"Hammocking"

Today, I think I'll go hammocking. This is a word I made up, at least to my knowledge Webster has no record of its having been used before; therefore, I consider it "my" word. Hammocking is simply a wonderful activity; well, actually its more of an experience, whereby the hammocker, that's me, gets in comfy clothing, selects a good book, retrieves sunglasses if needed, grabs a comfy pillow, then with all these accoutrements nearby, crawls into a sleeping bag that has been carefully placed into the hammock. Then, by use of the most important item of all, a stick, propels oneself back and forth, lies there in the womb of happiness and hammocks. To hammock is the simple routine of swaying gently back and forth but it can be made more complicated by other activities such as reading, contemplation (this can be as simple as daydreaming or as complicated as trying to understand Einstein's Theory of Relativity) or napping. The latter is perhaps the most difficult; for just as the hammocker is about to drift off, the hammock stops its rhythmic sway, and thus the stick is needed once again and this activity arouses the once drowsy hammocker. So the process of reading or contemplation begins yet again until the heaviness of the lids visits the hammocker yet once more beginning the whole process again. A successful hammocking event; i. e. a nap taken in a hammock in motion, is perhaps one of the most rewarding and fulfilling events in life. Happy Hammocking!

In a Funk

I am in a “funk” this morning. A cold that I thought was on the wane has flared up again. Perhaps, since my mood mimics my physical condition, I should put pen and paper away until both improve. Yet, I wonder about those people who write those 365 page meditation books (one page for each day of the year). It has to be faked. How can a person,who might be an excellent writer, always write upbeat stuff if they are writing daily and from the heart? Maybe I have much more to learn than I thought.

Well, this morning I am not in the mood to read “bumper-sticker” philosophy nor to write it, for that would be to break my favorite axiom “to thyself be true”. And this morning to write beautiful things about beautiful scenery is not what I feel and no amount of meditation upon the loveliness of nature is going to make me feel better.

But guess what? Simply admitting and accepting things inside and out as they are and realizing that it is perfectly OK if I feel, sound, and write like a two year old having a temper tantrum, so long as I hurt no one else in the process, makes me feel better, at least genuine. I find a tantrum now and then preferable to spouting something I “know” to be true but right at the moment I don’t feel it to be true. Be in the moment even if the moment is “being in a funk!”

Stepping Stones

Stepping Stones

I received a comment from a reader asking why I call my home in the country “Stepping Stones”. When John, my husband, and I moved to our current home in the country, I saw this, though a return to the nature I so love and in which I grew up, as a new beginning. So I named our home and land, Stepping Stones, defined as “an advantageous position from which to reach a goal.” My goal is to live at Stepping Stones in serenity, joy, and contentment. And like any living organism, I will continue to grow. For one of the things I learned in Life 101, is that I will be "grown-up". I will always be a work in progress; both literally and figuratively. And therefore, I will seek progress and no longer perfection as attempted in my past. And so the name of my home, Stepping Stones, is pregnant with meaning and possibilities for my life.

The Serenity Prayer Changed My Life

The Serenity Prayer Changed My Life

My life changed drastically six months ago while on a trip to Arizona. My husband, John, who is severely disabled and has been for nineteen years, accompanied me. We drove into the resort at which we had reservations for handicapped accommodations with excitement in anticipation of the wonderful time we were going to have for the next week. However, that excitement quickly changed to anger when I learned there was no way to get a wheelchair into our unit. No other unit was available. We were turned away from the inn.

Something in me snapped. I realized for the first time since my husband’s stroke on a deep, gut level, that I too was handicapped just as though I were sitting in that wheelchair. My anger and resentment rose to such a height, that I thought that I might be consumed by it. The target I chose for an outlet, unfortunately, was my husband, John.

I realized that I had always tried my best to keep our lives as normal as possible; but I had done so by fighting every step of the way to ensure my children and my husband would suffer as little as possible due to the effects of my husband’s stroke at the age of 43.

