Christmas light

Christmas, to me, comes with a challenge. How do I evolve the heart-warming and enriching traditions of my childhood and teenage years into something more inward, more cosmic, bearing in mind the on-going striving to become more of an adult and a true human being?

In the darkness, the light of a candle carries a simple but powerful message. In stillness and quietness of soul maybe the inner light can be kindled and grow strong to shine into the world.

And that is what I wish for you, dear readers, on this sacred day of Christmas Eve as we journey into the Twelve Holy Nights.

as I am able

This morning I have a song in my head, the Advent one that begins 'People look East' and goes on to 'Make your house fair as you are able'. And that's what I'm doing, cleaning and decorating in anticipation of hosting about a dozen people this afternoon/evening.

Yes, I've done a little decorating already, but now I'm serious about preparing our home for Christmas. One year our elder daughter was visiting and she's wonderful at creating a special atmosphere and beauty in her home. So I asked if she'd look after that side of things. She began by clearing the decks, so to speak. Putting away various objects and bits of china that I had sitting on side tables and so forth. Now I begin in that same place, and then I clean more thoroughly than usual, even doing a bit of furniture polishing.

It feels good. There's only one snag... at what point do I decide that I'm no longer able? I can keep going till I drop, but that would hardly be fun for our visitors! So at some stage I have to say 'enough'. Sometimes, thankfully, that's where my dear husband takes over and picks up the slack. Like today, when he'll be doing the cooking. Bless him.

Snowlight, moonlight

Last night we drove through the country-side nearby. Sitting in the back of the car, my daughter-in-law told us we were getting 30 per cent more moonlight because of the full moon being close to the winter solstice. All I can say is that the moon was a breathtaking sight as it shone on smooth, snow-covered fields. I could almost feel the calm silence all around.

At the moment I'm enjoying the winter in spite of the cold. There's so much beauty at this time of the year -- tender and delicate colours in the sky, lavenders and pinks and really golden sunsets. The conifers look so graceful with their branches decked with white. So even though Christmas seems to be approaching even faster than usual, I can be tranquil and access the quiet mood of anticipation that Advent brings.

Slow

Slowing down is what we do as we get older, right? These days several activities go much slower for me than they used to and I've decided that's not at all a bad thing.

First of all, walking. Today I took a three-mile plus hike up a canyon. Going up, I was passed many times by other people, including kids and a dachshund. I also had to stop often to catch my breath and allow my heartbeat to return to normal. Slogging along, I remembered the days of my youth in London when I walked faster than anyone around, and usually in high heels too. Well, being in training as a ballet dancer I was as fit as, if not fitter than, most athletes. But now, even when I think I'm walking fast, I'm actually not, as proved by those others passing me.

But you know what? It's better, I think, that I don't go charging through life any more. Those pauses going up the mountain and even the slower walking pace allow me to admire the view and be more aware of my surroundings.

My eating is much slower too. Again, I'm happy with that situation. What's the use of gobbling down food? Quite apart from being a bad idea health-wise, the actual savouring of what's on the plate adds to the experience and satisfaction.

And thirdly, I read books at a snail's pace. Sometimes I regret this, remembering the time when I could do one or two a day. Even the most exciting novel (and I read very few of those) will take me at least a week to get through. For non-fiction it's much longer than that. Here again, my experience is different because I take the time.

So yes, definitely, all of these slowing downs are good for me and the reason is simple. I notice more.

Holidays

So here we are, poised on the brink of the 'holiday season', on the eve of Thanksgiving and soon we'll be in Advent. And what happens in the U.S. on Friday? One of the biggest shopping days of the year.

Now, as already confessed, I like to shop from time to time. Recently my dear daughter-in-law and I went to a Christmas bazaar put on by a local German Club. Before we got there she warned me that she'd read it would be 'very well attended', and it was. We had a fun hour and bought some nice things to eat (and keep for later) as well as some small, hand-made wooden ornaments. As she remarked to me, "The Germans do Christmas well". I agreed, remembering one November when I visited Germany and bought such things as special tablecloths, small and medium-sized. The small ones went on the children's bedside table to mark the approach of Christmas.

Then she spoke about various other festive traditions, and how we're all richer for such experiences. But then she lamented the watering down of all of this in order to be politically correct. And she said something very telling. "If you take away all the deeper meaning of a festival, all you have left is shopping."

An eye for beauty

A couple of days ago I was wearing an amber pendant that belonged to my late mother. At the airport, a woman came up to me to comment on how beautiful it was. I agreed, and she told me a story about buying an amber necklace in Turkey for herself.

