Maybe 'blur' is more accurate.
I am looking back on the past months since my last post, and it really does seem that, but not in a bad way at all. It has been relentlessly rich.
Josh graduated in May, and all my grown boys were here together to celebrate, and as only Josh would do it, his graduation walk took place on the banks of the Boiling River. His closest friends had a fine congrats barbecue for him at their house that night. I learned once again that the emerging generation calls its own shots, sets its own way. And Josh took that another step.
After trips to high places and low in the West, he joined me in a trek to NE in July, and then went on his own quest into the Frank Church Wilderness, where he met himself so to speak (this was his goal) and came out sooner than he had planned, but understanding a greater plan at work, even tho he debates endlessly with that Power.
And while he settled back into Bozeman, and took on the shepherding of this years Bioneers presentation, I was keeping occupied with my heart's work at hospice, and several jouneys with BiL , exploring everything from the lovely Bow River in Banff, Canada, to the low running Gallatin near Belgrade. Bears and guests graced our decks and gave us plenty of stories to share.
It has been quite a summer, surprisingly social for this introvert.
Today BiL and I joined a march in town, demonstrating our strengths in the face of a fear group which is attempting to make a stand here. The march was smooth, the folks enthusiastic, and I saw many faces I knew and many more that I didn't.
I was reviewing my previous post and am musing at where it left off and where this posting begins and ends. Something in that previous post was about reformation .. community... etc.
The synchronicity knocks my socks off at times like this.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Reformation... a rambling
It is springtime here, and we are in the beginning of a lovely spring snow today. The critter, here, showed up a few days ago just outside of our front yard. It was also seen yesterday by others just up the road. The snow is deeper now, and we are expected to get up to 8 inches today. Having all this soft beauty sure makes impatience for spring greenery subside, at least till the next thaw time. And none of us will complain about the water the snows will provide to the streams, come spring and summer. Well, I guess too much at once would not be an easy way to go, but it is a natural rhythm here. Better to realize that than change it for convenience sake, I think.
Last evening Josh came over for dinner and it was lovely, but we had a humbling experience when we discovered no water from the tap! We were all thinking something wrong with the well, jumping to the most horrendous cause in our minds. It turned out, a toilet had been running awhile and had drained the lines. Once that was resolved, within minutes all was back to normal, all of us appreciating our well water's abundance that much more for it's momentary absence. We watched the last episode of Northern Exposure after that, the one fairly brimming with community love and awareness of decisions that reach out globally.
It got me thinking, about my own cultural upbringing. The tendency to jump to preparation for the worst thinkable problems, when they may never manifest; the idea that you have to be smarter than what comes along or that the world is basically a trap to snare the unwary. My present conscious thought flys in the face of this, yet the form I was raised in keeps coming up, asking to be renewed each time. Maybe this is how true change comes.... with many practices.
Reformation. I remember that word from my Lutheran catechism classes. Funny, my church was born from discontent with the status quo, of brave people willing to risk all to find a better way to be. After many years of their hard won independence, they were fighting off stagnation from familiarity. I was one of the folks who sought other expressions of my faith. My little home town church has renewed itself over the years with a new population of families, with just a few people that I knew in my youth, still there. Living things are good when circulation is freshened. Change of what is familiar can be a very good thing.
My life has really undergone some changes since I last wrote. My time and energy are consumed for the most part with my daily work, and I wonder at times if that is a good thing. I keep repeating my efforts at balance in my life, of creativity and service. I am still practicing at that. I've not yet perfected it.
As I write, I'm watching the snow swirl outside, the juncos dancing along the railings, kicking
the crushed sunflower and nyger seeds from under the snow, the crossbills and chickadees jockeying for position on the birdfeeders. As I often do, I ponder what I might glean for my own soul from what I see out there. Persistance? Community? Doing what you are born to do?And then, as my recent teacher said, sometimes the sound of rain simply means that its raining.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Tree of Life project
Check it out... the close to final pics of all that stained glass I have been working on:)
Friday, November 28, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
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.
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.
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