Leaving things behind

The winter storm of 2013 continues to roll across the Eastern Seaboard blanketing that side of the continent in a thick white mass of snowy coldness, stranding many, knocking out power to many more and letting all know who care to pay attention that nature is the great equalizer – and tempting fate with her designs is folly.  Snow banks devoured cars abandoned in haste, plows and salt trucks became newsworthy heroes, and the transplanted weather persons sprouted up in blizzard conditions to report by the second something we here on the prairie barely give a passing thought.

We shrug and continue on into our February, concerned for friends and family affected by delays and power outages, marveling at how almost 3 feet of snow can fall in such a short time and how paralyzing it can be when it does, and wonder why certain places seem to get hit harder than others, if the Gods have truly lost their minds and are consciously picking favorites this time around.  Travel restrictions and outright bans are in place in various locales, so crews can dig places out and make roads safe and get the power flowing again, bans ignored by many first thing Saturday morning since the snow had stopped and the sun was shining and the car needed gas in case, in case what they don’t really know, but they certainly didn’t mean me with that travel ban stuff did they?

rch.drwinters.net

My neighbor was found yesterday afternoon in front of his house atop a 6’ stepladder, 3 sections of aluminum tubing connected in length with a wide blue plastic rake secured to the end grasped in his hands as he stood and cleared the accumulated drifts from the rooftop.  That’s where he was when we left for the boy’s hockey game just after lunch, and upon our return some 5 plus hours later the fruits of his labor were evident in the now-visible shingles that hadn’t been seen since sometime in November.  Of course the ridge and highest parts of the roof still had an outline of thick bands of packed snow, and now my roof next door looked completely cocooned compared to his, mine untouched and silently secure waiting for spring.

It was a road game for the boy’s team yesterday afternoon, the last league road game of the season – game 26 of a 28 game schedule – 2 final home games this week to end the regular season before we escape the longest losing streak any of us can remember with a tournament trip to Phoenix on Thursday, staying a week in the desert hoping the 24 game skid after staring 1-1 gets left behind in the sand with the cacti and memories of good times with friends.  But that’s still on the horizon, and there was still the matter of game 26 to settle – vs. the likely first round playoff opponent – a bigger, faster, more skilled team made up of leftover parts of two previous teams – but leftovers with skill and size and an impressive record compared to the long, dark shadow of futility that follows our team.

In the end it was another loss on the score sheet, but as has been the case all year the score doesn’t really give a true indication of the facts – how the game was close and back and forth and yes the boys don’t clear the front of the net or check with any great thundering presence – but that’s all part of how we got to where we are – and yet the game was still a competitive struggle, and could have gone either way at the beginning of the third, and sadly went the way so many of the games have this year, one bad goal followed quickly by two or three more and suddenly the previously close contest has slipped out of reach, and a losing team content and complacent with losing again, runs out of time.

A few bright spots on the day though – the boy scored his first goal of the year, heck, his first of three years – the defensive defenceman is not known for his offensive prowess, and a fluttering shot from the point bounced and found it’s way through the opposing goaltender’s legs and in the back of the net to make the game 5-2 with 3:08 left in the 2^nd.  I almost missed it, spending the first 2 periods testing out the new camera before our trip South, got a picture of him just before he received the puck at the blue line, set the camera down to grab a quick swig of coffee, and watched his shot as it headed toward the net, not ever thinking it was going to find it’s intended target.

He seemed more stunned than anyone – this isn’t the kind of thing his game consists of – and this year not many of this team can say they’ve scored many more – but received the celebratory hugs and high fives at centre ice with a shocked smile and I’m sure a certain amount of relief behind it all. 

His mother, when informed via text that her boy had scored, cursed and used bad texting form in return, upset that she chose to stay home this particular afternoon and mark papers instead of making the trek to Selkirk, and felt the sinking feeling parents do when they miss important milestones in the lives of their offspring.  She’ll get over it – maybe.  Mothers hold that kind of guilt with them in those hidden places of their souls, and torture themselves much more than dads do – though men don’t openly admit it as much or suffer it so personally, and she’ll greet him later with a huge hug and warm embarrassing embrace congratulating him and reward him in the way mothers know best – by making him a cake – since all women know that guilt can be assuaged by chocolate.

