Into the Chill (how my cold hands n feet stayed warm)

(Disclaimer: the links are for those who want to know what gear I am talking about... I have accumulated it over the years, and bought most of the pieces on clearance sales. If I were shopping today I might try Campmor. They often have bargain prices.)

Yesterday at 3pm a good new habit kicked in... the urge to go for a walk hit me.

The temp was a single digit. 1.... below. This is how to stay warm: I slipped another long john (cuddleduds) over my silks, swapped my jeans for insulated ski bibs, and added a light hoodie to my thermal top. I slipped a second insole into my McMurdos (I got them a size too big to allow for extra layers).

My head warmed with a bacalava, the hoodie, and a railroad cap, I put up the hood of my winter coat and put on my toaster mittens, and I was ready. BiL and I grabbed our hiking poles along with some water (just in case) and walked into the fine snowfall. We had not gotten far when BiL went back for an extra top layer. I paced to get my heart rate up while I waited. He rejoined me, and we headed along Pistol Road. My vague goal was the mailbox, 2.5 miles away, but neither of us knew if even one of us would make it. As we walked along, I realized I was enjoying my self-created warmth all the way down to my toes! This is really unusual for me... I am always the one cramming toe warmers into my boots when I ski.

BiL had decided to keep walking with me beyond his usual turn around point. What I did not know was that as I was adding base layers, he simply had worn his jeans. He kept saying "keep talking to me, Rox, and if I don't think about it, I can walk farther." The farther we walked, the greater the depth of ice on the road. And, not unexpectedly, by the time we got to the pasture, we were feeling a light wind, but that's all it took to ache any exposed skin.

BiL's titanium knee was hurting with each step by this time, but there was nothing to do but go on once we crossed the tracks. We picked up the pace as much as we dared on the ice, got the mail, and hurried back over the tracks... we DID NOT want to get stuck by the trains that regularly stop there to share the pass's rail space with oncoming engines and their loads. Thank God, no trains came and we cleared them. The winter sun, already dim behind the snowclouds, was beginning to set, dusk coming on.

In the eerie half-light, a deep point on my hip told me about the dropping temperature with every step, even tho I did not feel cold at all. I was breaking a sweat beneath all my layers and felt very comfortable otherwise. I could only imagine the discomfort of my honey, several paces ahead of me most of the time, hurrying to relief that he knew waited next to our woodstove.

We made it, and my thoughts along the way kept going in amazement to those who have lived in these conditions with so much less comfort clothing. Our plains ancestors, and those who lived through these Montana winters in so many years past, were not taking walks for exercise or self-challenge. They were out there, finding water, hunting, feeding livestock, and keeping the home fires burning daily, to bring about a future. From the earliest residents in their lodges, to the settlers and miners, I thought about what a short step of time it was from their tracks to mine. How well would I survive day to day without the ease of the well, the furnace, the grocery store, and the car? Would I? While we baked pizza, we checked the thermometer... 6 below. We'd been out 2 hours.

When we had come in, we had brought a basket of wood up with us for the fire. I thought I would keep it burning through the night, but the fresh air must have relaxed me to the core, as I got the best night's sleep in recent memory. Just six hours after I went to bed I got up feeling fully rested, and built the first fire of the -14 morning.

And here I sit, looking out at fine snow continuing to drift down, anticipating Christmas shopping with a high forecast at -1. The shopping is BiL's idea. I know what gear I will be wearing.

Tree of Life project

Check it out... the close to final pics of all that stained glass I have been working on:)

White dreams

BiL has twice had the experience of reading his fiction book, and looking up and noting that what he is reading is happening outside. Tonight it was the wind, coming up. Oh good. He's reading about a blizzard. Hey, I'm for it.

Our autumn, except for a bountiful October snowstorm, has skimped on the white stuff. It makes me get the creepy crawlies, smelling the air for snow as if that will make it come. I have this gnawing feeling that it should be well snowed here by now, but the only consistent snowcover is on our driveway and on the upper roads. The slopes are spotty, more than half the ground with the tall brown grasses exposed. Hunting season has been expanded to give hunters the advantage on the elk still lingering at the high altitudes. Temperatures are cold enough... nighttime lows in the teens, highs in the 30's, but the moisture goddess is holding back, teasing us with clouds or hiding out altogether, chased by the the sun of the shortening days.

I should be thankful, a drive to Nebraska shortly in my future. I'll be delivering the stained glass piece I have been working on for so long, as well as tying up the final ends (I hope) of Dad's estate and (best of all) seeing some friends and family on the plains. I have driven that way, my knuckles white with tension on the icy stretches of Buffalo and Sheridan, and I am happy to think I might cruise along safely on dry roads this time, coming and going.

