From "An Irritable Métis" (Chris La Tray) / Late December 2021

I've been reading Chris La Tray's substack ever since discovering it by way of  Elizabeth's substack.  Grateful for the ever-widening community of kindred spirits who are connected through blogging.

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The snow and ice here have re-created something like the first days of COVID.  Few people out on the roads.  Many who might have gathered without vaccinations and without masks have had to stay home or near home here since Christmas Day due to snow and ice making travel not an option for most of us.  The forecast offers no end in sight.

This morning I was talking with a friend who teaches high school English in Baltimore.  She reports that the COVID situation there is as bad as it was before vaccinations became widely available.  

Looking out my windows to the east in the past few days:

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Honoring the long life of Desmond Tutu (1931-2021) in the early morning hours of a snowy day in late December

Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama

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The snow began falling lightly here after dark on December 24 and fell steadily all day on December 25.  Something prompted me to take a quiet peaceful 2-hour walk in the snow.  Because of wind and rain, I've not been walking much in the past few weeks.  Looking at the forecast, it appears that we will have snow on the ground and unusually cold weather for at least the next 10 days, with a low of 7 degrees predicted for today.

It's December 26 now.  I woke up just after midnight and learned that Desmond Tutu had died and decided to stay up and post something.  

... the close and holy darkness ...

"One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six ...

... I got into bed.  I said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then I slept."

(Dylan Thomas)

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It snowed a little bit last night, as promised, before I went to bed.  We've had no snow to speak of until now.  When I woke up at 4 a.m. this morning, there was only a dusting of snow.  Just now I looked out again in the darkness and see that it is snowing steadily. 

December is full of celebrations from numerous traditions and days that are meaningful to me because of what happened in my life on those days.  It is a joy to celebrate all of the days in December, including those of Hanukkah, Bodhi Day, Winter Solstice, Christmas, Kwanzaa, and Ramadan when it occurs in December.

And then a New Year begins in January.

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Always sending love to blog friends near and far.

In the last days before the Winter Solstice 2021

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It's cold and clear here today.  When I looked out early this morning I saw that Scudder Pond froze overnight.  I haven't seen the Pacific Ocean since 2008 and may not see it again, but can hear it if I pay attention to my breathing.  

Bellingham is located on the Salish Sea, which meets the Pacific Ocean about 100 miles to the west of here, as the crow flies.  There is no quick and easy way to get to there from here.  The journey begins with a 1.5-hour drive, mostly on 2-lane country roads, to a 30-minute ferry ride and then more than 4 hours, again on 2-lane country roads, before arriving on treacherous bluffs that overlook the Pacific Ocean.   

I'm grateful for the nearby presence of salt water, lakes, rivers, creeks, ponds, marshes, forests, and the rain that is so much a part of life in Western Washington.  I dream of visiting the Pacific Ocean again, but it seems more and more unlikely for various reasons due to my life circumstances. And yet, who knows what the future will bring?

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Here is what Morelle wrote from the Scottish Borders today:  

Walking by the river the other day I realised that the solstice is more than a moment or a day marked on the calendar. It felt as if I entered a different place with a different atmosphere, one that side-stepped the framework of time. A stillness, a peacefulness, a pause, a sense of intimacy with the bare trees, the river, and the overcast sky with its range of subtle greys. This solstice zone. 

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Joni shining

SHINE

Oh let your little light shine
Let your little light shine
Shine on Wall Street and Vegas
Place your bets
Shine on the fishermen
With nothing in their nets
Shine on rising oceans and evaporating seas
Shine on our Frankenstein technologies
Shine on science
With its tunnel vision
Shine on fertile farmland
Buried under subdivisions

Let your little light shine
Let your little light shine
Shine on the dazzling darkness
That restores us in deep sleep
Shine on what we throw away
And what we keep

Shine on Reverend Pearson
Who threw away
The vain old God
kept Dickens and Rembrandt and Beethoven
And fresh plowed sod
Shine on good earth, good air, good water
And a safe place
For kids to play
Shine on bombs exploding
Half a mile away