I’ve been busy these last few weeks after fighting off the ridiculous flu over the holidays – the one that cost me three weeks and left me gasping for air on New Year’s – and my desk this morning shows how busy I’ve been.  It is a lifelong habit come home to roost, the piling of possessions on my desk in times of pressing projects and long days on site, no down time for paperwork or filing or processing of daily life – just stack it over there on the least piled area and I’ll look at it later, please.  And before you know it’s been a month and the quiet chaos closes in and you’re forced to confront it or ignore it for a few more days.

But with the hockey trip coming up quickly this week, it’s time to face my fears and spend some time putting order to the piles and clearing some mental space in the process.  Find the passports and the maps and the odds and ends required for a weeklong trip, find some room on the desk and in the filing cabinets and find myself again in the calmness.

It’s been a busy few weeks but it’s been a time of creative energy, making something out of nothing as I finish a basement renovation for friends, the bar my current task, and the week has seen me staining and applying depth and colour to flat raw wood in a way that once it’s all complete will generate a certain life into the finished piece and into the entire project.  The friends know and understand that I’m leaving parts of myself behind in the process, in the details and design that a few months ago made little sense to them but today my vision is shared and accepted with a knowing smile and appreciation and the trust I was shown has been rewarded in the outcomes.

It’s how I work; it’s who I am.  I leave a trail of my time wherever I am able to fully integrate myself into my work, and in the process create a greater understanding of my place and where I fit into this world.    I’m hoping I’m affecting that kind of pride of workmanship and care in the boy’s behaviors and approaches to the world – it certainly seems to need more of that these days – but time will tell.  His understated and modest acceptance of his accomplishment yesterday on the ice may have been shock and surprise or it may have been his true character revealing itself in a quick moment of center-stage. 

Big, important things like character and values get buried under the stresses and pressures of everyday life, and you need to spend some time clearing away the piles of snow from the rooftops every now and then to reveal the truth that lays beneath.  Most people soldier on ignorant of the hidden gems in others around them, concerned with their own shoveling and clearing for immediate personal gains rather than for the collective good.  I know I have sacrificed some personal peace these past weeks in favor of the project that has consumed me, but I’ve made sure to take time for the important things along the way – like watching that puck bounce over the goal line yesterday afternoon, or enjoying that piece of cake with the boy and his proud mom – but I also know that my efforts will live on behind me in the details I’ve left behind for others to enjoy.

Maybe silently secure isn’t such a bad thing.

Here we Go Again

I'm not a fan of New Year's resolutions.  I have nothing against them personally - I am sure they are very nice, and polite and well meaning ideas that exist peacefully in their world and all that - and I am certain some of them have helped people achieve lasting change when applied correctly and revisited repeatedly.  My issue with them is they only get looked at or thought about once a year, and like most people, if you only do something once a year, it won't become a lasting, positive change.

Not that I am all about change - though looking back I can see a thread of consciousness that winds through a good deal of these posts that ties together the idea of change as a means of measuring growth, something I would agree I am about.  I'm not sure if it was a conscious desire or if I suddenly found myself on this path, a mix of the two is more likely, given that I am finding I end up where I needed to for many reasons once I can look back with clarity from where I came.  Change is inevitable and the sooner we accept that, the sooner we can embrace what change can mean to us in terms of growth, for while change is inevitable, growth is a choice, and we know how bad we can be when faced with choices.  The more choices we have before us from which to choose, the more we lose the ability to make insightful decisions about those choices. Usually.

And that is one of my peeves with the New Year's type resolution, that there is an inherent time pressure at work with them given that we feel we should have one or two in place and ready to share with the world when the calendar turns, but the Holidays and all their busy-ness leaves most with less than adequate amounts of time to fully contemplate the state of things around them - can't begin to change things if you don't really know what it is that requires changing.

And why only at the start of the year? You are really stacking the deck against yourself by only playing the narrow band of time allotted in that first week of the year, throwing out some half-thought out, minorly serious intention for change in some area of your life, because it has to be 'out there' for New Year's - to be shared and professed to those who ask, compared and dissected as to it's worthiness of your pursuit.  A new year, a new you! etc.  Better to spend time in the quiet recesses of your mind throughout the year examining things that are serving you and those that are not and asking tough questions about them; whether you need to reconsider the agreements you've made with yourself about the things you've claimed as defining you...

