tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79896669554957730382024-03-13T06:01:57.375-07:00From the Other Side of Seventymusings on art and lifefromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.comBlogger153125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-21497349840826952952024-02-17T16:35:00.000-08:002024-02-17T18:33:41.148-08:00dust or no dust<p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_RpbtPM6ZkvAIK87d74loUuNAUD7gvk3XFQ038WRkuEvdvk35vVvRu1wxKmpxbDyoVyEmWGtc6lKUQa3B3YPTCaQmpeLbpdsmhRzHCbbjwq4gm1UkUkX3MZ2vutEFr7PIp6D9FkERwM1KGyx_qvGws0czGzGCiUTQkcdKkifzrgZWWPOlOcuqGAi8SA" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3353" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_RpbtPM6ZkvAIK87d74loUuNAUD7gvk3XFQ038WRkuEvdvk35vVvRu1wxKmpxbDyoVyEmWGtc6lKUQa3B3YPTCaQmpeLbpdsmhRzHCbbjwq4gm1UkUkX3MZ2vutEFr7PIp6D9FkERwM1KGyx_qvGws0czGzGCiUTQkcdKkifzrgZWWPOlOcuqGAi8SA=w288-h320" width="288" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>With the intention of cleaning up and clearing out, I have been terribly sidetracked.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Or, maybe "fortunately sidetracked" is more accurate.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>I felt that passing books along was an easy place to start,</span><span> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">that the spaces on the shelves would prove to me that I was making progress. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>I didn't count on finding notebooks filled with poems and bits of prose </span><span>written around 2010.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Some I wrote during a poetry workshop given by my friend Barbara Pelman, poet extraordinaire!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span>Others I wrote afterwards.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQt8-8p6yH0_AcdTCkI31A1hUnSDhV2UlBLL_Q728zJmLc9D742mYXTrUj4P74dASHwpuOM-vcaVjcUh5Kd11zuQjvkG_r5izElwt1KhIQ_0qeL6GOUvScvlnU_aROyC2VrzzNQZiT24bdloY4sZMKa2i8LjPPhN8T7vmVPhD9tpICZ03GJgyKc0J3EQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="1804" data-original-width="2496" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQt8-8p6yH0_AcdTCkI31A1hUnSDhV2UlBLL_Q728zJmLc9D742mYXTrUj4P74dASHwpuOM-vcaVjcUh5Kd11zuQjvkG_r5izElwt1KhIQ_0qeL6GOUvScvlnU_aROyC2VrzzNQZiT24bdloY4sZMKa2i8LjPPhN8T7vmVPhD9tpICZ03GJgyKc0J3EQ=w400-h289" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />One poem I wrote, dated November 2009, seems now to address my desire to keep some bits of myself back, <br /></span><p><span style="font-size: medium;">holding tight until I feel safe</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">and keeping my vulnerable self hidden.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The first line was written by Rick Bragg in his memoir, <i>The Prince of Frogs:</i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> "So he put the dream in a box to keep it clean" </i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgbQmtFFh7hU27hCe278mJtBOKGG3ilq1KQcx_1mUyEzyjWG-nPmuA8Rx2DSbB9RELRaJTmzwhI6BQaqhUoK6ZvECVv2tS0pp4hTvKZqYTMz1Oi6KdsobAnwS1skFSXxZOhOif-QdkLoOObwzPNXBW52Fj35HsLP0QrTrSmX-enexSIrsnvN8fbJKWF8A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgbQmtFFh7hU27hCe278mJtBOKGG3ilq1KQcx_1mUyEzyjWG-nPmuA8Rx2DSbB9RELRaJTmzwhI6BQaqhUoK6ZvECVv2tS0pp4hTvKZqYTMz1Oi6KdsobAnwS1skFSXxZOhOif-QdkLoOObwzPNXBW52Fj35HsLP0QrTrSmX-enexSIrsnvN8fbJKWF8A" width="320" /></a></div></i><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></span></div>Using this line to begin, I wrote:</span></span></div><p></p><p><i><span style="font-size: medium;">"So he put the dream in a box to keep it clean </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: medium;">removed from the wind that carried</span></i></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>dust and debris from the narrow lanes</i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>to keep it clear from the soil of memories</i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>the grime of family despair</i></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>and the fingerprints of time.</i></span></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>He put the dream in the box</i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>with the lid closed tight</i></span></p><p><i><span style="font-size: medium;">against peering eyes </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: medium;">and probing fingers</span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: medium;">where his son would find it</span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: medium;">after he was gone."</span></i></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Rereading my poem again and again I hear a deep sadness, even a cruelty within it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">Rather than a box with a lid closed tight, </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">as in this poem, I hope instead to <i>give</i></span><i style="text-align: left;"> precious shelter </i><span style="text-align: left;">to my dreams,</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">and to risk sharing them with my family and close friends....dust or no dust!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJ3U1D9rk8Li3jNwv_A8K0rozmpiyiwqoO339uv6yzEhvUOMgaq2MOOy1FKyWN2N3XRFPPtiosJZLfkItb62_u-HEra_hlPSaDv8ihx6F0_HwENB8gsdZOr3ZYw9oVvUfpNt9CEqOyPIfvaiqhac93bmwFEyM_tMOWdo6ZTxwL8W0wgD2pxJj0iOcpoQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3719" data-original-width="2789" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJ3U1D9rk8Li3jNwv_A8K0rozmpiyiwqoO339uv6yzEhvUOMgaq2MOOy1FKyWN2N3XRFPPtiosJZLfkItb62_u-HEra_hlPSaDv8ihx6F0_HwENB8gsdZOr3ZYw9oVvUfpNt9CEqOyPIfvaiqhac93bmwFEyM_tMOWdo6ZTxwL8W0wgD2pxJj0iOcpoQ=w300-h400" width="300" /></a><br /><br /></div><br /><br /></span></span></div><p></p>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-62940598049003215882024-01-19T15:17:00.000-08:002024-01-19T16:00:59.277-08:00the snow goose<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"The snow goose need not bathe to make itself white. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Neither do you need to do anything but be yourself. " Lao Tzu</span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8xuU3Las8B7HHGDZ1renHfOkilz5lB4jak8qYS4_8ltUI4Kw_Jt7QApoQ0ct-5xG1M1D7PkNLpifa-rI7egt1ZkTtoTJZdoAqtWHnVy2hhJQN---neYRQzFGsOdS662VeHO5J1G49XuzaJiLk4rbL8Acw28gCurWPdyR-NlCHTmXQ21_6_9IAyMcGKA" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2634" data-original-width="3512" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8xuU3Las8B7HHGDZ1renHfOkilz5lB4jak8qYS4_8ltUI4Kw_Jt7QApoQ0ct-5xG1M1D7PkNLpifa-rI7egt1ZkTtoTJZdoAqtWHnVy2hhJQN---neYRQzFGsOdS662VeHO5J1G49XuzaJiLk4rbL8Acw28gCurWPdyR-NlCHTmXQ21_6_9IAyMcGKA" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I was so happy to read these words that I sent a copy to both of my daughters.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That was before I pulled back with "yah, right!" </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fine for the ancient Chinese </span>philosopher<span style="font-family: inherit;"> and Taoist master to say, but for this Canadian woman, </span>who's<span style="font-family: inherit;"> never totally sure if she is TOO much or NOT enough, it's a challenge.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A sidebar that has been appearing as I wander on Facebook has put a different kind challenge forward, showing drawings for a full month of chair yoga. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The figure shown is usually male, young and probably 40 years younger than I am. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I never click on these ads so I'm not sure what the promise is.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But I can guess.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Weight loss. Firmer body. More attractive.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">It sounds like this goose is taking a bath!</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYaIKuB5yak23tXMO6JqY6lz-vxOK-w1295mto6qjAmgRU5Wwlito3BgK-1v5bHqRTMNqw_3kEgKxtBvKinZKHaFLBzk0F_0HvSfBE9lJiDBX7i1dwvjorCf78zaVydfVXUASOR8Drnb9AcQpHKIof_hirmF4NpJ9uG4DrIJRB-hfkRYNWToytQeNoqw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYaIKuB5yak23tXMO6JqY6lz-vxOK-w1295mto6qjAmgRU5Wwlito3BgK-1v5bHqRTMNqw_3kEgKxtBvKinZKHaFLBzk0F_0HvSfBE9lJiDBX7i1dwvjorCf78zaVydfVXUASOR8Drnb9AcQpHKIof_hirmF4NpJ9uG4DrIJRB-hfkRYNWToytQeNoqw=w320-h240" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">A poem I wrote several months ago seems to belong here:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwPMiw4gxCCXBoZ2A460IlYNoSd1o2q-dO-wW5GHANyPBUQqHo4GzBJjOvkz5iRhLuqqSVxrJewW1R7OBNu2NtbrYz-mR4105OmLgiCLPQD3zZqYvHjQ58tEVU-XufZXFw4-M9PkHoa72P_CGQj9k21nvv4MKKTNRqq3rXV6I-Zfr0pAiB6X3ITND-3A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img data-original-height="2777" data-original-width="3702" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwPMiw4gxCCXBoZ2A460IlYNoSd1o2q-dO-wW5GHANyPBUQqHo4GzBJjOvkz5iRhLuqqSVxrJewW1R7OBNu2NtbrYz-mR4105OmLgiCLPQD3zZqYvHjQ58tEVU-XufZXFw4-M9PkHoa72P_CGQj9k21nvv4MKKTNRqq3rXV6I-Zfr0pAiB6X3ITND-3A=w400-h300" width="400" /></a><span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><u><br /></u></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> I had a stone tumbler</span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">once</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> a long time ago</span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> when my daughters were young</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"> I put stones in</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"> from "pebble beach"</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"> on South Pender island</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"> the rough edges</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> made smooth</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"> imperfections</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> rubbed clean.