me presence all alon

Open

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Nature is a bounty for life lessons, providing us with metaphors everywhere, if we are awake enough to see them.  The changing seasons each bring us "classes" of their own, that teach us patience, perseverance, strength, and vulnerability as we are continually given challenges in life that test what we learn. I've never witnessed the poppy in this seemingly suspended state.  I've watched these beauties bloom every year for as long as I can remember, yet I seem to have only captured them in every other state. First, being completely held tight inside the safety of their pod; second, in full glorious bloom; or after, as they shed the paper-thin petals to the ground around them. I've been thinking about boundaries and openness lately, and have been looking not only at how both are present in my own life, but also in where they could be improved upon.  In the past few years I have certainly become much more present in my world.  I pay much closer attention to

In Bloom

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This time of year is one that finds me taking random walks around my property multiple times a day.  Some mornings I walk outside with my dog and stare around in amazement at how my yard can seem to have transformed overnight.  My crocus were quite early this year, putting on their show in March and closing the curtain practically before April even came.  The daffodils lasted most of April and gave way to the lilacs that produced profusely this year. My lilacs are my most beloved as they hold many memories from my entire lifetime here on this property.  One bush in particular I spent more than 15 hours freeing from debris and dead branches, while also very carefully pruning it where it asked me to. It has been there as long as I can remember and last year it was practically suffocated by poison ivy, which I'm horribly allergic to.  But I persisted, very carefully, and it rewarded my care by providing me with a bush full of beautiful, full, magenta blooms that graced me with t

Boundaries

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Clearly my wisteria isn't very good with boundaries, but she sure has a lovely way of being untamed. I guess once the curtain closes on her springtime act, I'll at least pull her out of the areas that she really shouldn't be, but for now I'm enjoying the show. I've found that nature has a way of showing me what I need to work on in my own life.  The metaphors are there on a daily basis, and it sometimes takes a while for me to get the message.  In terms of this lovely plant, the lessons it has been teaching me are endless, but at the moment it's heavy on the boundaries and taming the part of me that ignores the ones that I consistently attempt to put up for myself. Perhaps I need to work harder at not looking at my boundaries as something that I need to make out of an impenetrable material, but more so a material that is flexible in its' firmness.  Something that can bend on occasion.  Something that can allow things in while blocking others. Much l

What's Stopping You

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I recently saw a photo of a seemingly empty storefront with the following statement lettered on the sign above it: What do you do? What could you do? What's stopping you? These are questions I started asking myself daily.  Most often they come out when I'm faced with a challenge.  And it could be any manner of challenge from garden planning, or a knitting project I want to take on to the book I've been writing for longer than I'm willing to admit now.  Answering those questions is a much deeper challenge than actually moving forward with the act of taking on the projects however, for the act of *doing* requires much less energy than the countless hours spent analyzing the questions.  But let's look at the questions, at least for a moment. What do I do?  I sit here staring at this pattern, thinking about how many new-to-me stitches there are in it and I wonder whether I will struggle with learning or figuring them out.  I wonder whether I will have to ask

Balancing Calm

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A short few moments ago I was taking some time to quiet my mind.  I had just finished reading  this blog post  and was thinking about how much I could relate to the talk of learning to be calm.  I was thinking about how I am still learning how to act, rationally, with sincere and deep thought, rather than reacting through emotions.  And as the Universe seems to always do, it decided to test me in what it was just trying to teach me. It's moments like this that I am the most thankful for.  At 40 years in, I am constantly aware.  I have never felt so aware in life as I am at this point.  All the situations I find myself faced with, whether they be simple, tough, passing or constant, I am conscious and aware. I see the mirrors placed in front of me daily and I see my own self reflected back at me.  I take that wisdom and I thank the Creator for continuing to remind me of my own humanness. I see the places where I could turn those mirrors around and I have been working rather

Writing Is Easy......

There are multiple versions of this quote, but it seems that the most widely accepted seems to be this one from Hemingway. "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." I've also found this one, from Gene Fowler, "Writing is easy: All you do it sit staring at blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead." There are also multiple references to 'popping open a vein' and bleeding.  Regardless, they are all true.  Sometimes I bring about terrible cases of anxiety just by attempting to write. "WHY WHY WHY won't the words just fucking form at the end of this pen (or pencil, or marker, or fingertips) as I type?  I want to write so badly.  Just a moment ago I had a head full of things that were waiting to be written.  Now I'm sitting here staring at this paper/screen and nothing is coming.  Why is nothing coming out?  Where did the words all go?  I'm wasting my time.  I should just do l

Focused

As I work to live more intentionally, one way in which I can always improve is by writing more.  Not only in terms of intentional writing (i.e. the majority of blog posts that include specific topics, or the book(s) that I'm writing) but also in terms of freewriting.  I am working at creating more space to share my views of the world around me, my own direct world, and the thoughts that swirl around in my head at any given moment.  I could carry around a journal and spend more time jotting things down in it than most people spend checking their social media status's. Speaking of.  I'm on my second day without facebook.  I deactivated my account upon hitting my pillow the night of New Years Day.  Yesterday there was an immediate difference in how I navigated my day and it's not much different than getting off sugar. I woke up to my alarm and took my dog out (and didn't post about it on facebook).  I then went back to sleep and thought how nice it was to be able t