I found the key to deep sleep. Travel for 15 hours, walk nearly 9,000 steps, eat Parisian pastries, and land in the most elegant hotel room I’ve ever been in.
I Woke up to tea from home – smart move on my part – and my morning time journal. Weirdly, Tuesday morning seems to have disappeared. Part of the magic.
It just got real. We hit the “print boarding pass” button and instantly, I feel that queasy/happy feeling in my tummy.
I folded my boarding pass, stuffed it into my not-so-attractive fanny pack, and have been walking around the house like I am some kind of confident world traveler. Which I am not. But, I am as ready as this near-70 year old, mostly introvert, can be.
In light of all of the last minute preparations, are you surprised that I naturally found myself sitting down at the keyboard?
I was a bit, but writing is one way for me to settle into myself and become present to its gift. As soon as I began typing, I began thinking about the many trips our parents took and enjoyed when they were our age, and about others who, by their travels, inspired me to want to see more, including:
Earl and Ersel Fath, of Chrisman, Illinois. After a hugely successful career in Geology, working with the U.S. Geological Survey and in oil fields around the world, then concluding his career as chairman of the Department of Astronomy at Carlton College, Earl and his wife Ersel retired in Chrisman where they became close friends with my Grandpa and Grandma Rogers. On one trip, they brought Trudy and I the most beautiful bracelets from Thailand. I still have both of our bracelets and the sweet box in which they came.
And,
My Uncle Dick, Aunt Dot, and her sister, Miriam. They traveled the world and made going to far-away places a little less scary, and, as Miriam once said to me, “why not?”
So here we go. In some little weird and wonderful way, I feel they are going with us and cheering us on to discovery and fun. And, Why not?
*I found this obituary for Earl Fath to be fascinating. It is so much fun thinking of Earl and Ersel again, and to call their name out after so many years. https://rock.geosociety.org/net/documents/gsa/memorials/v08/Fath-AE.pdf
I just finalized our May – yes, this May – travel plans to Europe including a stay in Lisieux, France. I have been so busy packing, unpacking, re-packing, and making reservations and arrangements for our home and Toby, that it has been difficult to see past the logistics of planning.
Until this morning.
Continue reading New Horizons
Earth Day. Trudy’s birthday.
I tried not to think too much about today and it being Trudy’s birthday and fittingly, Earth Day. But too many mystical tugs and sweet remembrances from friends made it impossible for me to not write about the beauty of Trudy and the beauty of our Earth.
Continue reading Earth Day 2023
I really don’t know if Shadow will make full term and become a public thing. So I pray a prayer that my friend prays when she is writing: Do you want much for this book?
Then, I continue praying, make a folder, listen, and show up to the keyboard.
And so it begins.
It’s a little cooler. Still humid though. Damp, overcast, still. Quiet — eerily so.
It’s a busy day. Several zoom meetings, groceries to get, and then I need to make one more phone call this afternoon.
I am very upset. I have gained back all the weight I slaved to take off three years ago. I don’t like the way I look, or the way this feels. But, I am the same soul inside this puffy coat.
All roads out of this “coat” lead to grief. There is sadness in giving up my favorite foods — cookies, in particular. And, hope is dashed in feeling young again — lighter, less trapped and controlled by how tight these jeans feel.
Without much thought, I slip into old defaults of creating calendars with harsh diets and fantastical weight goals, followed by the predictable genuflect at the WW altar app. I pull up just in time to remember and write:
One day at a time. This day at this time.
It really is about one day at a time. This body. This mind, and most importantly — this soul.
What does this soul want most of all?
To be loved. To express. To be allowed to imagine and play as a soul alone, and a soul with others.
Long after the flesh has rotted and these bones have turned to dust,
this soul will carry on.
Its light and energy bound to nothing
and everything and everywhere without a how.
I can know this when the fires of fear fade to smoke,
and the smoke of yesterday’s stories clear — if but for a moment.
Maybe no longer than the firefly’s short glory against the darkening sky,
but long enough, at least,
to light one speck of space
in the humid blanket hovering over the bean field.
I put paint over an old painting that I have never liked.
I saw the gold showing up and I resisted.
I don’t like it.
I didn’t invite it.
I didn’t plan it or approve it.
I wanted this to be about horizons—trusty, grounding space of infinite colors and defining lines.
I wanted this to be about resilience—the advent word of the day.
Resilience was the assignment.
Get with the program.
Tune into the same channel that everyone else hears.
Don’t miss out.
Don’t miss the miracle.
But, the art took ahold and kept insisting it be art’s way.
Move the brush here.
Then here.
Don’t think.
Just move.
Remember?
Art doesn’t lie.
It’s over.
I step back.
I see columns of soldiers standing guard.
The strength that I initially denied shows up as endurance—powered by Love, it glistens.
Advent paints new light in old places.