I thought about the incident afterwards, and about how my mother had a refined aesthetic sense. Now I love beauty but I can't say I always can pick out, say, a specially pleasing handbag. Yes, that's a trivial example perhaps, but I think it's a telling one. My mother could do that and I could generally rely on her advice when it came to clothing, home decorating and so on. She brought something special to these realms that was appreciated by others.

Where does such a talent come from? I think it's learned to some degree, but not entirely. My maternal grandmother might have passed it on, but then why was this unevenly taken up by her three daughters? To some extent a refine aesthetic sense must have something to do with the quality of observation. At least, that's the only theory I can come up with.

Remembrance Day

When I began to think about the eleventh hour of the eleventh month, more and more thoughts came flooding in, too many to include in this post. But I still want to mention a few.

First of all, my late brother, whose birthday was on this day. He died at the age of 45 from a kidney disease acquired when he was conscripted into the South African army and got dehydrated on a military exercise.

My father was 'up north' when I was born. That was the term used for South African soldiers who went to fight in the Second World War. He received a knee injury that worried him off and on for his whole, long life, but otherwise survived intact. How very grateful I am for that fact. He had incredible stories to tell and said his 'men' used to say he had a guardian angel.

My husband's father joined the cavalry and went into the First World War at the age of seventeen. Fortunately for him, this was soon to end and so he survived.

My husband had two wonderful great aunts who lived together. Both of them lost their loves, but soldiered bravely on.

So we remember, and take stock also of where we all stand today. As far as our and our earth's survival is concerned, are we now at the eleventh hour?

the quirks of grapes

Last week I bought a packet of muscat grapes, yellowish brown, and with pips. In South Africa we used to wait all summer for the most delicious grapes of the year, what we call Hanepoot, but actually the same variety. So that's the experience I was hoping to recapture. I have to confess I was a little disappointed in the taste, but thought the grapes would be good for breakfast.

News flash... grapes with seeds are not good to eat with granola. Now I appreciate the fact that we have seedless grapes.

When I was a child, I remember a friend of mine warning me not to eat grape pips. If I did, vines would start growing out of my ears. I was pretty sceptical about this, but what a picture!

And these days, it seems, we have quite a different view. Grape seed oil, so I believe, is good for you.

From Friday to Sunday

Have you noticed the change over these three days? It's been quite an amazing transition, I think.

We had that particular Halloween atmosphere of spookiness edged with a certain scary excitement. I find a kind of greyness hangs over that night. And then, All Souls Day yesterday and this morning All Saints Day. Quite a journey, more so than usual, I found. Maybe it's to do with the Friday, Saturday, Sunday progression.

I looked out early at the lightening sky, admiring the yellow-tinged dawn as it changed to cerulean blue, and saw, more to the west, a haze of lavender. And as I looked, a plane rose high drawing a line of white vertically into the heavens. Below it, a bird flapped, flying across from east towards the north. I think it was a crow.

So I hoped my thoughts would soar heavenward and that I wouldn't flap around too much but rather take the time to savour Sunday.

Who's looking at me?

It's happened a couple of mornings this week. I open up my lap top, and there's this tiny green eye shining at me -- the webcam. Now, I didn't leave it on, or turn it on, so what's it doing there? I tell you, this kind of freaks me out. Who would be looking at me??

In the days of apartheid when we lived in Cape Town, our next door neighbour was a retired school-inspector. He was a good neighbour to us, but maybe a little over-interested in our visitors who were not restricted to 'whites' 'European's, whatever you like to call them. What impressed me though, was how, when he came into our home, he'd clearly be taking in every detail of his surroundings. As a writer, it would be useful if I had enhanced abilities like his!

At the moment I'm taking an on-line course on self-publishing, run by a teacher. She comments how strange it is to be doing this, like talking into a mirror with few responses! That's kind of like writing a blog, I guess. But what about Facebook. That's different, isn't it? Yes. But the question still nags at me: 'Who's looking at us?'

Chain mail

I received another of those this morning. You know, some nice sentiments, even true ones about who comes into your life, for how long and what purpose these friends may serve. And then comes the demand to send this on a.s.a.p. to seven others and then, ta da... something good and surprising will happen to you (me). In this case, even a precise time is given! 10.27 a.m. to be exact.

What do I do in such a case? Forward it back to the sender, as requested -- well, usually anyhow -- but I don't send it on. I'm grateful that this particular chain mail didn't contain any hint of a threat, as some do.

So, I'm wondering what lies behind this phenomenon. Mulling it over, a theory came to me. Perhaps we human beings carry a deep, mostly hidden longing for proof that a spiritual world exists and that it can work into and manifest in our earthly world.

Shine on

What's this? So many posts? Well, it's because, having recently finished those two long-term writing projects, I'm now in a different creative space.