Suddenly, the Serenity Prayer, which my mother used to have a copy of framed on her wall, took on a new dimension for me. I realized I had not accepted our handicap. I had tried to control it. In some ways my denial of our situation had had some very positive effects. We did most of the usual stuff normal families do. However, the price I personally paid was too high. I put myself last and when any anger or resentment bubbled to the surface, I pushed it back down.
But by the time I was in Arizona, I was becoming tired of pushing down the anger and resentment; so what was I to do? The second part of the Serenity Prayer says: “Grant me....the courage to change the things I can...”

Yes, I had made a commitment to my husband 19 years ago to honor the vows we had made when we married that promised to love “in sickness and in health till death do us part.” However, I did not say anything about where I would honor that commitment.

I was raised in the country and have always been a nature lover. Living in a metropolitan area had been necessary when my husband worked and my children were in school. However, now at age 62, we had no need for living in a metropolis.

So taking a very big step, I followed the second part of the Serenity Prayer. We bought a place way out “in the sticks” in East Texas, 35 miles from the nearest medical facilities. My surroundings I could change. Accept our disability and change where we would live in our last years as disabled seniors. We sold our home of 25 years; a lovely 5 bedroom, 4 bath house in the “burbs” and bought a doublewide trailer house on 1.5 acres of land backed up to a game preserve and overlooking a lovely lake.

Now with my situation resembling a continuous camping trip with our house similar to a big, comfy, air conditioned tent, I can accept our handicap, be a good caregiver, doing so freely and more lovingly. In my “cathedral”, the wind in the trees, the songs of the birds and the rippling water are my choir. My minister is the ever present Becoming of Being. I am part of what God needs to be essential and likewise for me to be essential I need God.

I have named our little part of nature, Stepping Stones. Thanks to the Serenity Prayer, and in particular to its second part, I had the courage to leave the hustle and bustle of the place of my life in the city, and found the courage to change my surroundings and my attitude toward my situation.

I took the opportunity to live out my autumnal years, before my winter comes, playing amongst the last of fall’s leaves, rather than huddled before the comfort of a fireplace in fear of what is to come. I now look forward to years of joy, peace, and serenity in the country, surrounded by the nature I so love and from which I draw my inner strength to go about my chosen life’s work of care giving.

An unwrapped Christmas

Saturday, Dec 24, 2005

This day reminds me of my mother, for this was the day that, as a child, we as a nuclear family celebrated Christmas. She worked all day preparing the big feast for that night. And then we would go looking at Christmas lights while Santa came with the gifts. Then upon return, there were the dolls lively displayed, bikes ready to ride, or a toy of some sort ready to bring delight to its new owner. Christmas wasn't wrapped. It was in full view and full of magic. Santa really could have come.

Today, I will do some of the things my mother did. I will be busy all day preparing for tomorrow's dinner. And with grown children and as yet no grandchildren, some of the magic is missing. Since most of us are not Christians, it is a day to get together, eat, laugh, chat and sometimes play games. We exchange stocking stuffers only, for we adopt a needy family for Christmas.

So times and traditions change, some things remain the same or similar. Love expressed in giving remains a constant. This is the real magic of Christmas and so our Christmas today is, in this sence, still unwrapped and in full view and filled with magic.

A Distracted Mind

Friday, Dec. 23, 2005

I arise each morning to w atch the sunrise. Never do I question whether or not there will be a sun rise today; only whether or not it will be visible or hidden by clouds.

Yesterday, I came across a website that could calculate the moon phases of a particular day centuries ago; and likewise, predict what the phase of the moon would be on a given day centuries hence.

Certain principles of science are built on the assumption that the laws of nature will not change; e.g. the actions of the planets around the sun and the movement of the moon about the earth.

I have always been fascinated and curious about the backdrop of permanence against which change takes place. In college, I wrote an essay, in which I argued essence was an illusion of the mind. Essence was simply the characteristics of an object which were selected to categorize and classify; that irresistible tendency of man to thus explain and control his environment.

Now, I could write an essay arguing the opposite point of view. Does it matter how I understand reality or is my reality my interpretation. Concepts are tools to help us organize our world. When we become too attached to the concept rather than what it points to, we become sidetracked.