</span><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span> I </span><span>wouldn't do that now</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiueA8D_dwS5mkJ7zCiuzaV5D002HermZeDbFXzSoSHeivrWuAeKuExhCTc0t9vdefDU_ETc_tfahxvfaI_Ln0NJ1tBOnzmMEfetHrS4esVp-_MYYpI__xgOGjyjosaoJtiAqtYV7n4KDHX3cb8oEHuH1DYByOJxC6w7usknIrQz9mjAIUjr8jIoNvK9g" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiueA8D_dwS5mkJ7zCiuzaV5D002HermZeDbFXzSoSHeivrWuAeKuExhCTc0t9vdefDU_ETc_tfahxvfaI_Ln0NJ1tBOnzmMEfetHrS4esVp-_MYYpI__xgOGjyjosaoJtiAqtYV7n4KDHX3cb8oEHuH1DYByOJxC6w7usknIrQz9mjAIUjr8jIoNvK9g=w400-h300" width="400" /></span></a></div><p></p></div>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-3024085456617740652023-12-29T14:58:00.000-08:002024-01-18T20:58:46.750-08:00a tiny ripple of hope<p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEge6ACs0tbvxRh-2vU1xPQXQyOms3ZmcVK2wxqgypy8S5x8jXVHgo7sMLAPO3vJ2J2lZaGOzGeGvpHyGN0xKQ9mflk3Zoy6q48__bJPUralObgkBqy76NK6kVYjPxJkVgzimi-ymnPDxj2uWj8_zw5kBoyYx7GhK9W9GD75YJHtYUxkT8EZ_19NMksRvQ" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEge6ACs0tbvxRh-2vU1xPQXQyOms3ZmcVK2wxqgypy8S5x8jXVHgo7sMLAPO3vJ2J2lZaGOzGeGvpHyGN0xKQ9mflk3Zoy6q48__bJPUralObgkBqy76NK6kVYjPxJkVgzimi-ymnPDxj2uWj8_zw5kBoyYx7GhK9W9GD75YJHtYUxkT8EZ_19NMksRvQ=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> I have 15 pages </span><span style="font-size: medium;">remaining in the book I'm reading, "As We Are Now" by May Sarton. I've been here - nearly finished- since last evening. </span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I don't want to continue.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I had placed this book in a pile of perhaps 30 others that I'm going to bring to The Church Mouse at St. Mary's Church on Saturday. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Their weekly sales benefit 3 of the charities I support, so it's a joy bringing books to them.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">(The Food Bank at St. John the Divine, Threshold Housing Society and Hospice)</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>The book's inside cover says KERRISDALE BRANCH and there is evidence that the </span><span>pocket to hold a library card has been torn away.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I have lived in Victoria for about 12 years, before that in the Cowichan Valley for another 12, so I haven't lived in Vancouver, in Kerrisdale, for about a 1/4 century! </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So I read this book quite some time ago.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">When I added it to my books-to-go-pile I thought I would read it again. I seemed to remember that it had been in some way, special. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It is about Caro, an older woman, who was placed in a remote nursing home which was run by two horrid "keepers".</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And, I can't finish the book. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Rather, I won't finish the book.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzHQ4JdHWuq98o1WJhEBHWiBF9FtdwO-qbFHH6QmsOJU58dTk2ZsCrLcwlqcjP_qyQLQ1uIBphWswijxsDpL7tCpSuUiwddqOrGi7MYxrC8CVCD-fqr4YO2jmBf08LAMYBDTuRFZ_FTDzDuG7apc7rHqlObzTOPxGNyrdPR2Rk-svgapjjdayFh3s4rw" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzHQ4JdHWuq98o1WJhEBHWiBF9FtdwO-qbFHH6QmsOJU58dTk2ZsCrLcwlqcjP_qyQLQ1uIBphWswijxsDpL7tCpSuUiwddqOrGi7MYxrC8CVCD-fqr4YO2jmBf08LAMYBDTuRFZ_FTDzDuG7apc7rHqlObzTOPxGNyrdPR2Rk-svgapjjdayFh3s4rw=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>I remember when I turned 50 I gave </span><span>myself permission to not read every book to its conclusion. Before that I had felt compelled to read to the end...it was only fair to the author, after all!</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I have become aware over the last decade that the grief, trauma and horror depicted in some books is too painful for me.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">About 10 years ago I gave away all the novels I had that were Holocaust-related. Many I had never read. The responsibility I felt to really get a more personal understanding of the horrors had lead me to buy them. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I had felt that, as a Jew, I needed to feel the depths of despair.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And then, the hopeless despair was too great.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And served no purpose.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I have on my shelf "Five Little Indians" by Michelle Good, winner of the First Novel Award, Longlisted for the Giller Prize, ggbooks Winner, and finally, the Writers Trust Fiction Prize.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Comments on the back cover include, "tracing the lives of residential school survivors..." "wounding and powerful..." "...compassionate and devastating..."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>After starting to read the book several times, I decided instead to borrow the audio. However, I quickly </span><span>realized that this was more painful for me as I couldn't skim ahead to avoid the most painful parts as I could when reading.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It's back on the shelf. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Someone said they wanted to borrow it.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I've just spoken to a friend about my avoidance of reading and listening to subjects that are trauma-laden. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">She understands, which somehow makes me feel better!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I haven't listened to the news on the radio for 3 weeks. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>The unopened world news headlines appear on my computer and </span><span>I speak to my daughter in Israel nearly every day.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>That is enough.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3598" data-original-width="2301" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg7S_r_NPk11yoLm0FcknhcQNKticc8Cp3aPsWNeCCsEjeA_yh1xg7EOsicv7WfKHDj-9pjnYBaNlIfAt2tf1lPeXzmzIm_26coQFDbM0G9ynlxRIvnJf74FP7YvSvVfIsf_7P4pBRnbcw4prxhoXU4gO_owczt3ZGWXhRchLn1Uxsy7RKFijsD6ph9cQ=w255-h400" width="255" /></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Caro, in the depths of her pain, laments "My jaw aches from holding a grief back,"</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">I can't change the Big Issues so let me do what I can do here, in Victoria.</span></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><span> Let's all do what we can.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsopztg95O2qy_TgIkwcbdG50FG-TzD29WYiJ26_ahsleqly0wb8bNRh9R-_AsRBfwq9gMrzi5q4Yixbdl-R3y1swoh-AbdgXrhQkVSTnSfOARZWOroolwYpHLVbid57XjB9vEhpZr193fBoU8ePF98Mm0jgFkKUyLYFQPrTYj5poaPrEz0vaYAltVLQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2810" data-original-width="3747" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjl0XyA0-Mip_5Do2p7DP7bWZUb35qz7lhksSnRK9SBU8lZIqESxhgpSiTseYnBqBOwdgi5YUy9iG4XqmJJfPRc6Ol2KM0Kzb6Enci85K6pkAaDI8i7y9XSgdlJWLWLmiEiGzgq9g296SWy0Px34D3Xy1sljjYsCpCWTeGGEivVsGEdNY0rUDWvw4SVLQ" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> (Does anyone want to borrow "As We Are </span></span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">Now" and tell me how it ends?)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVQzcR9KPK_d_JdYrxxeUVXsX90WtNn_bXp02fya_2Ney5RXnfW7wpp0IuDSAu4KpFLqPKmFfr86oG6XRDYrw-crmRTASihTW1u0NhsSj1GoekOiYM81B_7Wl1uOxInXVgMB9_sNEaZ6gMpXJJC1ecijf9v8GdGzowMKwG-Yv5JGpq4KCGwtx-PJ_QFg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="2765" data-original-width="3687" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVQzcR9KPK_d_JdYrxxeUVXsX90WtNn_bXp02fya_2Ney5RXnfW7wpp0IuDSAu4KpFLqPKmFfr86oG6XRDYrw-crmRTASihTW1u0NhsSj1GoekOiYM81B_7Wl1uOxInXVgMB9_sNEaZ6gMpXJJC1ecijf9v8GdGzowMKwG-Yv5JGpq4KCGwtx-PJ_QFg=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-11416377854873694142023-12-04T08:54:00.000-08:002023-12-15T21:28:09.413-08:00in my heart<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiR3Cm9n5yjZf_iRb2kgbTLRZlTAcLEzNSQf4WGi0aUx61jC1pzlnUcT8Igrslm8XGLjyXWoMHD7M-oiyvnLbqBo4IltkzTNmr18Fu_eV0rEnG1Vbk0MO-itL82OaBuqq65JGKspUXZVFwBcPhX5IY0h1QT2gT_hCLlPngK6UF8lAmC5amgPUfCZwBwrw" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3532" data-original-width="2286" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiR3Cm9n5yjZf_iRb2kgbTLRZlTAcLEzNSQf4WGi0aUx61jC1pzlnUcT8Igrslm8XGLjyXWoMHD7M-oiyvnLbqBo4IltkzTNmr18Fu_eV0rEnG1Vbk0MO-itL82OaBuqq65JGKspUXZVFwBcPhX5IY0h1QT2gT_hCLlPngK6UF8lAmC5amgPUfCZwBwrw=w259-h400" width="259" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">I'm writing this late in the afternoon, late enough that I have asparagus spears, red and orange small peppers and onion roasting in the oven. They will be tossed with pasta for dinner. <br /> </span><div><span style="font-size: medium;">I even have some pesto that I might add.