Did you see the moon last night, or the night before, or the one before that? Yes, it's the Harvest Moon that's been shining. Before coming to North America I had no idea what that was, although I used to happily sing "Shine on, shine on harvest moon," along with my Dad. Now I have the opportunity to experience it shining in all its autumn glory. Twice I've seen it through a buttermilk sky, those mottled clouds that the silvery disc peeps through. Quite spectacular. If you haven't had a chance to look up at the heavens these last evenings, why not take a minute or two tonight?

Blog action day against poverty

I'm posting today because of blog action day. Having lived in a country that was a mixture of first and third world, poverty was for many years a daily reality for me, a daily ache of guilt and pain. Shopping at a local supermarket, I grew familiar with the sight of a legless man sitting outside, his hat on his lap, begging. Although I've always had mixed feelings about people and even children begging, it felt right to drop a coin into his old brown felt hat. Then one day, he was gone and I never saw him again.

I don't know much about the philosophy of poverty. My feeling, however, is that we won't eradicate it until we change our ways of thinking, behaving and buying. When I return to North America after a visit to Africa I'm always horrified at our level of consumption, at the plethora of clothes and toys our children are showered with. And I think of so many who have practically nothing.

Fall

"October is my favourite month."
"Fall is the season I love best."

I've heard both these comments over the past few days and can say... well, with the colours so spectacular this year, I'm getting into it. But I don't think I could say that autumn is my favourite season, simply because I carry a dread of winter. Being from the south, it's still an effort for me to cope with ice and cold.

On the other hand, I'm amazed to find 15 degrees C quite warm, when just a month ago I thought anything below 20 felt freezing. The body is truly wonderful. Every year (yes, I remember mentioning this in a previous post) I find it awe-inspiring that I can adjust. But like another friend, I found letting go of summer quite difficult this year.

Talking and thinking about the weather is something that interests me. I like to do it. When I lived in England, I felt bad about this because the current attitude was that you only mentioned the weather if you had nothing better to talk about. Then I read in a lecture by Rudolf Steiner that it's a good topic of conversation because the weather is what people have in common. Ever since, I've felt better and even justified.

What I do like about the fall is the particular quality of stillness you can experience. Today, in fact, the air was so still that, as we passed the airport, we saw that planes were taking off in all different directions!

Giving thanks

Yes, I know for us Canadians tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day and we will celebrate the bounty of the harvest festival. However, I can snatch a few minutes from preparation right now, so I thought I'd do it. So often my thoughts flit in and out of my head and never hear the click of my computer keys.

I confess. I don't give thanks often enough. This is something I need to work on because I have so very much to be grateful for. The thing is, I don't make the space in my mind and that means my time fills up with other activities, both inner and outer. So my resolution this Thanksgiving will be to make a conscious effort, every day, to give thanks for all the blessings, enormous, great, mid-size, small and teeny-weeny, that come into my life and sustain me.

For instance, already today: a cup of tea in bed, sunshine, shelter, laundry on the line, the enjoyment of preparing the house for the family celebrations, the chance email gives me to connect with far flung friends... well, you get the gist. Hmm. Seems to me this could get complicated. Maybe I'll go with a suggestion I heard recently: to think of three things every day and give thanks for those.

Back in the world of Blog

Yes, here I am again. No promises for the future, although, having brought two long-term projects to an end over the last few weeks, I'm feeling I can lift my nose from the grindstone before it gets any flatter than it already is.

First, a little song, to be sung to the tune of 'Garden Party'

So I went to a Chinese doctor
To tell him all about my ills
I was tired of aching joints and pains
And taking all those pills...

He said I had too much fire (where, oh where is it??) and put me on a restricted diet. The most difficult for me, was doing without milk in my tea. And in case you're wondering, yes, I can still drink ye olde cuppa, but I've got to get the caffeine out the teabag first. My son assured me almond milk was not so bad and I decided to give it a try. Took the already-opened carton out of the fridge and put some in the mug. The colour of the tea didn't change much, so I put in some more. Still not much difference, but I thought 'what the heck'? I took a taste. Yuck!! What was this? I checked the carton and found I'd taken out the organic chicken stock instead of the almond milk!!

Conclusion: black tea is better than tea with stock.

splitting threads

Have you noticed it? -- a new usage creeping in and taking over that's replacing 'who' with 'that'?
That's doing this? I mean, who is? Is it the zeitgeist that's (who's) lessening our contact with the human and veering us ever more towards the non-human? Or maybe, the anti-zeitgeist??

It was my ninety-year-old uncle, since deceased, who first brought the trend to my attention. In his penthouse flat in Cheltenham he folded over his copy of the Daily Telegraph (a fairly right wing newspaper, so you would expect traditional English usage) and handed it to me.
"Read this, Brenda, then tell me what you think."

