"Nevermore"

I used to believe that I could heal myself when suffering emotional pain.  I thought that if I read enough and disciplined myself that I didn’t need anyone else to repair a damaged psyche.  I do not accept this as true anymore … it is part of the process but the other piece for me will be people.  I have to reach out with total honesty … tell the truth with no self deceit, no justifying or blaming. 

This morning I woke knowing that I am capable of building walls to ward off hurt.  The horror is that if I mentally construct a barrier, I will literally block out life. This action reminds me of the Edgar Allen Poe story “The Cask of Amontillado"    The tale is systematically woven as a man takes revenge on a former friend by burying him alive.  Methodically his persecutor sets brick by brick in place sealing the fate of his screaming captive.

If I choose to erect walls, I will kill any chance for true healing and growth.  I have to feel when I am suffering.  It is real. 

I Find Me in You

Who I am shines back to me from the faces of the people I love. I hope that they will realize who they are when they look at me.  I want to be true and send messages to those I care for.  They are worthy.

A Measure of What is Right

I must act with honesty.  Actions with integrity can be identified because there is no story ... no justification needed; I know it is right and that is enough.

Zion

To initiate this second day of "taking out the trash"(which primarily means cleaning out the false beliefs I have nurtured for years) my companion and I are taking a day trip to Zion National Park.

Contemplating for the rest of life will not provide the answers to "Why am I here? Nor Where did I come from?"   What I can do is choose how I am being.  Today I appreciate natural beauty - in the park, within the heart of the person I am traveling with and inside me.

"Yakety yak (don't talk back)"

Can you imagine what would happen if I did not take out the kitchen trash?  After a few weeks, the smell would be rancid.  The rot would eventually attract unwelcome insects and rodents into my home.  Nasty! 

This is a good analogy for what happens when I do not live in the present moment but instead hang on to the old stories playing in my head.  Replaying these aged experiences reinforce lack.  If I am rehashing life by blaming, comparing, explaining poor choices, judging and rationalizing then I have become an object ... a sack of trash. 

Today is trash day.  I'm cleaning house ... out go the false beliefs.  I'm creating an inner space where a changed heart can flourish. 

"Take out the paper and the trash!"  (Coasters Lyrics)

Hooks are used for Fishing

Today I was reminded that loving someone is purely that ... loving.  Love should not include conditions such as:  if I do this, then you should respond like that.  Authentic affection does not include such expectations but instead is more like this:  I love you and invite you to return this warmth. 

If I choose to give my heart, therein is the joy.  Loving should not include a hook.

Singing the Solo Verse

In Heart Root there is a scene (178) describing me as a member of an imaginary choir at a moment when the act of belting out a solo verse left me feeling the approval of the other singers; a peak experience.  I created this event as a metaphor, an offering of how I felt upon completion of writing.  But…we are never complete; that accomplishment, the knowing, was an instant in time.

Yes, there have been solo moments when I felt in sync with the people I interacted with.  But, often these pinnacle events will be followed by arduous periods; no matter how enlightened I imagine I’ve become.  During these segments, I move forward on faith.  There is an old movie I enjoyed with Tom Hanks entitled “Sleepless in Seattle”.  When asked how he was dealing with grief, the character portrayed by Hanks replied, “Each morning, I get up and breathe.”  We all do this; we get up each morning and breathe ... that is the beginning intent.

Throughout down periods, I know that emotional pain is part of change; intellectualizing does not alter the fact.  Adjusting the status quo does hurt.  I absolutely cannot hunger for the approval of others.  And yet, as if wired into the fabric of my character is the need for the good opinion of others.  I know that enjoying the admiration of others can be at the expense of what is right for me.

If the Shoe Fits

I do not want to wear society’s cloak … to do so is like putting on another person’s clothes.  That act of donning is in direct contrast to Henry David Thoreau’s (Walden) comment on wearing his clothes long enough that the fabric recognizes the shape of his bended knee.  In an abstract way, taking Thoreau’s advice is to be comfortable in my own skin.  I have to feel confident with standards that make up the value system I elect to live by.  There is a lot that is wrong in our world.  The questioning in my heart is part of my search for harmony within the culture I reside. 

I recognize that I live in a condensed space with other people.  I want to be a team player but often I feel like an outsider, an intruder within my own country.   If I voice my concerns, then I can be lambasted.  It is impossible to accept principles on how to live life from those part of the status quo when I recognize that the people screaming the loudest are NOT happy. 

A little Bird told Me

Upon reflection, life altering experiences do not immediately change me … there is not an instantaneous event and BOOM … a moment of being wherein a behavior transforms into a revolutionized better me.  No … not that way at all. 

Transformation is defined as the act or instance of transforming; this definition does not explain how change happens for me.   Let me use a project to illustrate this point.  In the backyard, we are designing a path extending from the patio to a very small pool of water located in the far corner.   While taking hikes through mountainous area of Utah, we have collected a variety of medium, flat stones, all different shapes. Once positioned in place, the diverse forms build on each other to fashion the walkway.  To date, this work is not complete because we enjoy the search and are not in a rush. 

Transition for me is like the path I am helping to construct.  Each day is composed of diverse events that link to past occurrence.  I keep fitting the pieces together.  With time, I will synthesize what I have learned (or refused to learn) and perhaps overcome a negative trait.  One day, I’ll turn backwards in review and admire the effort, no matter how difficult, because these actions were needed to develop. 

Outside the door wall, the curved footpath is almost complete; it is beautiful and unique.  Small birds lightly peck at seeds strewn over the surface.  I can imagine them saying to their flock, “Hey, check this out.  There is something new developing here.”   

Bread and life are forgiving.

For those interested, the bread was forgiving of my mistakes ... delicious.

