Category: Contemplation

While Lying in the Hammock

It’s just past noon on the summer solstice.

For days it’s been cool and raining.

Everything is just a bit damp.

While the temperature is climbing,

The hammock is calling.

I answer the call and lay down,

and I gaze upwards.

The sky is so blue it’s an impossible shade of purple.

The leaves are every shade of green,

From black where little light can reach,

Under the dense branches,

To chartreuse where the leaves shine against the sky,

Almost translucent where sunlight amicably tries to penetrate.

I think I’ll just lie here for a while.

After all, the warmth and beauty are mesmerizing.

I Just Want to Stay Home.

I’ve done alot. I’ve risked a lot. I’ve escaped narrowly alot. I’ve survived alot. And through it all, I have the scars to show for it.

Now, I just want to stay home.

I just want to be peaceful. I am done with adventure. I’m done with drama. I’m done with conversation. I’m done with contention. I’m done with fear. I’m done with succoming. I’m done with overcoming. I’m done with doing anything by the skin of my teeth.

I just want to stay home.

I don’t want to argue. I don’t want to win. I don’t want to be right. I don’t want to debate. I don’t want to do the research. I don’t want to tell you my point of view and I don’t want to know yours. I don’t want to convince you of anything and I don’t want you to try to convince me of anything.

I just want to stay home.

I don’t want to hear your voice as it becomes shrill. I don’t want to yell at anyone anymore. I’m not interested in your drama. I can’t help you. I can only take care of myself. I don’t want to give you advice and I don’t want to hear your advice to me.

I just want to stay home.

I’m not interested in traveling anywhere anymore. I’m not interested in observing other cultures or learning other languages. I don’t want to become saddened and heartbroken at the poverty and needless, needless fighting and war. I don’t want to observe cruelty to animals or to children or to old folks. I don’t want to witness genocide anymore. I don’t want to witness the senseless bombing of churches and hospitals and museums and neighborhoods.

I just want to stay home.

I don’t want to see islands of garbage in the ocean and the senseless beaching of whales and seals and other ocean life because of sonic vibrations created by ships, submarines, fishermen’s boats and exploration and drilling for oil. I don’t want to watch netfishing that destroys the bottom of the ocean and that kill sea creatures that they’re not even fishing for. I don’t want to observe the destruction of coral reefs and see ships and boats sunk to the bottom of the sea because of storms.

I just want to stay home.

I don’t want to go to zoos and see caged animals. I don’t want to see dogs and cats and other animals suffering because they’re unwanted. I don’t want to see photos or videos of animals that have been mistreated and are found under trucks and locked in basements and dying on a short chain out in the rain and the snow or left on the side of the road, pregnant or with a litter of babies. I don’t want to see farmed animals suffering being raised for human consumption in unthinkable conditions.

I just want to stay home.

I don’t want to continue to try to figure out why anyone at any time would create weapons of war: guns, bombs, poisonous gases, nuclear weapons that could wipe out our entire Earth and all of its species. I don’t want to think about why drugs are being developed that kill people. I don’t want to see drug addicts lying naked on the street or sleeping out in the rain. I don’t want to hear the news announce how many overdoses took place this weekend.

I just want to stay home.

I can’t understand why we have developed chemicals that we spray on our food and create GMO food stuffs that make us sick and ultimately kill us. I’m tired of hearing about farming practices, like monoculture, that are destroying our ability to feed ourselves. I don’t want to see anymore clear cutting and burning of forests that destroy habitat for the wild creatures that live only to eat and procreate. I don’t want our only option to be to eat farmed fish.

I just want to stay home.

I don’t want to hear about children killing other children in schools. I don’t want to try to figure out why automatic rifles are being sold to children. I don’t want to watch bullying. I don’t want to cry for children who are unclothed, starving, without love, right in our own neighborhoods.

I just want to stay home.

And the last thing I want you to tell me is that I need to rely on politics and politicians when that is the most corrupt of all systems in the world. There is only one exception to what is worse and that is to rely on religion. I don’t want to talk to you about religion or about your god or anyone else’s god/s. I will be the first to tell you that I enjoy myth and legend and fairy tales. But there is nothing good that will come of believing in any thing a or faith based religion. If that’s what you want to talk about, may I encourage you to just leave me alone.

I just want to stay home.