So I did, and realized I'd been coming across the use of 'that' rather than 'who' quite a bit in North America. I told him that (or do I mean who?). Piercing but faded blue eyes held my gaze for several seconds. My uncle didn't say anything, but I knew exactly what he was thinking:
What is the world coming to?

Good question.

I merely told him that (who) had to be deliberate. They must have laid it down in the Daily Telegraphs style book, so likely it was here to stay.

the darkest storm

We had a cloudburst, lightning type of summer storm yesterday. I was in the car, transporting my dear friend who's visiting from her Cape ostrich farm, back to her son and daughter-in-law's. The rain was so heavy we couldn't see the buildings on the side of the freeway. At home, my dear husband was cooking in anticipation of receiving some dinner guests. At four in the afternoon, it was as dark as 8.30 or 9 at night and he was forced to light some candles. Even he, who loves thunderstorms, said it was quite scary. Although, interestingly enough, there wasn't much thunder.

This morning I've been out of order. First of all, I managed to pull down the curtain rod in the guest bedroom. Then I disengaged the plug from the bath while cleaning. And, to add insult to injury, my computer wouldn't print, neither would my emails send. Not all of this could be blamed on the storm. How lucky that my dh was able to solve all my problems!

On a different topic, I mean to add a couple of things to my post on texting etc. I'm interested in the abbreviations that have become common currency on emails. I'm talking about things like LOL, which, to me at any rate, means almost a smile rather than laugh-out-loud. And what about visiting my d-i-l when I'm her m-i-l? Will I soon be calling my daughter in law my dear Dill??

that certain moment

It was a sunny day in mid-July when I sensed it, that certain moment when summer suddenly turns towards autumn. I'm always surprised how early this occurs, especially these days when, officially, summer only starts at the solstice. To me it makes more sense if the 24th June is considered as mid-summer, and the best is when you can go see a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream (got that a bit wrong, I know) .

But anyhow, there it is, the sudden shift in the air that brings that first, subtle whiff. And then, summer carries on but I know the change of seasons is approaching, we're on that gentle slide from summer into fall, and I feel different. Not quite so dreamy, perhaps, a little more energetic and able to take on new tasks, or take up old ones with renewed enthusiasm or, at least, resolution!

What a wonderful thing it is, to have the chance to experience all four seasons. I can't imagine how it must be to live on the equator, just have the same all year round. So, even if summer here always feels too short for me, I'll welcome the change.

messaging

While we were away, I quite got into texting. well, it's cheaper than calling on the cell phone. I'm getting quite adept at tapping those little keys in order to get the letter I want, and am even learning the abbreviations like c u. and what 4 ? (haven't discovered how to add the question mark as yet)

During my younger days in London I used to travel by tube. There I'd sit, gazing up at the advertisements, one of which proclaimed 'Gt a gd job and mo pay'. So I was thinking it was a pity I didn't go for that kind of shorthand instead of learning Pitmans, now long forgotten. It would have stood me in good stead in these modern times.

Still, now that I'm settled back, I find myself inclined to use the kind of shortenings that are okay for texting in my emails. I had to put on the brakes. And I began to think, what really is the meaning of spelling? Because I have a bit of a photographic memory, my spelling was always good, although it's deteriorated with age. Not that I ever entered a bee or anything like that, but, loving words, I took a certain satisfaction in knowing how to spell. Texting has kind of thrown that out the window for me.

So, is the meaning of spelling purely a historical one? Does it simply give us an etymological clue? I can't say I have any idea. On this question, I'm clueless. Maybe someone's come up with a study!?

On-line again if not yet on track

Yes, I'm back, after a full but fabulous month in California. Now I can report that I've swum in the Pacific Ocean! Better yet, it was 'twice as warm as it usually is' according to our son. 

Lake swimming is lovely and has its own appeal with its calm surfaces (usually) and views of treed islands and shores. But the beach, with that smell of ozone and the waves foaming and crashing on the shore? Nothing else can be quite so invigorating for me. And I love looking out over the swells and wondering, if I sailed towards the horizon and went on and on, where would I land up?

I've notched up dips in the Atlantic -- usually as chilly as the Pacific on the California coast is reputed to be -- in the Indian Ocean, the English channel, the Mediterranean and the North Sea. Yes, that was the coldest. Perhaps someone who's more in the swim might notice differences in the various oceans. If so, apart from temperature, I wonder what they might be . Some are definitely saltier than others, but I'm thinking of deeper, more subtle sensations.