Bread

Today I am baking bread ... as I am writing to you, the dough is rising.  After kneading the dough to a consistency that felt correct, I plopped the mixture into a glass bowl, covered with plastic wrap before setting in the oven to encourage the combined ingredients to increase in size.  In one hour I am to punch the expanded blob down, split in half and then form two separate loaves.  The reshaped dough will also have to rise. 

Since I do not have a mixer, I decided to prepare the dough using my hands.  Five minutes ago, after rereading the last recipe, I noticed a small notation at the end of the third sheet of instructions where the author noted that if I were to make the dough without a mixer, the yeast should be activated first in warm water.   Ugh… hopefully my bread dough can adapt.  From where I am seated, the mixture looks doubled in size.  I question the second punching down; why not simply bake this original impressive mound? 

There are important phases in the process when the dough has to rest before swelling again. It occurs to me that life is like this ... we make mistakes, we rise; we are punched down only to rise again.  Expanding is important if we want to produce an impressive loaf of bread.  Learning and developing is imperative for me to develop into a better person.    

I believe I am at the second rising stage, trying to get it right (already making mistakes).   As for the bread, I'll let you know if I was able to produce a proper loaf.

A Sympathetic String

There is a harmonic phenomenon in music called sympathetic resonance.  This occurrence happens, for example, when an untouched string produces a sound in response to an external vibration.  The string quivers in reply to the chorded note without being touched.  In ancient times this sympathetic resonance was revered by musicians as magical … a mystery.  Relationships are like that; in the presence of a person who excites us, ignites our thought and captures our heart, our body cues are rich.   We feel significant … special. We all know this happens – there is a person who can turn on all of our hidden lights.

Truth

My body does not deny truth; I must be aware of these feelings to know what is real.  Case in point, I can tell you that I am not hungry.  As you look at me, you can not envision that I have not eaten in two days.  The gnawing craving for food that clamors for attention internally is invisible.  I can even tell myself that I am satisfied.  But, I contend that if I am in a kitchen smelling the aroma from a baking loaf of bread, I will involuntarily salivate with the want of food.  (You can not see this either unless I totally lose control and drool.)  What I am trying to say is that self denial of what I need can backfire; on the inside subconsciously each of us have necessary requirements that are fundamental.  I want to pay attention to these cues - there is authenticity within the signals of my body that are essential to address for self actualization to have a chance.

Relationship

Conversation between two caring adults can act as a laser beam in a spectrometer; each voice echos back an answer off the concave mirrors housed in the ends ... our brain and our heart respond.  One word leads to another; parallel actions develop into a tunnel of light, actions adhere forming a thick band until there is a bond ... a relationship.  Hopefully, the people involved will understand that their discourse can be as fragile as it can be strong ... when a connection manifests it is special and should be cherished.

Chess

I am learning to play chess.  This game is new to me but I love that I am starting from the beginning with no prior knowledge.  My friend is quite good allowing me the benefit of living with a person capable of coaching.  I have armed myself with a  book appropriate for an apprentice along with a computer simulated game that accommodates the novice player.

Why chess?  Chess seems to be thoughtful and challenging but at the same time, a game that is not complex to the point that I have to be a master to enjoy.  We will see : )  Yesterday I began by reading the rules of the game.  After describing the board arrangement the first rule presented is the "touch-move rule".  This means that once I move a piece and release it, I cannot change my mind.  This is a terrific life lesson; I cannot take back my childhood; I cannot take back life experiences and personal mistakes but I can learn to improve in the future within important relationships.  I want to be considerate; I want those people in life to be better for knowing me.  I have a long way to go.  I believe chess will be fun and be a help toward personal growth.  To play chess, I have to think first.

Balance

Our emotional balance is a web of life experience.  There is no getting around this.  It is important to cut the people you care about slack … loving the person with their imperfections may sometimes prove difficult.  I have often been taken by surprise with the child voice that rears up inside of me; blatantly questioning if I am worthy.  I can only hope that the people I love will forgive me for my insecurity.  They have their own mesh and struggle too.  I am ashamed when I cannot see a bigger life picture.

Silence is Golden

There are few people with whom I discuss personal life issues - too many folks offer simplistic answers that barely make an iota of sense to my way of thinking.  People are well meaning but I am the one who has to live what is going on inside my heart and mind. 

Creation

I admire potters and often watch individual artists practice their craft.  When a ceramist is not satisfied with the final form, the clay is squashed down – more water applied and then the project begins again.  The final piece can be completely different from the original intent ... spirit takes over and what evolves is part design with the element of mystery.

New Direction

By the end of Heart Root: A Memoir, the reader had an understanding of my belief that everything … every action, every reaction is connected.  Learning that lesson, knowing that I am not disconnected has not made life easier.  The uplifting moment in “Finale” (177), the scene based on the movie “Sister Act”, when I stepped forward as the solo voice in Whoopi Goldberg’s imaginary choir of women was meant to describe an intuitive leap… an aha moment for me ... a building of courage to live.  The realization that I am interrelated (integral) with all life was a time of strength and a way to explain how I planned to survive.  It was a nice spot, a neat ending … me stepping forward to belt out my personal song but, I couldn’t stay there.  The writing was an endeavor, a striving to make sense; an attempt to rid myself of the depression that smothered my creative voice.  Why was I surprised when life immediately began to spiral in a new direction? 

There is power in beginning

A woman I met on an airplane sent me this W.H. Murray quote taken from his work:  The
Scottish Himalayan Expedition (1951). 

“... but when I said that nothing had been done I erred in one important matter. We had definitely committed ourselves and were halfway out of our ruts. We had put down our passage money— booked a sailing to Bombay. This may sound too simple, but is great in consequence. Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way. I learned a deep respect for one of Goethe's couplets:

Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.

Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!”

Mirage


As a child, I watched a movie in which the character was lost in a desert.  There was no sign of life and of course, no water.   Suddenly in the distance, the person saw an oasis complete with trees and a stream. The parched defeated character raced toward the mirage only to be bitterly disappointed by the optical illusion.  