Let your little light shine
Let your little light shine
Shine on world-wide traffic jams
Honking day and night
Shine on another asshole
Passing on the right!
Shine on the red light runners
Busy talking on their cell phones
Shine on the Catholic Church
And the prisons that it owns
Shine on all the Churches
They all love less and less
Shine on a hopeful girl
In a dreamy dress

Let your little light shine
Let your little light shine
Shine on good humor
Shine on good will
Shine on lousy leadership
Licensed to kill
Shine on dying soldiers
In patriotic pain
Shine on mass destruction
In some God's name!
Shine on the pioneers
Those seekers of mental health
Craving simplicity
They traveled inward
Past themselves...
May all their little lights shine

Some other gifts

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"It Is Your Duty To Love" (Chris La Tray's blog)

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Joni Mitchell

Gifts of age

Women who renovate / "... I'm taking my time for a number of things that weren't important yesterday ..."

Above is a small farm in Norway that Ellen bought.  She is in the process of renovating the old house on that farm and is documenting her progress via a blog.  Ellen is the daughter of my friend, Linda, who was one of my first friends when I moved to Bellingham in 1974.  Linda died peacefully in late December last year.

Some of you may know Bev, originally from Ontario, who also has blogged about the old house pictured above which she bought in Nova Scotia in 2010, while living in Arizona, without ever having seen that house in person.  For a number of years, she spent the winters in Arizona and worked on the house during the remaining months.  She is still working on the house and lives there throughout the year and blogs occasionally.  Bev was one of my first blog friends.  I was drawn to read about the life she and her husband lived in Ontario and fascinated by the story of their life together and her engaging photos of what to me was an unlikely subject -- insects!

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I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
and stops my mind from wandering
where it will go
I'm filling the cracks that ran though the door
and kept my mind from wandering
where it will go

And it really doesn't matter if I'm wrong
I'm right where I belong
I'm right where I belong
See the people standing there
who disagree and never win
and wonder why they don't get in my door

I'm painting my room in a colorful way,
and when my mind is wandering
there I will go

And it really doesn't matter if I'm wrong
I'm right where I belong
I'm right where I belong
Silly people run around
they worry me and never ask me
why they don't get past my door

I'm taking my time for a number of things
that weren't important yesterday
and I still go

I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
and stops my mind from wandering
where it will go
where it will go
I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
and stops my mind from wandering
where it will go

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As the end of 2021 approaches, I'm looking at some of the holes in my life, some of which don't need fixing.  Sometimes it is good for rain to get in.  Sometimes the holes do need fixing.  This calls for discernment (-:

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A few days ago, while talking with a friend on the phone, I looked up to see a Great Blue Heron flying in the direction of my porch.  The heron flew within 10 feet of my porch and then circled off to the left and across Scudder Pond and landed in one of the cherry trees that are on the far side of the trail that leads to Whatcom Falls Park.

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My friend with his grandson:

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My first blog post was on December 8, 2006.  So many changes since then.  So many changes still to come!

Stopping to rest awhile before December

Took two long walks with friends yesterday when we had a morning and afternoon not only without wind and rain but with heartening clear blue skies with wispy white clouds and sunshine.  On the first walk, my friend said, "Look," and pointed up at an owl with its eyes closed.  As we looked up at the owl, it opened its eyes and looked directly at us.

It's dark and cloudy today and yet hummingbirds and Steller's Jays brighten up my porch.  

Was able to set aside the time to listen to this.

Feeling melancholy and at the same time grateful on this quiet day.

Thank (you for letting me be myself again)sgiving 2021

A hard rain is falling here.  Howling winds.  Finding my balance (-:

Sending love and gratitude to blog friends near and far.

Good Morning, Solitary Rabbit (with addendum)

When I got up just before 4:30 this morning and went out on my porch to see what I could see, I noticed something on the ground just below my porch, something difficult to see in the darkness.  After going back inside to get my binoculars, I realized that what I was seeing was a small solitary rabbit.  Again I went back inside, this time to get my camera.  The rabbit obliged me by remaining still, and I was able to get two photos, the first without a flash and the second with a flash.

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Better photo of Mandala #65, taken with my cell phone.  This mandala is unlike all the rest.  Very little detail but with elements of other mandalas from 2021.  I think of it as a family story.  

