“The time has come, the Walrus said, To talk of many things: Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax — Of cabbages — and kings — And why the sea is boiling hot — And whether pigs have wings.” ~Lewis Carroll
My lake is frozen solid today. One tiny portion thawed for a time this afternoon then promptly glazed back over. It is smooth with crystalline textures. Leaves lie in stasis, captured in the glassy layer like silk garlands. It is frigid and beautiful and perfect. A reminder of all that Winter holds, the warmth of a cup of tea in my hands as I gaze out my window at the sun reflecting on the ice. Winter is a time for rest and reflection. A time to come to grips with all the changes we’ve been through this past three years. Oh yes, I need this Winter.
Feelings shift like oceans beneath the frozen ice glaciers of emotions pain too long denied struggle against the cold mind closed against the truth pressures build, exploding in a single tear of crystal blue
OK enough tangent talk for now, I’m going to “google” how best to prepare monkfish.
Deep in the heart of Bluegrass Suburbia, in a little house alongside a tiny lake, there lived a Witch and a Knight of the Old Code…
For the first time in a long time, maybe in my entire life, I have neighbors who introduced themselves, whose names I know, with whom I have had dinner. I’ve become almost … sociable (YIKES where did THAT come from). I have room for sacred space, I have windows with views, a fireplace mantle, I have a BATHTUB! We’ve been here a few weeks and I find I’m more at peace with the world and with myself.
There are no Christmas stockings to hang and I’ve done what little holiday decorating I do. A tiny poinsettia, a little lemon cyprus with a gnome. It’s simple, small, and me. This weekend we make our first trip to the northern part of the state to visit with family. Multiple holiday meals await, long drives, lots of laughter and love. I find that once again, I am feeling the joy of Christmas. Solstice has passed, the days grow longer each day now and my life is filled with more light. I begin, slowly, to lose the fears of the past and find the joy of today. Merry Christmas my friends.
Ghost of Christmas Past
On a dark and chilly winter’s night when sleep had come at last I had a dream of memories the ghost of Christmas past
She placed her spectral hand in mine and bade me come along for I had naught to fear she said from ancient memories and song
I heard the choir singing their songs of love and light I heard Christmas bell a’ringing, over a landscape frosted white
“This isn’t how it was” I said “This is not my memory” “No, this is what you dreamed of” the spirit said to me
“For memories are often dreams wished for in our darkest hours We tint them rose and decorate with fragile tissue-paper flowers.”
“Remember darling girl,” she said, “there are few answers in the past so celebrate the dawning day and treasure it while it lasts.”
When I woke, I found more happiness than I had known in recent hours A new day stood before me, tinted rose and hung with tissue-paper flowers
Welcome back to the mishmash life of a couple of Spoonies navigating retirement in Bluegrass Suburbia. It’s been a month since we made the “big move” from a South Dakota RV park to a Townhouse in Central Kentucky. Our relatives say things like “well, you had a good long run.” Hey! We’re not DEAD, just retired and homeowners *insert shudder*. I admit it was the end of an era but the next chapter is just beginning.
We’re still dealing with a bit of culture shock. There are STORES and RESTAURANTS and ENTERTAINMENT, oh my. We ate lunch out every day last week. Yikes! And enjoyed every one of them. Double YIKES! OK, OK, my waistline can’t handle much more of this. Time to back off the pizza and apple pie!
I got my COVID booster shot yesterday. Once I actually got it scheduled it all went pretty smoothly. I got both booster and flu at the same time, no cost for either. I was in and out in about 30 minutes (most of which was spent filling out paperwork). My arm is pretty sore and I am slightly fatigued but over all I’m doing OK with it. My KOC (Knight of the Old Code) gets his on Monday. We decided to get them before we head up to the northern part of the state for Christmas holidays with kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids. We’ll be spending 3 days 2 nights in order to get ’round to visit the families. I am looking forward to spending a holiday with the kids for the first time in 15 years. But oh my I am exhausted just thinking about it.