But here, at home, a little snowpack on the road leaves me wanting more. The wind is still dancing outside. 'Time now to bring in some more wood and stoke up the fire.

Thanks

I had a rare time of thanks Friday morning. I was doing a bit of reading (Lessons in Truth... Cady) and I was moved to put the book down, lean back in my chair and cast my eyes to the pines in the east. I started going along, remembering each of the patients I had been working with that week, visualizing them in light and praying thanks for God's perfection within each one.

Whew! It was a powerful exercise, and one that I simply was led to do. 'One of those profound moments, you know? What was really precious to me, was that the chain of focus continued, moving along like prayer beads, from one face in my mind to the next, and it did not stop when I finished my patients. It went on to my co-workers, my sweet BiL, my sons, grandchildren, sister, family gone on, friends, etc.

I have noticed that when I let myself go deeply into the prayer time, it takes on a life of its own, pulsates and flows. When it does this it forms a presence of thanks. I don't know that it gets better than that. Not from this end, anyway.

So here you go, each one of you (and you know who you are)... the wonder and delight of the Divine in you blesses me endlessly. I thank you for it. I mean, I really, deeply thank you for every word, thought, movement, dream, breath and more that you ever have or will share with me.

This Thanksgiving, if you eat, may every bite and taste be well with you. If you serve, may you receive 10 times the love you put forth.

Days of the Dead

I don't get to church every Sunday, but today was one that I did. Beginning the day this way did what I think community worship does at its best... sets the pace for the rest of the day.

Our minister spoke on Dec. 22, 2012, the day which will follow the day currently being discussed with a degree of foreboding. He is really pretty excited about it, as the more he studies these things (sacred geometry, quantum physics, bioscience, etc.) the more potential, and thus hope, he sees, and listening to him it is easy to catch his enthusiasm. This week I even took notes... this guy covers too much ground in each talk for me to remember it all by ear.

We had the traditional first Sunday of the month potato bake, and even tho those taters did not get fully cooked, they were edible and the company was good. I got 3 extras and took them to Josh and his roomies (I knew Josh was studying hard today and would not have much time to eat).

I had ideas about going up to the cliff to the east and praying about the nation when I got home, but a rain was just beginning and instead, I did my praying from the shelter of our house here. BiL is gone today and it is unusually quiet here, so after that I napped a bit, and then got up and turned on the the internet, going over some emails I'd not had time to look deeply into earlier.

One of them was about the Children's Global Peace Project. http://www.cgpp.org/
It really touched my heart, and now, as the rain is coming down hard through the darkness outside, I feel like I have invested this day the best way I could, bringing my attention to community, to Spirit, to hope.

I have been reading "Lessons in Truth" this week, too, getting back to a daily meditation time. Why is it so easy to let what really matters slip under the weight of daily lists and errands?

One of the other things mentioned in the message in church this morning was the following of Halloween (all about fear) by All Hallow's Day (all about our spiritual helpers) and the Day of the Dead (all about remembering the gifts of our ancesters, the wisdom, the deeds, etc.)
And here is an interesting idea... that when we read the writings of one passed on, we 'reincarnate' what made them tick.

Wow. An idea, rethought, refreshed. Now that is a worthy thing to do with a worthy thought. Maybe I will find this week a little less challenging to do what lasts.

Peace, y'all.

Vote.

Fall ramblings

This is going to be very short... a list of things enjoyed over the weekend:
Went to Livingston, came home with a cat (a tortoise shell, 4 yrs old, named Meara) and a locally worthy bike (Specialized Rock Hopper named Gypsy)
Chopped the rest of the pallet of wood to size, loaded lots on the deck, the rest down below
Repotted plants, revamped bath area, and several kitchen drawers
Got to talk with my precious ones (sons, daughter in love, and grandkiddos)
Played with cat a bunch
Took my maiden ride on the bike, east on Woodchuck road
Listened to the chuggles of the stream
Was amazed at the crisp chill of air
Was equally amazed at the Hoary Comma butterfly that settled in the sawdust

And so it goes

With over a foot of snow last weekend, and no plowing done from our road association (roads are still too soft to handle the big blade), we have been getting more than our share of exercise, scooping snow, spreading wood ashes and such. When not scooping or hauling wood, I have been working on my masterwork (she teaches me every time I attend her) glass piece, and I am going to attempt a photo of that here. You will see some pieces not yet foiled in the upper part of the tree, left side as you look at it. Anyway, just so you know, this has been my venture in art for the past year or so. It actually helps keep me balanced, considering all the world developments.