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There are times in life when I have deluded myself only to realize that what I had imagined is simply that ... a fantasy.



Indian Spring is not a mirage but a cold spring in the Nevada desert area.   As I dipped my face in to refresh, I discovered four 9 inch gold fish!  Someone thought they needed a larger fish bowl?

Starting Over ... or, adding on.

Do I have the ability to recognize raw integrity? 

Recently, I read a biography – the author said he was presented with a choice to return to life as it had been or design a new life – he began anew. 

Releasing (Excerpt from new book.)

Yesterday I sat on the floor with a twisted collection of jewelry in my lap that I had carelessly stored together in a small silk satchel.  I had put my attention on untangling a necklace composed of three strands of water pearls.  Each bead was strung on a plastic filament line and then knotted on either side of the pearl to keep it in place – the string was thin and translucent giving the impression that the water pearls, when worn, rest and encircle the wearer’s throat without being held together by anything...invisible at first glance.   Of course, on closer study, an observer will see the connecting thread … this delicate in appearance choker had been thrown in with several other necklaces and had managed to become twisted and tied to other chains carelessly stored in the cloth bag.  I had to slow down throughout the process of untangling … when I hurried; I seemed to make matters worse.  Momentarily, I wanted to throw the entire jeweled mess back in the jewelry box. 

As I worked with the entangled mess, I occurred to me that I had the potential to become entrapped in contradictions.  Like releasing the necklace, in life I had to slow down; forging ahead only caused more chaos. With measured determination, I sat back leaning into the strength of my arms as they balanced body weight.  Chaos always precedes change … turmoil before the calm.  Taking a cleansing breath, I began again methodically working every line free.  Finally, the necklace unraveled.  After clasping around my neck, I stood before the mirror appreciating that it is possible to reclaim what is important in life … certainly not this necklace, but there was the lingering knowing within me as I observed the graceful beauty of the straightened out strands, that I had a chance for happiness.

Canals of Amsterdam



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Three days ago, while walking along the canals in Amsterdam, I remembered reading a children’s novel Hans Brinker, or The Silver Skates.  Within the narrative there is a tale of a Dutch boy who saved his country by putting his finger in a leaking dike.  The fable goes that the boy stayed through a bitter cold night until he was found the next morning by the people of his village.  I was surprised to learn that this is an American tale not widely known in Holland … the American author Mary Mapes Dodge wrote the story in 1865.

Jet Lag

I am waiting in Salt Lake City, Utah for my third connecting flight.   Twenty-one hours and counting in accrued travel time today ... or is it tomorrow?

A Whirlwind Approach to Amsterdam

Having only three days in Amsterdam has become a whirlwind tour.  I am visiting the absolutely remarkable, unique city built on canals and staying in a small apartment in the Jordaan area.  There is much to share but I have a plane to catch, six hours to lose, and family to greet.

Rembrandt

Yesterday Rembrandt and I shared the exquisiteness of inspiration together at the Musée du Louvre in Paris.  My role as viewer was simply to open my eyes and heart to the large canvas framed in gilded gold.  I sat down on the leather padded bench in awe; I was observing a Rembrandt!  The artist reached to me across the centuries filling me with a sense of knowing beauty.  His painting Bathsheba at her Bath features a female different from the almost anorexic body that is shoved down my throat in print ... the starlets of contemporary times.  David's queen was not a hard body, her curves were many ... she is a masterpiece.

Original Intent

When I have paid a museum fee to view historical artifacts, no matter how attractively set up, I do not fully appreciate the work. To comprehend a piece of art, I have to consider the composition at the original site.  Without this opportunity, I miss the artist’s deliberation of place; the forethought of how to convey the message using individual technique, stylized details, in order to triumph in a unique space is conspiciously missing.   

Take for example, the work of a twelfth century itinerant sculptor known in France as the “Master of Cabestany”.   (The actual name of this artist has not been recorded but in the Languedoc region he is revered as a genius of masonry.)



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This photo was taken standing outside zooming in on the detail in
the magnificent setting intended for the art to be displayed.

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After examining one of his masterpieces in an artificial setting, I left feeling uninspired.   But, for me, beholding his large-handed, bulbous-eyed figures in the recesses under the roofline of the curved nave of St-Papoul’s Abbey was dramatic.  The idea that many works of art have become the spoils of war and later show up in a museum half-way around the world evoke the idea within me that the essence of the piece was destroyed … I leave such displays feeling deflated. 

(Note:  An exception to this statement may be paintings … viewing them with the proper lighting and proxixmity does evoke my imagination.  After all, they were most often created on a canvas without the benefit of knowing where the picture will be displayed.)

What is historically worthy?

 

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This North Rose window of St. Nazaire, Cacasonne was created in the early 1300's.

For the past three weeks, I have been studying the stained glass of the medieval churches.  This major pictorial art form in France has for the most part been cherished. I understand that at some point in the French Revolution (and during other of the seemingly endless wars), windows were taken out and buried to preserve but many were destroyed and later restored.  Without having the background knowledge to know for sure what time period I am observing I do believe that I am beginning to be able to identify a cathedral window that is very old.  For example, St. Nazaire located within the walls of the Carcassonne Castle has windows from different centuries ... work from the 1300’s is truly genius caliber.  I have learned that a Benedictine Monk had the foresight to write some of the glass processing development down … many methods are lost … artists cannot reproduce some of the colors today.   

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Recording procedures on how to make something is beneficial.  On the other hand, the accuracy of written accounts of history depends on the stand point of the writer.  It is impossible for me to conclude a historical edict about what was gained in wars of the past … after visiting the sites and reading about the destruction and deaths, the idea that a crusade against “a philosophy” can ever be “glorious” or “knightly” is dimmed.  The remaining art, like the amazing stained glass, does reflect back to me that many people did appreciate and want to protect fine art from their region.  I believe I understand this ... a continuity linking us together.

