Small Slice of Solace

Dew drops glisten on tufts of grass.

Tiny clear jewels, they sparkle and glisten. 

Birch trees canopy the surrounding grass, familiar ghosts upon this land. 

Water gurgles from the fountain. 

Cars whizz by. A blue bird rests upon a branch, he flies away. 

A small slice of solace to this noisy day. 

A Day in August ~ Dolphins

Ocean waters hug at my feet and legs, 

pull me into the ocean.

The waves tease–

as I edge away, I tease back, hair flowing wild with the wind. 

I stand there looking out at the vast ocean, 

lost in my thoughts that are blank and serene.

The waves crash upon the shore, run like white horses. 

I continue walking along, 

feeling my feet with each step, secured in the wet sand. 

And then, something catches my vision, out of the corner of my eye. 

A fin. Two fins. Then three!

Then I see clearly, not too far from the shore, 

a group of dolphins swimming along with the waves, 

being playful with each other. I can't take my eyes from them, 

and I think this is the first time they've been so close. 

All the other beach goers close in, cameras in hand. 

We all watch in awe as the dolphins swim on by. 

Smiles

Things that made me smile today:

Being in the shower and feeling the onset of a migraine begin to subside after taking a pill.

The raindrops on my truck.

Knowing there was rain on the way to help with the fires in Tahoe, Yosemite, Weed, and other places that need Mother Nature’s help.

The fluffy clouds and the grey clouds. I saw a Scott dog in the folds of the thick white mass.

Approaching a stop light and pausing to watch a little girl and her mother walk through the crosswalk; the little girl began skipping, then her mother joined as the skipped on by.

Getting to work and saying hello to Shorty the plant through the window as I always do.

The quote of the day: “The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched—they must be felt with the heart.” –Helen Keller

Art of the day: Claude Monet’s Cabin of the Customs Watch, 1882 – Oil on canvas. A cabin nestled seaside overlooking the ocean, lovely tones of moss green, sea greens and blues, and sail boats a plenty.

At the end of my shower thinking about the old adage that laughter is the best medicine and thinking how lucky I am to get a dose every day from my husband. : )

Dropping the soap and laughing instead of cursing. 

Reading the first few pages of a miniature prayer book that I got at the Carmel Mission Inn…reminds me of my grandmother, my angel.

And the day has only begun.

More smiles to come. : )

Playtime ~ Living in the Moment

Recently we visited with my hubby's cousin and her husband. Their 4 1/2 year old boy is hubby's Godson and my buddy. When I write about him, I refer to him as Little A. 

If I haven't seen him for a while, he takes a few seconds to come out of his shell and then he gets chatty, tells me what he's been up to and asks me to play. It usually doesn't take him long to want to play together, so I don't often visit with the "adults" for very long. I've always had a sense of this; I enjoy playing with Little A. But this last time when we were down in his play room, his daddy came in for a refreshment for himself and hubby. Hubby came along to see how Little A. and I were doing and to say hello. His daddy said to me that Little A. said that whenever I come over I only talk to him. Hubby turned to daddy and asked if he said that just to clarify; and daddy said no, Little A. said it. We looked at Little A. and he smiled and gave a small squirm of his body to confirm that he had indeed made this observation. 

I admit that hearing it said out loud made me feel a tad self-conscious. I do visit with the adults and when we sit down to eat, naturally there is conversation; but, yes, I suppose it's mostly true, and it seems that Little A. talks to me the most when I'm there too. He engages me, and together we go into his world of play.

So we played. I always follow his lead. We baked cakes, played store, tended to injured stuffed animals, rode on the sea, escaped pirates, went on a safari, and nearly missed putting all the animals away to avoid a big storm. 

As we were winding down, sitting across from each other, out of the blue Little A. says to me, "girls are bossy and make rules; boys don't. But your not bossy." I repeated his statement back to him just to make sure I heard him right. "But your not bossy, Auntie Rebbecca." I smiled inside. It was nice not being lumped in with bossy girls that make rules for the space of time I'm with him. We just play and have fun and giggle and let our imaginations run wild. 

Playing with Little A., there is no other choice but to live in the wonderful, present moment.

In the Moment

I love the smell of fresh cut grass. As I cross the street, reach the other side, the grass at the park takes hold of me, causes me to sit a while. I then see three birds playing tag with each other, circling the young pine trees; a mother pushing her child in a stroller; crepe myrtles with pink florets in bloom. I inhale the fresh scent of grass, breathing in and out, feeling grounded and connected to the day. 

Little Somethings

birch trees

stand like white ghosts

their leaves sway

whispering secrets to the wind

&

A little brown bird swoops in, pecks daintily at the earth, scratching his feathers, not minding my presence one bit.

&

A crow off in the distance staring into the grass, looking for some treat.

The trees continue their conversation with the wind.

The crow swaggers along the path to a different patch of grass. His beautiful, black body holds my gaze, he shimmers in the sun's light, as the image melds–the breeze, the grass, the little bird, the stranger who has joined me on this bench. We sit in silence.

the silence breaks by the caw-caw of the crow; 

he flies to his tree, 

sounds his siren again, 

echoes ripple back;

the scent of dry earth and bark perfume the air–

caught by the breeze.   