Talking of sensations, we were in L.A. for the recent earthquake. My husband was in a hardware store buying paint. He said the paint tills rattled and swayed on the shelves and he told the assistance they wouldn't need mixing after that! As for me, I was next door in a pharmacy full of natural products and accessories and was so fascinated by all the wonderful things in store I didn't notice a thing!

Dear me.

officially on vacation

dear readers, as i'm on vacation, i'm not getting to my computer much. Which is good. So, it's not that there's nothing fluttering by at the moment. There's lots in my mind. It just isn't going to be typed out, except when it is.

Yeah.

And meanwhile, I'm watching other things that flutter by, white and black butterflies and a few hummingbirds. I've also seen at least three herons recently, doing the glide by. Summertime is so lovely for plant and bird observation, and i'm making the most of it. I hope you can too.

all those photographs

Over the past five years, we've had three weddings and two funerals in my immediate family. The wonderful aspect of all these is that our family gathers together for the occasion.

At the end of June, we had the first anniversary of the most recent marriage. Thinking of that special, happy time I decided to bring out the photo album to enjoy the images again and the memories they precipitate.

Then I thought this was quite a good thing to do. A great many of our photographs lie stacked away in boxes, a drawer, hidden in albums. Yes, we've accumulated lots. And now, in this digital age, we've many more. And if we never look at them, what's the use of keeping them?

So I'm going to start bringing them out on birthdays, deathdays and especially wedding anniversaries. I'll look back, reminisce and begin to harvest the blessings of life.

The delight of delphiniums

(Can't resist the alliteration!)
As yet, the flowers in our new garden are few. But we do have some that I've been trying to grow ever since coming to North America. Yes, the delphiniums are looking splendid. This morning aI indulged myself and picked a couple for a vase. I've an idea they're the same variety as my family in England grow -- Arthur and Guinevere. How romantic is that?

Actually, I've recently finished the first two volumes of Mary Stewart's trilogy, The Crystal Cave and The Hollow Hills. They're simply wonderful, the mood she creates so magical. Makes me wish I wrote historical novels.

The other flowers I'm really happy to grow here are tulips. Yes, we had a few in South Africa, but those bulbs had to be replanted every year and never looked as stunning as they do in cooler climes.

Summer time

So the solstice has passed and here we are in the height of summer. The trouble is I haven't yet learned to change seasons quickly enough so that I make the absolute most of it. It only dawned on me this past week that I could take my laptop out onto the deck and thus move to an outdoor 'office'. Not that I'm out there right now. It's raining.

But it was a beautiful weekend, the trees already heavy with leaves, the new growth settling in and making them larger and fuller, and the hay looking like it'll soon be ripe enough to cut.

Not having seen our new grandson since Friday, we popped over yesterday evening. How much he'd changed during those 48 hours! It's truly amazing. Those early weeks, months, years go by so quickly and the changes are so immense. I guess it's lucky that this process slows down considerably as we age. At least, I hope it does!

Yesterday I attended an end of the year social. Yes, I'm still in the early stages of creating a new circle of friends. Before setting off I actually took the time to sit down at my dressing table and put on make-up. Quite a bit. Much more than I usually do these days. When I checked my enhanced appearance I got quite a shock. It reminded me of the long ago days when I had a part-time job as a fashion model. The first morning I went into work my husband commented he felt like he was giving a stranger a ride! That was in the dolly-bird 'seventies when we wore false eyelashes. Amazing that they're here again.

Generally, as I get older, less seems to make more. I think I'll be happy enough to gently fade away!

Shapes and figures

Now that summer's here and skimpier clothes are being worn (yeay!) I'm more aware of the state of my shape. Luckily, because of the activity involved with looking after the little person, I only put on a couple of pounds during the winter and they've already disappeared. But my bra feels too tight and I'm wondering if I need to go up a size. Not that my boobs are any bigger, but because the circumference of my ribcage seems to have increased. I'm wondering if this is one of those 'normal ageing' rules.

Shape changes generally I find quite interesting. Not long ago I read an article in the Guardian online about how women's waist measurements have increased over the past 40 or so years. When I was young my friends and I prided ourselves on our narrow waists, and wore tight belts to show them off. These days belts are often worn around the hips and it's been quite a few years that we've been wearing our waistlines low low below our waist. This meant no-one worried too much about the waist measurement. I think that's partly what plays into the phenomenon. How, I'm not quite sure.

The thing is, I remember noticing how many young girls seemed to have very narrow, boyish hips during those years when skinny, skimpy jeans came into fashion. How was this suddenly possible? Was this shape change caused perhaps by a mixture of wishing and focus of consciousness on a certain area of the body? Because I don't think a Darwinistic evolution can happen so quickly. Something mysterious worked there, but I wonder exactly what.