</span><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It's about compromised health and coping, that's burning a hole in my brain right now.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Brian's health. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The health of Brian, my husband of 42 years. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The health of the man who built about 50 raised beds in Duncan so I could have a herb business and grow vegetables and have a whole large bed of magnificent scented peonies.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The Brian who always fills my car with gas.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The Brian with whom I share a studio.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The Brian I love.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> That Brian.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: medium;">I'm not writing to talk about health issues, but rather to attempt to see, through writing, how I can better manage.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">How I can be strong and still honour the weight of pain that I feel.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">How I can be strong and accept that it's hard and it's okay to slip up.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And to slip up again.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And to apologize if my slip up hurts.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I remember an expression I heard a great number of years ago, when someone had a partner or a child who had recently died. "God gives you only what you have the strength to bear." </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It seemed to imply that the weaker person wouldn't have had the trauma. That in fact the person was suffering<i> because</i> she was strong and able to manage!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Being strong was not an asset.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I have recently turned 80 and although someone this morning called me a fireball, I certainly don't have the energy I once had, even 5 years ago.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Even a fireball can't keep burning!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I am tired a lot these days, often stumbling towards exhaustion.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Recently I took the wrong route to a place I have always known well, feeling panicked and not knowing how to right myself. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">So, the signals of stress are clear. The question is will I heed them?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiVuTF5oneJivqGZJXJBQiMRghSUG5PAjtuStMe58CZMdQriM8LTaA0eb17MCju2ui91OPiGfmCLT0_qlPKdGwg8eM6iUbnpywVyDenfTFbQKC-0QHTLECQEZ_tFo5QrvaAMiB4NBxgVbPys9GhFv171twY8wX0ew16I3P3EUZwBiImf_zXF1KzSd-iqQ" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3598" data-original-width="2301" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiVuTF5oneJivqGZJXJBQiMRghSUG5PAjtuStMe58CZMdQriM8LTaA0eb17MCju2ui91OPiGfmCLT0_qlPKdGwg8eM6iUbnpywVyDenfTFbQKC-0QHTLECQEZ_tFo5QrvaAMiB4NBxgVbPys9GhFv171twY8wX0ew16I3P3EUZwBiImf_zXF1KzSd-iqQ=w255-h400" width="255" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Jackie's New Rules:<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">#1 Get some ready-made food to augment the food I've prepared.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">#2 Set aside some time each day to read and additional time to write.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">#3 Return to my morning walks, at least 4 times a week, and not rely on friends to partner with me.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">#5 Drink less and laugh more.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">That seems pretty easy (ha!) but who will I be accountable to? </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I'll think about it after I pour myself a rum and eggnog.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I'll laugh later.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFdmwsljqUwSVqPPRaNXGqx4Mg7tPynetG6B7qpPqqW1JxyVx3SzAoYWG7xYIi3vQjIhjr28PGyCiC1Y6Zd7YhafuJ5QrZb_I-LiI5-YRGafOtecypfpR4Mt7ypYOEC997LOax0P0lTsCnaeYK9iLsc4maxrxJZSac2gRMXCCQXj9rp3fjgmtNAubEgA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3548" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFdmwsljqUwSVqPPRaNXGqx4Mg7tPynetG6B7qpPqqW1JxyVx3SzAoYWG7xYIi3vQjIhjr28PGyCiC1Y6Zd7YhafuJ5QrZb_I-LiI5-YRGafOtecypfpR4Mt7ypYOEC997LOax0P0lTsCnaeYK9iLsc4maxrxJZSac2gRMXCCQXj9rp3fjgmtNAubEgA=w273-h320" width="273" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">tears of love</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and of sadness</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">a future obscured by mist</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and a past already decided</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3M5DJvmWhm8OWU-A4U_t5ndUV-xdk8brrSoJvQnvBvYRyHC-2KiuskkkHTP5tGdpowPPkG8rTy6F4cEEwnAi5FG8PX4elfkvKnxPSgEvsQxrl62zE6e1WVtjaw8lkh9XfrkWP_iS6fXuUFn32bP38kdCl86epUPNemFrIMUCfinbHDSjM8qjhwQAWRQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p></div>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-24936230684135872112023-10-25T09:40:00.014-07:002023-10-30T08:41:39.877-07:00joy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOLiIEXLKa8j9bMBNygvDRaTVXbfo5F354LEmxIGVQ0jCm95728gH7jEWFVhkzpJcOE9XVqSUcdwhlECPgFhQfw9CdysV-t39Ak3ZbDCG1h4eqNHaH-7w8hwtQrE6Ppf6g0l9WWzILcXQoSHeAAcqJ6Lz0zCxaLQ9MbQ6EKIlM6VEGYMvp8z1EQS2Bdg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="4027" data-original-width="2845" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOLiIEXLKa8j9bMBNygvDRaTVXbfo5F354LEmxIGVQ0jCm95728gH7jEWFVhkzpJcOE9XVqSUcdwhlECPgFhQfw9CdysV-t39Ak3ZbDCG1h4eqNHaH-7w8hwtQrE6Ppf6g0l9WWzILcXQoSHeAAcqJ6Lz0zCxaLQ9MbQ6EKIlM6VEGYMvp8z1EQS2Bdg=w227-h320" width="227" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Remember when the mantra was "a place for everything and everything in its place"?</span><span><br /></span></span><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And, in the KonMari Method, holding a single object at a time and asking yourself if it sparks joy. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And doing this repeatedly. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Individually.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Marie describes these sparks as "a little thrill, as if the cells in your body are slowly rising."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">First let me say that our house is so filled with objects that my hands, arms, shoulders and back would suffer great harm if I were to lift each object, one by one. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And I really don't want to spend this 80th year of my life hoisting and wondering if that was a thrill or the start of a migraine.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">My good friend and walking partner told me this morning that she was describing our walks to a friend. She said that I don't really notice the dogs we pass or people, but rather I am so enthralled with the seed pods and leaves and spider webs I see.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Well.... I do notice some people and dogs and houses but, really, I'm more apt to put a twin joined baby hazelnut into my pocket than to comment on the utterly huge and ugly house that's under construction.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEinIPPPipuT8QA0rJElGVAxo1MKLDZDAAMbs13I59aXmdx9A238xh6a3h4A6z1jx8A8xbQ0lpgCT8ciSwvtWrlZ-HrX21TdwvfsNnSCCkqGKmWUP817mTT-2Y8BdTkH8kpjgiuuxlYVIPrsd4VRLA9vx6RtrZCGWcpSV1zNpx0bDBNn6YkSdbxc6FQFvw" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEinIPPPipuT8QA0rJElGVAxo1MKLDZDAAMbs13I59aXmdx9A238xh6a3h4A6z1jx8A8xbQ0lpgCT8ciSwvtWrlZ-HrX21TdwvfsNnSCCkqGKmWUP817mTT-2Y8BdTkH8kpjgiuuxlYVIPrsd4VRLA9vx6RtrZCGWcpSV1zNpx0bDBNn6YkSdbxc6FQFvw=w300-h400" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEinIPPPipuT8QA0rJElGVAxo1MKLDZDAAMbs13I59aXmdx9A238xh6a3h4A6z1jx8A8xbQ0lpgCT8ciSwvtWrlZ-HrX21TdwvfsNnSCCkqGKmWUP817mTT-2Y8BdTkH8kpjgiuuxlYVIPrsd4VRLA9vx6RtrZCGWcpSV1zNpx0bDBNn6YkSdbxc6FQFvw" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></span></div></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I'm actually quite skilled at gathering and talking simultaneously.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And so I move into the reason for writing today's blog.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Our house is messy and cluttered and filled with things.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I have a small bamboo box with dried seed heads that rests on a table in our dining room. Beside it is a plate rimed with gold stars where smooth black stones and a pearlized oyster shell reside.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidIVASY7EynDLUHbMNYazk2J5lZgj6nztj-kjRbYRR0ytHyySMbSc7SVWL1z5_LhB0BJXkd4ZB4wVTsM4Exp6StgYa7nPr61RHEdWH6l4n__zDKQwMj9I08YyW0c7rMTUPuXZi3CLfmPb5JAjYrK28oS9r7LiagMy4Sv84BwigOsw4Mw-vTVZZrTma8A" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidIVASY7EynDLUHbMNYazk2J5lZgj6nztj-kjRbYRR0ytHyySMbSc7SVWL1z5_LhB0BJXkd4ZB4wVTsM4Exp6StgYa7nPr61RHEdWH6l4n__zDKQwMj9I08YyW0c7rMTUPuXZi3CLfmPb5JAjYrK28oS9r7LiagMy4Sv84BwigOsw4Mw-vTVZZrTma8A=w400-h300" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidIVASY7EynDLUHbMNYazk2J5lZgj6nztj-kjRbYRR0ytHyySMbSc7SVWL1z5_LhB0BJXkd4ZB4wVTsM4Exp6StgYa7nPr61RHEdWH6l4n__zDKQwMj9I08YyW0c7rMTUPuXZi3CLfmPb5JAjYrK28oS9r7LiagMy4Sv84BwigOsw4Mw-vTVZZrTma8A" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">A friend who used to teach very young children (as I did) commented that it reminded her of collections she had in her classroom for the children to look at and touch. