I forget how vast this country is, how rapidly the topography changes as we speed down the highway I forget within this vastness lays great variety of how daily living plays out None better, simply different.
I forget how our forefathers struggled to inhabit this land and how the cruelties of climate, geography and wild elements challenged them
I forget how close to the land my own ancestors lived; myself preferring to live in the realms of books and travel
I forget the value of the farmland, as I suspect many who live in an urban environment have similar remissions of thought
I fear that collectively we have forgotten how much we need each other Those in the rural farmlands Those in the denser urban areas Those who work the land Those who study intellectual matters Those who perform manual labor Those who design and build Those who teach Yes, collectively we need each other
While traveling, I’m reminded of my life Of how blessed I am Of the family and many friends Who have enriched me and contribute to how rich my life is
News continues to bombard me I suspect others might say they forget the stories of their youth I forget the stories where people fought and sacrificed To create the freedoms I consider part of my life No one tells those stories anymore
What important truths or stories have been pushed out of your mind? Please feel free to share your thoughts.
Awaking early, I couldn’t go back to sleep. An unease hung in the air, which I couldn’t explain. The steady drip, drip, drip of tension has been raining down on us for months. Some go about their days, seemingly oblivious to the erosion of values supposedly held dear by Americans. Others witness this degradation occurring, but cannot process it nor know how to act. Public conversation rarely occurs. People are cautious about their speech and who they are open with. I suspect other homes are as abuzz as ours when the doors are closed, though I do not know what their conversations are.
I feel the need to prepare myself for the days ahead. Yet I do not know what that means, or how to prepare. I expect things to get worse. Much worse.
My hubby asked me if I was anxious. I had no solid answers for his question. Instead, I told him of my feelings. You know the feeling you get when you are on a steep roller-coaster. The whole time the car is slowly edging to the top, you feel the anticipation or dread building within your whole being. Then, many times, the car stops at the top, leaving you suspended in space hanging above the steep drop. In an instant, you are hurtling down the steep drop at record speeds. You scream. Everyone does. Then the ride levels out and gradually slows to a stop. You get out, laughing, barely able to catch your breath or your balance, and finally recognize that you’ll be okay. Right now, I identify with the stage where the car is slowly edging to the top, to pause, suspended in space before dropping. Just not sure how safe the fall will be, not sure what life will look at the bottom, or if I’ll even stand.
It seems to me that the warning signs have been presented to us for months. With each passing event, the acts become more brazen. I listen to people bemoaning how we may be losing our democracy. This morning, I awoke to news that the National Guard and the Marines are in the streets of Los Angeles. Really? Losing our democracy? It is safer to say that the ship has already sailed. It is gone. People think we can return to something. How? Nothing goes backwards.
I have no vision of what is forthcoming, or knowledge of what it will be, or how it will materialize. Yet I believe once the burning is complete, something will arise from the ashes.
I consider we are in for some hard times. Again, I’m uncertain what that means, what it looks like, or how it will affect me and my family. My goal is to continue to focus on individuals, to bring peace and love to those around me. My hubby and I will continue to encourage and support one another. Both of us feel the tension of these days and recognize how important it is to be gentle with one another, to keep seeking things we enjoy, things that bring us peace and contentment.
This won’t happen, but how I would like to awake from this nightmare and declare, “This is not real life,” then sigh and enjoy a sun-filled day.
Traditions Just the word evokes many thoughts Different for each of us Impact of these thoughts is equally dissimilar Some individuals become melancholy Others upbeat and joyful
The word suggests something one can count on Yet in truth, traditions reflect change
My granny baked an abundant assortment of cookies Enjoyed by all, with each of us having our favorites I took my favorite and ensured it was made every year Thus, my children were introduced to my favorite for the Christmas season Then their children delighted in these same little delicate sweets
Each of these children have carried some traditions from my home to their own Adding new twists and turns creating something unique for their families
No littles at my house for the holidays Yet these little green trees still get pulled from the oven to be enjoyed by others An adult grandchild, with children of her own Requested her gift be a box of these cookies for her family
I smile How my granny would be honored to know These little gems she so readily baked Are still being enjoyed five generations later
As seeds lay under the soil until condition are right, so my next work has been slowly preparing to unfurl.
