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Iris, May 2013
Up at 6:30 this morning. We’ve had a mini-heat wave going on, but thankfully it’s over. This morning’s walk with the dogs went beyond tempting me to stay away from the computer to start work again on a chapter I’ve been having a particularly hard time with.
It was just too beautiful outside. Cool temperatures (around 60), a light breeze, sun sparkling through the canopy overhead, and bird song were all I need to keep me from whatever else I had planned. After my breakfast of cottage cheese and locally grown strawberries, I took another walk, by myself this time, climbing up the huge hill one street over from my house and ventured down a side street I’d never explored before. There were few people about. Only several runners and a man walking his two, gorgeous, blue-eyed huskies. The University is on summer break and there are few students around. Though I enjoy my morning walks during the school year, sharing the neighborhood with young and energetic students from all over the globe, I also love my quiet summer walks, when instead of people watching, I am alone with my thoughts … a walking meditation that is sure to rub away any of the rough edges I wake up with.
On returning home and still not ready for the computer, I noticed the red bud out front needed pruning, and the spent irises needed to be a trimmed back. When I was about done with plant surgery, a neighbor, Ruby, whom I haven’t seen in a month or so walked by with her little dog, Mystique.
I was especially taken with her when we first moved here three years ago. She’d walk her ancient poodle, Bridgette, propped up in a baby carriage past our house every morning. The dog was quite elderly, could no longer walk and was a bit blind. But she loved her Mama, and Ruby wasn’t about to part with her until she absolutely had to. Bridgette crossed over about a year ago and the entire neighborhood was bereft. We missed Bridgette, but mostly worried about Ruby and whether she would make it without her faithful companion. But Ruby is back out on the street with a new furry friend now. It’s especially good to see her out and about, since her husband has Alzheimer’s and she is caring for him by herself at home.
She stopped to chat. She told me that she is 89 years old. She says it’s hard taking care of of her husband and that she’s been wondering whether or not to move to a smaller home. Though she continuously laughs while she tells her story, I notice a slight quiver of her chin, as if she might cry. She also tells me that the reason she can no longer drive is that she has macular degeneration, and how much the medicines cost that she and her husband need and sometimes think about doing without.
We spend about thirty minutes together. She apologizes for taking up so much of my time and thanks me profusely for listening. I tell her it isn’t a problem and that I’d love for her to come by anytime. She walks back down the driveway smiling, as I breathe in deeply taking in the gift of her unexpected visit. I helped Ruby by listening deeply and truly seeing her. But she, bless her heart, helped me as well.
I woke up this morning feeling a bit down, chattering to myself about my purpose in life and how to make the world a better place … thoughts that haunt me particularly when I’m having trouble writing and want to walk away from my project forever.
Being listened to and being seen as a human being with our own joys and sorrows is one of life’s necessities. Being with and listening to Ruby today, was just the medicine I needed. I heard her and she heard me. We recognized each other as if we were looking into a mirror, seeing ourselves in the other.
In our daily lives as we rush about and climb up the ladder to the next rung, we forget to take the time to stop, look and listen to the dear souls who inhabit our planet. Witnessing another person is one of the best gifts you can give or receive.
Joan,
This was just what I needed to read today. Lately I have been trying in a big way to live “in the moment.” What you have described so beautifully here is being in our own space while leaving ourselves open to inviting someone else into it. In the moment.
How much richer our lives would be if we focused on the moment: the morning walk, greeting a neighbor, the people and animals we see on our walk.
I would love to have a neighbor like you: someone filled with such wisdom and insight. Thank you for this beautiful p[ost.
Judy,
Thanks so much for your kind words. Living in each moment is really all we have. When I forget to notice what is going on around me, I’m missing those moments of my life. I hope you and Bob have a magical day.