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> But those were conscious, on-purpose- learning- school- collections.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">But these gatherings of mine have a sense of order to them. They are arranged in a pleasing way and arranged just so between plants. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Eccentric but tidy.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Tidy but taking space.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Things.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJucpJPnuvlnaFhbqwfbfZInY8HOHpF9dvcLoSL5ac9vLYHeCjvQB1NfVppor8zQjv4OuNKjGoS85OYhIJ2cxryNC98sELbzN5DOULgU1Pqbf7V-2NFEwb6IdI_DIfO2WwdNL5G0DPycBRtJgGHCfqWNR8V-di6FOKFfwLjxow_ghYTAnuMX75_NOzPg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="2901" data-original-width="3558" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJucpJPnuvlnaFhbqwfbfZInY8HOHpF9dvcLoSL5ac9vLYHeCjvQB1NfVppor8zQjv4OuNKjGoS85OYhIJ2cxryNC98sELbzN5DOULgU1Pqbf7V-2NFEwb6IdI_DIfO2WwdNL5G0DPycBRtJgGHCfqWNR8V-di6FOKFfwLjxow_ghYTAnuMX75_NOzPg=w320-h261" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></div></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">When I move from the dining room to write, I am overwhelmed by clutter.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The clutter on my computer table.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Right now there are five pens, a magnifying glass, a Tim Hortons gift card ready to give away, and a small yellow post-it pad. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">To the right of the computer there are 3 books to look at, a printed image of the Israeli flag, a note with the address of my niece in Montreal, and<i> These Precious Days</i> by Ann Patchett to read for book club. Underneath this book from 2021, I have a very old copy of <i>The Physical Life of Woman</i> by Dr George H. Napheys A.M., M.D. <i>Advice to the Maiden, Wife and Mother.</i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And this is only what I see, seated at the computer</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">But why is all this stuff on the computer table? </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The room has three large bookshelves, a small basket for pens and the magnifying glass, and I have already copied Miriam's contact information into my address book. The gift card belongs in my purse.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It's kind of okay to have a messy office/den but sadly it's not confined to this room.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQ_yHed9cyIviE7IMBDKo8Bikj386LWX2W54AKMDGKNjdeed3jWzZddtI3NmPl9vnBTq0u8g_O2pNwkK-p1BFt8lFkO7fcQXVqV5jI8Rlu4byMlJwKrKpRCSXSCjKh1fS6OXOmppwpH55PT0XNgd0JgLtK9-45EtK1lTyntnHpeA2Ca2_jINAs3WWBnw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="2780" data-original-width="4032" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQ_yHed9cyIviE7IMBDKo8Bikj386LWX2W54AKMDGKNjdeed3jWzZddtI3NmPl9vnBTq0u8g_O2pNwkK-p1BFt8lFkO7fcQXVqV5jI8Rlu4byMlJwKrKpRCSXSCjKh1fS6OXOmppwpH55PT0XNgd0JgLtK9-45EtK1lTyntnHpeA2Ca2_jINAs3WWBnw=w400-h276" width="400" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjs0Y7qnjA6JdV_0Un6Kz-RP3f7EafXmuC1La1H5tAKWRiupGV3kG4NPdpGdjpuO16hZAwsmFVh5a4fOk3V2aoVMSmcRFUO-_6yzFxrRxBSBTars-S8IX9n_VSDZwqycZVoqDRdGa0Cwwm7I6vSu5JxqSmq2eSsNZu6fNqkRDcbETzOIpEsANcS2J_4OA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3560" data-original-width="2670" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjs0Y7qnjA6JdV_0Un6Kz-RP3f7EafXmuC1La1H5tAKWRiupGV3kG4NPdpGdjpuO16hZAwsmFVh5a4fOk3V2aoVMSmcRFUO-_6yzFxrRxBSBTars-S8IX9n_VSDZwqycZVoqDRdGa0Cwwm7I6vSu5JxqSmq2eSsNZu6fNqkRDcbETzOIpEsANcS2J_4OA" width="180" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A mirror from a car I found on the road</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Other People don't seem to have cluttered kitchen counters.</span></div></span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>It seems They have a </span><span>"a place for everything and everything in its place."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Friends tell me that our home is so interesting, filled with art and fascinating things.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">However when I have my reading group or mah jongg friends over, I get in a panic.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Several years ago, when I was expecting company, I took a medium-sized plastic bin and filled it with things that were on counters and table surfaces. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Everything looked great then, b</span><span>ut within days I needed my purloined stuff and emptied the bin, returning the things</span><span> to their familiar places.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I read somewhere that a cluttered space indicates a cluttered mind, and that new research suggests that clutter can be a contributing factor to stress.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">And then I found this reassuring quote:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">When asked about his messy desk, Einstein remarked "If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, then what are we to think of an empty desk?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; margin: 0px; overflow: hidden; position: relative; vertical-align: top;"><div jsname="IOBa3c"><div class="XOEbc" jsname="qQjpJ" role="button" style="outline: 0px;" tabindex="0"><br /></div><div class="BfmEZb" jsname="tdeeNb" style="box-sizing: border-box; height: 160px; left: 0px; pointer-events: none; position: absolute; top: 0px; width: 147.989136px;"></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div id="dEg4ZZywL4H19AODsZ_oDQ__20"><div class="wDYxhc" data-md="61" style="clear: none;"><div aria-level="3" class="LGOjhe" data-attrid="wa:/description" data-hveid="CBwQAA" role="heading" style="overflow: hidden; padding-bottom: 20px;"><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-64380256595918101562023-10-04T15:30:00.028-07:002023-10-11T11:59:39.121-07:00risking being me<p><br /></p><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEik9cpUNWBP9wVj9OZyZtKjh-_Esk09Pnz8y19cyBTRZ9X8PaqL7tWOPE1S3fBJ8UWMpp-OxzyqGO3ZVI7JbehrTjZStRBf1UWi--xl1a3OrQvUP0iY2ppvYof6eiWR8sL5YQlm5X83DU2r4HgDlHG_QFDVTuuwhcAUactfKAmXrl1RYfxMj8yElxV3sg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEik9cpUNWBP9wVj9OZyZtKjh-_Esk09Pnz8y19cyBTRZ9X8PaqL7tWOPE1S3fBJ8UWMpp-OxzyqGO3ZVI7JbehrTjZStRBf1UWi--xl1a3OrQvUP0iY2ppvYof6eiWR8sL5YQlm5X83DU2r4HgDlHG_QFDVTuuwhcAUactfKAmXrl1RYfxMj8yElxV3sg=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I haven't written a blog entry for three months.</div><p></p><p>It's been a challenging time, and living the challenges has been enough, writing about them would have been too much.</p><p>Challenges can appear in many forms. </p><p>For someone, it might be running faster than previously, losing weight, being promoted at work or losing your job. </p><p>It might be trying to remember your own name.</p><p> Or the challenge to keep from losing your temper. (read: to keep from losing MY temper!)</p><p>Brian has been having health problems- primarily problems with his kidneys, just like his brother in Britain. And there are other medical issues that we are mainly supporting with pills.</p><p>I am the reminder. </p><p>The reminder, squared.</p><p>The nag.</p><p>"Drink water, take your pills."</p><p>And sliding easily into "You haven't been drinking enough water. You haven't yet taken your morning pills and it's mid-afternoon now."</p><p>Blame blame.</p><p>At these times I have become a person I don't like very much. A few days ago I wrote in my notebook: "If I met myself today would I like me?"</p><p>How can I be gentle with this person I love? </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj-koPQdpKUNdpfUqEBjKNbtz9EvOPpn0Q1rkiEHK5uCUPEnGHx2Zbx88JeN_KWDFWctwyxBZAqOTer9wJ0_p3Mi55HuAWWojDbndJoWJuLRdePo8T553aUymoK9NGBiYnvC9fIouThYrEwMTecuqQgYpe_SBvp8qwaoY-Dg9YjPI9v-Heapvzk42KbAg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj-koPQdpKUNdpfUqEBjKNbtz9EvOPpn0Q1rkiEHK5uCUPEnGHx2Zbx88JeN_KWDFWctwyxBZAqOTer9wJ0_p3Mi55HuAWWojDbndJoWJuLRdePo8T553aUymoK9NGBiYnvC9fIouThYrEwMTecuqQgYpe_SBvp8qwaoY-Dg9YjPI9v-Heapvzk42KbAg=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi43kHxNa-3gH70WUjUW1hDNseK0krVIS1QpxpZooyd_eXnLHRP8eZ55x9Q00qUKfwLyPsRkfs3NjSMH-QazTwPvlP-ckU6p1jI7KqgXb79KyN9qCfL5A8lSzDQ-t0bx4R01vmD8J2_5J3hkYaR2VLR-rvlCYfFnOhSQAvC2m-OPgubSKmvr-A8ORBNpQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi43kHxNa-3gH70WUjUW1hDNseK0krVIS1QpxpZooyd_eXnLHRP8eZ55x9Q00qUKfwLyPsRkfs3NjSMH-QazTwPvlP-ckU6p1jI7KqgXb79KyN9qCfL5A8lSzDQ-t0bx4R01vmD8J2_5J3hkYaR2VLR-rvlCYfFnOhSQAvC2m-OPgubSKmvr-A8ORBNpQ=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br /></div>Parkinson's Disease and kidney problems aren't his fault. There is no one to blame.<p></p><p>"Just get over it, Jackie!"</p><p>BUT........I need to forgive myself for the pain and frustration I feel. This wasn't how I had expected my life to turn. </p><p>But, quite honestly, I had no concrete assumptions at all.