Yes, I know my jadedness is showing through and I promised you I'd work on that... let's agree that I have issues with change for change's sake and move on.

I have a love of things historical that was part of me before I started - I don't know why that is, but I am drawn to things that have been passed down through time and are still around today to be examined and considered.  There is a constant-ness about them that balances my acceptance of change and growth, and I need the two to co-exist in order for me to feel centered.  I am embracing the reality that I am a creator of things, ideas, experiences etc, using the world around me to further develop it into something new - my own a definition of growth I guess you could say.  And I am learning that part of my time here is about sharing those experiences, ideas, things and observing the reactions that are set off because of them, in spite of them, and including them.

It is within those constants that I find stability, a sureness that conditions going forward will be fine for what they are, a calming sense of certainty that everything will be as it needs to be, and within that I will also be, as I need to be.  But I am not stuck there in those constants, clinging hard to them and holding them hostage demanding they not become something other than what they were previously - facts can and do change with further study; insights create new knowledge. The object of study may be more or less permanent but that does not require the understanding about it to be static.

Human existence should be viewed along similar lines if we are to maximize our ability for contribution to one another.  Who we are is who we are, but where we go is up to us.  Decide to change your or understanding about yourself and you can alter your course.  Look at things about yourself in new ways, from different perspectives and you might be surprised at what you uncover.  You are not a constant defined by your past history unless you allow yourself to be.

And so we turn the calendar and begin again, retracing steps through time but in a new location.  We can go about this journey blindly doing what we always have, content in the safety of the familiar, or we can choose to forge a new path, examining the best course step by step as we proceed, changing directions as needed but always moving, always learning, observing our surroundings for clues to help us succeed.

Last year was a quiet year for us in terms of experiencing the world in new locations, with little travel upon which to draw inspiration.  This coming year is already shaping into an exciting and potentially rewarding series of adventures and my appetite for the new and as yet (at least by me) undiscovered.  The boy's hockey team is headed to a tournament in Phoenix in February, and we've extended that trip by a few days to allow us the time and space to get up to visit and explore the Grand Canyon - if only for a single day - as well as the surrounding areas of Flagstaff and Sedona and Williams - a small slice of the Arizona whole, but an opportunity to experience new vistas and create new connections.

The upcoming summer will see us off to southern California to play tourists on the Golden Coast for just over a week, certainly not long enough to revolutionize our worlds, but welcome nonetheless for what it holds in store.  Some time spent in the hustle of Hollywood followed by the not surprising destination of Disneyland - I never said we were out to discover the arts and cultural goldmine of the state - won't allow us to scratch the surface of the superficial facade of the city but we'll be content to experience what it offers and be entertained as it intends.

By year's end we will have made our way back to our Happy Place in Florida - a welcome respite and a nurturing of our souls in more manufactured distraction.  We are aware of the simplicity of the distinction and unashamed by its contradiction to the ideals of growth and greater understanding of the world around us.  I make no apologies.  Some times you need to go where you can just exist; where you feel at home and comfortable and can enjoy the smallest details.  We've found one place like that and will embrace it for as long as it feeds us.

For between and surrounding those journeys this year we will be here creating our reality, facing challenges and life experiences that will shape us and force us to adapt in order to survive.  We will endure the mundane and the trivial, finding sparks of inspiration along the way, pushing ourselves in new directions when we can, and enjoying the small victories when they arise.  And we will change and grow through it all, becoming who we are and who we were meant to be.  I hope to be able to share many of these things with you as we go, magnifying my experiences through sharing, leading to greater understanding and appreciation for what we have and where have been.  And really isn't that the greatest resolution any of us can make?

A Different Christmas Story

It’s quiet; it’s after midnight and the only sounds in my office are that of the keyboard as I type, and behind that the steady backbeat of the clock, layered over the constant humming of the furnace fan.  Our little family’s early Christmas Eve is now over for another year – the meal has been prepared, eaten, and put away; the presents shared, opened, and enjoyed, then stacked neatly under the tree; the traditional nightcap watching of It’s A Wonderful Life behind us now too, George Bailey back in his rightful place adored by his small community still singing Auld Lang Syne with Zuzu in his arms…

I should be sleeping – I’ve been up since 4:30 with only a slight dozy sleep just before dawn – a headache keeping me company these last few days as I wind down into the holidays, tapped out or under the weather – it’s too early to tell, and I’m not sure it makes a bit of difference one way or the other the net result the same – but there are more Christmas events ahead so I soldier on.

