reflections from the interior
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northwest spring

3/28/2012

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     Springtime makes her appearance early in the northwest.  In mid-January, walks in the forest revealed tentative new buds on Indian plum bushes, red osha dogwood sprouts tender buds nearby.  In February a few wooly worms joined me on my walk along our country road.  Now at month's end flowering trees are abundant, daffodils have been blooming for several weeks, rose bushes show red leaves on prickly stems.  I can still see snow on the western hillsides; a winter storm is due to drop up to 2 feet of new snow in the mountains and passes may be treacherous.  A couple of weeks ago, winds blew over dozens of trees closing the road to Mt. Baker. Though spring teases us with her early arrival, she is unpredictable.  A warm and sunny morning may quickly become a blustery evening, an overnight snowstorm or floods along the rivers.
 
     The inevitable changes in nature seem to cause humans to register changes in temperament and mood.  A short burst of sunshine can lift the weariness of grey, soggy days; flowers and budding trees, returning robins, frogs croaking in the darkness all can create a sense of anticipation and ease.  Events, relationships, news stories also impact us; our moods are often unstable and complex.  

     Why is this so?  Why are we subject to instantaneous mood changes, innumerable opinions, continuous judgments about how things should be; about what is satisfying or what makes for gloominess, depression, anxiety.  Is all of our thinking really so?  Do the externals - weather, world events, changes in age or health status, losses of loved ones, size of bank accounts, new possessions, relationship challenges or improvements - really have such power to affect our moods?  Of course they do, if we allow them to.  Consider the choice in that if.  

     I suggest that our challenge, moment by moment, is to be aware of what is, without the qualifiers we usually attach to what is.  For example:  a bird singing is.  A blossoming tree is.  A snowstorm is.  An insult from a friend is.  A serious illness is.  Death is.  
     
     When we allow what is to be, with no opinion, no desire for it to be other than it is, life presents itself to us as complete, and as it is.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  Great are the gifts in this allowing.


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more about birthdays

3/12/2012

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Picture
Yesterday my grandson turned eight years old.  A few weeks ago he told me that he's almost an adult.  He knows that is so because his favorite LEGO kits say, right on the box, "For ages 12 to adult."  So he told me that after his eighth birthday, he would be an adult in 4 more years.  He loves math.  And his logic always amazes and delights me.  

His favorite store is a family owned business that was established at the edge of town years ago when the country butted up against the edge of town right there.  The general supply and arrangement of goods has stayed the same for years - upstairs one can find hardware, gardening supplies, tools, boots and gloves and pet food.  Downstairs there are games, toys, books, maps, hula hoops.  Downstairs is where my grandson loves to dream the dreams of young  boys about pirate ships and Star Wars adventures and shiny new bikes and skateboards.  He could spend hours there, just dreaming and wishing.   It is a joy to listen to him compare and contrast and consider the best buy, the kits that are different than the ones he has or like the ones his friends have, the ones that would take him on new adventures.

I'm sure he and I will visit this treasure house dozens of times in the next four years.  Not much time left before he becomes an adult!

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This is the day!

3/3/2012

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    In the 1970's I made a wall hanging of burlap and felt (remember the '70's?).  For the rest of their lives, my parents proudly displayed it in their home; in the dining room, the guest room, the office; always where it would be seen on a daily basis.   The cream colored burlap, bright yellow sun and turquoise letters, bold:  This is the Day the Lord has made, let us Rejoice.   A visible statement of the way Mom and Dad lived and died - fully present to the now.  Their faith was strong, their health was good, their minds were clear, they were active, contended and in love.  Their lives were not always easy, but despite losses and challenges and turns of events, they found joy and were generous with their love and were much loved in return.  They outlived most of their friends and relatives.  They remained kind and thoughtful and curious until they passed on; Dad a few months before his 91st birthday, Mom a few months past her 94th.  

     I spent a lovely week with them just two months before my dad died, unexpectedly, of a heart attack.  We talked, we laughed, we went to yoga and dance class and Saturday night happy hour before dinner with friends.  Each night after the 10 o'clock news, we made up the roll-away bed for me in the living room of their small apartment.  In the darkness, reflecting on the day just past, I overheard my dad ask, "Are you happy today, Love?"  And my mom reply, "Oh, yes, it was a wonderful day!"  Then I heard them kiss, then each say to the other, "I love you.  Sleep well."  

Remembering, I rejoice.


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    musings may delight or disturb;  musings may spark new activity, sometimes. . . . .

    Phyllis shares current musings, momentary insights, process in motion.


    All reflections are original material copyrighted by Phyllis.  Please ask permission to quote, copy or reproduce. 



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