The year gone by and started

So it's a year since I moved cities in order to be closer to family and look after the little person. Spring has followed winter, winter came after autumn, and autumn after summer, and I've experienced the full cycle of the year. Having made many adjustments and a start on becoming familiar with the seen and unseen elements of this new environment, I'm in a different place from where I was a year ago, and, hopefully, I'm a better person. Yes, there've been many changes and challenges, not least to my not-as-good-as-it-used-to-be energies. How many times I've been exhausted. How many times exhilarated through this great privilege of watching a child grow during these crucial first three years (two on Wednesday). Generally, though, it's been good. So there is a cyclical element, but also, hopefully (again), progress.

Right now, it feels like the start of a new year to me. This made me wonder: what or when really is the start of a new year. Is it via the calendar that says January? Or September, the time of Michaelmas when school and everything else starts up again after the summer break? But what about Advent, the start of the church year? And then there's also Easter, where my Calendar of the Soul weekly verses begin.

As I begin to dream into summer, my own vote would be for September. This for me is when the zing of autumn brings new zest and strength for new initiatives and generally helps me to get down to the business and creativity of living.

Done lists

The trouble with what flutters by is that my thoughts get no further than my head! Apologies!

But before I get onto the subject of this post let me tell you the happy news. Our new grandchild has arrived! Babies surely have their own agendas because he took us by surprise and was born at home. Lovely for us all, and especially for the firstborn.

Like most of us, I suppose, I have my 'to do' list, and often items get transferred again and again which can be discouraging. Makes me feel I never quite catch up with myself... probably true! Ticking off or crossing out what I've actually managed to get done doesn't give me much of a sense of achievement or satisfaction, so I've decided to run another list alongside. This will be my 'done' list. I'll write what I've done on this, even if the item is as mundane as having done the laundry, for instance. It's too easy to overlook the little things that actually contribute to our living every day and my energy is better when I can acknowledge that I haven't exactly lain around in sloth all day!

Waiting

When your parents are heading for a hundred, you know that one day they'll be passing over. You kind of hold your breath, waiting and wondering, living with the knowledge that death will come one day. That chapter in my life is closed, although I live with the warm love of my mother around me, and many thoughts and memories of her. One of the great blessings of having your parents with you until later in life is that you can learn much about yourself through them. For instance, you can see what habits you've picked up, what soul attitudes and ways of behaving and reacting. Sometimes these are good, sometimes more challenging. Then you know a bit what you need to work on!

But right now I'm holding my breath for an event right at the other end of the scale, although equally mysterious. Any moment I expect to hear that my daughter-in-law has gone into labour. Yes, the little person will, God willing, soon have a sibling.

It's a strange feeling, this waiting. Barring drastic human intervention, birth and death remain in the lap of the gods. Well, the full moon's coming up, and babies often like that time to be born, so maybe we'll be welcoming another Gemini into our family.

The unsent Mother's Day card

Over Easter on the Outer Banks, I bought a mother's day card. It simply shows a strip of beach sand, the edge of a lacy wave and a star fish. The message is: I love you, Mom.

My mother died almost a month ago, exactly a month before her 98th birthday. So I flew south to the beauty of mountains, lakes and ocean sides seen in the still clarity of autumn light, to give her the best send off I could. I believe she eased the way because we managed to have a fine a family gathering and the great blessing of a Christian Community funeral, one that is directed towards easing the passage of the departing soul from this world to the next.

Leaving her earthly body wasn't an easy process for her and dragged on over some months. She'd seen a woman dressed all in white at the door, she'd had visitations from my departed father, from her own parents too, but then at last she was able to be free. Over the last days she would sometimes call out "Mommy!" and I thought about small children, how their first word is usually 'Mama'. This surely, shows the measure of a mother's importance in our lives. For all who are or were lucky enough to have a mother as wonderful as mine, the words of that unsent card will surely always echo in our hearts.

I love you, Mom.

At last!

Winter has eased and spring is possible! In fact, it's almost happening here and in North Carolina I caught glimpses of green and even some trees fancied out with blossoms.

On an advanced short story course I took some years ago, one of the participants wrote a story in which winter was the only season of the year and never ended. I thought no-one would want to read pages and pages of bleak description and traumatic happenings, but the instructor said that type of story was eminently saleable.

Not to me. I realized then that I prefer the lighter side. And I've just read a lovely book about Renoir that suggests that, as an artist, he strove for that too. So if you're looking for an interesting read with an artistic spiritual slant, I recommend Susan Vreeland's 'Luncheon of the Boating Party'. I also loved her book about Emily Carr called 'Forest Lover'.

And now I'm off, out into the sunshine.

spring break

I've been away. Forgive me. And doesn't the landscape, the world, both outer and inner
feel different since the spring equinox and Easter?