Art

From time to time I question the value of what I do ... I write.  The language I draw from comes from the heart ... but is recording what I introspectively feel  beneficial to anyone?  In comparison, my friend takes pictures.  His interpretation is contained within the photo frames as he edits his work, he adjusts depth of color, scope ... the angle of the lens, the light, perspective by zooming in to focus on one small aspect of the entire composition but what he perceives is still, for the most part, in context.  A viewer may not get the entire picture but does see what was in the camera’s eye.  Is writing using my sixth sense as a guide giving the reader an accurate image of what is authentic?  Am I allowing enough empty canvas for another point of view?  Isn’t it foolhardy for me to believe that the prose that I produce reveals sagacity?  Although I strive to write with integrity, what I take notice of may be inaccurate not only for me, but for the reader as well. 

I am in the Languedoc Wine Country.

Wine making is everywhere in southern France.  Today I visited a cave and one of the proprietors was inside serving up samples to clients and answering questions.  Behind the presentation area, several stainless steel vats lined the walls.  The owner was enthusiastic and was pleased that I would want to try wine from different grape types.  On the hillsides surrounding the cave were fields of grape vines growing in perfectly straight rows, each vine heavy laden with fruit.  What I witnessed is a passion and pride ... I believe these two words accurately describe the art of making wine.  (I could not help but recall an old episode of I Love Lucy that still makes me laugh; the link is below if you'd like to view.) There is no silliness in reality;  instead producing wine is a labor of love, no foot stomping, but a hands on operation with careful consideration of the cultivating, planting, picking, the bottling, cork and label selection ... quite an education for me to witness people caring about every detail of their work. 

To view "I Love Lucy" click below:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3AGkG1LYOrc&feature=results_video&playnext=1&list=PL81C39C81CE63B882

Charmed Life

As a child I looked toward Hollywood stars as people I aspired to become “when I grew up”.  Marilyn Monroe was especially popular in the late 50’s.  I thought it would be grand to be that beautiful, to be loved by the people, to be famous.  After much reading (and the passing of many years), I can hypothesize that Marilyn was not happy with constantly trying to be the beauty queen.  She had moments of glory but within her heart, she must have felt the superficiality of not truly being loved … her husband (s) tired of her, her public waned as what they deemed gorgeous changed … how could Marilyn ever compete with the “Twiggy” phase?   She did not have the charmed life that I believed she did as a preteen.   

I am traveling through the ruins of the medieval times with the benefit of knowing how that time period turned out.  There is no talisman that warded off the evil spirit of man against man.   Their fear and insecurity about the unknown did not build walls that were able to keep the people from causing death to each other.   The victors in one siege became the vanquished later on.  There is no Roman empire … there is no “princess” on a hill.  I am making a broad statement that needs more facts than a couple of paragraphs but I can even tie this back to Marilyn.  Life does not stand still – our hatred of each other can turn inward.  Wishing to satisfy the popular moors of the masses has never worked … not for Marilyn, not for Crusaders, not for the Roman Empire and not for me.

Vocation of Princess

As I visit castle ruins in France, I have become conscious of the isolation that life on the precipice entailed. The sites are located on the highest spot in the visual range and use the natural bedrock of a cliff for the base foundation.   Although a spectacular view, I can imagine the loneliness.  Earlier this month In Paris, I was reminded of Marie Antoinette's demise by the guillotine. 

Today we drove on a narrow road that curved through the Languedoc region of the Cathar castles.  In the distance, elevated above the landscape, there was a stronghold ruin.  We had to stop.  As my companion photographed, I could not help but be in wonder of the building ability - the simple need to haul materials to the site seems astronomical for the 12th century.  And as History reports, after accomplishing amazing



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architectural feats the Cathars in the fortresses were still conquered by the Crusade sieges of the 13th century.  These strongholds fell and inhabitants were burned at the stake.

My little granddaughter wants to be a princess ... should I tell her that in times gone by being a "princess"  has not been a secure career move?

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Towers



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I am claustrophobic; I have been working on this phobia for years.  Climbing to the top of this castle tower in the Alsace Lorraine Region was accomplished only after mentally coaxing me up the narrow, steep steps in the dark tower.  There were a couple of false starts; I had to turn and go back down.  My friend scaled the tapered corridor ahead of me, coaching me up through the dimness - "There's a narrow spot.  Here's a window, if you can get midway there is light. Pretty steep at this level but if you make it up two more flights, you will see daylight.  Ah, yes I am at the top now.  You can make it," he called down.  His words buoyed my nerve to continue the ascent.
The view was worth the climb; below me in all directions were vineyards.  Off in the distance, large hawks soared in the warm up drafts.  On the other side of the tower, I sighted another castle.  I wondered if the former inhabitants were friends back in the medieval days or were they arch enemies.  Perhaps they had no relationship, but that is more difficult to believe - instead, I contemplate them going back and forth, two fortresses built on top of the mountain.  I felt pride to be able to conjure this scene.  From this vantage point, my imagination can take flight. 



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What I learned from this event is that when facing a task that is hard for me, having a person who cares enough to offer encouragment, make me feel safe, and is willing to be the way shower, a light guide of sorts ... can pull me mentally out of a self created fear.  I am still claustrophobic but I made this climb; I can make another.  More importantly, I realize the significance of having a meaningful friend and companion; a person who wants me to succeed.

Night View of Medieval City Carcasonne



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Some "castles in the sky" do remain.  This night shot of the medieval city of Carcasonne was magical to view ... a glimpse backward in time.  From reading, I know that life was arduous, dirty and hard for the average person.  Death came early to all.  The fact that I am walking late at night in Carcasonne, feeling safe and free seems diametrically opposed to the sight on the hilltop.