The Christmas Story. Isabelle Brent

A look back at this time of year is common, seeing where we’ve come from and how far we actually made it from a year ago vs. where we thought we’d be.  Some have had very rough stretches compared to you, so you’re thankful for where you are – it could have been worse, so it must not have been that bad.  I know I’m not where I thought I’d be from my view last year looking forward, but at the same time I’m not sure I could have told you where exactly I’d thought I’d be.  Most days I’d say I might have thought I’d be happier than how I feel these days, not entirely certain I know what that means as I write it – but sure it’s how I really feel, my sense of purpose strained in the latter half of the year.  And now as I stand at a self-imposed crossroads of sorts I feel enough alone that I’m nervous about the next step.

Not paralyzed by fear, but not head-down charging forward with a Devil-may-care attitude either.  Somewhere in between trying to rationalize decisions while searching for a path in the darkness, the shackles of prior commitments weighing down my progress and keeping me prisoner for a while longer still.  But I can taste the sweetness of the air on the other side of the bars, and hear the birds softly singing in the morning sun, and if I close my eyes I can feel the radiant warmth as it feeds my soul.  Another day crossed off on the wall; another day closer to freedom. 

We create these walls that keep us in, masters of our own destinies, but we blame others for there existence because it’s easier than having to face the truth that we’re not perfect yet despite our delusions.  And we’re not alone, the more we reach out and connect with others the more we understand none of us is being honest about who we are and where we fit, our stories thrown together hastily in our youth and added to as we matured but never purposefully scrapped and rewritten, so we carry with us pages from each revision and cut and paste them together into some patchwork quilt of deception but its comfortable and familiar and so we hide beneath it’s weight and pretend we are safe when deep down we know we are in need of a good and honest editor with a fresh red pen and a willing heart.

Some find that editor too late and their book ends with jumbled pages; a few are keen and continually edit as they write, perfecting the story as it is written, but the majority are too stuck reading the words of their lives to be able to see that they are the author behind them and that the ending isn’t waiting for them behind the next page but rather sits in front of them on the blank page – the adventure yet to be chosen. 

It’s Christmas; a time for celebration with friends and families, and a time for traditions and routines that bind the Holidays into memories to be shared and cherished.  And while the turkey and mistletoe and carols and bells maintain the past and carry it into the present and on to the future, perhaps we should take a moment or two this season to reflect about those routines and traditions we have been carrying along personally, privately, the ones deep inside that only we know about, and see if they are serving us or if we are serving them.  Too often we forget that we have choices in how to think, act, decide and believe and instead continue holding on to what we have always known, never questioning the validity or truthfulness of our values and our ways; blindly following the pack instead of blazing our own new trails.

It’s Christmas – or it soon will be – and as you go about your familiar routines of the season take a moment and stop and take stock of exactly where you are as opposed to where you think you are – do it while you’re opening that present from Aunt Mildred – the one you can feign excitement over without missing a beat – no one will notice if you take an extra minute and maybe lose yourself in a stare as you sort out your place at that very moment – there will be plenty of time for wrapping paper and bows and too much food and drink – but how many more pages of your story will you write before you pay a bit more attention to the author and stop to see if what is being written makes sense to you?

George Bailey was lucky.  He had Clarence to wake him from his delusion and allow him to see the reality that was his Wonderful Life.  Most of us never recognize our guardian angels, and miss the hints they keep dropping for us.  Maybe I’m not tapped out or under the weather at all, maybe I’m being urged to stop these days to see what it is that I’ve been missing right in front of me.  As you open your presents this Christmas, take the time to open your eyes to the reality around you.  You might be surprised at the gifts you find…

Christmas Wonder

Frosty white trees line the dark street, and snow banks loom on either side, waiting to envelope cars should they stray too far to one side or the other.  The cold snap of last week is now behind us, that too-early blast of arctic crispness reminding us we are indeed alive, a question you ask yourself more often when you can’t feel your extremities.

