Owl Wisdom

Heard an owl the other night, as I was reading (okay, checking Facebook...) before I went to sleep. I called to Rebecca, "Owl." She replied, "I heard it."

I wonder why the call of an owl matters to me? It hits deep, touches something I can't identify. It's more than nature. It's history. It's prehistoric. It's a statement. I'm still here, he seems to say. It's not loud. In fact, if you're not listening...really listening...you won't hear him. And maybe that's the point. It's there for you, if you pay attention. And that is true about so many things in our lives, isn't it?

This is an important thing for me to remember right now, as I search/listen/wait for what is next in my life. Because something is definitely coming. I feel it. I'm open to it. And I can wait. It's a feeling of quiet anticipation. The same feeling that the call of the owl stirs up in me.

Speaking of owls, have you seen this? Amazing. And like the changes coming for me, slowly coming into view. Sweet.

Turn, turn, turn...

Yesterday I made three pans of lasagna: one I made for friends who recently welcomed their second child into the family and the world; the second I made for a friend whose mother passed after 96 years on this earth; the third I made for us, because practically speaking, it just made sense to make our dinner too.

Rather symbolic, those three pans of lasagna: life, death, and living. It's all so very normal, and yet each unique and equally important stages of our existence.

Turn, turn turn...

Monarch Autumn

When we lived in Pacific Grove, CA, I got homesick for fall. And when the Monarch butterflies would come through and fill the air with their gorgeous Autumn-ness, I often thought in poetic terms of how they reminded me of falling leaves (although I never wrote the poem...)



Now, as fall descends upon us here in Virginia, I find myself getting nostalgic over that time in California and the beautiful 'fall color' of the Monarchs' migration through the Monterey Peninsula.

Life is funny, isn't it?

The "C" Word

It seems like not a week goes by that I'm hearing about someone who has just been diagnosed with, is currently fighting, is a survivor of, or has recently died from cancer. I suppose it's being middle-aged. But whatever the reason, it's very unsettling. And not because I'm faced with my own mortality. Because I don't take it personally; I don't take the information and think, "Am I next?" No. It's unsettling because I realize I am not emotionally equipped to know how to react or how to help. Even though my uncle and my cousin both died from cancer, and I know so many people who (thankfully) are survivors of different forms of cancer, and I know folks currently under treatment for cancer, I still feel completely inadequate when it comes to being a supportive friend.

I've been blessed with excellent health to date. Sure, I've had some high cholesterol and should lose another 20 pounds, but all in all everything is in good order. And as I've said many times before, every day I live past 51 (the age my father died of a massive heart attack) is a blessing. But good health puts me at a disadvantage in that I don't have any frame of reference when it comes to cancer. Obviously, that's a good thing. But at the same time, I feel at a complete loss when it comes to offering support.

And now a co-worker and his family have been blind-sided with what appears to be cancer. This just after another co-worker died after his battle. And I'm feeling more at a loss than ever. I can only offer practical support, as it relates to work, and spiritual support, in the form of healing thoughts and prayers. And wonder if it's enough.

Any thoughts or insight from your own experiences are appreciated.

Remembering

Remembering a film I watched on the one year anniversary and reading excerpts from that film on this link, the story of Brian and Stanley struck me as particularly poignant. What is the line between who survives and who perishes? What twist of fate or stroke of luck makes that difference? All the questions…too many to consider or answer. But many stories such as this one can and should come out of the horrible events of 9/11. That is what I choose to focus on for this tenth anniversary.

The 82nd Floor (Stanley and Brian)

Death is behind him, a wall in front.
In the roar of flame and destruction,
A white noise as never heard before,
As if his fate has already been sealed.

Is that a pounding? Wait…
Yes. Someone is behind that wall.
Waiting. But no, he can’t wait,
The stairs are full of the fleeing.

That feeling, the one when
Dark is behind you, that spurs
You to speed and strength
Like you’ve never known.

Definitely, pounding. Someone
Is there, trying to get out.
Of course he waits. How
Could he not? Waiting…

Pounding, pounding,
Striking with all the fear
And panic that has come up
In his throat.

There! A hand…he
Reaches in, grabs something…
A collar, a sleeve? It
Doesn’t matter…just pull!

Yes! A hand grabs him, the
Hole grows larger. How
Could one wall be the
Difference between life and death?

They collapse on the floor, strangers
in a puddle of fear mixed with relief.
And in the midst of the terror, Stanley
and Brian, now friends for life.

Sum-sum-summertime!

Whoa, there I am! Been busy, busy, busy. And that's a good thing. Although the sick part wasn't good, but it's ending. Just in time for our annual trek to Radford and SUUSI.

Summer has been great, although it does seem to be going too fast. But that's how it works. Good times make the time fly by, and bad times seem to make it drag. Ah, life.

I spent five days and four nights with six other glorious women in Wild, Wonderful West By-god Virginia. What a blessing they are, and what a balm that time is each year. I am truly grateful. We ate wonderful food, we drank (whenever we felt like it, thank you very much), we talked, we read, we laughed, we did puzzles, played games, watched (and made fun of) Star Trek episodes, and we explored the areas of Canaan Valley that were within a 30 minute drive.



We spent time in the hot tub, au naturale. When the weather wasn't absolutely perfect, it was perfectly rainy, 'forcing' a day of rest. Sitting in the hot tub, under the protection of the porch roof, while watching, listening to, and smelling the rain was absolute bliss for me. The entire jaunt was book-ended by lunches in Harrisonburg, the first at the Little Grill Collective, and the other at Clementine. Each offers its own unique atmosphere and wonderful food. This is becoming a tradition, and one I thoroughly enjoy.

I hope everyone's summer is equally enjoyable, with healthy doses of fun, relaxation, good friends, fabulous food, and new (or renewed) experiences.

Life is good! Grab it!

Discerning v. Cynical?

Where do you fall? What are your thoughts? Based on these descriptors below, I choose to strive towards discerning. The cynics in my life over time have been damning, mocking and, frankly, boring. I used to think it was me...feeling uncomfortable, uncool, like I didn't quite fit. I realize now I was responding to the mockery, the condescension, and the disrespect. It's good to be rid of that negative energy.

discerning: raises her eyebrows...to let in more information and light.
cynical: squints.

discerning: seeks.
cynical: hunts.

discerning: loves the thrill of making up his/her own mind.
cynical: has already made up his/her mind.

discerning: delineates.
cynical: damns.

discerning: wants to know better so she can do better.
cynical: wants to feel better, even if it makes him/her feel worse.

discerning: leaves space for your thing, my thing, and their thing.
cynical: acts like you're entitled to like your thing, but secretly feels that your thing is inferior to his thing.

discerning: takes a stand for what's personally true.
cynical: defaults to mockery.

discerning: can opt for dignity, good manners, and cordiality, but will blow the roof off the muthah, if need be.
cynical: likes to break things for the sake of it.

discerning: accommodates possibilities, and sometimes, the benefit of the doubt; but does not bend over. are we clear?
cynical: gets boring, real fast.