For years she prided herself with reading and watching the news all over the world. Then, 9/11 happened. It felt just too close to home. How could she continue practicing her profession and remaining genuine in her words and in her voice if she was, herself, alarmed at times?
And so she cut out many forms of media only limiting news when she sought it in cyberspace. This way she could make more room for her mind to think rather than be drawn into areas not of her choice.
Television was then cut out altogether and and writing emptied her mind of distracting thoughts until she learned to pray and meditate. Chanting her mantra allowed her to shut out distracting thoughts…travelling more alone…walks in nature alone…allowed her to take those first baby steps into “being”. She felt less alone in her solitude than in crowds of people. Now if only, she could sing as beautifully as those angelic youthful voices in a choir…
at the water’s edge
echoes of drumming
the river roars
voice turns to honey
chanting Lokah Samasta
striking yet unassuming
humming with every ripple
immersing feet with humility
lights up at any age
like an old well
pouring life into the source
The heat weighed the house all night long. She couldn’t to believe how hot it was as she tossed and turned trying to find a comfortable position and keeping in the right position on so the warm air from the fan could cool her body.
She was visiting her best fried in the country and she could not get over how hot it still was at 4am! “You would think in the country, the night air would cool,” she thought. Suffering from insomnia for years, she tried reading until her eyes were heavy but as soon as she shut the light, her eyes sprung open. She tried watching a movie on her tablet using the precious wifi on her cell phone…she had not asked for the password of her friend’s wifi because she knew her friends did not have a great plan due to their location in their neck of the woods, they were limited to any kind of technology.
She took out her tablet and decided to write. “May as well be productive,” she thought. If she could not sleep, well, her muse may as well suffer like her. She managed to write two poems to a prompt on a haiku meme site. She was pleased…perhaps writing n her journal may dull the senses and she will be able to sleep a few hours at least. She wanted to get up early to help her sister start cleaning their late mother’s house so they could finally put it up for sale.
Perhaps she will see the sun rise…oh, no, she forgot, it was cloudy and the forecast was thunderstorms all day and evening which would make the temperatures drop 10 degrees. Good! Dropping from 35 to 25C would be a blessing. She checked her phone for the temperature and it was 22C outside apparently…but not on the second floor of this wooden two-story house!
whispering her mantra
spirits take over
He crawled on his hands and knees and made me laugh; he tickled me until my tummy muscles hurt; he took me on car rides in wooded areas…just he, me and
my sister. He played the mean old man just for fun so he could quickly turn into my saviour and took me in his arms to rescue me. He was my saint and still is my saint to whom I pray when I feel frightened and vulnerable…Merci, Grand-Papa! You also passed Father’s Day weekend, giving me, every year, time to truly thank you for being in my life.
He pushed me and encouraged me and instilled determination and hard work. He believed in me and knew I was smart and could do better. He wanted more than me sometimes and yet, he made me see my potential. He was fond of me and even named his daughter after me. Thank you Mr. Lagacé, for being a teacher who saw more in me than I could fathom…I succeeded despite many obstacles…I DID it and you planted the seed.
He looks upon me with pride; the love he feels is overwhelming. He’s gentle; he’s funny and makes me feel so special. I even feel a bit possessive with he has girlfriends and wonder if I will lose my place…he protected me from wolves and walked me down the aisle as my “dad” at my wedding. He will always be a Dad to me. Bonne Fête des Pères, Bernie.
How I loved my Fridays after school! I’d go with Jane and have supper with her family. If I was late or did not go, he would say,”Where is Lynn? It’s Friday!” He taught me to be proud of my slender (lanky to me silhouette); He convinced me to stop nail-biting so I could one day show off my engagement ring on my finger. (That actually worked at the young age of 13!) He counted me as one of his daughters…for a night or two or three sometimes…Thank you, Mr. Wilkins for making me feel special.
He took me for my first drink after winning a college scholarship at 17 years old. He stood by Mom when I walked down the aisle, with pride. He paced the floors for hours when I was in labour…he was always there…Thank you Fred for making Mom feel so loved and for being a Dad to me. You left us June 18th and making this year even more memorable, on Father’s Day. I love you and still miss you, Fred.