So delighted that my good friend Judy Dunn pointed me in your direction. You’ve described a vivid picture of mindfulness: something I practice every day, both in mindful meditation for at least 20 minutes daily, and in my daily life. I strive to be “present” every moment, to fully enjoy and absorb what is going on…not what went on, or what might occur in future, but what is happening right now. Nice to meet you! Cheers! Kaarina
Kaarina,
Thanks so much for stopping by and your kind words. It’s great to meet you too and I hope you’ll come visit often.
Your daily mindful meditation practice is a wonderful way to stay in the now and connected to every thing around you. I try to make a habit of being in the “present” most of the time and when I slip it feels great to start over again.
Joan
Hi Joan!!!!!!! I replied to your comment on my blog. 🙂 Hearing from you was the exact thing I needed to cheer up my day! I miss hanging out with you and Krista so much and I think about you all often. Those evenings I spent with you all outside of class gave me a clear headed, no-nonsense foundation of acceptance, encouragement and inspiration that I so dearly needed as I moved forward in my life. How much has changed in the years following, for the better and best, and what a different world I know now, gratefully so!
So I read the first chapter to your book. I love the way you write. It is so clear, flowing, poignant. The journey, the ritual, the story, your voice, laughter, personality. Artfully spoken, and I would expect nothing less of you. I’ve seen your beaded flowers.
What a great deal you have been through and yet you’ve still been able to wear a smile on your face with a great sense of humor. Our struggles become our strengths if we let them, transforming them can spur us on to produce our greatest work…a work that can help inspire others to heal, too…….. You are doing that, and I think it is such a beautiful thing. Strength you have in spades, my love. Thank you for sharing your bittersweet candle of inspiration in this dimly lit attic of a world.
Much love,
Branwen
Branwen,
Thanks so much for for your visit here. I miss those times too, and even though we all live in the same area, I rarely see any of our other classmates or Kathleen. I did run into Krista at Whole Foods last week and we’ve promised to get together for lunch in July. We’re all so busy and taken up with what we all are doing to make this world a better place to be.
Thanks also for your kind words about my writing and the path I’ve been traveling. I’m happy to say that being with you and the rest of the herb group, really helped me through some tough times and kept me sane. I know you didn’t have it so easy yourself and am so delighted that you are happy and thriving. You, too, my dear have great strength and it’s your smile and sense of humor that will make a huge difference in our world.
Please stay in touch and if you ever get back to Virginia, please come to see me. I’d love to catch up on all your doings.
Lots of Love, Joan
Hi Joan!
It’s lovely to discover your blog! What a story you do have to tell! I hope you will carry on with your mission to write the book!
I resonate with what you said about witnessing another. Isn’t that so important – and possibly what makes blogging such a therapeutic activity!
🙂
Lori
Hi Lori,
I’m so glad you found my blog and stopped by for a visit. I will most definately be finishing my book, even though I sometimes want to quit. The threat of flushing it all down the toilet is not to be taken seriously. Most writers I know go through the same thing along the way. But most of us love what we’re doing so much that w could never let it go. When I start saying things like I’m going to quit, I know it’s time to take a day off, breathe deeply, and get out into the garden.
I hope you’ll come back for another visit soon.
Joan
I wholeheartedly agree. When you speak to people you usually get a very different view of the world than the one that is portrayed in the media. One of my favourite quotes is from Coco Chanel: “The most courageous act is still to think for yourself. Aloud.”
I worked in the public library a few years ago – a Saturday job while the boys were young. The local council made a decision to remove the booking in/out desk and replace it with automatic machines. It took away some of the opportunity we had to just have a small, five minute chat with people who maybe wouldn’t speak to anyone else all day.
We still had chances to talk when the machines played up (which they did frequently) but it meant library users approached us feeling they’d made a mistake or were bothering us, rather than simply shooting the breeze while we checked their books in or out.
I like that quote, too. Stopping to talk to a neighbor or even chatting with the person behind me at the grocery store is time well spent. In our big world of technology, to have contact with real human beings is absolutely necessary.
Have you stopped doing your blog? Couldn’t find it yesterday when I checked. Hope all is well.
Joan