Similarly, if I become too caught up in mental masturbation about the meaning or even purpose of reality and is there a God and if so what is the nature or essence thereof, I get so sidetracked, I miss the whole point of it all: to simply BE and enjoy the Becoming all about me.

A more common day to day way of looking at the same thing is the way this morning, I could not enjoy the sunrise for wondering whether the fast moving "clouds" were really clouds or was it smoke I was seeing. Obviously, this mental exercise would have a meaningful purpose if I intended to call the fire department had I concluded it was indeed a fire. However, these "clouds" were so distant, I had no way to verify the nature or essence of what I saw. But the wondering ruined a sunrise; the purpose of which I had gotten out of bed to begin with.

My mental activity ruined my reality. So often this happens with me. "What's that sound?" Or "what kind of bird is that?" Or "what is that odor?".

I too often waste too much time in thinking about the world about me rather than being in the world about me. I don't mean to come across as anti-intellectual, anti-science, or anti-religion; simply, anti-Sandra-thought-skipping. It's sort of like the game I played when younger of skipping a rock across the water and counting just how many times I could make it skip. But throwing a thought about my mind and letting it take me too far away from my present reality is a dangerous game for me to play. Like the skipping rock, after so many skips, I sink to the bottom.

And now, after all this mental distraction, I see the clouds were indeed clouds, not smoke, and that the sun is far up and off the horizon. No sunrise through beautiful floating clouds for me today.

Unbelievable and indescribable Beauty

Dec 22, 2005

The view from my window this morning is like nothing I have ever before seen. Everything is covered in a crystal clear white frosting; not snow, something much more ephemeral. I see red leaves incased in a crystalline lining resembling lockets of old worn about necks of women. Or maybe they are more like pieces of dried fruit dipped in a light powdered sugar coating. Trees that have lost their leaves, this morning are covered in crystalline lace appearing to be a flowering shrub like baby's breath. And so my whole view of the scene outside is as though the god, the North Wind, exhaled a huge moist breath and it was immediately frozen upon all it touched leaving a scene so beautiful and perfect that it causes such awe and wonder at its indescribable beauty that I am pained at my lack of ability to express what I see.

It is of such beauty, I can only put down pen and paper and inhale with all my senses its loveliness for I cannot otherwise capture its perfection. Even the sun god, though it arose briefly, when it saw the beauty created, hid its face in the midst of perfection for what could it do but bring about destruction of this unbelievably beautiful morn.

But then destruction of a different kind came about in the form of a four wheeled monster carrying upon its back, three of Mother Earth's progeny, dressed in camouflaged suits as hunters with guns. Their camouflage was rather ridiculous looking against the crystal clear white background. They stood out like the undiscliplined children that they are riding in upon such beauty leaving the scene of their crime with dirty tracks of their four wheeled monster.

And now Mother Earth mourns her progeny by letting go in the form of tears from the earlier frost , melted by the fiery determination of needless killing of her other offspring in the name of sport.

In The Gloaming of the Day

Dec. 21, 2005

Yesterday, it rained all day. Wonderful! The trees and I desperately needed it. I bundled up and went out onto the screened in back porch though the temperature was only 40 and seemed much colder due to the high humidity. I sat in my camping chair with the footrest, snuggled in a sleeping bag and listened to the rain hitting the metal roof and then pinging upon the metal underpinning of our home. It was a mesmerizing sound; almost hypnotic in its repetitive rhythm. The air smelled so good as it filtered through my knitted scarf, which I held over my nose for warmth. I had taken a book out with me but I never opened it, so intrigued was I by the activity of birds in the rain and cold. Then I felt badly for them that I had let some of their feeders run out of seed. Other than that guilt, which was assuaged when I would see them leave their feeder of choice that was empty and go to a squirrel-proof one that held plenty, it was a perfect moment.

The real challenge in my life is to find happiness in the moments of inactivity. For when I am busy, my mind doesn't take control and lead me down paths of negative thought patterns like worry, fear, isolation, and boredom. But to be inactive and stay in the moment and be content and happy with just being is a real challenge for me. And at 62, nearing 63, I find I need more and more of those quiet, inactive moments. Yet practice of staying in that moment is definitely needed.