Internet

I am dependent on the internet for communication ... when I do not have access (like yesterday) I have an inkling, a small reminder of life twenty years ago.  In France, I have taken note of pay phone booths; at home in the U.S. these are no longer easy to find.  Since my cell phone does not work in Europe, I appreciate knowing that I could call home even though international fees would be high. 

As I visit medieval castles, I am struck with how people from this time period had to keep their family and friends in their heart and minds eye ... life was short and difficult.  For the average person, there would not be the ability or the joy to travel  (artifacts that I am observing hold a message of fear and superstition represented by walled cities, the frightening weapons, the gargoyles on the facade of the church and downspouts of buildings).  Making broad conclusions from my perspective may not be accurate; I wonder how the future generations will view me from what is left behind?

Last Full Day in Provence

Today I am heading for a remote village, Les Baux, in the Provence region.  The planning of these excursions cause me to think of living.  Let me use a drawing that my grandson made for me a few months back to make the point.  The plan was sketched out in several colors on an oversized piece of white paper. This vivid multihued labyrinth was a map to a predetermined finish.  To be triumphant, a player had to take the correct route following hidden secret passageways. 
"How will I know when I find one?" I asked after he excitedly explained the game.
"You'll know because the topsecret passageways get you to the finish," he states with a slight "duh" in his tone.
"But, you've also built in booby traps - as the designer, you have the upperhand; this knowledge makes the odds terrible for me." 
Judging from his expression, I know that he is delighted with this.

Living is like that elaborate drawing, or like the tunnels under the ancient castles I am exploring now.  I enter each passage selecting what I believe is the secret correct path sensing that I am avoiding the booby traps concealed at dead ends.  I want to play the game ... I feel that I have entered the corrrect corridor but I won't know unless I walk through to the other end.

Money

The discovery about money exhange has been interesting for me.  In the past, I have only traveled in Canada and Mexico, this very limited worldview took place at times when the value of the U.S. dollar was considerably more than the currency of the place I was visiting.  As I journey in Europe, I am attempting to live regular life - buy groceries at the market, take buses when possible, renting gites instead of hoteling it.  These are familar tasks that give me a better understanding of the day to day existence for the people of the region where I am a guest.  France to Germany to Switzerland in one day of travel brought home the truth to me that the American dollar is worth less.  (Worth less has the potential to evolve to worthless.)  I realize this point as I view the ruins of powers obliterated - Rome - the Ancient Church - the Crusades.  Historically, no one power has stayed on top of the mountain ... the castle walls will crumble and people in the future will speculate without truly understanding that this breakdown can happen again.

Nano World

I've reflected as I study the ancient buildings in France, on the lost skills of the talented craftsman.  All greatness demonstrated in built achievement (greatness as perceived by the world) is created by the back breaking work of people (enslaved or paid).  There are monuments in Aix en Provence attesting to the artistic ability, skilled brilliance with stained glass and architectural design of a time gone.  As I view these shrines, I feel a sense of continuity, a bridge stretching backwards to touch what I learned as a young student from pictures ... these facades, mortar tributes stand. 

I wander through streets observing historical monuments juxtaposd against our nanotechnological world of contemporary times, refusing to be plugged in, refusing to have a brain controlled by a chip because of my desire to have a meaningful life.  As I contemplate the past and the unknown future ... I question if there was meaning in constructing an edifice to the church or the government that one is born into?  I will never know ... I can only feel what is the right experience and hope that I have the courage to be aware of how lucky I am.

Aix en Provence - Parlez vous Francais?

Today we chose to follow the Cezanne walking route through the historic district often depicted in the artists' paintings of Aix en Provence.  Catching a bus from the rented apartment in Pont de l'Arc into Aix en Provence centerville was stressfree.  We started at the tourist office and their assistance is invaluable, both in the offering of free brochures and their willingness to answer our questions.  All of the employees have been multi-lingual in each information center thus far and this assessment includes the small villages of the Alsace region. I am annoyed that I do not speak their language because the ability to converse in the native tongue would enrich my experience.  I find the French to be helpful as I stumble through my pronunciations - slaughtering the beauty of their romantic language. An important note:  on 9/11 I was offered reflected sympathy by each French person encountered.  For example, at check-in the Annecy hotel owner expressed her sadness that we had such an event to remember.  This thoughtfulness was appreciated.

Alsace without the Internet

I invited you to travel with me and then I do not make any entries; please forgive me.  I was in the Voges Mountains staying in a gite without internet access.  Hopefully, I can catch up with pictures and thoughts.  Today is a day to regroup ... doing laundry (yes, the simple facts of living : ).  At this moment, I am sitting outside in Aix en Provence with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of a nearby pear tree. 

What have I learned?  There is the amazing fact that there is so much to the world than I have not experienced.  Visiting sights that I have read about has been meaningful.  Although, I have discovered about myself that I cannot "go, go, go" ... no matter where I am geographically, it is good to rest and reflect.  One of the highlights of the trip has been to go into ancient churches (église) and study the beauty of the stained glass windows.  I love color; studying the contrast, depth  and detail of this artform has been meditative ... and for me, opens a window of understanding into the soul of past artists; they had a need to mark the beauty of what they felt and saw through the perspective of the eye of the mind. 

Ten Miles of Walking

I was happy but tired last night after walking through Paris taking in as much as possible (which isn't easy - I could spend months in this city).  The stroll was amazing; often we would stop at other buildings taking in the details of French history.  I found the French to be friendly and helpful as I struggled to express myself using limited French.  We spent considerable time outside the Musee du Louvre taking in the details of this incredible building and enjoying the sculptures along the promonade.  I have decided that Napoleon is worth further study on my part - what an incredible ego! 

The absense of stuff ...

One of my first observations in Paris was noting the absence of stuff .  We stopped to exchange money at a bank; inside, I immediately took note of the sparseness - a desk, a wooden floor - no pomp and circumstance.  