And I especially don’t want you to tell me that if all of this bothers me, I should do something about it. It bothers me yes, but I know that it is not for me or for you to carry the burden of the world on our shoulders. That’s why…

I just want to stay home.

Japanese Quince and Dad

When we were kids, Dad said we had to choose one of the many gardens in the backyard to keep weed free.

Mom worked nights and so slept during the day. On weekdays we were in school but on the weekends Dad was home and he liked to keep us busy. He was a big believer in chores. In the cold months we usually had to help with the dusting or other house work but in the summer we had chores outside.

Of all the gardens, I chose the garden underneath the nook windows that had a row of Japanese Quince. This side of the house faced North and so was generally shaded by the house. It seemed to be the perfect environment for the Japanese Quince. It was always damp under the bushes. A little bit of dark green moss grew on the surface of the dirt.

In the Spring, the bushes broke forth in riotous blossoms. They were, what I thought was a perfect shade of pink, with a hint of orange giving them a deep hue of salmon.

Nothing grew underneath the hard stems covered in wicked thorns. The moss did a good job of acting as mulch creating a weed free environment. You would only need to get close to the bushes for those thorns to seemingly reach out and grab your hair or your clothes. If you were that unlucky you would probably end up with a tear in your sleeve or end up crying trying to untangle your hair from the thorn.

It was strange that a child would prefer these bushes to any of the other flower gardens in the yard. But I loved them and I love them to this day.

And now that I look back on that time, I think it was not at all strange that Dad would let me choose a garden that needed no weeding. You were the best dad in the world, Dad.

April Blessing

April showers bring May flowers

…………………………………………………

May the rain fall
And the sun shine on you,
And sometimes at the same time.

Held in Liminal Space

Portland remembering

This morning’s weather reminds me of when I was younger. It shows just how Portland I am.

It’s grey everywhere except for the explosion of some small Spring flowers. It’s cold. It’s raining but not pouring but it’s constant.

The wind is blowing. It’s blowing hard enough that I can hear the bells hanging on the porch.

The trees are still barren with just small buds of green showing. The exceptions are the Magnolia and Tulip trees that have full blooms, now drooping and dripping. The Japanese quince, stiff and thorny, is showing pink.

I walked the dog and I was reluctant to come back into the house. But Yum Yum was wet (her least favourite state) and ready for her treats.

Now, I’m sitting in my room and the rain is tapping on the windows. The big and old trees are swaying slightly against the wind.

I can hear the heater motor and see the fake fire inside my electric stove. Somehow warming.

The cat is sleeping on my bed so there’s no reason to make it up. She has made beautiful swirls in the blankets.

It’s very dim in my room and I don’t want to turn on any lights. I like this gloom and deep shadowed corners that are inviting and welcoming.

I think I will have a cup of tea and a little bit of dark chocolate and slices of the orange sitting in a ramen bowl.

I don’t miss the invasion of the bright rays of the sun that is hiding behind the charcoal clouds as they scud by, pushed along by the wind. There is a brightness in the far distant horizon where the clouds have thinned.

I might even doze a bit today. The gentle pitter and the patter of the rain are the perfect lyric and rhythm that can enduce slumber for any troubled mind.

I’m held in the arms of Portland weather and memories. Let the world go by. I’m not interested.

Summer for the Senses

The air is soft and heavy.
The scent of jasmine and orange blossoms.
A boy sits by the lavender.

As Solstice Approaches

Frost covers everything this morning though it’s not cold enough to freeze the water in the watering bowls set out for those of fur and feather.

The persistent wind has calmed so the old, giant maples, chestnuts, walnuts, fir, spruce and pine are not creaking in protest and the attic doors are not threatening against the hook locks.

The tiny heater tries so hard to warm the air in my room without success. This is winter (almost) in this old house. The furnace heats the first two floors though we can feel the air seeping in through the closed windows. We are grateful for this old house that shelters us.

Solstice approaches bringing longer days but colder months. I welcome the barrenness, the shades of grey. Though Winter settles in, Spring holds promises of life just below the surface and thrusts swords of iris and sprouts of crocus out of the mud and the brave honeysuckle shows tender green buds on seemingly dead and hardened vines.

There is no guilt in rest this time of year. Follow me says the earth, follow me.

December Morning

Sitting in my warm bed covered in a wool shawl. Candles and incense are lit with a cup of fragrant coffee at hand while the rain pummels the world outside in the dark morning light.