We’ve shoveled and brushed and broomed the driveways and sidewalks and have put Mother Nature back in her orderly place; thanks for coming, but just stay out of the way a little and we’ll all get along just fine, thank you very much.

The calendar says we’re getting close to Christmas, the media are relentless in their reminders of the dwindling number of shopping days and the avalanche of flyers and ads that arrive daily in the mailbox should provide me with enough wrapping paper for more than a few Christmases, and I’d be green and saving the environment at the same time, never mind a White Christmas these days, just to counter-balance the marketing and redundant packaging of goods we’d all be better off just skipping the wrapping paper altogether.

But that defeats the purpose, doesn’t it? The surprise, the mystery, the wonder of what awaits inside the present? Imagine a world where gifts were placed under the tree in all their naked glory – no wonderful streams of coloured ribbon, no tangled mass of bows, and sticky tape and textured papers to woo the senses and slow down the curious child inside.  No suspense, no wonderment – just instant gratification.  Immediate consumption of yet another consumer good, the meaning and message behind the gift lost in the swell of more and more and more please!

The lights on the Christmas Tree throw layers of tiny shadows to the wall beyond, creating a wonderfully soft glow to the room.  I’m sitting trying to recapture the feeling of Christmases past, remembering the details, the people, the places, the presents, the fun and honest easiness of family gathering together.  It hasn’t felt like Christmas yet this year, and I don’t know why. 

The decorations have been up in the house as long as they usually are, both trees decorated and slowly filling beneath with shiny parcels and festive gift bags; the malls and stores are filled with stressed shoppers and tired carols blasting from tired speakers somewhere overhead.  The snow and cold and darkened skies have all arrived on time.  The reminders are all there, but I’m still missing something.

Maybe the fact that the boy is now in high school and we don’t have take home art projects and concerts to remind us of the fast approaching deadline is important, or maybe we’re not bombarded these days as we were in the past with requests for Santa and letters and stories at bedtime…

The world stands currently saddened by unthinkable tragedy, and tries to make sense out of the senseless.  A nation mourns and wrings its hands, and wonders where it went so wrong.  Everyone can relate this time, and the unfathomable pain at this time of year sends many to a deeper silence attempting to find some tiny thread of meaningful purpose amid the confusion and loss.

There is no making sense of this, there is only acceptance of the reality, and the need for compassion and caring words of wisdom in a time where many will attempt to use the events for personal motives and political traction – a direct disconnect from the shared human experience we were meant to shoulder together at times like these, when communities were smaller and more isolated from the rest of the world, when the healing could start more quickly and there didn’t exist a need for the play-by-play of the events so openly discussed and broadcast as freely as a ballgame on some warm summer evening…

The silent stillness outside calls my soul.  It’s quest for remembrance of seasons past still strong, but tempered now with thoughts of others.  I’ve been looking for signs of the season outside it seems, waiting for something beyond to trigger a feeling inside, instead of the other way around.  It’s not about the appearance of things that signals Christmas, or the date on the calendar long circled in red, or the baking and presents and traveling plans – those are all part of the equation, it’s true, but it is the reminder that this is a time for Joyful celebration and Hope and Faith all surrounded and wrapped up with Love; of Goodwill to all men, and Peace on Earth - timely wishes to be sure.

The Christmas Tree lights still twinkle in the dim light of morning.  The darkness will be followed by the light; it always has and always will.  A mourning nation will feel differently this year, perhaps not as jolly or merry as in year’s past – and that’s a good thing.  Maybe it’s time to feel a little more subdued this season, less Santa and more Saviour, less festive and more Faith, less presents and more Present.

May you all find what you truly need this Holiday Season – whether wrapped in paper and tied with ribbon; hidden in a stranger’s face as you pass on a busy street; or safely tucked inside memories of year’s past, and may the true Spirit of the Season reside in you and stay with you.

Winter Storm Warnings

Winter arrived yesterday – not unusual to receive the first real snowfall of the year in mid-November – but what was unusual was that we got 6 inches of the white stuff all at once – instant Christmas Card! Luckily we took advantage of the storm warning to prepare: a stop at Costco for enough food to last until Spring; a stop at the liquor store in case we are actually all stuck inside together for any extended period of time; time spent Friday night getting the backyard rink ready; and a little bit of forethought yesterday to hang the garland and lights on the front of the house.  Nothing like a warning from Mother Nature to get you moving.

