Today is your big moment. Moments, really. The life you’ve been waiting for is happening all around you. The scene unfolding right outside your window is worth more than the most beautiful painting, and the crackers and peanut butter that you’re having for lunch on the coffee table are as profound, in their own way, as the Last Supper. This is it. This is life in all its glory, swirling and unfolding around us, disguised as pedantic, pedestrian non-events. But pull off the mask and you will find your life, waiting to be made, chosen, woven, crafted.
~ Shauna Niequist
I don’t know where to start, what to write. In this time of “lock and load,” what should the focus of a blog post be? Other subjects that have become part of the usual news continue to float by via television, radio, email alerts, and social media. Healthcare, net neutrality, the latest tweets, under-the-radar cuts in funding to programs that help prevent teen pregnancies, immigration, the drug crisis that we’re overlooking (one in eight Americans are alcoholics) as well as the one everyone is talking about (opiates), climate change, and a hundred or more other things. On a local level, they’ve repaired Salisbury University’s carillon bells, lots of local folks donated to Rising Tide’s school supply drive, a Blue Zones Project could be coming to our area, and today is the final day of the White Marlin Open in Ocean City. Life goes on, doesn’t it?
Outside, the sky is blue. Clouds drift by on the horizon. Trees sway in the wind. Rabbits have taken over the ranch, reproducing like mad this year. At dawn and dusk you’ll spot as many as 20-30 rabbits across the front lawn and driveway. Little Doe and her twins usually visit in the mid-morning hours, and sometimes again just at or after sunset. We saw our first possum the other night. I hope s/he was eating a lot of ticks while out and about and exploring our front lawn.
The new hydrangea we planted in the spring is blooming, the flowers going from white to pink. The zinnias are hardy and numerous. The sunflowers never did come up. Or if they did, someone (a bunny, most likely) ate them. The knock-out roses recovered from the beetle invasion. They are thriving and blooming, and being visited on occasion by hummingbirds. That reminds me that I need to make more food for the hummingbird feeders. The recipe is one part sugar to four parts water. No dyes. Just sugar and water.
Inside, the computer mouse is driving me a little crazy lately with its clicking frenzy (acting as if I double and triple clicked on things). I’ll replace it soon. I should be working on a photo book to organize and save some of my photos. That was the plan for this afternoon, and the coupon for the book expires at midnight tonight. I’m procrastinating, wondering if it is worth the bother. Will anyone in the family want the pictures/book?
On a semi-related note, I have been sorting through photographs (prints) I picked up from my father, photos he decided to get rid of when he moved a few months ago. A lot of them are photos taken while on cruises with my mother, and I am reminded of when we went through photos and assorted other things that belonged to my mother-in-law when she was moved to a nursing home and after she died. So many photos ended up in a box in the attic. What do I do with the photos my father gave me, the photos my mother saved? It doesn’t seem right to throw them away. It doesn’t seem right to keep them in the attic where someday my own children might discover them and have to decide what to do with them. Passing on the decision with the photographs might be an unfair thing to do.
I have been thinking a lot about death lately. Not because of anything in the news, mind you. Two friends are in the midst of possibly losing their mothers (cancer) and it’s brought back feelings about my own mother’s death. Renewed the mourning, perhaps, although not with the strength of when it was recent. I wonder, sometimes, what our conversations might have been like if we’d been able to have conversations during her final days. She was kept sedated (unconscious) during her last days because of the pain. I still talk to her from time to time. And sometimes, in my heart, I hear her responses. Still, it would have been nice to be able to say a few I love yous and goodbyes. We had good conversations before Mom reached that stage and I love yous were said, so maybe I’m being greedy in the wanting of more of them.
M and I have been talking about our own deaths although not death itself. We need to redo our wills. We did them so long ago and far away, when our youngest son would have needed a guardian. At the age of 32, he’s well past that need now (some might argue with that…lol!). A lot has changed since then.
Also inside, my healthier lifestyle is going well. I’ve improved some numbers and will have to wait a while to see what’s going on with the rest. Physically, I’m feeling better than I have in a long time. It must be all the summer fruits and vegetables I’ve been eating. The yoga, meditation, and exercise are contributors to that feeling of well-being, too. I’m on the last day of a fast-mimicking diet. I read this great article about intermittent fasting and decided to give it a try. This was a test run. It’s something I’d like to do during the change of seasons, perhaps. The fast-mimicking diet is easier than full out fasting, and may be the best way for me to go about it.
I think that’s about it from me and from the Wabi-Sabi Ranch on this lovely Friday. They say we might have thunderstorms this evening. The clouds have been thickening throughout the afternoon. We might still see a good sunset. Let’s meet at the Point to find out. Sunset this evening is at 8:01 PM. I’ll be there early, as usual, just to see what’s going on. Even if it’s too cloudy for a sunset, it will be nice to visit the beach.
Thank you for stopping by. Be good, be kind, be loving. Just Be. 🙂
A few of the 10,000 reasons to be happy: 246) Buttermint tea. I just discovered it at the store the other day. It’s a mint and vanilla tea, and there is something buttery about it (no, there is no butter in it). 247) The incredible magic and beauty of the ordinary. 248) A desire to pick up the camera again. I’d lost it for a while. 249) Fully present most of the time, which might be the same as saying/writing “fully alive.” 250) Fog stretched out across the meadows in the early morning hours. It’s one of those subtle and early signs of a waning summer.