Flying Across the Atlantic

I will be in the air all day Tuesday.  Bon Voyage ... I will share with you soon. 

As I get ready to leave ...

I am closing up as I ready for the trip tomorrow.  It occurs to me that at the end of Heart Root, the reader learned that I believe everything … every action, every reaction is connected.  Learning that, knowing that I am not disconnected does not make life easier – I cannot keep imagining that I am a voice in Whoopi Goldberg’s choir of women forever.  It was a nice spot, a neat ending … me stepping forward to belt out my personal song but I can’t stay there. 

Packing

Today has been a trip preparation day.  How do I pack for over a month of travel?  After taking almost every item of clothing I own out of the closet, I began to sort and eliminate.  I've decided to go casual with the exception of one nice pair of slacks.  We have decided to rent apartments and homes when we can.  This decision affords the luxury of a washer and dryer.  Tomorrow will be the last minute details - do I have all my bills paid?  Have I contacted family members to let them know that my cell phone will not work in Europe?

 My traveling companion is travel savy and his expertise was invaluable as we made arrangements - flight, car rental, places to stay ...  the list goes on. The first leg of my journey will be the flight; we are flying out of Detroit heading west to Minnesota and from there we will soar east over the Atlantic to Paris.

Travel with me to France?



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No, I have not quit blogging.  This has been a week to pay attention to life.  Sometimes I have to focus totally on what is before me in order to make decisions that make sense.  I have made a choice to travel through France; I know that this may sound grandiose but when will I take a trip if not now?  Won't you visit the blog and journey with me?  We will fly into Paris on August 31st - my first cross Atlantic trip.  Be patient; there will be times when I do not have internet access but I will do my best to share. 

Quiet Day of Reflection

Change is like molting ... stepping out of an old skin.

A Life With Value



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Historically, the study of a hive of honey bees has been used as a model for human society.  I believe the early American Indians understood this interdependence ... each member knew what he contributed for the community tribe to survive.  I do not always know this ... our country is vast, we are taught to be independent and with an almost schizophrenic offering of choices, it is easy to forget that what I do can mutually support those people in my group.  I cannot imagine a bee considering where it fits in or wondering about the value of a job.

In this photo, a honey bee has collected pollen and transferred it to the hind legs.  A single hair functions as a pin that secures the middle of the pollen load.

"... the rest are details." (Einstein)



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By studying details, I feel a presence.  Could this be a glimpse into a common soul?

Protecting Life

On Sunday, I used the example of the female Tiger Swallowtail mimicking a poisonous butterfly of another type in order to protect her ability to procreate.  I did not get the opportunity to finish what I was intending to say about survival. The point that I was making is that females (as well as males) in all species do what is necessary to propagate their group.  I often think of women as the weavers; the gender that most often keeps her culture alive and in place.  She is a protector that keeps her civilization alive by doing what is necessary to shield her children.  I thought of this again last night while watching the news (Anderson Cooper - CNN).  Women of Somali were walking miles, making an arduous journey to get their children to a refuge center where mothers could procure medical help and food.  By the luck of sperm and egg, I was born into middle America - my children have been spared suffering simply because of the economics and geography of where they were born. 

Survival



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 In some species of butterfly, such as this Tiger Swallowtail, the females mimic a poisonous variety in order to survive (using the example of the Swallowtail ... the yellow markings are gone and she is darker mimicking the highly poisonous Pipevine Swallowtail). 

Cleaning Closets

Last week I took a tour of Frank Lloyd Wright's studio in Chicago,  our guide stated that there was no basement or attic because the architect did not want to design a place to collect unused items.  I decided to review my own storage area.  Besides finding the three manuscripts in the closet (that I am going to do something with),  I also cleaned out two trash bags of miscellaneous "stuff" I'd been holding on to.  After considering that I haven't used any of these possessions in years, I made a decision to make a trip to the Good Will collection box on the corner.  Once the bags were tossed in the yellow steel container, I felt relieved.  I actually feel personally lighter too...cleaning out a closet is good for the soul. 

Books in the Closet

On July 8, I wrote in this blog about the carpenter ruler and suggested that I am in the final segment of life.  One of my aspirations, especially during my forties, was to write.  Yesterday I dug out three rough manuscripts.  After reviewing them, reflecting on the years of work held in each word, each sentence, I made a decision to reconsider these past inspirations.  Why haven't I tried to publish these tales?  Am I afraid to put my work in the hands of people? The stories have been stored in boxes ... I don't think they have been receiving much of an audience in that dark space.      Originally, when I wrote the pages, I had the desire to get them to you ... readers.   The closet monsters have had ample time ... I am finished with the invisible obstacles that hold me back.

Flat Tire

After a few days of being "lifted", I returned to Michigan to a flat tire.  There is a shiny nail head gleaming above the black treads of the rear passenger rubber.  I am grateful that the tire deflated in the garage while I was gone and not while I was driving.  I was able to inflate the tire and thankfully it held air on the drive to the tire store.   As of this entry to the blog, I am seated in the store; the air in the waiting room is infused with the distinct smell of rubber.  This experience is another visual example of how important being "filled" with what I need is ... there are times when I am emotionally flat just like the tire on my car. 

National Caregiving Volunteer Conference

Home from three days with amazing people ... I was LIFTED.  Thank you.

On the Road

I woke this morning thinking that I have been immersed in preparation; I miss the daily exchange of thoughts.  The blog is an empty space giving me an opportunity to reflect and share.  

What is the Question?

Today as I am preparing for a workshop in Chicago, I am keeping focused by asking:  What is the Question behind my Work?  What is my best hope for this event?  Am I speaking my personal truth?

Trust your Instruments

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Several years ago, I helped a friend study for the test to earn a private pilot license.  A point made in the review, that stuck with me, was that a pilot  must always trust her instruments.  I think this is sound advice for life too.  I have a gut instinct, a knowing that is my gauge when I make decisions.  I need to trust this internal mechanism. 