</p><p>When Brian and I married 42 years ago we were both healthy and strong. Working in our gardens for hours each day and spending additional hours in our art studio. Cooking fabulous meals from the produce we grew and eating chickens raised by friends.</p><p>We were young!!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYtW_d1NP3UM1KX69NemJJtOrL8Jagaf4GGWmi0gDdfUyshy-9GXrLSvx-mYUatb-nEB-rs6A3bn2HWse_SmYyYCJVMUbqMzaSFP1yaRt6nUgjaEyzd4S9ybHHs1MARIQaG4j9uyWHlTPj_tqhdsOvedZZCTOS25dcOWjJlbotpXywiOiE3HQPZ4ZFsg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYtW_d1NP3UM1KX69NemJJtOrL8Jagaf4GGWmi0gDdfUyshy-9GXrLSvx-mYUatb-nEB-rs6A3bn2HWse_SmYyYCJVMUbqMzaSFP1yaRt6nUgjaEyzd4S9ybHHs1MARIQaG4j9uyWHlTPj_tqhdsOvedZZCTOS25dcOWjJlbotpXywiOiE3HQPZ4ZFsg=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p>I will be 80 years old next week. I thought getting old would take longer!</p><p>But I'm still engaged and full of energy. The expression "full of piss and vinegar" comes to mind.</p><p><span face=""Google Sans", arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124;">To say that people are “full of piss and vinegar” is to say that they are </span><span face=""Google Sans", arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124;">brimming with energy... “vinegar” being an old slang term for enthusiastic energy.</span></p><p>But I'm more impatient now. </p><p>Less tolerant of stupid people. </p><p>Probably wanting my own way even more often.</p><p>But the biggest, most important change is that I'm way more likely to risk being me!</p><p>Here I am, receiving birthday presents from my friends, as they describe me in a single word: *mom *artist *friend *youthful *strong *dynamo *creative*resolute *supportive *compassionate *honest *unstoppable *onward *caring *loyal *frank *straightforward *engaged *creative *artistic *curious *generous *open-hearted *authentic *trustworthy *dedicated *gracious *passionate *exuberant *resilient *honest *loyal *electric *visionary *inspiring *sensitive*vulnerable *<span face="Optima-Regular" style="font-size: 18px;">אוֹתֶנְטִי </span> *INDOMITABLE!</p><p>And, tomorrow, I'm going mushroom hunting with a friend.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjn31fkzVHk9NcdmoXqlobwh7zys-pSy0sKEXdDBBNNm2kqS9guKZyas-pJPYXN7XhGUvhzJFUUpKwSrp6KBsY84wvzbsNf4mSd25MwfSH2iK6DuehxZZNgxNMx3iIygErcTzGwyVOsXe0QQ0xMDKH8wbT8FOE3LGZhvOAvFQ1_0_K1ldaOTBf7WsuOMw" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjn31fkzVHk9NcdmoXqlobwh7zys-pSy0sKEXdDBBNNm2kqS9guKZyas-pJPYXN7XhGUvhzJFUUpKwSrp6KBsY84wvzbsNf4mSd25MwfSH2iK6DuehxZZNgxNMx3iIygErcTzGwyVOsXe0QQ0xMDKH8wbT8FOE3LGZhvOAvFQ1_0_K1ldaOTBf7WsuOMw=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-ZhhlPMQuqpHgJJIiJFlhzef8MLLS8k1YSeoH_6CLdhBwErF5sF-NqziBIQpwEypUrdZodx0vW-rB-U-3fHGsQ-553E7sOP7XE7QpZ9S82196KQ7vd2JBiNszUNrHBHC7HD0EhHEFK20llwcg7VDx4s6icDsX07DPU2YKxfMtCv6IjhH_lMj0DIxZ8w" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-ZhhlPMQuqpHgJJIiJFlhzef8MLLS8k1YSeoH_6CLdhBwErF5sF-NqziBIQpwEypUrdZodx0vW-rB-U-3fHGsQ-553E7sOP7XE7QpZ9S82196KQ7vd2JBiNszUNrHBHC7HD0EhHEFK20llwcg7VDx4s6icDsX07DPU2YKxfMtCv6IjhH_lMj0DIxZ8w=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Optima-Regular" style="font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">these are amazing birthday present words given to me:</span></div><div><span face="Optima-Regular" style="font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">"You have an eye for finding not only the beautiful in everyday life, but also<br /></span><span face="Optima-Regular" style="font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">the needs of others in every day life."</span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjHOdpK0Fs614rHersmnb9qcINk4KdVh91t1yA14r9KFQNlFd66XX2t4cyYfMpOvo73A-tqnInivf7YfG6ov83PIUiTiunVfpP4S6gO4q_LYsfGRD9Feyhk5ydbIb50Ir91IMfbagSP7RMNI7dc1NaIdCfdrcLpj_n0gtSbtffEc5ZfDKpH54IYpc_M1Q" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjHOdpK0Fs614rHersmnb9qcINk4KdVh91t1yA14r9KFQNlFd66XX2t4cyYfMpOvo73A-tqnInivf7YfG6ov83PIUiTiunVfpP4S6gO4q_LYsfGRD9Feyhk5ydbIb50Ir91IMfbagSP7RMNI7dc1NaIdCfdrcLpj_n0gtSbtffEc5ZfDKpH54IYpc_M1Q=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /> I know that this is 3 words but I love it! </div><div style="text-align: left;"> *boundless without boundaries </div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-44329006166644827792023-07-02T07:57:00.004-07:002023-07-02T15:44:50.450-07:00a lesson from Zara<span style="font-family: inherit;"><p> Our dear cat, Zara, had a long bout at the vet Friday.</p><p> I had noticed a bit of blood on the rim of her litter box and phoned our vet to get an appointment.</p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhcUkMq1_w6OczpIlx26MM5JG01uz_2Mvi1ASsTyq8DeIRfx0HHqnrBLRjYuRpJ_3JYYoI_3_D2NW1nVwVm9AAUvQRBntgeRQs712TEGZIOoVJMcXKitj9tsTTcucLa-vh-tq_lqlvFhzbF4-Tyqmchm6Ebtb8fFOt08-EWV6Ilk6ZUEgfdbZOwl5RgCg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhcUkMq1_w6OczpIlx26MM5JG01uz_2Mvi1ASsTyq8DeIRfx0HHqnrBLRjYuRpJ_3JYYoI_3_D2NW1nVwVm9AAUvQRBntgeRQs712TEGZIOoVJMcXKitj9tsTTcucLa-vh-tq_lqlvFhzbF4-Tyqmchm6Ebtb8fFOt08-EWV6Ilk6ZUEgfdbZOwl5RgCg=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>When the phone was finally answered after an hour of busy signals, I was told that there were no appointments available.<p></p><p>When I contacted a second clinic, they said they would squeeze her in.</p><p>Brian aways does the "vet run" and I became worried when they were gone for over an hour.</p><p>As well as UTI, the doctors found evidence of kidney trouble.</p><p>For the infection, Brian was given 20 pills with instructions to give Zara 2 a day.</p><p>Remembering our cats in Duncan, we were prepared for a struggle.</p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgpVwCMPMaZxJ3CJUqUFBhsmUZH_fiHKyPB-jq20ZxEmCQwDNshFSxqT8Nb9OG8EMk0mMLJsL7VY2N6DdO-q05uYDpaUG6wTJAzpec-e6PIcDt1hR7m0y7gnfRw8WSUDcd4bET2aQE9KyfCII13PJnr8dtUwdVRbJ3N2-Ay7fAYGAr_KMyohbPhwnRm4g" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgpVwCMPMaZxJ3CJUqUFBhsmUZH_fiHKyPB-jq20ZxEmCQwDNshFSxqT8Nb9OG8EMk0mMLJsL7VY2N6DdO-q05uYDpaUG6wTJAzpec-e6PIcDt1hR7m0y7gnfRw8WSUDcd4bET2aQE9KyfCII13PJnr8dtUwdVRbJ3N2-Ay7fAYGAr_KMyohbPhwnRm4g=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table></span><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">The bath towel was ready to wrap Zara, the mouth to be held open, the throat rubbed to make her swallow the pill.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">The battle was on!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">4 times we tried, 4 times we failed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">I texted a friend, asking if she'd help me the following morning.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">And then Brian added a Greenies treat with the pill, next to her on her favourite chair.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">She simply ate the treat and then the pill!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">WHAT@*!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">I saw how I had anticipated and then prepared for combat when peace was a viable option. It was my first response.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">I saw too how old stories can influence actions today.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">From this pill episode, I've had an "aha" moment, noticing that when Brian does (or doesn't do) something to upset me, I too often put om my boxing gloves.</span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">There is always another option.</span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">An option that promotes connection rather than one that requires an apology.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">It pains me to see much of the world in crisis mode that involves little or no respect.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">War, discrimination, thwarted attempts to find safety, greed and incarceration.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">And great harm to our plant.</span></p><p><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">An apology is not enough</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span></span></i></p><p style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIBBG5PC1q5PzJz20ECUkIkdzqaPoUiVVtZRz-aEzJw5pOobwBe5T5aeDM36MR_ZNGwtrf2qtOIsKJDoJVmb178t3hsP3z9Avx3S72O8g7HluBEVFxvzw0NOjCdHMzPq_DxFsONEa93hXc6GFZLm1oow0eloAVj6TCtfa_IaSjHWzkt1J4okrayZv-bQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIBBG5PC1q5PzJz20ECUkIkdzqaPoUiVVtZRz-aEzJw5pOobwBe5T5aeDM36MR_ZNGwtrf2qtOIsKJDoJVmb178t3hsP3z9Avx3S72O8g7HluBEVFxvzw0NOjCdHMzPq_DxFsONEa93hXc6GFZLm1oow0eloAVj6TCtfa_IaSjHWzkt1J4okrayZv-bQ=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><p style="font-weight: bold;"></p><p style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEju4OtpPvDc3j4pJpQvo_RwIx5NnFGenFb0oVXl-wZZ1dj8RYen_L5glKlmRkw9SRXoh6xQ2iiaQrdLIO1ycr0EiJhxRV2OZSz2eXdsJVevUQUuPoKAPuEpg23_dXMFncP9NWt7Wi4xBTAcvc7MbbL7-UJF3XZLBYMrykegRZMO84LKsAqpkpSYAC0Ylw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEju4OtpPvDc3j4pJpQvo_RwIx5NnFGenFb0oVXl-wZZ1dj8RYen_L5glKlmRkw9SRXoh6xQ2iiaQrdLIO1ycr0EiJhxRV2OZSz2eXdsJVevUQUuPoKAPuEpg23_dXMFncP9NWt7Wi4xBTAcvc7MbbL7-UJF3XZLBYMrykegRZMO84LKsAqpkpSYAC0Ylw" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /><br /></span><p style="font-weight: bold;"></p><p style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><strike style="font-weight: bold;"><blockquote></blockquote></strike>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-89585515891273002422023-07-01T18:52:00.003-07:002023-07-01T19:02:05.986-07:00a lesson from Zarafromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-59806706629815666982023-04-01T20:17:00.004-07:002023-04-04T21:27:43.397-07:00living with uncertainty<p><br /> <span style="font-size: medium;">The world feels fragile, with fault-lines widening.