• architecture,  shadows

    Mystery in the Shadows

    There is mystery in the shadows of a photograph. Something is there that cannot be seen as light does not reach it. Death is a mystery of shadows for me. I do not know what is beyond the door of death, in those shadows. I no longer adhere to the belief of my childhood religion. Yet there is within me, some voice, some hidden intuition, that lets me know there is more beyond our door of death. My cousin, Kevin, was buried today. His Christian belief and that of his family is different than mine. I respect their belief. I treasure his life, the gift he was to this world, the times I shared with him in our youth and as adults, and I pray with and for him. Yes, the mystery in the shadows. I feel much love tonight!

  • flowers,  haiku,  Plants,  writing/reading

    Always Remembered

    Xerochrysum bracteatum – Strawflower

    amazing gold and yellow
    their scent brightens the mood
    remembering you

    ms

    Yesterday was the one year anniversary of my mother’s death. I found myself spending time in the afternoon at the CSU Trial Gardens which is not the norm for me. I love how we can be lead to do certain things or be in a certain place because of that whisper from deep within. These strawflowers excited me because of their amazingly gold and yellow colors. I know nothing about them so when I returned home I did some research on these lovely flowers. From the Farmers Almanac website I found that strawflowers represent someone or something that is “always remembered.” Maybe those who have died really haven’t left us but are always with us, whispering from deep within us.

  • clouds,  landscape,  Mary Oliver,  natural areas,  Pineridge Natural Area,  poems,  poetry,  sunrises

    It’s about…

    The Journey
    One day you finally knew
    what you had to do, and began,
    though the voices around you
    kept shouting
    their bad advice –
    though the whole house
    began to tremble
    and you felt the old tug
    at your ankles.
    “Mend my life!”
    each voice cried.
    But you didn’t stop.
    You knew what you had to do,
    though the wind pried
    with its stiff fingers
    at the very foundations,
    though their melancholy
    was terrible.
    It was already late
    enough, and a wild night,
    and the road full of fallen
    branches and stones.
    But little by little,
    as you left their voices behind,
    the stars began to burn
    through the sheets of clouds,
    and there was a new voice
    which you slowly
    recognized as your own,
    that kept you company
    as you strode deeper and deeper
    into the world,
    determined to do
    the only thing you could do –
    determined to save
    the only life you could save.

    Mary Oliver, from Dream Work

    I usually read one or two of Mary Oliver’s poems when I go to bed. This poem called The Journey, kept me awake the other night so maybe I need to rethink that routine. Anyway, the poem rocked me because it’s asking questions that I’m still asking myself at 72 years of age. It’s about transformation of an inner journey. So, it is asking if I’m willing to take all the risks involved, if I dare listen to the voice within, to face a death of some kind, to let go to something I’ve outgrown and the birth of a new self. It’s about learning to trust myself, about leaving the bad advice and demands of other people behind and even the voice of my own insecure egoic self, and to follow my own instincts, my own path in life. What does it say to you?

    Today is my 72 birthday. I will most likely spend some time with my feathered friends at one of the natural areas, have a mocha or chai, get in some reading and journaling time. Basically, I’ll continue to spoil myself, even at this age.

  • lifestyles,  quotes,  writing/reading

    A Chapter has Ended

    Easter morning – Monte, Mom, Sheree, Marcee

    “You don’t go around grieving all the time, but the grief is still there
    and always will be.”

    Nigella Lawson

    The constant sound of the pulsating oxygen concentrator is silent. A quiet has settled over the room. My mother died peacefully early this morning, Her suffering has ended. I will miss her.

    A large weight has been lifted from my 92 year old father who now faces the painful absence of a spouse of 72 years. We will all be there for him, and each other, as we go through our own grieving process to find some peacefulness and serenity that we’ve been missing for several weeks.

    This will not be a wordy post or any attempt at expressing how I feel at the moment because I’m not sure how I feel. There’s a sense I will probably process her life and death for the rest of my life. And to be honest, I actually look forward to that. I again thank all of you for your thoughts, prayers and well wishes you have offered my family.