On the Outer Banks I experienced something I've seen only once in my life before, and that was in Arizona. In the western sky hung the full, silver moon and rising in the east, the gold of the Easter morning sun. Magical.

my keyboard's performing magical, unexpected tricks of itds f2own, so i'fll surrende3r to the gre
mslins and catch u later.

Pondering

This has been a strange, subdued week; fitting, I suppose for the time when we ponder the events that took place in the Holy Land over two thousand years ago. Much of what happened then went unnoticed by 'the world'.

But now, in our time, something else is happening to claim our attention and our sympathy. These are the events in Tibet. The Dalai Lama has become such a revered figure of spirituality for so many people, and he is surely suffering greatly.

So it seems somewhat out of kilter that I'm packing my bag to fly off for a week's vacation. Still, I'll be glad of the break. As Good Friday turns to Easter Saturday and then Sunday, I'll think about how, for me, Easter is a festival of the morning. I'll get up in time to celebrate the dawn and take a little walk by the water.

Monday Monday

Monday of Holy Week, and St. Patrick's day to boot! I'm starting to feel the approach of Easter where even last week it felt impossible, especially because Easter this year will happen as early as it possibly can.

This morning I have to decided: will I wear the green? My maternal great grand-father hailed from Ireland, but I never really thought about this side of my Celtic heritage until I flew to Cork for a weekend. When I arrived I had time to spare before catching a bus to Dunvegan. Looking around the airport, I saw so many pamphlets about searching for Irish ancestors that it woke me up to the fact that many, many people visit Ireland on that kind of quest. As I sat on the bus next to a lovely and generous Irish colleen, ("Have one of these sweets, do.") I looked out on those green green fields with new eyes and something was opened for me.

Ah the soft, shimmering air! I almost expected to see a few leprechauns peeping out from behind one of those low, grey stone walls... the fascination of the sound of English spoken with liquid vowels that fell softly on my ears. It was quite an experience, and my only regret was that I didn't get to hear live music in a pub. Luckily that's something I can make up for tonight, right around the corner.

So yes, probably I'll don my jeans and dig out that green tee shirt that gives my skin a ghostly tinge. What I won't do is go on an Irish-type binge!

Not Jamaica, but...

I had a wonderful, retreat-like weekend away. That's why this post is late. Instead of beaches we had snow-drifts, ice-pellets and, last night, a grail moon and stars like I've never seen before in this part of the world. All quite breath-takingly beautiful, except for the ice pellets. People sometimes ask me if I miss Africa and I can reply truthfully, 'no'. What I miss is the southern sky, the sight of the southern cross, the bright swathe of the milky way.

Um, well, this post wasn't going to be about the heavens, but about soup. So here I go.

My culinary year is mostly divided into two seasons: soup season and salad season. We do do salads in winter too, but not so much, and seldom for lunch. So we have our soup repertoire and occasionally add to that. Last time wise daughter visited she told us about an interesting experiment and discovery that was made in Britain. The upshot of it is this.

If you eat a plateful of food you can go for x many hours without feeling hungry. But, if you eat that same food as a soup (a liquid) it'll take you a considerable amount of time longer before you feel hungry. Now, I find that fascinating, because you'd think it would be the other way around, seeing as soup is more easily digestible.

Fine for me. I'll eat my lunchtime bowl of soup knowing I can nap happily, confident that I won't be woken by pangs of hunger.

let's fly away

It's been a rough week, mostly because the little person wasn't keen on eating. On Friday evening when my dear husband asked, "What's our plan tonight?" I told him, "We're catching a plane to Jamaica."

Well, that might not be my fantasy destination if I thought about it for longer than two seconds. Interesting enough, I believe that women are inclined to make quite definite 'escape' plans in their imaginations. That's what I read in a British magazine, anyhow, and I quite like the idea of spending some thought on this. If I did, I'd be able to go to a different place in my mind for a little warmth and downtime. Ah well, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?? It seems so.

Magazines, especially upmarket British ones, are kind of my secret indulgence, although I only buy maybe three or four a year, and mostly when I'm traveling. But I've enjoyed those rags ever since my teenage days in London when my fellow boarders and I used to read Women's Own and the French version of Elle. Wow, how long ago that feels. A world away.

It's an interesting word, magazine. I'm sorry I don't have the etymology to hand. That's because I missed my chance to buy a second-hand Shorter Oxford English dictionary. Maybe I should look again.