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzPCEjvmfKuNB_vd9iKLTRQ7w3xHsQC3yq_YW7eq0dnDmDSPouLF3hxRQbUYLc3_cuOHk-MRZCLqF3hPBeXb_J2HSgy30FyRxc8BzFcm0rng4mBjkEdp8zCEIgF2XCdawy_vTukLm7I7tZCBYSV-g8U0P4q7o8meAz1CWc1pbyJn0Um839HLK7LDY" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="940" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzPCEjvmfKuNB_vd9iKLTRQ7w3xHsQC3yq_YW7eq0dnDmDSPouLF3hxRQbUYLc3_cuOHk-MRZCLqF3hPBeXb_J2HSgy30FyRxc8BzFcm0rng4mBjkEdp8zCEIgF2XCdawy_vTukLm7I7tZCBYSV-g8U0P4q7o8meAz1CWc1pbyJn0Um839HLK7LDY" width="245" /></a></span></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Cracks to step over</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">reminding me of the childhood sidewalk chant we sang as we walked.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> "Step on a crack, break your mother's back."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">We didn't <i>quite</i> believe it, but we were still careful to avoid the lines.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">646 killed in mass shootings this year in the United States</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Ukrainian cities reduced to rubble</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">10s of millions displaced</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">floods and drought </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">starvation</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">and Alabama trying a new method to kill people on death row by cutting off oxygen until they die.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I turn off the radio when news-time draws near</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I don't want to listen </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I feel impotent. </span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: medium;">A kind someone gave me $50 to donate wherever I wish. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I can't decide so it sits in an envelope </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">on the dresser</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">in my bedroom.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I want $50,000</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">$500,00</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">50 million dollars to give</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">and still there will be suffering.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>I can't post this blog entry as I haven't yet discovered the hopeful bit</span><span> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">to hold gently to my chest</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">and sing to. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgleeTIWI7ovVKDJbRNclphoLtVcKY5NCQ4QIrr9rNpqXbh4S6aYBQqy1rkERYX98WFVuxwOYgKjy-3bPvz58GAIG3aBK8Sq9bpGqmpbDZCbIJ68UH8JEcoM6lYIHoG6nNTn2kC4Zd0TV2Zh3xrouuSZ1D61WuKIRRqbtqGwIwMl1wWifC_OUYXdE4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgleeTIWI7ovVKDJbRNclphoLtVcKY5NCQ4QIrr9rNpqXbh4S6aYBQqy1rkERYX98WFVuxwOYgKjy-3bPvz58GAIG3aBK8Sq9bpGqmpbDZCbIJ68UH8JEcoM6lYIHoG6nNTn2kC4Zd0TV2Zh3xrouuSZ1D61WuKIRRqbtqGwIwMl1wWifC_OUYXdE4" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEitOyf0c8gW2H8adnaOwxKCKdKzGDpmRx6glJCzOKNkeuFsLrhK6cyT_oo5Mhjn8qPhpZtpj-nrSH_MdUoi_NpbBsT6_1YZFPq1ZWUFrElj2fXDIUlMCBXvR_rdlaFkLlYCiUi3Tt2EYuOhtOaGoj9qCbjzvFowo8t8TEuICn7JI_953iK1OZPQeWM" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEitOyf0c8gW2H8adnaOwxKCKdKzGDpmRx6glJCzOKNkeuFsLrhK6cyT_oo5Mhjn8qPhpZtpj-nrSH_MdUoi_NpbBsT6_1YZFPq1ZWUFrElj2fXDIUlMCBXvR_rdlaFkLlYCiUi3Tt2EYuOhtOaGoj9qCbjzvFowo8t8TEuICn7JI_953iK1OZPQeWM" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">So I think of the sunshine </span><span style="text-align: left;">dancing among the </span><span style="text-align: left;">trees</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi_XnNzSN0scvtWYDfzYGC9LoU5EljeZ2yrD05RC_or33FiDyOniNyC8iqidCulmfgZvepkwnBiBGYMyjsjGoySB9Ws-xswb9EwNXWz-SJDBC9zv_ijpI-7QELE7CLVBrMrwPUTnj_BfH_xjWCSvpoLm5xlA4ROt6rHLYQdK9vMKKPKQ_8dHP_NZE0" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2777" data-original-width="3702" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi_XnNzSN0scvtWYDfzYGC9LoU5EljeZ2yrD05RC_or33FiDyOniNyC8iqidCulmfgZvepkwnBiBGYMyjsjGoySB9Ws-xswb9EwNXWz-SJDBC9zv_ijpI-7QELE7CLVBrMrwPUTnj_BfH_xjWCSvpoLm5xlA4ROt6rHLYQdK9vMKKPKQ_8dHP_NZE0" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">and remember the gifts of laughter </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">wrapped and satin-bowed.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I hear the words "I love you Nana" </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>while</span><span> walking on the beach </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>and gather rocks to </span><span>ground me on this earth.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIhfVkcfnPJAjp9M6aQSjyewuK1UiSO1WExiCJBObg2A5MnmProzIz9GUO090l25-IOkynm_zRv5S3ED7msVLu0KRfBk-l8eSvz1O26XDJqrgExQf9J4Gc515RSmYsIHCYV0NgIOArPFkepiuAQ95-xke1uoK2VrNK32fJiNigN1Rjkx78kKWp1kQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIhfVkcfnPJAjp9M6aQSjyewuK1UiSO1WExiCJBObg2A5MnmProzIz9GUO090l25-IOkynm_zRv5S3ED7msVLu0KRfBk-l8eSvz1O26XDJqrgExQf9J4Gc515RSmYsIHCYV0NgIOArPFkepiuAQ95-xke1uoK2VrNK32fJiNigN1Rjkx78kKWp1kQ" width="320" /></a></div></span></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgz3f0m2P04ecsN8GCEfWzB27HCcKdisihugc0gwySfD4keYvFkciZ_O28Ucx0uNzyaa9nl-kDQvFXfS6-ZtbuNVAfYe-rVxinmqHL3McuJ9LHsHznEvmtUmFt3Plo9AiYsuy09UxnY-ZduxINokr8IxUMnuvPvqXjYvX1Ul9HHuLmym-MJP9lB01w" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgz3f0m2P04ecsN8GCEfWzB27HCcKdisihugc0gwySfD4keYvFkciZ_O28Ucx0uNzyaa9nl-kDQvFXfS6-ZtbuNVAfYe-rVxinmqHL3McuJ9LHsHznEvmtUmFt3Plo9AiYsuy09UxnY-ZduxINokr8IxUMnuvPvqXjYvX1Ul9HHuLmym-MJP9lB01w" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I so appreciate your comments and please add your name in the text <br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAjKfV20xRC6joTFXyJkB2GHbKvrJ-awkHLMKbtxjsN4qoYNIDgoihAC5l_t1b30xxPHluOnnWUe_KAO7GHkE6v4zWhnLfQV3TG0akwsYJH9C4dlm9aQa4o2dAty3O3pMNR9LGcvXVCI_2ktWgqsFUqDvrsx36hY0NVUZZDs-8lj8J33u3Tped794" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAjKfV20xRC6joTFXyJkB2GHbKvrJ-awkHLMKbtxjsN4qoYNIDgoihAC5l_t1b30xxPHluOnnWUe_KAO7GHkE6v4zWhnLfQV3TG0akwsYJH9C4dlm9aQa4o2dAty3O3pMNR9LGcvXVCI_2ktWgqsFUqDvrsx36hY0NVUZZDs-8lj8J33u3Tped794=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-29544607462644081402023-02-20T16:44:00.020-08:002023-02-24T20:56:03.770-08:00still and yet<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAgovBuhdome4Z0NqKUDQl9Qp5qSAVPwreQU2-coJlLTxDr-9bIT2Ycbcm0K9SilKWPHgpmHVCk7AfzqsDhtxZAo1-mRWIDNIKxrWjlLLWy0OJdQeU4rrPX85r7wBDFL60KTY4SESaKn6K6C_8LeewxkLxrhIGT_b9nsA8aP9NpZuIdRLAhH568ec" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img data-original-height="2379" data-original-width="3172" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAgovBuhdome4Z0NqKUDQl9Qp5qSAVPwreQU2-coJlLTxDr-9bIT2Ycbcm0K9SilKWPHgpmHVCk7AfzqsDhtxZAo1-mRWIDNIKxrWjlLLWy0OJdQeU4rrPX85r7wBDFL60KTY4SESaKn6K6C_8LeewxkLxrhIGT_b9nsA8aP9NpZuIdRLAhH568ec=w320-h240" width="320" /></a></div><span><span style="text-align: left;">Last evening, as I was rubbing cream on my legs, I was once again horrified by their appearance. </span></span><span><span style="text-align: left;">Every colour and variety of veins were plentiful,</span></span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">shrouding the area from my thigh to ankle.</span></div><p></p><p><span>This coming summer, even capris might not cover this vein rainbow.</span></p><p><span>"Remember," I muttered to myself, "these are just veins."</span></p><p><span><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEix7W6r1qmT_vQR-hK-N44gJ3Ek16O0XylJJgLZxQIRf_kwsgBSddjiSzxcgUSoFuKgEGoUO5HHV2aQCc4GixwXjtFan0ivizJNRJzXilJrpxl-EoYq5BaGLRTbSYiooOduIW-5YMrgG25t7zHTAieqf1ALAkX4wgKF8yWef6I-uN1z1T4YTqhS9cs" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="750" data-original-width="526" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEix7W6r1qmT_vQR-hK-N44gJ3Ek16O0XylJJgLZxQIRf_kwsgBSddjiSzxcgUSoFuKgEGoUO5HHV2aQCc4GixwXjtFan0ivizJNRJzXilJrpxl-EoYq5BaGLRTbSYiooOduIW-5YMrgG25t7zHTAieqf1ALAkX4wgKF8yWef6I-uN1z1T4YTqhS9cs=w224-h320" width="224" /></a></div></div><span>I thought back to when I first began my blog. </span><p><span>While walking with a much younger friend, I mentioned my upcoming birthday and my age. </span></p><p><span>She was aghast. 70! </span></p><p><span>She went on to say that in medieval times this age was the beginning of what they called "decrepitude."</span></p><p><span>Sure enough, when I googled it, it was indeed the final stage before death!<br /></span></p><p><span>Surprised that they were still available, I quickly seized the domain names "<span style="color: #2b00fe;"><u>decrepitude.com</u></span>" and "<u><span style="color: #2b00fe;">decrepitude.ca</span></u></span>" </p><p>Still trying to imagine what the focus of my blog would be, I decided that my site was not going to be focused on aging, but rather would be:</p><p><span><i>"Observations from an up-front woman on the other side of seventy. Collector of random thoughts and interesting stones. Maker of art in the studio and garden. Purveyor of the ordinary and the magical."