We've just returned from a few days away. As you may know, this is a hard time of year for me. Eight years ago, we sat with Katie as she traveled from this life into the next, right in the room above where I sit typing this now. I find that it's best for me to be out of the house on the anniversary of that day.
This year was one of the hardest, for a variety of reasons (which I'm not going to detail just now). Suffice it to say that I am grateful that August 16th has passed; grateful that we were able to go to a place where my heart knows it is safe, where body, mind and spirit can rest.
The wild west coast of Vancouver Island sings to my soul. My soul knows its song, as if I was born there, or arose from some of the same atoms of creation. It feels like home.
David flew in to be with us. It was lovely to share a few days off with him.
We walked and walked the shores of the island. Most days, we walked more than eight miles, and one day, more than nine; nine miles of walking barefoot in the sand, in the salty air and sunshine, with a light breeze caressing me. Nothing separated me from the heartbeat of the earth. It was good therapy.
When we returned from that 9-mile walk, I saw that the bottoms of my feet were indigo. A deep, dark blue stained them, yet there had been no trace of blue in the sand. Last year, we saw a huge number of indigo-colored sea creatures which had blown onto the shore, and I wondered if this stain on my feet was a residue of their appearance. No answer to that; just blue feet for about 24 hours. After several washings, the blue disappeared.
My feet have never been beautiful; I have funny-looking, tiny pinky toes and odd, clumsily-shaped large ones. The nails must be painted or you'd never know they were "girls' feet." I have had mixed feelings about them for years, thinking that they are "ugly."
Today, though, I know that they are beautiful; they can carry me nine-plus miles, bare, feeling the sand underneath, the salt, the stones and shells and all that makes up the surface of Mother Earth. Thank you, "ugly," wonderful feet, for solidly supporting me through this life. May you be blessed and healthy, able to carry me through the rest of my days.
Hokusai
says look carefully.
He says pay attention, notice.
He says keep looking, stay curious.
He says there is no end to seeing
He says look forward to getting old.
He says keep changing,
you just get more who you really are.
He says get stuck, accept it, repeat
yourself as long as it is interesting.
He says keep doing what you love.
He says keep praying.
He says every one of us is a child,
every one of us is ancient
every one of us has a body.
He says every one of us is frightened.
He says every one of us has to find
a way to live with fear.
He says everything is alive --
shells, buildings, people, fish,
mountains, trees, wood is alive.
Water is alive.
Everything has its own life.
Everything lives inside us.
He says live with the world inside you.
He says it doesn't matter if you draw,
or write books. It doesn't matter
if you saw wood, or catch fish.
It doesn't matter if you sit at home
and stare at the ants on your veranda
or the shadows of the trees
and grasses in your garden.
It matters that you care.
It matters that you feel.
It matters that you notice.
It matters that life lives through you.
Contentment is life living through you.
Joy is life living through you.
Satisfaction and strength
is life living through you.
He says don't be afraid.
Don't be afraid.
Love, feel, let life take you by the hand.
Let life live through you.
{Katsushika Hokusai was a Japanese artist who lived and worked during the 19th century; thanks to my brother for sharing this poem.}
I am a co-facilitator of the Stroll for Well-Being at the Bloedel Reserve on Bainbridge Island, and am thrilled about it.
This program was created by Ruth McCaffrey, DNP, FAAN, a professor of Nursing at Florida Atlantic University. It's my privilege to be learning from, and co-facilitating with, Ruth. She is a gem.
Ruth originally created the program for the Morikami Garden in Palm Beach County, Florida. Over 700 people have participated in it. Here is what participants have to say about the Morikami Stroll for Well-Being program:
Ruth created a customized program for the Bloedel Reserve. Today was our first of three meetings for the spring sessions (one group in the morning and one in the afternoon). Each person present received a beautiful journal, filled with inspirational quotes, ideas for reflection, maps, blank (unlined - wonderful!) pages for writing/drawing and gorgeous, full-color photographs of the Reserve. The journal itself is a treasure, but in addition, each participant also receives a one-year membership in the Reserve.
I predict that it is going to be great fun, and a healthy experience for everyone, physically, emotionally and spiritually. Both of the Spring Stroll sessions are filled, but if you are interested in joining a summertime Stroll for Well-Being, just contact Erin (ejennings@bloedelreserve.org) and she will put your name on the list.