I particularly have trouble during "the gloaming of the day". My sister tells me that patients with Alzheimer's Disease want to "go home" during this time of day. This is when I get very restless and want comfort. This is when "the hole" opens up in me. It is the time of day, that if inactive, I want to return to my old habits of escape: "pushing down" (swallowing) rather than finding ways to fill the "hole".

But to just Be in the moment and accept these feelings as part of life, life as it is at this moment, even though it may be uncomfortable, relieves me of my pain of depression. In fact, if I do accept the discomfort and realize this too shall pass and furthermore that it will likely come again and that it is perfectly okay b ecause such is life, then I am okay also even in the gloaming of the day.

Acceptance

View from My Window

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

I sit here watching all variety of birds fly about and I am mesmerized by their purposeful activity. Yet I am motionless and without direction as I sit in my chair unable to even make a decision to get another desired cup of coffee. I am a motionless and emotionally empty blob.
What causes me to have moments like this? The day is gray and dreary. No sun and no wind; nothing but grayness. I think, kooky person that I am, that the low pressure front that moved in last night, and that still persists this morning, affects my mood.
For I feel weighted down, not sad or depressed necessarily, but just as though the law of gravity is stronger today. It’s the kind of day that I wish the overfilled bladder of the sky would burst and would pour its long stored up moisture upon me. Then I could, with purpose sit here all day watching the rain; awaiting the next high pressure front to move into the area and thus into my weighted body, mind and spirit.
But rather, I will stay here in this moment of stillness pregnant with possibility and enjoy the feeling of expectation; yet, at the same time, inhale the Now.
When I do that, stay in the present, I realize that it is not the view from my window that has changed but instead my expectation of what I would see this morning that has changed. For, at once, with paper and pen in hand, I sat down and thought “okay, sock it to me...hit me with great perceptions and feelings about which I can write”.
And as I write my thoughts, I remind myself that that is not how it works. And so you see, once again, nature has taught me a lesson. Listlessness comes from within; an attitude of the body that can be changed by my thought process. I can begin my day anew. It’s a matter of perception and expectation. Acceptance of the Now is the key and then Becoming is possible.
I know this deep within but oftentimes my thoughts stray and take me to places I don’t “know”. Staying with that “deeper knowledge” inside me, I remain on course.

Pride

View from My Window
Tuesday, Dec. 13, 2005

A tree stood tall, wide and proud in view of my window. Alone, it stood out. Its beauty was obvious due to its exposure. But a strong wind came, and to my astonishment, it cracked like a twig under the force that struck it unprotected from any surrounding trees. What had once been a tree majestic in its stature now was lying with its lovely branches full of leaves on the ground floor beneath. This was all that was left of its beauty. The once wide, strong trunk was now a stub reaching up into the sky denuded of its pride.
How like that tree I sometimes can be? When I become too decked out in my own self and ego, like a proud peacock, any foul event that comes along can ruffle my feathers causing me to teeter on my unbalanced self-will. But when I rely on the friendship and goodness of others and live not in isolation, but in consort with others about me, my foundation remains firm and I am much more able to weather the storms in life that come my way.
Though the tree standing alone on the hill was so very beautiful, by lacking the strength and protection of others, it now is a dead trunk providing shelter to a few critters where once it was a protective umbrella to many.

Missing the Main Event

View from My Window

Sunday, Dec. 4, 2005

This morning I had my coffee, warm robe, electric heater at my feet and was awaiting the sunrise which I could tell would be glorious from the preview I was getting through the trees and the clouds, colored brightly pink and a hint of orange.
But in my haste to not waste a moment’s time, I turned to my computer to check my email while awaiting the anticipated event. Suddenly, I realized the room was ablaze with light and I looked out the window and sure enough, I had missed the anticipated event, the one I had gotten up so early in the cold house from the warmth of my bed to see.
How often do I do similar things? Miss the main event of life and its Becoming, because I get distracted by the minutiae of daily living? I know I must attend to the duties of routine living, but I must never do so at the expense of participating fully in a major event of the day: a sunrise; which marks the beginning of a New Day, another major event.
There are other ways of missing out on the beauty of the moment: daydreaming. The wandering of my mind and the way it skips and hops from one subject to another sort of like the game of word association causes me to not be present in the moment. To stay in the now and be aware can be quite a challenge to a daydreamer like me.