</i></span></p><p><span>This allows for a great deal of space and room to wander.</span></p><p><span>I've been lucky to have two walking partners, two women to be wide-open-honest with and who also walk as fast as I do.</span></p><p><span><span>However, with </span><span>health and family issues, neither is available right now, so I've been pushing myself to walk alone.</span></span></p><p><span>Not every day and not usually fun.</span></p><p><span>So I set out early this morning and surprised myself by enjoying the gentle shower and the occasional gust of wind. </span></p><p><span>Everything seemed fresh and as if seen for the first time.</span></p><p><span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1qvw6gudtvxXhgQ1c8bwZiCBk53RviHvWsVH5hRF64voU9US8uLLepPZ7s2NQLWUVczoqO0-L6NWmcTDb-rKiX4hHCgp2L02wOApjmOO59eOG2xY_0-YP-uxntQ7B_r7ijG1SxiOZoOxHQlz19y3Rtb3Bep25g1oA0TN_Q9b9VGCquX2-DdpDl2c" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1qvw6gudtvxXhgQ1c8bwZiCBk53RviHvWsVH5hRF64voU9US8uLLepPZ7s2NQLWUVczoqO0-L6NWmcTDb-rKiX4hHCgp2L02wOApjmOO59eOG2xY_0-YP-uxntQ7B_r7ijG1SxiOZoOxHQlz19y3Rtb3Bep25g1oA0TN_Q9b9VGCquX2-DdpDl2c" width="320" /></a></span></div><span> these photographs were taken last week </span> <div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQPcsm4Gdp71KoG08hMULvMIcvltNGuYhvso67gEE4FPYe-moxn1Ek61E1yKAkUIx4cJwZj0Ha7HJbLJn6ZyWk8OWKlUp8oIsY6kkUDykMq4aaYefeI3lnABc7lYc_j9cr0Tuq1RUeCBf2LMupmvDJYsXyBRR4EaDXp1F3xwud1Yr9-DYEukmVSNE" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQPcsm4Gdp71KoG08hMULvMIcvltNGuYhvso67gEE4FPYe-moxn1Ek61E1yKAkUIx4cJwZj0Ha7HJbLJn6ZyWk8OWKlUp8oIsY6kkUDykMq4aaYefeI3lnABc7lYc_j9cr0Tuq1RUeCBf2LMupmvDJYsXyBRR4EaDXp1F3xwud1Yr9-DYEukmVSNE=w240-h320" width="240" /></a><div><span>There were several houses for sale along Landsdowne Road and in front of one sat a walker and two bright yellow paddles.<br /></span><p><span> I walked on for a few minutes then turned back and knocked on the front door. It was early, but I had seen the light of a television through the front window. </span></p><p><span>The woman who answered the door said the walker was available so I placed it in her closed-in porch and said that I'd be back in less than an hour to retrieve it. </span></p><p><span>Somehow this sighting seemed important.</span></p><p><span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi3Yc0s23l8K0scZby7_MJ1J618RyfgF5712pC7w2By_rg37rLaAdZih0aiytqih0Y2T5PjW7NQ-Hn1jo7pqwXtDbTlKCT-SUfFAeUIat5-Og7W6G05T64frYby4BbQwYyC7IKz5gaRkS7N34Ju6WRd85uaWRYZbVETHLIPOzCrrZO3ooMZD5Xhda4" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi3Yc0s23l8K0scZby7_MJ1J618RyfgF5712pC7w2By_rg37rLaAdZih0aiytqih0Y2T5PjW7NQ-Hn1jo7pqwXtDbTlKCT-SUfFAeUIat5-Og7W6G05T64frYby4BbQwYyC7IKz5gaRkS7N34Ju6WRd85uaWRYZbVETHLIPOzCrrZO3ooMZD5Xhda4=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></span></div><span><br /></span><p></p><p><span><br /></span></p><p><span>She said that this was the last of four walkers that had belonged to her mother and father. She had been clearing the house, readying it to sell.</span></p><p>Returning to Landsdowne, I twigged my back while fitting this treasure into my Fiat. </p><p>I'll be out walking again tomorrow; my veins and sore back merely an inconvenience.</p><p>*Tomorrow, Brian will take the walker to SOLID Outreach Society</p><p><span><br /></span></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyW-IXSDVVR7x3h7sfWhPZrFpBjleCNW59tz4hGTxc_iXsWFFHShu8i1yCmVYdLwdV_wg0p8t9EkSSv_YHg6pUv8LUW40Q5lDbwr1KbqtC9AcduNXd_cu4e3LCEhSaudcTEVUmxUTI7ChWSOFeNla6aNLYBG7xxMApY5WmeCubd5VqcjsiFNKKqkc" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyW-IXSDVVR7x3h7sfWhPZrFpBjleCNW59tz4hGTxc_iXsWFFHShu8i1yCmVYdLwdV_wg0p8t9EkSSv_YHg6pUv8LUW40Q5lDbwr1KbqtC9AcduNXd_cu4e3LCEhSaudcTEVUmxUTI7ChWSOFeNla6aNLYBG7xxMApY5WmeCubd5VqcjsiFNKKqkc=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></p><p><i style="text-align: center;"></i></p><span><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAbypTNj3NAhvqfO7s2Iyc0EFDXzEJWxKXPzGKhngEAqqTTsDOdTZ9AS8HecH53INfkavoJ1loZ7H_muE4hq5Ry7H7AUrSW9OenklqadntBuOC8c8kPXHJSGQiK_O3vE8EJjW7AzGtWh1d5o1QGzMpw3oBfoYQ646p1-WXpiw2HiprzAT9I2YYPRE" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAbypTNj3NAhvqfO7s2Iyc0EFDXzEJWxKXPzGKhngEAqqTTsDOdTZ9AS8HecH53INfkavoJ1loZ7H_muE4hq5Ry7H7AUrSW9OenklqadntBuOC8c8kPXHJSGQiK_O3vE8EJjW7AzGtWh1d5o1QGzMpw3oBfoYQ646p1-WXpiw2HiprzAT9I2YYPRE=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /></i></span><p></p></div></div>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-455331391970896152023-01-26T14:24:00.007-08:002023-01-27T07:43:24.258-08:00stress<p> I can tell I'm stressed when in two successive loads of laundry there is a rogue Kleenex.</p><p>I seem to be going going going and push myself even when exhausted.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiF17Z7j0nxdLG89-KdvBw65HO2UWB0MpxTXhaHbc6v5ojP29eDGScERnfJR7nh9jYaadYYNcoSsYRa4_cLvGGCBYb5RR9pyzM_F2V0hT8CZZwt0YaEYlzYaJFmeQfvhrFP3wLQl1njc-xtnkRMXHN0rLhjWPcQIRj9fYRD3IkakVlkKKJDkXaMqVA" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1804" data-original-width="2496" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiF17Z7j0nxdLG89-KdvBw65HO2UWB0MpxTXhaHbc6v5ojP29eDGScERnfJR7nh9jYaadYYNcoSsYRa4_cLvGGCBYb5RR9pyzM_F2V0hT8CZZwt0YaEYlzYaJFmeQfvhrFP3wLQl1njc-xtnkRMXHN0rLhjWPcQIRj9fYRD3IkakVlkKKJDkXaMqVA=w320-h231" width="320" /></a></div>I remember about 30 years ago, when we still lived in the Cowichan Valley, I took part in a three-day workshop in Arizona called The Possibility of Women. <p></p><p>Along with a great many curves and ah ahas, the issue of procrastination came up and many of the women in the group lit up in recognition.</p><p>Not me. </p><p>I didn't put off doing, but rather I simply did things, never believing that it was a big deal. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjy1DNvofYohvORzeudplq9A-o_lA7wtEHSuuoRhmVL0AhTdlRaeDvgP-PaFUAWTTPR8fHy-3aOy3TTihRTgqNjBukCo2gt0rLtK7RySMlhjlGN_MYQG1JEICUMkLy8ESuFK4DY_GzevoT-tC-YU8oJYA6DgNMhaAvqi8z7XigrEhLotM9rJUrkziI" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjy1DNvofYohvORzeudplq9A-o_lA7wtEHSuuoRhmVL0AhTdlRaeDvgP-PaFUAWTTPR8fHy-3aOy3TTihRTgqNjBukCo2gt0rLtK7RySMlhjlGN_MYQG1JEICUMkLy8ESuFK4DY_GzevoT-tC-YU8oJYA6DgNMhaAvqi8z7XigrEhLotM9rJUrkziI" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtU6Oe0nZkoc4k3B1qQaF_cZasr43vzGyReKwhqjcySq0bDVdX8B0e4zgPJNJKYEnmYBU7Ak5jSdXeW9ewCTUApakWaPLTWSxK-69pKo0nmK-r2NIx7sLw3iUsdisZok-WDHVagMf1E-eb7oQCfVF1vFeghyPYLA_6bSAjdUuKe1w1Y_Zc7V4ImG0" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="945" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtU6Oe0nZkoc4k3B1qQaF_cZasr43vzGyReKwhqjcySq0bDVdX8B0e4zgPJNJKYEnmYBU7Ak5jSdXeW9ewCTUApakWaPLTWSxK-69pKo0nmK-r2NIx7sLw3iUsdisZok-WDHVagMf1E-eb7oQCfVF1vFeghyPYLA_6bSAjdUuKe1w1Y_Zc7V4ImG0=w320-h259" width="320" /></a></div>our property in Duncan<br /><img alt="" data-original-height="455" data-original-width="714" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjy1DNvofYohvORzeudplq9A-o_lA7wtEHSuuoRhmVL0AhTdlRaeDvgP-PaFUAWTTPR8fHy-3aOy3TTihRTgqNjBukCo2gt0rLtK7RySMlhjlGN_MYQG1JEICUMkLy8ESuFK4DY_GzevoT-tC-YU8oJYA6DgNMhaAvqi8z7XigrEhLotM9rJUrkziI=w400-h255" width="400" /></div><br /> When we bought two 25-pound boxes of beautiful organic peaches, of course I canned them. <p></p><p>Likewise apricots, that I cooked to make amazing jam.</p><p>No big deal.</p><p>We had a 1,000 square-foot greenhouse where I started my 25 tomato plants and a half-dozen peppers from seed. </p><p>I grew them on and planted them out, then picked them to eat and to make salsas, sauce and quart jars of whole tomatoes.</p><p>No big deal.</p><p>The 20 or so basil plants that I grew, I converted into pesto or added to sauces.</p><p>No big deal. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9P96Q-Ph7avEKKlsC0vkMo6uWXMHuaAVj8o_CBEL8U9saqWlGoomt2C5JqKBGe8u8r8zg5vJQurrzkamYmubWOVreCX7mOdkSbdEM1hHGILzxlMsH7ICz8Tb3LhKGUFMVUVCEeyrgpsAfJV9b1BCDc4fpTHRSfVJWdKh0Fn7xTiSoyAMjhrSD0gY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="2054" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9P96Q-Ph7avEKKlsC0vkMo6uWXMHuaAVj8o_CBEL8U9saqWlGoomt2C5JqKBGe8u8r8zg5vJQurrzkamYmubWOVreCX7mOdkSbdEM1hHGILzxlMsH7ICz8Tb3LhKGUFMVUVCEeyrgpsAfJV9b1BCDc4fpTHRSfVJWdKh0Fn7xTiSoyAMjhrSD0gY=w400-h249" width="400" /></a> </p><p> on the lower left of the herb garden are two beds of basil</p><p>And all of this done while also having a herb business called Harvest Herbs, selling plants and several kinds of tinctures. </p><p>During the women's workshop with some individual attention focused on me, I saw, for the first time, that I accomplished a huge amount but never considered its value.</p><p> I was assigned to a coach and instructed to phone her every weekday morning for a month. During this five minute call, I was tasked with telling her everything I had done the day before. All she said was "thank you" when my list was complete and the call was over.</p><p>During this month I became aware of what I did every day; the numerous things I had previously scuffed away. </p><p>The "no big deal" surfaced less often.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiTIid5XYcDLKRjBs79I26ytWqjW-8dhfaOJmFCKsQ0UdfmTi0c-79PMPXWfsD84e1ZI2PySWkd0HcD03R5V08iPKf0jJuG0p99JpiY5F2OqK5K8wJjw2mi6WlxjokIX-PwUJ6oDqt7aGjlfrrcMkpkyLGWQoT0pRCqP2yVF3PLsNzwq2W0wO5kTBs" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3326" data-original-width="2323" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiTIid5XYcDLKRjBs79I26ytWqjW-8dhfaOJmFCKsQ0UdfmTi0c-79PMPXWfsD84e1ZI2PySWkd0HcD03R5V08iPKf0jJuG0p99JpiY5F2OqK5K8wJjw2mi6WlxjokIX-PwUJ6oDqt7aGjlfrrcMkpkyLGWQoT0pRCqP2yVF3PLsNzwq2W0wO5kTBs=w224-h320" width="224" /></a></div><p>Back in the "now" I see that I have slipped once again into disregarding my activities.