I cannot imagine a better job for me, right now. Thank you, Ruth, Erin and Bloedel Reserve for making this possible!
My mom and I had the pleasure and privilege of traveling once again to Rancho La Puerta in Tecate, Mexico for a week of wellness, spending lots of time together, as well as following our favorite individual pursuits. It was the perfect blend of time to reflect, exercise, learn new things, deepen practices, refresh our bodies from the inside (with organic foods and balanced nutrition) to the outside (with fresh air, walking, hiking, yoga and meditation, among other classes).
We serendipitously met (and reunited with) fabulous, fascinating people, finding our second time to be more sociable than our first - perhaps that was due to our greater familiarity with the place. We shared the same lovely casita as we did last year, lighting fires in the evenings and talking, resting and reading in our little "home away from home." I enjoyed self-treating with Reiki every day, before heading out to hike at 6:10 A.M. I could so easily imagine settling there...
We both thrived at the Rancho, and are already looking forward to returning next year (if possible, by the grace of God). Gregg spent the days golfing, playing tennis, watching polo and lounging with my father in California.
We flew down via San Diego so that we could meet KBL2ORD2SAN and her belovED. Mom and I met her at the airport last year, but this year, our husbands got to join us. What a thrill, after being blogging buddies for so many years, to finally be all together "in real life!" We had a long, leisurely lunch, and left still bursting with things to talk about. Until next time...
Driving from San Diego to the Coachella Valley was a beautiful experience to share with Gregg. As we crested the top of the last hill on Highway 74, the valley unfolded before us at sunset.
Unfortunately, while we were away, my dear mother-in-law, Elaine, suffered a stroke. Elaine is 93 years old - in fact, the stroke occurred at her birthday party - and has for several years suffered from memory loss. She has been telling us for the past couple of years that she doesn't know why she is still here - she says it matter-of-factly, without self-pity or complaint.
Elaine and Ed Gerstenberger, "back in the day"
When the stroke occurred, she became paralyzed on her left side and was unable to swallow. Hospice was called, and she was moved to a nursing home with a dismal prognosis. But her miraculous body has recovered enough for her to swallow soft foods. She is sleeping a lot, but can recognize us and speak a few words at a time. We are hoping that she will be able to move back to the assisted living facility where she and Grandpa Ed normally reside, into a nursing-care unit. As for now, it is day-by-day, with lots of family in attendance, sitting by her bedside and driving Grandpa back and forth to see her. Fortunately, they raised four wonderful kids (now adults, with families of their own) who love her deeply, and are all doing their best to care for her and Grandpa.
I can hardly believe that it's been so long since we've spent time together - reflecting, savoring, sharing moments of meaning. I have missed you so very much, and it feels absolutely wonderful to sit down with you again.
I don't know where to begin. I have kept so much inside, unable to write here due to time constraints, but my photo albums are full of images which tell stories of the past few months when you and I have been apart. I will try to summarize, and begin anew. It is still January, after all.
We went to Palm Desert for Thanksgiving and my mother's birthday...
cut our tree at the tree farm...
spent Christmas with our Gerstenberger family...
and Boxing Day with some of our Boren family...
and New Year's Day at the park with friends...
and now, Gregg is back at work, as am I, and David continues his search for permanent work.
I have been busy with the Core Team of Field's End Writers' Community, and am a new member of the Bainbridge Island Public Library's Board. We held the annual Board retreat at a place called Yonder - if you've never been there, do check it out. It was a beautiful, peaceful place to begin the year's work.
It's going to be a season filled with new opportunities, responsibilities and relationships - and I am thankful for it.
To every one who has served in the military forces for the United States of America, Thank you. I know that "freedom isn't free." We cannot "catch" it from others, and it is not "given" to all human beings to live in a free country. Though each of us has freedom within (as unique creations of our Creator), not everyone has the privilege to live freely. For that privilege in this time and place, paid for by your sacrifice, dear veterans, I thank you.
The last time I visited the Bloedel Reserve, I was rewarded with the pleasure of rich, intense colors of the remaining leaves on deciduous trees, and the patterns they created on the ground. I expect that the next visit will reveal many changes wrought by the high winds and heavy rains of autumn.
Just now, we are enjoying gorgeous, cold, clear days here in Western Washington. This was the view as the setting sun painted high clouds a tender pink, and a lone boat struggled against wind, whitecaps and current.
The wind caused widespread power outages that day.