It took me 45 years to feel that specialness a “Dad” can bestow on an older daughter. Remember those teenage years and young adulthood when you were in love? Remember when your father wanted to “check him out” to make sure your heart would not be broken. Well, I was a late bloomer! I remember when I lived with my aunt and uncle and sometimes I would hang up the phone and say, “Oh, gee I have a date. What am I going to wear?” He would smile and sit on the couch with his lovely mate (Ma Tante Mae) who was as excited as me. The fashion show would commence and he’d look, smile and sometimes raise an eyebrow. The raised eyebrow was probably a more sexy outfit 😉 He would tell me discreetly, “Be careful not to fall head over heels too quickly and get hurt.” To which I would say, “I may need your shoulder to cry on if that happens.” And I did and he was there. Thank you Uncle Fred for being such a cool and understanding dad!
And Dad, no matter how distant our relations were over the years, I still remember how special I felt if you would “Wink” or say, “How’s it going, Kiddo?” and my heart would melt. I know you were always proud of us and in those last few years you mellowed and you let me see a softer side of you. I love you, Dad!
Happy Father’s Day to fathers world wide and for those special men who really make a difference with their selfless love.
Humans are such creatures of habit. Well, at least in this part of the country. Weather is the most talked about topic…”It is too cold; it is too humid; Ow, my aching joints!.” As soon as November wraps us with a veil of dark bareness before the snow, we say, I hate winter that is coming. Depression has already set in for more of our Northern Canadians since October. The days are shorter and darkness haunts us. Soon people start chanting, “I can’t wait until it snows. At least it will be brighter.” And before December arrives, we often see snow. Everyone is more or less pleased especially the children and winter enthusiasts.
She has prepared her wardrobe accordingly so the long cold months will, at least, be filled with change and style. Four or five winter coats of different levels of warmth. A few extra pairs of boots add to the list and of course, cleats…a few extra pairs and always one pair in her backpack if the sidewalks are treacherous when she finishes her late night shift.
Then snow overstays its welcome in January and then February and March storms. Spring is around the corner, they say, but we all know that spring arrives when nature decides. That can be the end of March, mid-april or early May for those more North and East of here. All those months waiting for warmer temperatures.
Well, it has been quite warm this past week. On the weekend and yesterday temperatures went up to 32C with high humidity. Oh, she should know. She finally installed her A/C and has emptied 4 litres of water 4 times in 12 hours! Yes, indeed, the humidity is set in the house, the furniture, the clothes. People who struggle with allergies as she does, find it difficult to breathe and headaches and migraines attack the most vulnerable.
It is June 13th and still not quite summer yet another two months of higher temperatures and humidity. Now one would wonder why we complain about two to three months of warmer temperatures when many have whined and wished for warm weather for the past six months! But we hum and ho and whine and talk about the weather, “I was up most of the night because of the heat. I arrived at work drenched due to the heat. The bus is so hot and stinky…and even worse at the end of the day.” And so on and so forth
Why not look at the changes and embrace them, she says to herself on her way to work…
turning towards the sun
supping golden rays
bumble bee exploring
nature in progress
turning towards the sun
swallows settling down
supping golden rays
butterfly on a petal
Daily Moments – June 13, 2017 breeding compassion (waka)
This waka (solo no renga and haiku/senryu) were inspired by Mystery, Adventure and Reward by Karuna’s post at LivingLearningAndLettingGo where she works tirelessly in the Greenbelt behind her home freeing the thumbleberry shrub from bindweeds (morning glory) and blackberry vines. This post reminded me of one thing, “if only only compassion ruled the world.” I’ve taken the liberty to post a few of her photos to illustrate the meaning of the poem.
She walked uptown and managed to get to the top of the hill without panting too much. She was quite proud of that fact although she was also wise by pausing now and then. She could feel the muscles pulling at the back of her thighs and knew if she lived here within a few months she certainly would be in better shape. Yes, perhaps she should take the stairs more often going up at work. Starting this week she made a mental note to do this.
By the time she returned down to the beach, people were walking along the pier to get a better view…
blends of amber
smudging layer on layer
warms twilight sky
blends of amber
on the water
smudging layer on layer
warms twilight sky
radiates from golden star
nature’s last farewell
The story Chèvrefeuille shares with us about the hermit reminds me of a personal story:
Years ago I learned this mantra reading Awakening the Buddha Within by Lama Surya Das, I practiced repeating this mantra for several months carrying with me the meaning of each word in a little notebook. This book allowed me to understand what is meant by “embracing your suffering” and it allowed me to accept and see a purpose to the pain was experiencing at the time…the lessons I was to learn.