So the outside looks like Christmas – the inside? Not so much.  The last of the Fall and Halloween decorations have just been put away, and the chaos that is our slowly-being-renovated-house ensures Better Homes and Gardens will not be stopping by any time soon to do that photo-shoot.  The additional hour this week thanks to the time change was barely felt, and we have a list of to-do’s a mile long that we want to tackle, but time seems to escape us – work, school, the boy’s hockey schedule: it blurs together and before you know it another month has passed and you find yourself pretty much where you were 6 or 8 weeks earlier. Only older.

Life happens.  And it doesn’t wait until you’re ready. Ask the East Coast.  Or better yet, just look outside. We know winter will come – it’s no surprise given where we live – this isn’t Texas – it’s always a matter of when.  This year it was yesterday and we were mostly ready, maybe not with all the little details like draining the gas and putting the lawn mower away for the winter; or that one final clean of the shed and putting away the last of the planters and pots which are now buried by the gazebo deck. But we did enough while we had the time to be able to sit down today and feel content with where we are.

There’s change on the horizon – change in all sorts of places. I’m giving you fair warning now that it’s there, waiting for me, waiting for me to accept that it will come and when it does things will have to adjust around here to suit.  And that’s okay.  I’m making my peace with that.  Looking forward to it actually, needing it in many ways.  You’ll hear more about that in the weeks and months to come – but suffice it to say one of the reasons I haven’t been ‘here’ much the past few months is also one of the forces pushing things forward.

We resist change pretty well – I think we’re taught that that skill at a young age – to push back and hold on to things the way they are currently instead of feeling the natural ebb and flow of time and accepting the current of the stream as it carries us along.  Not sure if that’s our ego thinking it’s in charge and able to finally have control by making time stand still, or if it’s the common human tie that binds us all – facing the reality that we too are mortal and will someday pass.  Some people really struggle with that idea, that they won’t be around forever – they dismiss it entirely and live with a fear constantly a palpable part of their days, a fear that drives them.  A fear that consumes them quietly inside, gnawing and eating at them, cloaked in illness or mental health issues, or maybe in that classic catch-all ‘stress’ – its all the same; its one emotion pushing the buttons and until it’s met and looked at clearly with no assumptions and no illusions, it will continue to run the show.

But if it’s uncovered and examined for what it really is, that emotion is a pretty harmless thing – it’s a survival mechanism of sorts alerting us to immediate or certain dangers – helpful tools when we lived off the land like wild animals – not always terrible useful now that we’ve seemingly mastered our environment – but in that definition of “alerting us to immediate or certain danger” we can find the seeds of why so many of us fail to act or refuse to accept the inevitable – the danger isn’t immediate enough to force us to change.  It’s off in the distance, like retirement or old age – ideas to a child that seem fuzzy and cloudy, not in any need of clarity or processing because they are so far away in time from the here and now.  But time is sneaky that way.  These eyes still see the world with the memory of that child, and that teen, and it is easy to pretend we aren’t who we are becoming.  But the signs are there – more of them everyday – if we’re willing to slow down and pay attention.

It’s November, it’s snowed and it’s giving me a chance to sit here and reflect while looking forward.  A reminder today that we all have time enough to do what needs to be done now, to be able to sit down later and feel content with where we are.  Now help me shovel the driveway…

And then it was gone.

It’s a quiet start to another Sunday, the cats and I quietly watching the day begin, coffee close at hand, neither cat is all that interested beyond laying a furry head down and occasionally throwing a glance my way, but they both stay close.   I say both cats, but we only have one – the other is from across the street, the neighbor’s cat who has adopted us as his second family; his second home - free and welcome to come and go as he pleases through the back cat-door the boy and I installed earlier this summer – a means of allowing our own old cat to head outside at those God-awful times in the middle of the night by himself without human assistance or attention - and for the most part he’s figured it out.

You can teach an old cat new tricks apparently. 