Blank Bliss

There are only ten more days until tax season comes to an end. I feel guilty each year because I don't put in as much time as the others. There were years that I did, but I listen to my body. Even though I'm younger than the other two, their body's seem more able to withstand the long days. But then I remind myself of my capacity to support our small team with all things administrative and with basic tax return input, and really there isn't enough that I can do to work into the wee hours of the night as they do and they don't' seem to mind. And I know they appreciate the help I am able to give. I try to keep things in order, and so I put in my time as best I can.

This will be the first year of all the years I've been there, that I will only have gone in for one weekend and that will probably be this coming weekend. Maybe not both days; it will depend on where we're at. I wanted to go in last weekend, but I wasn't feeling well and stayed in bed both days.

This is also the first year where I've noticed that I'm not worrying as much. Usually, I would fret at how much work there was still to do and stress myself out. I would bring these worrying thoughts home with me and into my dreams. This year, I am just working through one thing at a time, sometimes juggling different tasks when the boss needs me to stop what I'm doing to do this or that.

I've gone in earlier in the mornings than my usual flexible part-time schedule, and so I've chosen to set my morning writing aside. Instead, I have dipped into whichever book calls to me from my windowsill in the mornings for a few moments; at night I dip into at least three and sometimes five, reading a few pages from each of my darlings.

For the first time in a long time, I found myself without thought, and it felt like a stranger. I often try to take advantage of moments where I can just be, such as waiting in a long line, walking, sitting, shopping, driving. And so last night in class, it happened during break. I usually take my journal out or read from a book I've brought, and sometimes I just sit there and listen to the hum of voices. Break went a little longer, so I sat there longer, not fidgeting, just sitting and being aware of my body and of my breath–in, out; in, out; breathing deeply from my belly, effortlessly; I rested my gaze upon the chalkboard, and then in between breaths, I realized that I was blank, there were no thoughts. I couldn't believe it. I had to stand back from within myself and make sure I was seeing what I was seeing in my mind, which was nothing. What a beautiful and rare occurrence. It felt good. I continued to sit quietly in that moment with the wave of voices that seemed to be one voice in the sea of individual voices. I was enveloped in blank bliss.

Cutting Melon

More at one with the knife, no longer tentative in how I cut through the flesh, I've grown to welcome the mornings that I cut melon. I take that round of juiciness, scoop the seeds out of the center; juices trail down my hands, the aroma rises in sweet explosion, I cut it down to manageable slices. When my slices have been cut, I take the knife, hold each slice tenderly in my palm, cut the melon flesh away in two motions: first slice–toward the center; turn, second slice toward the center, release. Chop to size.

As I was slicing through the melon, I thought of how my grandfather would slice an apple at the table, or rather skin an apple. He would end up with one perfect peel all in one piece. I liked watching him manuver the knife carefully and gracefully around that apple. He had time. No rushes. No other distractions. Just him, the apple, smiles, whiskers–and his granddaughter watching intently–part of the moment.

As I finished up with the melon, I was also breathing deeply and intentionally, as I am now. I could tell that the day was going to be filled with bustle. I needed more calm. I selected a CD that I usually play when I need to relax even more, to take my energy down a notch. And so I breathe. The music plays. I hear a chime in the distance that causes me to feel the stillness within; the instruments lull me toward a balanced day. I relax. I breathe...

Two Moments: Lentils and Pansy Amongst Calm Pebbles

The other day I made lentil soup only I didn’t add any seasonings other than salt and later other vegetables.  I’ve come to accept that I like lentils best simmered in salted water with lots of garlic cloves.

When I began, I poured the lentils into the strainer to sift through and take out the bad ones; I lost myself into the calm. Fingers sweeping carefully, feeling the lightness in these humble legumes all the while wondering am I being too picky? There are lentils that are not suited to be included and must be tossed because they appear damaged, but then there are others that are in between. Sifting and sifting, I am as though in a rock garden, raking my lentils, admiring the pale green skin of these legumes.

It’s time.

I’ve sifted enough, taken possibly longer than was necessary to enjoy the moment of being fully attentive to these lentils. I put the colander under the running water to rinse and yet another mingling with these legumes, heavier with the weight of the water, bathing and readying them for the pot of water.

I like taking photos with my camera—and also with pen, pencil, paper, napkins—with words. I like seeing emotions through my camera and also with words. I like taking pictures; seeing images—creating images with my whole being, filtering what I see through to—in my heart, my gut, down my spine, to my arms—causing my hand to move into motion.

I like taking photos with words and with my camera.  One informs the other.

This is my second pansy photo. The feeling from both is slightly different for me. The colors, the flowers in the background, the angles, close or far, sun drenched or partially shady. I call this one Zen Pansy because it reminds me of a Japanese rock garden. I noticed the small rocks when I was taking the photo and I was being sure to include them in the composition, but when I later viewed the photo at home, that’s when I really felt the tranquility and I saw the rock garden and I had that same feeling as with the lentils earlier in the week.

I love rocks and pebbles—earth—and I saw and felt the presence in these two separate moments—small but significant pebbles.

**

lentils in pebbles
pebbles in lentils
she sifts and rakes
calm pansy—
rock garden within