High Water Everywhere / Beloved / Freedom

"... Things are breakin' up out there
High water everywhere ..." (Bob Dylan, lyrics from 2001)

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Just began re-reading Beloved, by Toni Morrison.  Thanks to Elizabeth for writing about that book recently.

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The function of freedom is to free someone else.

(Toni Morrison)

Flooding

There were a number of things I needed to go out and do during the heavy wind and rain yesterday. Astonishingly, none of my errands were in these parts of Bellingham, although I was within a few blocks of these severely flooded areas without realizing it.

Buckets of Rain / After the drenching rain

Not grey inside this mandala / Gratitude

Still not true colors but good enough until I can have this series professionally scanned.

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Restorative yoga in the early morning

1.  Full set up.

2.  Before adding quilt and comforter.

3.  Basic set up.

I'm grateful to have been moved to take a single series of yoga classes in 1970 while R was in Vietnam.  When I was 27, I began taking weekly classes at the first yoga school in Bellingham and continued classes along with a home practice  until I was in my late 30s and physical limitations became a deterrent to taking classes but did not keep me from continuing my own home practice and refraining from poses that weren't appropriate for my body.  When I was in my 40s, I took classes from different yoga schools that had opened in Bellingham, including classes in restorative yoga, continuing my early morning home practice.  

During the early years of my blog, I continued a vigorous home yoga practice, finding myself able to do poses that I had not been able to do as a younger woman.  The years of yoga practice had strengthened my upper body and given me a sense of confidence in my body that had been missing from my years prior to discovering yoga.  In my 60s, I began letting go of poses that had the potential for causing injuries and those which clearly put stress on my strong but aging body.

Now that I am in my early 70s, I have had to let go of more and more poses due to a low back that has been susceptible to injury since I was in my 30s.   I've lost some of my height and can no longer do backbends without causing a flare of low back pain.  And yet, I am able to do a fairly vigorous yoga practice that combines a basic series of sitting, standing, balancing, stretching, bending, inverted and reclining poses that I have done since I was in my 20s along with restorative yoga poses.

Here's a pose I can no longer do because it hurts my knees.  I was unable to do this pose at all until I was in my 50s.

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There's something to be said for letting go to make space for something new.

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Mandala #37:  Woman Moved By Gratitude

Mandala #65 (black and white version) / November light

Working on a photo showing this mandala in true colors.  No such luck so far.  For now, here is how it looks in black and white.  Three more mandalas and then I will have met my goal of 12 for the year.

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November light

The day after Veteran's Day 2021 / Does anybody really know what time it is? / A time for peace, I swear it's not too late

This year, as Veteran's Day approached, something moved me to let go of most of the things I have carried with me since I met R in my senior year of high school when we were just 17 years old. I realized that those things had finally made their way to my heart and that I didn't need their physical presence anymore, taking up an entire shelf in my hall closet.  Notice that I said "most of the things."  I did keep a few things but made an open space in my shelves and in my life, 20 years after R wrote me a letter saying, "Please take all my love and go on with your life" and 13 years after I was able to say goodbye to him before he died in a VA hospital. 

During 1970, when R served in the U.S. Army in Vietnam as a helicopter mechanic, he and his friends listening to music on a daily basis and especially liked Chicago's "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?"  

As we went through the time change this year, I remembered that song amidst the confusion in Zoom rooms where support groups comprised of people from time zones all over the world meet in a timeless and timely space.

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under heaven

A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under heaven

A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time for love, a time for hate
A time for peace, I swear it's not too late

(Pete Seeger)

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2007

2008

2009

2010

2011

2012

2013

2014

2015

2016

2017

2018

2019

2020

Remembering that R found Veteran's Day to be one of the most difficult days of the year.  What he wanted, above all, and found so elusive was peace of mind and heart and soul.

 

Land Acknowledgment / Late afternoon sky after wind and rain

Thanks to YouTube for yet another welcome suggestion.

"Ferndale Schools Lummi Land Acknowledgement.

Produced by Ferndale School District, Children of the Setting Sun, and the Lhaqtemish Foundation."

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A time for sowing seeds

Seeds to Save, Seeds to Sow