Changing the masthead

William Shakespeare via last.fm

Changing the masthead here today at MindSieve is something I haven't spent a lot of time contemplating. Posting on a little William Shakespeare quote earlier this week I found it was really sticking with me. So it's a done deal -

"Nothing comes from doing nothing"
- William Shakespeare

P.S. If you never noticed the Sunrise Sister quote on the "old" masthead, it was - "Busy is not a word or a way to define one's worth".........I still feel strongly about that quote for my life also.

Birds in the Bath

Image via Wikipedia

Crisp autumn days with the sun feeling especially precious and sharp against the cooling temps, sparrows and chickadees

scavenge the yard and the beds for left over pods, grain and freshly raked fescue seeds

The squirrels ignore the doggies' bark from the window as they have work to do also. It's planting time for them of nuts and seeds, treasures they'll never find, but the compulsion to plant is as the gardener to his bulbs

The birdbath has frozen at least once and the sun reflects enough light to expose the now not so clean and definitely
not so warm water resting for the season. The birds stop
by for a drink, for a dip, for an exuberant splash and bath

Inside we shiver watching, projecting it's the polar bear dip day
for birdies. We smile and wonder at their down, their cold feet,
their glistening beaks and wings - at last their vigorous air drying
We vow to change the water today as we expect they'll be back

Photo courtesy Zachary at Wikipedia
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/09/Birds_bathing-b.jpg

In a small town now....

I live in a small town now
I was in the Department of Motor Vehicles today for my license renewal
I was treated courteously, efficiently and watched others being treated the same way

On the way home from a 10 minute stop in the grocery store, 10 minutes is actually possible
I halted my car and allowed a Mallard and his pretty ducky wife to waddle across the road
Nobody honked at me

Equally with due respect for all, I slowed for a squirrel, two kitty cats, and a college student
There was no screeching of brakes or flailing of hand signals behind me

I took a detour two times, coming and going from my destination
I was delayed about three minutes - that's a minute and half each way

Flying home from Seattle early Sunday evening, a young adult traveler, while we waited 5 minutes for our carry-on luggage to come off the handy baggage trolley
Declared to me he'd "never seen such beautiful country, did I live here?"

He was from New York City
I agreed about the beauty and thankfully replied, yes, I live here
I used to live in New York City too
I live in a small town now


SS Photo - rolling hillside view around small town Walla Walla, WA

Nothing comes.........

Last night reading, I came upon a little quote from William Shakespeare. I share it here -

"Nothing comes from doing nothing"

.....and the photo? It's a lowly, slow-moving spotted slug (rather large and slimy) whom I met last weekend in the woods of Hood Canal. I examined him closely and he looked up at me as if to say, "Please don't bother me, I'm on a journey to my grandma's for the holidays." Do you think he'd also read Shakespeare and been inspired to get a move on?

P.S. Readers - one of my very original posts was about slugs.......

Honoring Ancestors II

While participating in an Honoring Our Ancestors retreat/workshop this past weekend, I was awakened to new ways of considering my personal, hidden anger of questioning family members' behavior regarding death and dying. In one of the workshop sessions, I was surprised, make that shocked, to have felt and acted as though my voice was that of my deceased mother's voice; in speaking to me more than once, she/I verbalized in action and words, her own deep-seeded grief and mourning over the loss of her dear husband, my loving father. A grief that she always kept from me, answering every inquiring question of mine with, "Honey, I'm fine." I didn't understand then but I may have a notion now of her great overwhelming and private sorrow at the time of my Father's death.

A chief revelation of the weekend for me is that my family was very logical in its handling of death and in getting the grieving "done, over, end of sentence, done!" While reflecting on past losses of ancestors I actually knew, I realized that I had never really grieved for them. The announcements of their deaths were made usually via telephone, we gathered (often I was not present) proceeded to the funeral home, greeted family and friends, to the cemetery, back to the house, ate a lot of food and everybody went home. Each to grieve the loss in their separate way or perhaps to not grieve at all.

Certainly, when I was a young teen, a beloved Uncle died of a brain aneurysm, my parents - leaving me behind with a very capable aunt - drove day and night to reach the hospital prior to his death, (our home several states away) attended the funeral, came home. I was weak with despair at their departure, fearing that they might not return and devastated that I was never to see my Uncle again. I suppose all assumed there was no reason a child or even a teen should be burdened with grief.

Two of my grandparents had dementia at the end of their lives. When "their time came" the words echoed were - "it was time, they didn't know anything" (meaning we shouldn't feel anything, our own loss?) Other of my uncles and aunts died from cancer - the words being - "they were delivered from their pain, it was a blessing at the end, they're in a better place now" - I, living in another state, barely heard of their deaths.

My point #1 is - how could I have allowed these precious people to pass from their lives, out of my life with so little recognition of what they meant to me? My point #2 is - why didn't my parents let us grieve, why didn't they grieve more openly, didn't they realize that their loss was my loss as well? And my point #3 - the BIG revelation for me was and is - they didn't share their grief because no one ever taught them how important that sharing that grief was for them and for the balance of their loved ones.

That point #3? - I am so over "blaming" my ancestors for not sharing more of themselves with me and with my siblings in time of grief. They didn't know any better than what their parents and grandparents taught them. Grief was private, not a big display, and "getting over it," I think, must have been very important in order for them to continue their daily lives.

Feeling the nearness of my ancestors this past weekend and upon sharing tales of childhood, youth, and adulthood with 10 other women, I found that in some ways my experiences with death and grief were sometimes very close to that of others. Sharing stories in a trusted group of women can be a powerful tool for facing one's own mistakes, misgivings, loves, losses, and living.

I am the one that was honored this weekend to realize that my living family and my ancestoral family are both essential to the person I am, the person I am becoming, the person I want to be. I am grateful for the love, encouragement and steadfastness that has come to me from the persons of my immediate family and from those ancestors of whom I know little or nothing about. They are truly to be honored by my existing family and me.

SS Photo - Hood Canal - Site of retreat

Honoring Our Ancestors

Reflected in my post of last Thursday, I believe that spending three days in retreat is an amazing gift to offer oneself. Words about my participation in this past weekend's retreat/workshop of honoring the Celtic celebration of Samhain and the Christian feasts of All Saints and All Souls could fill a book and will no doubt unfold in future posts. I will only say through the small poem below that reflecting upon my ancestors felt unfamiliar to me upon arriving at the retreat and unforgettably enriching with my departure.

This poem was written in response to one of the weekend leader's meditation and writing exercises - it is also my entry in the poetry party over at Abbey of the Arts this week.

Stepping across the threshold I'm greeted by a light....

A rush of family history and story floods my senses
Seeing through a thin blue veil of mist
I believe the sun is out, though not of that in August
But that of a crisp December day

Earl, Marion, Anne, Joanne, Uncle Slats, Paul
Where have they come from and why
Such a strange gathering greeting me with loving faces, outstretched arms
My heart is stopped, still, like a stone

DANG! I'm dead, I must be dead
No, yes, no - my breath has stopped but I'm not dead at all
Stop, stop with the logic - hold these moments

My own thanksgiving and love for them covers me - akin to the mist of welcome
I'm very much alive and being embraced by the family of my youth
Realizing they've never left me - their love still supporting and blessing me

Stepping across the threshold I'm greeted by a light....

Photo by Christine Valters Paintner at Abbey of the Arts