The trouble today is that, with all those adverts, often a magazine's contents are closer to the French 'magazin' (i.e. shop, if you're not into the second official language). I'm okay with a few advertisements, but not so many that an issue ends up weighing as much as my carry on luggage. Hmm, I wonder what I should pack before taking off?

white and blue

In all the years I've lived in the northern hemisphere, February's been the longest month to get through. Lucky it's the shortest, hey?We've been looking at a white landscape since the beginning of December, and that's likely to continue for at least another six weeks. Strangely enough, this year I'm not finding the lack of bright colours so difficult. I'm enjoying the shades of blue in the sky, mauve shadows on the snow. And even if it seems as if spring is a country that'll never come, I hear birds twittering in the spruce outside my bedroom window when I wake; the morning's not so dark and in the evening the sun lingers longer.

The interesting thing I find about February is that brings me a good amount of creative energy. And I wonder if that's not perhaps a general principle. My dear artist friend who lives on an ostrich farm has completed no less than four wonderful pastels this month... So I guess all times and seasons have their positive and helpful aspects.

Still, I'm looking forward to getting away for a week in March!

split post

#1. Chocolate, I believe, is a popular Valentine's gift. Hey, I got some myself, from the little person.

Now, chocolate is a popular item to give up for Lent. Me myself, I'm trying not to eat it, but more from my health point of view. But it did strike me as ironic, this year, that the time coincided.

I still haven't quite decided what to give up for Lent. I do believe giving up some habit is a good exercise for the soul. I'd better hurry up and fix on something.

#2. "OW!" says the little person each time he notices the plaster on the tip of my index finger, left hand. Yes, I cut myself the other afternoon. This happened with a very sharp knife my dear husband gave me for Christmas. The knife is one of those special ones, often used for cutting up veg for stir fries. Mostly, when we have stir fries, it's the d.h. who does them. Anyway, the knife already has a history because of the tilted handle which I decided was a bit uncomfortable for me to use. I suffer from a touch of carpal tunnel. The store wouldn't take it back because we no longer had the receipt and thus... I decided I'd better make use of it and whoooops.

Afterwards, I wondered if this happened because I hadn't given my d.h. a copper coin in return. It's not me, but my mother who insists on bowing to this superstition. If someone gives you a pair of scissors or a knife, you need to pay a penny or else you'd cut your friendship. Hmm. Well, I guess that's metaphorical and doesn't apply to the reality level, but nevertheless...

The other superstition she has is that if you cut your nails on a Monday morning, you'll get a present. I really liked this when I was a child because it always came true! This idea must have some kind of base to it, although it sounds crazy. Monday is moon day after all, and the moon has an influence on the growth of our hair and nails. Where the present bit came in, I'm not sure, but for sure I'm okay with it.

Comin' up roses

Ah, Valentine's. I've never had a good relationship with it, and it remains a somewhat problematic festival for me. During my teenage years it was my best friend with the big boobs who used to get cards, not me. In those days they were always anonymous too, supposed to be from a secret admirer. I never had any, which actually didn't bother me tooooo much.

Now in this deep winter, when I look out on spiky icicles that hang like fangs from our eaves, I think maybe a little heart warmth, some fire of desire might be a good thing. But there's the rub. For me, Valentine's shouldn't be about expectations, but rather about romance. Which begs the question, what exactly is that? Hmm, I suspect it has an illusory quality, more seductive to our minds than our bodies, and more difficult to capture. The only place I really can grasp it is in the romantic composers like Chopin and Brahms. So maybe listening to them might be a good place for me to start, and I'll see if I can manage something more by Thursday.

too long no post

Uh oh, apologies, dear Readers. I slid slowly through January or, more like, trudged through it. Yeah, we had lots of snow so that's my excuse. I did actually handwrite some thoughts, and I'd type them out... if I could only find that particular notebook!

Anyhow, I'm going Chinese now and will take February for a good start. As a snake, I'm going to take hold of the Year of the Rat, swallow it, and plan to post once a weekend.

Meantime, faute de mieux, here's a poem for you to take or leave.

Spring is still seven snow fields away
while ice-cutting winter light
slices through the cramping windows
like cross-country ski trails
forging freely across the white
breathing the miracle of pale azure air
and blood pumping with exhilaration.

Skiing into 2008

Isn't it wonderful that the start of a new year always feels so full of promise, so brimming with opportunities to be better and to do better, to eat and drink more mindfully, be kinder to loved ones, to be less selfish and/or self-focused? A new energy seems to be available at this time when we're still journeying through the thirteen holy days and night of the Christmas season.

Having prepared my home and heart to welcome guests and loves ones from near and far, something begins to mature and take on form, bringing me a glimpse or two into the heavens, some insights and intuitions that will help me slide into the months ahead with new impetus and purpose.

And somehow I find the deep midwinter helps the process.

So I wish you all much good will for 2008.