With the winter holiday season in full swing, many Spoonies, myself included, suffer from lack. Lack of sunlight, lack of energy, lack of funds, lack of joy. It’s easy to get caught up in all that we can no longer do. To look at the neighbor’s perfectly decorated tree shining through a picture window and feel something less than happy. It’s been hard this year. I’m in serious spoon deficit (exhaustion) from weeks of over-extending myself with the move. I’m easily overwhelmed by the glitz and hubbub that surrounds the season. But, with a few meltdowns, and several reminders that happiness is a choice, I’m content with my evergreen swag on the entryway, my wee lemon cedar “tree,” a tiny poinsettia and cards from prior years strung as a garland. It is enough.
As I prepare to celebrate Yule, the coming of the light, the return of the sun, I remember the words of that Zen Master of Magic – Albus Dumbledore “Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times if one only remembers to turn on the light.”
The sky wears a shroud as the Sun hides his face beneath a cloak of grey Where is the blue to brighten my day A squirrel runs along a branch outside my kitchen window I watch as he scurries, his long tail twitching and quivvering with excitement and I smile, I laugh today I choose happiness
Ingrid is hosting Dverse Poetics this week and has asked us to write from a place of pain keeping in mind Wordsworth’s definition of poetry as “emotion recollected in tranquility.” While I realize that for most people, this probably speaks to us of emotional pain, I’m taking a bash at the tranquil recollection of lessons learned from physical pain.
“I need my pain!” Capt. James T. Kirk
Pain is Like an Old Friend
In the cold and rain, old injuries ache with the phantom memories of pain like an old relation, it comes unbidden reminding me of times better forgotten
I have felt the hurling force and the white hot lance of fire as a bullet ripped through the meager protection of flesh
I have felt bones snap and break as blood vessels ruptured from crushing impact before blessed pain rendered me unconscious
Yes, pain is an old friend, an unwanted guest mostly you smile and endure until the visit is over But sometimes, if you listen very carefully, you glean bits of unparalleled truth and flashes of enlightenment
Every scar, every ache is a reminder that I am stronger than everything that has ever tried to kill me, it is a part of me my spirit has been hammered on the anvil of life and tempered in the fires of pain and I have learned
I learned to see the world in all it’s lush beauty and stark despair, and to love them both, but mostly I learned to love the woman I am today After all, I went through a helluva lot to become her
Greetings friends, I’ve been absent for awhile so today I’m linking up to the earthweal open link weekend. We’re piecing our lives back together here at chez spoons after a catastrophic hail storm dropped baseball-sized mortar fire on our tiny house. But, as always, we rise and we begin … again.
Begin … again
The marigolds blossomed
and grew like small shrubs
a blaze of rich color
in fading summer glory
I watched the storm gather
as bolts of pure energy
illuminated the clouds
tiny supernovas in the sky
Thunder rolled, lightning struck
the air grew cold
as the winds picked up
and the barrage began
What could I say after it was done
years of dreams lay shattered
like the shards of glass
strewn across the floor
I am reminded that
the important things in life
aren't things at all
and all we have is right now
this tiny moment in time
to be together and it is enough
so we rise and begin ... again
I hold a peach in my hand the sweet scent lifts my spirits with all the promise of summer blackberries growing wild sparkle like obsidian jewels in the dry summer sun plum butter rich and thick on a freshly-baked scone I close my eyes, the explosion of sensations color my spirit as I taste the gifts of Gaia catching a stray crumb with my tongue I sigh with gratitude and contentment thank you for the flavors thank you, thank you, thank you
We arrived in Cincinnati, Ohio a few weeks ago. Oh lucky me, just in time for the cicada apocalypse. The 17-year cicadas emerged, there were billions of them, everywhere. Yes, at least one got caught in my hair …. eeeeeeekkkkk! (why yes, I do scream and dance around like a little girl). What bothered me the most was the constant noise of the beasties. I also recently read “The Ragged Edge of Silence” by John Francis, so I was more and more shocked at how much “noise” occupies my world and how I yearn for a single silent moment.
Til next time ~Stay Wild Moonchild (quiet but wild)