This red dragonfly never seems to questions its ability to fly ... it knows

Question

Throughout the past two days my internal point of view needed a lift.  We all have been there ...  moments when life does not make sense.  When this happens to me I cannot calculate what the question behind my work is ... the why of what I am doing.   Knowing that emotional growth hinges on looking and listening within myself to know truth ... the invisible infrastructure, thoughts and beliefs, that hold me together ... and then taking an action that fills me with renewed energy is the only way I know how to get past this slump.  What works for me includes spending time with a person who has faith in me, participating in thoughtful conversation and laughing. 

Too Busy equals Less Thoughtful

Once in a while life goes a little haywire for me.  Having several important decisions on my plate and/or having more to do than I can reasonably complete within a period of time are two elements that can contribute to feeling overwhelmed.  There are moments when I want to cry out, "Stop the madness." 

Control

I was driving east on a busy road today enjoying conversation with my grandson when the west bound vehicle heading toward us, careened out of control.  For a second, I thought the car was going to skid across the pavement and take us out. I believe it would have except the driver over corrected, yanking the steering wheel in the opposite direction causing his car to flip.  The point I want to make is that within that instant, I knew I was not in control of what was going to happen.  Life can change or end two miles from your home - the event can have nothing to with me or what I have done ... I just happened to be on the highway.  Once I saw that the driver and passenger escaped; I was relieved for all of us.

I can tell you this: dinner tasted especially good tonight, outside the heat is not worth complaining about, and sharing the evening with someone I love has renewed meaning.

Camouflage

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Concealing from the perceived adversary by appearing to be part of the natural surroundings is a tactic often used by wildlife.  I can see you but I sure hope you cannot see me.  I have used that approach when hiding feelings because I may not be sure if what I sense is true.  Intuition can be right but it also can be wrong.  I do not recommend camouflage for long term; truthful discussion is best, but now and again I need to assess before speaking, lying low in order to size up the situation.  I have discovered the enemy is sometimes within me.

Reality Check or Thump Therapy ?

Considering the facts of life - what is actual - especially my financial existence is an important exercise.  Today I am working on a monthly budget - am I staying within my true monetary ability?  This does not sound fun but surprisingly doing this helps me rein in.  Nothing can drain me more than realizing that I have spent more than I have made.  I once heard  a joke about the need for "thump therapy";  spending this morning planning economically was a true reality check for me.  THUMP!

Kiss any Frogs Lately?

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Life in the marsh is plentiful ... the longer I sat on the log taking in the exquisite beauty of the Iris, the more I saw.  Dragonflies, damsel flies, fish, tadpoles, snakes were some of the visible wildlife that existed on what was available to eat in the swamp.  There was a fable I recall from childhood that suggested that if I kissed a frog, the amphibian would turn into a prince.  I'm contemplating that as this specimen viewed me from the center of the boggy area; we gazed at each other for minutes.  At one point, he smoothly stretched out his back legs;  I was sure he was swimming away.  To my surprise he came closer and stopped about three inches from where I sat.  He was fine-looking, detailed with flecks of gold like armor over his iridescent green body. 

My girlish memory thought,  knight in shining armor?  Well, he did not get a kiss. 
What I have learned from experience is that the idea is true though - the true champions of my soul usually do not fit the description of Hollywood's "beautiful people".   Instead, those dearest to my heart may appear ordinary if examined from that shallow view, but their true nature is superb, discriminating, intelligent and loving.  Perhaps that is the truth of kissing a frog - understanding and respecting what is really there within the people we care about.

Unexpected



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 Walking through a marshy area this past week, I was surprised to discover hundreds of Wild Iris surrounded by Cattails both lit by the sunshine enhancing the hues of purple and green ... lavish.  Mid-July instinctively seemed late to view this beautiful flower in Michigan and I wanted to visually take them in, bask in their delicate beauty.  There was a large tree that had fallen across the marsh offering me a path to the center of the quagmire.  As I balanced on the end of the dead log, I recalled that I have used the word quagmire in my writing to describe my life out of control, but here in the marshland I saw that a swamp does offer unexpected splendor.

Take a Closer Look

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When life gets me down with world bleakness I center myself by looking ... taking a closer peek at what is inside, or outside, or around the corner.  There is always something more.

Damsel Fly

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My granddaughter recently asked me if fairies were real?  Walking through a marshy area yesterday, I was surrounded by beautifully colored damsel flies:  I felt like I was in another world - fairyland perhaps?  It wouldn't take too much imagination to believe these darting slender blue flies were fairies... hundreds of damsels in distress.

This damsel certainly did not look like she was in distress ... well ... maybe.  Perhaps she thought I was the villain or monster?  She did flit away quickly ... no hero to her rescue that I observed.  She saved herself.

Full Moon

Last night, I basked in the light of a full moon watching it light a path from Bois Blanc Island to Cheboygan.  The evening air was cool enough to discourage the mosquitos making sitting on the public dock pleasant.  Momentarily, I recalled a book I read.  One of the characters escaped a situation at midnight by running away in the glow of the moon.  Over the water the luminous trail was inviting ... not for walking though - there will be no walking on water for me : )  I've decided to face my life head on.

Finishing the Puzzle

Have you ever been the person to find the last few pieces of a puzzle and fit them in the correct spot?  I know that satisfaction; an aha moment. Yes, here is where these final pieces fit and now look at this gorgeous picture that is finally complete... the feeling is fulfilling.  This segment (remember the carpenter ruler entry) of life is like that for me . The most difficult mental task that I face is believing that I have a right to be happy.  Do you know that I am only beginning to appreciate that another life is not more precious than the life that is mine?  Why this truth has taken years to understand is a complex web. 