And then there is Pepper, the cute little grey and white cat from across the street who loves attention and wanders among the 4 or 5 houses around his own, getting treats and a good belly scritch from Mr. Monk next door or hiding in Rhonda’s flowers waiting for her to arrive with her gardening tools, or patiently sitting on our front stoop – eager to welcome us back home, and hopeful we’ll allow him in to partake of some food in the second cat bowl in the kitchen.  Chris, his rightful owner, was aghast when she learned that he was eating at our house - she knew we loved him as one of our own and had no qualms with seeing him in our front window and not her own – but never realized he’d adopted us so fully as to think of himself as being ‘home’ over here.  But he knows where his true home is, and comes and goes through our doors like the welcome friend that he is.

Our cat more than tolerates him, and if he sees the familiar face peeking in through the new glass front door, he’ll give out a meow reserved for the very purpose of announcing his friend is here and should be let in at once.  And if one of us is paying attention, we’ll dutifully open the door and usher the purring guest into our home.

Cats can teach old humans new tricks too.

So there they sit, or lay or whatever it is that cats do when they curl up and tuck everything in and look so damn comfortable just existing in the sun.  A chiropractor’s dream client – if it weren’t for that spring of a back bone that allows them to contort every which way, and to do so with such ease and just a hint of showing off - you can’t help but admire their attitude.

It’s been hot out lately – too hot – dangerously hot in fact this week to the point where outdoor activities were cancelled Wednesday – the heat and that damn humidity making it medically unsafe for much exertion outdoors.  But we know that’s not going to last, so we endure it and manage through and accept that with little rain this summer the trees and leaves are drying out too soon – the acorns have been falling for a good week already – the pumpkins already orange – the calendar must be wrong.  It can’t be that time yet – we exclaim, hoping we’re right but knowing we’re wrong – nature doesn’t watch the calendar – it is what it is and this is what we’ve got, so better to deal with the reality and keep moving forward than to morn the loss of what was and be mired in self pity and denial.

It is September and we can’t run away from that – though the kids would love to stretch another week or two of summer vacation in there somehow – wasn’t it just June? - School starts Thursday and for us it means High School starts this week.

High School.  Really?

Where did it go?  How did it happen? Why didn’t we see this coming?  We’re not ready for this, are we?  Didn’t we just finish walking him to Kindergarten last year? That smiling happy little face, excited for the chance to go to school and meet new friends and learn new things; the one who happily played all day and loved to have books read to him at bedtime, in that cozy room at the end of the hall, with the Noah’s Ark décor and the huge collection of stuffed animal friends that overtook the bed and left little room under the covers for him let alone us as well to cuddle and snuggle and play pretend.

No, that wasn’t last year, or the one before that, no, that was a few too many moons ago, and this week we’ll take a new ‘back to school picture’ this time from in front of the renovated front entry – another sign of the changes that have been quietly and constantly evolving through our lives – that once little boy with the oversized backpack and goofy grin will have been replaced with a giant version of himself, a confident young man embarking on the next stage of his scholastic journey, and we’ll watch him walk down the street that morning and know that he’s well on his way, and that he’ll be fine.

We know this – we’ve seen him grow and change all this time, and we’ve enjoyed every minute – even the tough ones – and we’ll remind ourselves that this is how it is meant to be – whether we want to admit it to ourselves or not.  He’s a good kid, we’ve done a decent job of getting him ready to face the world, and now he’s beginning to step out there on his own.

It’s September, and that means it’s time to begin getting ready for fall, for packing up the summer life and putting it all away neatly and safely for next year, while preparing for the next guest to arrive, the one that doesn’t seem to stay quite long enough – the one you want to overstay their welcome but never quite seems to.  Maybe that’s why you miss them more than the others – they know how to quietly arrive with little fanfare and how to suddenly depart unannounced, leaving you wanting just one more day with them; one more quiet morning sharing stories and listening to each other’s silence.

So it’s time for boxes of ripening tomatoes, for back to school shopping, for school pictures and timetables, hockey registration and football practices, earlier bedtimes and fewer hours of sunlight.  Cooler evenings and warmer clothes, thicker blankets and heated floors, comfort foods and community halls.  The cats are getting restless – it’s time to shift again.