On Saturday morning, I awoke early to this sunrise view...
It was a perfect day for a trip to Port Townsend. We never tire of walking through that town and the surrounding area.
This is the view looking over the old military buildings and parade ground. If it looks familiar, you might be remembering it from the movie, "An Officer and a Gentleman." Mt. Rainier looms on the horizon, faintly visible and wreathed in clouds.
If you had to make a caption for this photo, what would it be?
The deer were enjoying an apple-feast under that tree; not timid at all!
We walked around the marinas, and admired the craftsmanship of many wooden boats, especially the sailing ship Adventuress.
We saw tiles with messages from supporters of the maritime center.
Good advice.
I colorized the mermaid tile using Picasa.
I am thankful that Gregg and I still have so much fun doing something which is free of charge and open to anyone, which we enjoyed from the very first days we met. There is something comforting in the fact that, as much as our lives have changed during these 25+ years, this simple pleasure remains for us to enjoy again and again, in different places, seasons and moods.
We went to a superb event on Saturday evening, hosted by Field's End. New York Times best-selling author Ann Hood came to Bainbridge Island and gave a writing workshop in the afternoon. In the evening, we gathered to hear four excellent actors read from her wonderful book, Knitting Yarns (a collection of essays, edited by Ms. Hood). After the reading, she spoke about the book, about her life, and about how she came to be interested in knitting; she was gracious, funny, witty, and engaging. After that, we gathered in the bistro next door for a fun, informal reception and book-signing.
Ann Hood is also the author of Comfort, a memoir about her life after the passing of her daughter, Grace. I read it after Katie died; it was a deep, beautifully written, stirring book. Who could have guessed that I might have the privilege of meeting its author a few years later, of looking her in the eyes and telling her, mother to mother, that I had been moved by her work?
Knitting Yarns is about so much more than knitting - its stories include family, life-changes, pets, community, gender roles and more. Gregg and I laughed until we cried, nodded in agreement, and listened with pleasure as each actor brought to life the voice of a character who had something vital to say about the craft of knitting. Do check it out, even if you are not a knitter.
Being a new member of the Field's End Core Team is already enriching my life and stimulating my imagination. Everyone has been welcoming, and I am excited about the possibilities ahead.If you live locally, check out the upcoming offerings at www.fieldsend.org!
My grandfather, Morton, in the library
Meeting Ann Hood is one of many serendipitous things that have happened since I started working through The Artist's Way (serendipity is one of the effects predicted by Julia Cameron, author of AW). I have been busy writing, listening, studying, observing, and reflecting. My (waking and sleeping) dream-life is richer than it was before - another of Julia Cameron's predictions for those who are practicing The Artist's Way.
Nana Emilie in the library
Memories swim up to the surface from deep down in the depths of consciousness. Perhaps this is why, today, I remembered a small item which used to sit on my grandfather's desk in his library. He and my grandmother were avid readers and book collectors.
Morton's desk
It was a ceramic paperweight, very simple, made in the shape of an open book. Someone had written these words in rough black letters on the white-glazed pages:
Do more than look; observe.
Do more than read; absorb.
I wish I had thought to keep this paperweight after my grandparents' passing. I read the words dozens of times, and yet forgot all about it - until today. Wondering where the quote originated, I looked online, and Google revealed the source:
Do more than exist; live. Do more than touch; feel.
Do more than look; observe.
Do more than read; absorb.
Do more than hear; listen.
Do more than listen; understand.
Do more than think; ponder.
Do more than talk; say something. - John H. Rhoades
Wise words, suggesting an intentional approach to living - to move beyond the superficial and go a step farther, deeper. This led to a search for photos of the home where my mother grew up. The house is still standing, but the property has been subdivided, so the orchard is gone.
My grandmother designed this house in every detail (with an architect's help), including the recycled brick
The entry hall, with portrait of my great-great grandmother
The staircase my mother descended on her way to her wedding in the garden
My brother and me with Nana Emilie on the south side of the garden.
Living room
More living room
I loved this house for its exquisite, understated beauty; it informed and shaped my taste in furnishings and interior design, and inspired me to study the subject.
And yet more living room
I'm grateful to my grandparents for their love of books, beauty, education, culture and their appreciation of all of the arts, which they freely shared with us. I'm thankful to have happy memories of this house - including the recently rediscovered wisdom of John H. Rhoades.
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