This is what I know for sure.  What will make me happy is for me to figure out.  What I know at this moment is that joyful has nothing to do with possessions.  Sharing daily experiences with a person who loves me, a person who is grateful for what I have to offer, a person who asks how I am and considers what I require emotionally is part of the mystery.  These actions are pleasant and must be part of the complete picture.  Wouldn't it be grand at the end of existence (a moment of being simultaneous with the final breath taken) to understand that I have figured out part of the riddle of life?  I strive for that ... to be kind to those who do not empathize with me, to love my children and family, to give and receive love from a person who truly is interested in my well-being, and to live a life that is an example of the best that I am capable of.  These are the final pieces of the puzzle ... I want to get them right.

Praying Mantis

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When I'm in need of intrigue, I turn to nature.  Recently my friend introduced me to the Praying Mantis.  They are fascinating to study - each day there is change in his "crop".  Yesterday I watched from a distance as one molted.  Replacing its outer body covering is how they increase in size.  This can happen several times until the final molt produces wings.  (Although I've read that in some species the females are wingless - why does it have to be the female? : )  On a near by shrub, another Mantis seemed to be studying my movement; I saw a distinct turning of the Mantis head (some species can turn 300 degrees) with each slight shift I made. 

Morning

Each morning offers the opportunity to start again.  Of course, I cannot erase past decisions; those choices, as soon as they are thought even before taking the action, are woven into the fabric of my psyche ... who I am includes the person who is both fragile and strong.  Without saying, I want to improve how I interact with the people I love.   At day break, eyes sleepy  in the stillness, I realize that the day often begins uncomplicated.  If I made a mistake yesterday, today I start anew. 

Laughing

Have you ever felt like you were an actor in an episode of Saturday Night Live?  Often life is ludicrous and the only thing I can do is cry or laugh.  I choose to laugh; not the hysterical laughter that recently a grammarian featured on NPR explained is kin to a nervous breakdown.  No, I gut laugh.  It feels wonderful and clears the brain. 

There is a comment box below; I'd love you to post a moment of hilarity ... we all have them; sometimes we just forget to laugh.

Replenishment

One measurement of living successfully for me is the ability to demonstrate courage.  Do I have a reserve of moral strength that I can draw on when dealing with adversity ... when facing dire stress?  What I have learned about myself is that the quality of spirit set aside, within me, for such events needs to be replenished. The limit of what I can boldly and thoughtfully handle is different from another person ... what one individual can take, another person may call their breaking point.  When I've reached this line, I often do not know it  until I've crossed over and by then explaining my action to those closest to me, those people who depend on me, is futile.  It is easy to view choices from our own perspective.  I believe there is value in respecting what I know intuitively; exhibiting determination to establish this boundary, to share truth the best I can, is a worthy measurement.  The other piece to this life philosophy is to forgive myself when I fail.  Offering kindness and understanding to each other is always part of the right approach.

Time

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Do you remember the wooden carpenter ruler that was jointed at each foot making it possible to unfold the ruler to a larger size?  I've been thinking about this measurement tool using it as a metaphor for length of life.  I am at the end ... perhaps, if I am lucky, there might be one more section to open.  This thought has me evaluating ... who was the girl in the first segment of life; what were her dreams?  There is still time ... I  have this moment for sure and I have chosen to write to you.

A Boundary

When we fence our yards, we are putting up a boundary.  There are many good reasons for taking such an action, one example would be to provide protection for small children we love.  The fence is a visual that marks a limit; it is not safe for you to play beyond this barrier.  Establishing a personal boundary is difficult but necessary to protect individual dignity.  There has to be an edge that figuratively states to family and friends:  Go no further.  When decisions are thoughtfully made, there is no need to allow people to tromp on them ... it is right to calmly protect a life choice as we would a youngster in our care.

Reality Check

There are suitcases to unpack, clothes to wash, banking to do, groceries to buy, mail to pick up,  and family to call (not necessarily in this order).

From Great to Great in Four Hours

Yesterday I shared miniatures; this morning I flew over Utah's Great Salt Lake - the largest salt water lake in the western hemisphere.  I will be in Michigan within four hours, a state surrounded by the largest surface of fresh water on Earth.  As I look out the tiny porthole window of the plane, I am missing the little Utah pond in my friend's backyard.  This puddle was carefully filled with tiny fish and tadpoles from the Gunlock River.  I hope the dragonflies, hummingbirds and Lesser Goldfinch will guard them ... it will be great if they are thriving when I return.

Minutia in the Backyard?

Small, trival details in nature ... not a chance.

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Catfish in the Desert

We stopped at Indian Springs on our lizard spotting expedition; I was surprised to see that the spring was captured in a reservoir made of corrugated, galvanized metal walls forming a holding tank four feet tall and thirty feet in diameter.  A pool in the middle of the desert!  The contained water  was cool to the touch and appeared clean except for the silty, stone covered bottom.  A couple of ladders fashioned from re-rod curved over the rim extending into the pond.  I imagined a cowboy, hot and tired from herding the free range cattle, deciding to take a plunge.  Why not, I considered?  I mean really, it was a better view than swimming at a Hilton; I gazed out at the landscape consisting of large rocks, tumbleweed, cactus, shrubs and in the distance, mountains on all sides.  Ah, I wish I had a raft and a bottle of wine; I could picture myself floating - no one would believe this oasis was situated on the dusty two-track lane winding through Beaver Dam Wash.  The idea of bathing took root and I was considering diving in - only the lizards and birds around, why not?  Peering into the pool, I noticed something on the bottom ... something dark and about a foot long.  After poking with a stick, the fish quickly moved .  A catfish ... as I studied the fish, I took notice that there were several smaller catfish feeding on the mossy interior of the metal.  I don't know, I deliberated momentarily...the larger fish had noticeable whiskers.   I decided to pass on the swim - this time anyway : )