The cats, the Boy, the seasons.  Constantly changing, constantly moving forward, constantly welcome. It’s not the change that brings the uncertainty; it’s the longing to not let go of the past that creates the fear of the future.  We need to be mindful that it has always worked out just fine before, there’s no need to think otherwise looking ahead – so embrace the change, accept the reality and enjoy the moments as they unfold around you.  Those moments are what makes your life.

Turn, Turn, Turn

Hey.  How have you been?  I know, I know, it’s been too long, we’ve managed to let life get in the way again and let the important things slide.  We keep doing that, taking the other for granted when things become hurried and frantic and you can’t tell up from down or night from day – hell, who are we kidding, it can happen even if it’s a perfectly quiet Sunday morning on the deck listening to the birds and enjoying that first cup of coffee watching the sun wake up the sky.  We’re lazy and we know it.  The things that keep us grounded the most are the ones we allow to shift out of focus on a regular basis until such time as we stop long enough to notice what’s missing.

It’s still warm, too warm for us up here, and I know you have it worse, but we were never meant to live with the AC running 24/7 – that’s not healthy and I don’t know how you do it.  I need my window open at night to sleep in that deep, restful sleep that has been eluding me for far too long now, and a closed up stale house just isn’t cutting it.

Yes, I know we’ve only got a few more months of this and then it’s back to the dark chill, and you know I’m perfectly fine with that.  I’ve never once said I didn’t like that.  Yes I know I complain about it once it’s here and caught us in it’s icy grasp, but deep down I still love it, and would dearly miss it if this wasn’t where we called home.

There’s comfort in those changes, a rhythm, a cadence that marks time perfectly, measuring the months while we pretend not to notice, eyes diverted while the grass grows and darkens, slows and browns, cools then stops.  It’s an assurance that things are fine the way they are, without your intervention, that nature has it all figured out and if you’d only quit trying to fool yourself, you’d see you need only to fall into step and allow it to be just the way it is.

But we’ve never really been good at that have we?

We’re fortunate to live in a time where (for most of us) opportunity and choice are almost endless, we’re god-like in every respect and ancient royalty by any measure of historical context, but we’re caught in a shift of ideology that has us anxious and fearful of losing everything we have.  Sounds like the same issues historical royalty faced too, but ours is ingrained into our being now even the poorest among us expect things to be a certain way, the threshold higher than at any time before, the dream just beyond our grasp. 

Few though recognize the reality, which is not new, only magnified by the unlimited amount of information we have at our disposal through which to shift to find it.  It was easier to remain ignorant when information was more tightly controlled by the ruling classes of Church and State, easier too to be led and controlled, and don’t think that lesson has been lost on those who seek to gain at the expense of others.  Dumb it down and keep them numb and the world is your oyster.

We have only ourselves to blame – seeking refuge from our daily stresses in mindless fluff and pointless pastimes, allowing others to carry the load and do the heavy lifting, preferring to sit and rest a spell, thinking we’ll catch up and help out when we’re ready.  But if we can’t even make time for the ones closest to us, the ones who mean the most, what makes us think we’ll make any time for issues that might not concern us presently but will surely impact us later?  We’ve been conditioned to live in the here and now, and that’s exactly where we’ll be damned.

But how do you balance the here and now acceptance of allowing things to be the way they are naturally with attempting to provide guidance and leadership for a future course through unknown waters?  The two seem directly opposed. Perhaps within each is the solution to the other – a measured allowance of latitude within the wheel to wander across the waves while we occasionally scan the horizon for perils and obstacles?  Except that it was far easier to spot the hazards when you were alone at sea as opposed to traversing the woodlands at high speed where both the forest and trees look identical.

Perhaps that’s where the change of season comes in, clearing the forest of the leafy cover come fall, allowing more light to filter through until we’re uncovered and bare, able to see great distances now in the cooler air, poised to take advantage of the clarity.  And with calculated decisions made, we continue on back into spring, where the green returns and multiplies soon to provide us with much needed shade to hide us from the midsummer’s sun.  We slow our pace somewhat in the heat but soldier on, the rich bounty of the coming harvest steering us forward, waiting to replenish our bodies and souls.

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose…

Words to ponder this morning before that dark, oppressive heat settles in for another day.  And maybe our routine of finding and losing each other again is just the way it is meant to be. 

Maybe, but I’d prefer to keep the losing part to a minimum.