I think we all learn differently and in stages unique to our own personal pace and styles. Three years ago I started again on my spiritual journey, first with writing which brought me closer to the Great Spirit and then meeting Amma who has simply opened my heart even more to God.
I wanted to share a story a friend of mine shared with me. I had told her that I felt uncomfortable chanting the lovely songs at my first retreat but loved to hum along and she said, she had shared her own concerns about this years ago with Amma. Amma told her, that a young child may sing and certainly does not always pronounce the works correctly but his heart is in the chanting and that is what counts. That encouraged me to continue singing with my heart (the Lord knows I do not have a singing voice) but I continue to chant my personal mantra as well as others that move me.
The hall was immense and the mood expectant. Hushed chatter all about was the background sound with the occasional exclamations and hugs of recognitions. Everyone was gathering in parties of two’s, five’s or more. It was hard to see who was alone since “loners” smiled at many faces here and there.
The tension was mounting and the hushed sounds became like clattering plates in the kitchen of a cafeteria.
She was in this city for the first time and longed to see her favourite Rock Star. You know the type of music to your ears that moves you? Do you remember your first encounters with “outstanding” and “rocks your socks off”…hmmmm?
A bell sounds and there is complete silence…the musicians are in place, the fans and VIP fans await…
with her presence
the crowd fell silent
the room filled
with her fragrance
With her presence
a mother’s love
The crowd fell silent
numbed by her radiance
only hearts beating
(Inspired by Amma’s presence at the Seattle public programme)
The ride home last night was a bit annoying. People talked too loudly on the Métro and the bus; the scent of ingested brew permeated the bus and by the time she stood in line to get off, a young man (clueless and tipsy) staggered backwards on her left foot…yes, she was wearing sandals. However, stepping off the bus made it all go away…
Spring is really here, she thinks as she walks along the boulevard. Finally, lawns are brightening from last season’s slumber. Dandelions are starting to poke their heads here and there, a sure sign of warmer times to come. Such a treat to walk outside in lighter clothes, no longer the weight of winter coats and fur lined boots, she ponders as she sneezes and wipes her teary eyes.
Flowers are lovely gifts and some are fragrant and sweet. Treated to a brunch or dinner is nice too. If the weather stays mild, BBQ’s are the rage for many families as well. But deep down all I need to really hear is, “I love you, Mom.” This is a set of words in any language, that goes straight to the heart.
So, you know those commercials that tug at your heartstrings…and the hallmark cards that seemto say it better than you…don’t worry…they don’t say it better! Just those four little words are more than you know and poetry to the ears of any mother…trust me.
This is a weekend, ever since I can remember, I would use the English language and try to share my thoughts and feelings that filled my heart. This was a time I may have rhymed a line or two but mostly, I’d tell her how much she is important to me.
Time to visit her new home and set some flowers and say a few words. Tell her how much she is missed and in my thoughts every single day.
I am thankful for the love she swaddled me in as an infant. I am grateful she looked at me and saw only beauty and success. How could I not succeed in life with such confidence in me, she mirrored each and every day?!
I’m so happy she was there every step of the way even when I had my babies. She taught me how to bathe them and gave me permission to be a tigress and hold them as long as they needed me and showed me that was true mothering and loving, not spoiling at all.
I’m glad my children were blessed with the greatest Nanny on earth, who made them laugh and kissed their bobos too.
I still remember one Mother’s Day morning being served a sweet breakfast of (uncooked) chocolate pudding and I’ve never managed to make anything quite as delicious.
So maybe this weekend I will look at old movies and play old tunes that she loved so much…definitely, sounds like a plan for the weekend.
today and tomorrow
‘til we meet again
sliding down a rainbow – or,
swinging on a brilliant star
Until then, keep visiting me as a blue butterfly; keep making signals on my mobile phone, tickle me in my ear or visit me in my dreams.
#ActuallyAutistic - An Aspie obsessed with writing. This site is intend to inspire through sharing stories & experiences. The opinions of the writers are their own. I am just an Autistic woman - NOT a medical professional.