Nature's Surprises

Views from My Window

The leaves reluctantly blow from the trees, announcing the change of seasons. Though there is plenty of color remaining, it becomes more scarce with each passing day. It is mostly the hardwoods, the oaks that still retain their colors. The ground now is also laden with a colorful carpet of colors; browns, reds and oranges. My “headless” blue heron statue that retained his dignity by hiding the fact of his major missing member in the leaves of the shrubs now shamefully has lost his splendor with the loss of nature’s kind covering.
The lake remains a placid mirror of the sparkle with just enough movement to make the reflections of the sun the glitter of lovely diamonds.
Last night while in the spa, I looked up into a nearby towering cedar shaped appropriately for the season. Upon closer observation, I noticed it was well decorated with stars sparkling about it just as though someone had draped a string of Christmas lights upon its boughs.
This morning I find myself fascinated by a group (four or five) of buzzards that roost in a dead tree nearby. They really are majestic creatures as they circle high above the ground in search of breakfast. They really have been given a bad rap by man, a creature who kills for his food where the buzzard is simply Mother Nature’s efficient housekeeper.

Empowered by Being

Views from My window

How can I describe the beauty of a sunrise and its effects upon me? Is it the physical beauty that so moves me or is it all the emotions that the rise of the sun elicits? I am overwhelmed by its power. What begins as a light spot on the horizon marking the end of dawn and the beginning of a new day suddenly explodes into this overwhelming ball of light and warmth transforming everything. What were mere outlines of form in the shadows suddenly become real substances with color, shape and depth.

I suppose the rise of the sun and its effect upon nature is analogous to the same arising of “light” within myself. What was mere possibility becomes actuality. I transform from sleep in the dark of night into awareness of new beginnings and possibilities. I am once again empowered by Being.

Missed Sunrises

View from My Window

Tuesday, December 6, 2005

After being in the metropolis of Dallas over the weekend, I felt I was back on Mt. Olympus upon our return. From my viewpoint high on a hill overlooking Enchanted Lake, with ice on the windows (it is 20 degrees outside) and the sunlight reflecting upon it, I truly feel I exist among the gods and goddesses. The lake is a white mist cloud moving about leaving one to wonder what lies underneath. The background is a lovely shade of dark blue to the horizon whereupon it becomes the crystal clear blue of the sky. The cedars on the dam sport a hoary, frosted beard of ice. Its growth is on the outermost edge of the branches giving their dark green centers a contrast with the icy clear white.

To think of all the sunrises I have missed while sleeping or, when younger getting my family off to begin their day at work or school makes me sad. But the utter joy I receive now in my golden years to rush from the bed, grab a robe, then with a hot cup of coffee in my hand to retreat to my study with the windows overlooking the most beautiful spot on earth more than compensates. It is my heaven on earth.

After each sunrise, even six months of them, I thank Being for the opportunity to be witness to such beauty. Each morning I think this one is the most beautiful sunrise ever only to witness myself repetitiously enjoy the morrow’s.

Light Within

View from My Window

Wednesday, Dec 7, 2005

This morning the sun rose and then immediately sought refuge behind the blue-gray clouds. It is cold, 30 degrees but it seems much colder. There is a winter’s grayness about. The lake is perfectly still and reflects the dull gray of the day. Yet it is a beautiful morning. It says “stay inside”. Make for yourself warmth and coziness. Seek light from within yourself for today will be gray and gloomy without. Today is a day for reflection and meditation.

Almost all color is gone from the trees; made more evident by the lack of sunlight. When I lack the “sunlight” within, I too lack luster.

We are learning so much here at Stepping Stones; the name I chose for our place. When first we came, we were going to change things here in the country in East Texas. We were going to shape up these people and teach them the ways of city life. How utterly foolish!...for it was that very life from which we were trying to escape. Now we are trying more and more to be like chameleons fitting in with our new environment.