My first blog post for January, I said:
with a clean slate and a grateful heart I have a new start
I decided to end 2022 closing a chapter I’ve referred to as my Pandemic writing. Previously, I’ve shared little about Covid or its effect on me, in my writings. Mostly due to recognizing each of us went through this time in our history, yet each dealt with the Pandemic individually. Life continued, but in uncharted ways. Births, deaths, weddings, illness, moves, loneliness, fears and uncertainties still happened. There was no correct way to process the last couple of years. Because the impact resides within each of us, we all have a story to tell.
My story is a collection of writings, short stories, short shorts, and some poetry. Covid opened the door for me to connect with other writers from around the world. Some groups offered writing prompts, others met via Zoom or on Facebook. It was a time to draw deep into my feelings and thoughts. Sometimes I was surprised at what rose to the surface.
The time has come to allow these writings to become part of my works. Currently, much of my time is dedicated to completing this project.
Title to be disclosed later.
How did living through the Pandemic effect you? Please share your responses in the comments. There are no incorrect responses, only your experience.
…a town in juxtaposition of very old and very modern.
I awoke in the heart this town just starting to rouse its self from winter, in preparation for the seasonal tourists, which are sure to arrive. Narrow medieval streets lined with colorful tiny shops filled my morning walk. People bustling about on narrow sidewalks dodging in and out of cars, to get where they are going. Crosswalks exist, but are rarely used. Drivers seem to expect people will pop into the street and cross in front of them.
Yes, this is a village, a very old village. I’m snuggled in the middle of it for a week, and I it’s charming. I almost feel lost in another time and place.
Expanding the exploration outside the old core, are many modern buildings and amenities. In these neighborhoods, the houses are bigger and further apart. The homes have characteristics of the region, but they feel like neighborhoods I’ve been to in many places.
Yet it’s in the very old where I find myself more comfortable. I enjoy walking from place to place. The people feel more connected with each other. They smile as you pass or stop to greet you.
Oddly enough, most my photos are from out of town. Go figure…
Seventy-two hours – no phone, no watch, no laptop, no camera!
I recently returned from a women’s retreat where those were the rules. I did not miss a watch, but there were so many times where the beauty surrounding me was awe-inspiring and I simply wished I had my camera to capture the moment. I confess, I found being without my laptop a little challenging. I was not aware how connected to it I had become.
It was a wonderful weekend! I’m still meditating on all that happened in those seventy-two hours.
I would like to share one impact the weekend had on me. As a culture, we are busy and in such a hurry. So much so, we rarely take the time to share with people why we value them, or what they mean to us, what we appreciate about them or how they have impacted our lives.
Late in the weekend, I was given a bag of letters written by people who knew me. I had no idea how or why they wrote the letters, but reading them was overwhelming! They filled my heart with love and provided an insight into what my life meant to them, or why they valued me. There were aspects of my life or personality that were validated through those letters. The power of the written word to speak life into another is so strong.
My husband and I have tried to implement a tradition at least during the Christmas holidays where letters are written to our children and their spouses and they are to write us highlighting something special about the person the letter is for. Our efforts have resulted in varying levels of success. It is a lot of work, and I have caught myself wondering if we should continue the task. My weekend experience was confirmation for me we need to continue writing letters of affirmation to our children.
I realized affirming others is something needed in our culture. Instead of just identifying this is a need in our culture I can do to promote a change even if it is only in a small part of our world. My goal is to write at least one letter of affirmation to someone each month.
Have you found power in the words written to you? Did those words uplift and encourage you? I would enjoy hearing about your experiences.
Journey to the Heights 