St. Paul, Minn Sept. 1 2008

When people wonder what I am so upset about, these are the words that inspire me:

PRISONERS OF THE CAMPS

JULY 1, 1937 MARTIN NIEMOELLER, CHURCH DISSIDENT LEADER, ARRESTED Martin Niemoeller, one of main opponents of Nazi racial ideology in the Lutheran church and one of the founders of the oppositional "Confessional Church," is arrested. He is sent to the Sachsenhausen concentration camp in 1938 and spends the next seven years in concentration camps. After the war, Niemoeller's condemnation of bystanders to Nazi policies will become a call to early action. His words: "First they came for the Communists, but I was not a Communist - so I said nothing. Then they came for the Social Democrats, but I was not a Social Democrat - so I did nothing. Then they came for the trade unionists, but I was not a trade unionist. And then they came for the Jews, but I was not a Jew - so I did little. Then when they came for me, there was no one left who could stand up for me."

As those of you I most love know, I am very angry at the way the Right Wing has seen fit to abuse the constitutional rights of those who do not agree with them at the Royal .... er.... Republican Convention.

Is it surprising or disappointing to you that so little of what is happening is hitting the main news? Well, I guess if there is no glitz, flash, or pizzazz appeal, it doesn't get covered.

The waters, the leaves

I don't know where spring went. I think it slipped in and away between the last snows and the torrents of rain that have made the rivers swell around here. Walks up the hill draw our eye downward to our feet, our fingers lift the lush leaves of the plants, and we find flurries of tiny blooms that promise an assortment of berries, come the season. A month ago, as I was in Nebraska with my ailing Dad, BiL told me of a sighting of a wolf and a golden eagle on the same afternoon.
I might have known the signs, as I might have known the signs of my Dad's passing, but was I in denial, that I did not see? The lessened eating, the determination on his part that he would "never get out of here," the seeing of things he could not explain.... I thought it was all from the infection, not pre-death.
He passed, in the earliest hours of the morning following his birthday party. (He'd told my sister that it wasn't much of a party.)
From then on life has blurred, I often lose track of what day it is, I hurry along on one day, collapse inward the next.
Walks on the hills have helped me tremendously, as have a couple journeys on water in my kayak. BiL is steadfast in standing by me, whatever my demeanor at the moment.
The eagle and wolf were doing the work of cleaning up a mule deer carcass, the doe apparently having fallen of old age. I was up there today, admiring the bones, the darkened flesh, the empty eye sockets. It is graceful. It is in balance with earth, as I seek to be. A storm is trying to birth from the west but I think it is drawing north now.
A couple days this week a small hawk came and sat on our front railing. Both times I was the only one to see it. From the size, I think it to be a sharp shinned hawk. To see it up close is stunning.
If I did not believe in the power of our web of existence, I would think I was going crazy right now. Instead I mark the unique and rare as welcome companions to this time of transition.

Time off

It is, after all, the weekend, and I have to retrain myself every time I get a day off from the work I do, the work that is so much from my heart. I remember long ago, experiencing job burn out, closing my eyes to sleep and seeing the steam and water pipes of the packing house behind my eyelids before dozing off. This week it took a full day for me to drop the emotional link to the folks I get to work with.

Before I left work Friday I was already wishing I could stay longer to see a couple of people in the hospital one last time. I knew better. Yet I felt torn. I could not stop thinking about them through dinner with friends, nor through a concert later in the evening. The next morning I felt a little better. Sore joints in my hands told me I needed time off to physically recover from the rigors of the week. I was not able to be very productive, and that's fine. I realize that I need to let down time be down time, and not try to cram a days worth of cleaning into it to justify it. I did some light dusting and some serious art work. I read. All of this helped me 'let go'.

Today was even better. I slept in and it felt wonderful and nourishing. Again, I put in some glassworking time, and later in the day, was able to take a snowshoe walk with BiL. I always grumble a bit as I am putting on the gear, but once I get over the inertia (as BiL calls it) I am always delighted to be crunching along on the snow. Letting my eyes refocus on the distant snow covered hills and peaks relieves my stress in indescribable ways.

Tomorrow we may even ski. BiL tends to be an obsessive worker in his teaching, but he is also pretty incredible at knowing when to manage some break time. My thanks to him.

Live well.

I can hardly believe it has been so long since I've last checked in here. Wow. I am married now. That's huge news. But in reviewing my last entry, I want to write that I am continuing to learn from my hospice and palliative care peeps.

Imagine this, that you suddenly see the end of your personal tunnel. What do you do? Who do you call upon? And how does all of this touch those who are close to you? The answers are as many as there are individuals. Some of you reading this already have more than theoretical answers. For the rest of us, we can only suppose.

More to come.