It Matters Not What Day It Is

View from My Window

At least I think it is Thursday. And, if we do not have any appointments to keep, it really does not matter, does it?

Today, this day, whatever it is called is a bitterly cold, dreary, winter day that is absolutely wonderful. I feel so cozy in my p.j.’s, robe, socks and slippers with a lap blanket draped about my knees.

About the ground, lies a fine mix of snow and ice. The cardinals, searching for sunflower seeds having fallen from the feeders, make a stark contrast in the white wintry mix. And then there are the lovely seasonal colors of red and green when the cardinals rest upon the boughs of the cedars for an overview of breakfast pickin’s.

Far in the distance, on the eastern horizon, where the sun should be about now showing its appearance, there are blue-gray clouds, the kind that threaten snow. Wouldn’t snow be a lovely sight to see on the cedars and pines? I doubt that will happen here in East Texas but wouldn’t it be welcome in our first winter at Stepping Stones?

Witness to a Sacred Event

View from My Window

This morning I was a fortunate witness to a very atypical view from my window. I happened to notice a very large bird in flight that landed in a tree quite a distance from me in the valley below. I quickly retrieved my binoculars in an attempt to find and identify it.

What I found was absolutely astounding to these untrained eyes of an urbanite. I saw a large white tail which is what first had caught my eye for my friends the buzzards had no such tail. As I watched through the aid of the lenses of the binoculars, I saw what I soon realized were tufts of hair being torn from the bird’s prey. It was busy gorging itself on whatever poor creature happened to be its morning meal and with such force that its entire body which was very large was bobbing up and down. I could see neither the front part of the bird nor its prey; only the rhythmic bobbling accompanied by wind driven balls of hair. Other smaller birds including a buzzard approached only to quickly exit at the sight of the event.

I was captivated by this natural occurrence. Never in my sheltered urban life had I witnessed the devouring of one creature by another. I felt somewhat voyeuristic, primitive and maybe even a little ashamed at the excitement I was experiencing over this event. At this point, however, it was mostly curiosity to see who the owner of the white tail might be. I had my expectations, but waited final verification from a glimpse of the bird’s head. My patience paid off as it rested from its vociferous activity to raise its majestic head and turn its engorged body to face the sun and with an involuntary intake of breath, I was stunned. I had just witnessed a rare event, for here and definitely for me, of seeing a bald eagle performing one of its
natural functions: hunting and eating prey.

How did this raw event of nature make me feel? Humble, for I had just witnessed a sacred event: a Being doing what it was supposed to do. Nothing more; nothing less.

My Retreat Becomes My Home

View from My Window

When John and I bought our home on Holiday Pine, it was intended as a retreat, a second home, a vacation home. We camped out for a couple of weeks with the bare essentials: an inflatable bed, a camping chair, a few cooking utensils, an ice chest, some food, and Maya’s needs. The house was like a large, comfortable, air conditioned tent with the additional amenities of carpeting, dishwasher, stove and laundry facilities.

We would go out on the deck in the coolness of the early June mornings, have coffee and watch the sunrise. Not being the nature lover I am, as the day warmed, John would retreat indoors to his laptop. I, on the other hand, would wander about the land and look at all the different types of trees and plants.

We inherited with the house a glider in which I would sit for hours looking at the lake. Also with the place came an old-time type swing with a board for a seat hung by chains from the tallest branch of the biggest oak. One of the first things I did was to sit in that swing, and like a young girl of years ago, on the up-swing hang my head all the way back and view the world upside down. I found myself laughing and giggling for nothing more than the sheer joy of living. I was the young girl again enjoying the simple life.

And so our retreat became our home, for after two weeks of this idyllic lifestyle, we went back to the Dallas-Fort Worth metroglobulus and put our house of 25 years up for sale.

Maybe our mind set at the time we bought our home on Holiday Pine set the tone for our lifestyle here. Though in the autumn of our years, we have recaptured the spring time of our lives. Stepping Stones is a retreat to the youth within, to the real me, to the real stuff of which life is made; that Deep Reality within all of us.