</p><p></p><p>Working in the garden yesterday with a man similarly aged to my daughters, at the 2 1/2 -hour mark I thought "what the hell am I doing?" Still I continued for another 10 minutes.</p><p>This was after doing 2 loads of wash before 7:30 a.m. working on the series of collages I've been creating, taking the compost and garbage out, finding and printing out all of the emails relating to our upcoming heat pump installation and the information relating to the federal and provincial grants we applied for. And finally I phoned a plumber to set up an appointment. *</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfjfXjDu-JYMATQphYHcc0LKSfKbeGmCsVj-wwPMicrAV7-R6U_rPvLbfetr7TLX73kerVmgNRKIjhmJwDnkiHg_vlzAyOgjRHuhy8gK31IQwOOngQQgX33Mk4cpS9X1eRFc86D4XumXPLc22qj3Vu4GVDN74sKFphT3ZZohp-PGKlRfC5JkLyg0g" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3580" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfjfXjDu-JYMATQphYHcc0LKSfKbeGmCsVj-wwPMicrAV7-R6U_rPvLbfetr7TLX73kerVmgNRKIjhmJwDnkiHg_vlzAyOgjRHuhy8gK31IQwOOngQQgX33Mk4cpS9X1eRFc86D4XumXPLc22qj3Vu4GVDN74sKFphT3ZZohp-PGKlRfC5JkLyg0g=w268-h320" width="268" /></a></div>This was before gardening at noon! <br /><p>I am more than twice the age I was in Duncan when I took part in the women's workshop, and now I wonder why I am tired!</p><p>I'm going to attempt to reproduce those five-minute phone calls with a small notebook. Five minutes at the end of the day listing what I have done. </p><p>A notebook that may help me make some changes.</p><p>And that would be a Big Deal!</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4sXdiASyRJN-X71rg7mWHihrNqucNoRiiOyBW8_2LzegueKO-8-OP3dG6miyrvU9sNj4e7k4NjsXbfQ931jPef_IH84T09fG_n7oDdqIl2I_dZ9Dtw1znrr0kvGewiJ9mrxwO9IZHnOlEfwsQIKI1Z6Ab3IoUAb23C2q4TVzIXxWtS4fOg5pmfng" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1871" data-original-width="3059" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4sXdiASyRJN-X71rg7mWHihrNqucNoRiiOyBW8_2LzegueKO-8-OP3dG6miyrvU9sNj4e7k4NjsXbfQ931jPef_IH84T09fG_n7oDdqIl2I_dZ9Dtw1znrr0kvGewiJ9mrxwO9IZHnOlEfwsQIKI1Z6Ab3IoUAb23C2q4TVzIXxWtS4fOg5pmfng" width="320" /></a></div>these are some of my new collages<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj2exJNpt4NTC6ufghRwndW3wEakAm9pWnSY7QOx3Jv5guZS2ACTHKuTOEMxWM7j6S4uHk7-fmD2kKx6eG3YsLDAh7iCQI5fOvUjzORzZ9UQOBqG-MQEQaiOi3NkFZp7h8iThBTAmjmfdrHVgDove6JeQZ8XfmutwE4fkmb6FKeszQ5S4NFdqfSF-w" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2493" data-original-width="2271" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj2exJNpt4NTC6ufghRwndW3wEakAm9pWnSY7QOx3Jv5guZS2ACTHKuTOEMxWM7j6S4uHk7-fmD2kKx6eG3YsLDAh7iCQI5fOvUjzORzZ9UQOBqG-MQEQaiOi3NkFZp7h8iThBTAmjmfdrHVgDove6JeQZ8XfmutwE4fkmb6FKeszQ5S4NFdqfSF-w" width="219" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_TfjLPlq0kaDkMi_Ivoek3zdGM-16kbaISnm33QO0fh3Q47-LNiPwd9HJr33sDh2jAiJoMoTjvMQ5npJFpkKA4u3wCArKqHO6LnUjS36SQhuMeu0rxGR_1fUiVRenk1ulmMdc-upOsl4J_wn-wVq9lWE4jUdaHI3EQwVfa-siychpjOuTLhpAMD8" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2949" data-original-width="3182" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_TfjLPlq0kaDkMi_Ivoek3zdGM-16kbaISnm33QO0fh3Q47-LNiPwd9HJr33sDh2jAiJoMoTjvMQ5npJFpkKA4u3wCArKqHO6LnUjS36SQhuMeu0rxGR_1fUiVRenk1ulmMdc-upOsl4J_wn-wVq9lWE4jUdaHI3EQwVfa-siychpjOuTLhpAMD8" width="259" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />*I forgot to add that I walked with a friend from 9:30 until 10:30 a.m.<p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-83026356158500511202022-12-26T11:19:00.006-08:002022-12-26T21:24:01.151-08:00Blessing Cards for 2023<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_Z7uUQ-Wl9hL9s3eEDvbvbUd_QeOtSHBb3dLklFTcVLSEQb5aeU-gsJeuZpxkasKuavvR3Oh_Elr-u2R3O0_XhmB4HFSZop1BliiIltvxarrJMpwoTux9i6SZCTjznHQbZFPj5gIFqHJ-2SUVdPiMOSm7Dihk-52aOIfOzELOB-Ow7_FdIrKYJ5M=w640-h480" width="640" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlDCAlAUNkHV9ZWOeiff4N3wLwLuxZhlZNf2Zxn3TZsJxuTaNbpZ2LYCeRzDhul8QFrkpxQGZaTq_c6KOija5KM_IpdCTPB7duGFtv2Jv_UHq5mJxfZyAyNDEWwrr_sPr8wcz0y9fvDLIwuQEguGOFKP-0TysG1VvWOaA4r4JHc1pBdSHi3WbNDXI=w400-h300" style="text-align: left;" width="400" /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiE34h1-s8X4xUm0BiIRwekUjsHh66Abh_TkRNvOh57upX66nNhN5XViV7RdJtzXKz4RUpYn-ld19wOnIQ7XXTw4lXCRSSDNDNBxoknIGEojmPPdvxGpwGQv3RLDnUfFz8fyNqO128veeH-6IY-OTQRi8N4Do1LdKMspleLx0jGC962Yh4elEKmL4A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiE34h1-s8X4xUm0BiIRwekUjsHh66Abh_TkRNvOh57upX66nNhN5XViV7RdJtzXKz4RUpYn-ld19wOnIQ7XXTw4lXCRSSDNDNBxoknIGEojmPPdvxGpwGQv3RLDnUfFz8fyNqO128veeH-6IY-OTQRi8N4Do1LdKMspleLx0jGC962Yh4elEKmL4A=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgoooon2WpP1vWcEYf7bPdP08Ul1ceUVoY1thkx389PjHM9Pv6hRyNcFSUdRl9zujm-1T7DwBCxnr6ddtxWJ-mduu_RcksLRpdTAEgIx6VghyXnWHdIqpOmDdCX1b8LFbIjvL4sFwL83X-H7pbk5F5ldrcBPbwpBEvUjsz7b0cv-E8HL4vgPT4hBso" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgoooon2WpP1vWcEYf7bPdP08Ul1ceUVoY1thkx389PjHM9Pv6hRyNcFSUdRl9zujm-1T7DwBCxnr6ddtxWJ-mduu_RcksLRpdTAEgIx6VghyXnWHdIqpOmDdCX1b8LFbIjvL4sFwL83X-H7pbk5F5ldrcBPbwpBEvUjsz7b0cv-E8HL4vgPT4hBso=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_Z7uUQ-Wl9hL9s3eEDvbvbUd_QeOtSHBb3dLklFTcVLSEQb5aeU-gsJeuZpxkasKuavvR3Oh_Elr-u2R3O0_XhmB4HFSZop1BliiIltvxarrJMpwoTux9i6SZCTjznHQbZFPj5gIFqHJ-2SUVdPiMOSm7Dihk-52aOIfOzELOB-Ow7_FdIrKYJ5M" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJ6l_zlgHZLCD0vSBlGiRs_5TEhUChPVcBTeDkc65NahQjZpTo5w6N6XnnQAxrLV4k_1Mzmu5slxpHnUFu9F29UqYZWhetAL4tQBbJOq-muRRqqrk1O-zXr_8xGJ0k8az3hDG1CFRhnUEtafcdyzyejULKIj4iyswljBq1fslD8sK39HGmT2eGjjk" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh5ffJ3HecxbFIuCJ4yWMLh5xMJ77RqtV2pC2xBK6vYMdav6Pah6CDn3S7EK729PRqohxzm03gRB230n58KfhxxefHqTjnuiTHJp2f8gtwBbCnpbahvQ60o8SpoH-3OD_KlyFIkH7CLJVA73dN5EKznE8sgqYlKeAdL3tCV0p0lU7LDlTdaHliOu4w=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJ6l_zlgHZLCD0vSBlGiRs_5TEhUChPVcBTeDkc65NahQjZpTo5w6N6XnnQAxrLV4k_1Mzmu5slxpHnUFu9F29UqYZWhetAL4tQBbJOq-muRRqqrk1O-zXr_8xGJ0k8az3hDG1CFRhnUEtafcdyzyejULKIj4iyswljBq1fslD8sK39HGmT2eGjjk"><br /><br /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiE5uwSNm42SLj3H50z2qnW-25_i3MyuEavpV3--uY9qudrLoEZlzSQWYjh-Kz8uvZALQau4b_IIWCqYFkd2oE-YgaYDi8q7GaBkE2jfzXoPnjyu0-gsBU_Ds2o47NB3c-CQ_ZxUbv1OxB8jpGDFOgOx1PC9smG8rU57frWTlst74BQyggwlHBlEmE" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiE5uwSNm42SLj3H50z2qnW-25_i3MyuEavpV3--uY9qudrLoEZlzSQWYjh-Kz8uvZALQau4b_IIWCqYFkd2oE-YgaYDi8q7GaBkE2jfzXoPnjyu0-gsBU_Ds2o47NB3c-CQ_ZxUbv1OxB8jpGDFOgOx1PC9smG8rU57frWTlst74BQyggwlHBlEmE=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div></div></div><br /><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyCHcivVf22gFLxCmzbUMTNDEXVW3Tct_SpeQW_cCxuM1Ko4ANEy8xEWVNx08eukC5FHUkdqD4AxTmHs9kILbrfkvOWWlqLKp-Kzg_wExkDBnXzpS-RLGDlL8t58dUcuIK-KjlHQg6UuhePeRHn6tveLeWNMQWsMWkI0F4vYLTzmqhpnoNZx1pLWk" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyCHcivVf22gFLxCmzbUMTNDEXVW3Tct_SpeQW_cCxuM1Ko4ANEy8xEWVNx08eukC5FHUkdqD4AxTmHs9kILbrfkvOWWlqLKp-Kzg_wExkDBnXzpS-RLGDlL8t58dUcuIK-KjlHQg6UuhePeRHn6tveLeWNMQWsMWkI0F4vYLTzmqhpnoNZx1pLWk=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><span><h3><span style="font-family: Cairo; font-size: large;">wishing you a year filled with blessings</span></h3><div><span style="font-family: Cairo; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cairo;"><span> </span>thank you for following my blog</span></div></span><br /></div></div><br /> <p></p>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-81208295324895359932022-11-23T15:13:00.011-08:002022-11-26T16:26:22.226-08:00I'm holding tight & letting go<p></p><br /><br /><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgXsccKBVC6nmt508LF27X57cucSk1fjM89oLh0o4qG_W7vdXSwMDi4a4iFyyi-JQ5eFRxvLeHY8B3J4J1P3lGou15ldFolVjhGSBU_OGPsfhQDtSqdCS8AY07uzo1xVcJfNpY8LgbA6B2QiJcnzQbxPrVoxxH963guiS19v7U7UHSA4RN7vtHpvr4" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgXsccKBVC6nmt508LF27X57cucSk1fjM89oLh0o4qG_W7vdXSwMDi4a4iFyyi-JQ5eFRxvLeHY8B3J4J1P3lGou15ldFolVjhGSBU_OGPsfhQDtSqdCS8AY07uzo1xVcJfNpY8LgbA6B2QiJcnzQbxPrVoxxH963guiS19v7U7UHSA4RN7vtHpvr4=w320-h320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p>"I'm holding tight & letting go" are words from a poem in my last book, Collages & Letter Poems.</p><p>Today, this week, these months and these last few years slip silently into these words.</p><p>Screaming in the silence.</p><p>Every morning I listen to the news on CBC radio, often listening to NPR for a few minutes as well, to follow what our neighbour to the South is talking about.</p><p>But today I again turned off the radio before the newscast was over.</p><p> Too much pain.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgAI0OlulBzeJ1cVeDjAQX9knLlqILwP69VFOcPCAGvmzuHwMqpWDHbXogaCuyf0qRylMUKt5i5iK8sZjEIRdq1oX0rAmfuGe3u0RBWo-0Ci0KSk8G4JA0A9bG4RSR6Jkm9qvEXAtX8lQNVzyQLuqlyXPiVT3QrUqYxfwsjIpOnoWpIMfa4XcF2N4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="502" data-original-width="496" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgAI0OlulBzeJ1cVeDjAQX9knLlqILwP69VFOcPCAGvmzuHwMqpWDHbXogaCuyf0qRylMUKt5i5iK8sZjEIRdq1oX0rAmfuGe3u0RBWo-0Ci0KSk8G4JA0A9bG4RSR6Jkm9qvEXAtX8lQNVzyQLuqlyXPiVT3QrUqYxfwsjIpOnoWpIMfa4XcF2N4" width="237" /></a></div><br />Too many shootings of people in public places.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEho_dei33U8mkl4gbpFWcPP9jR0id6q1o8AYiPZYAXpgNqxz6QPt6ySaRPuWonGqgdU9jCLJl2DFvte8p3mJUpBPdRpkZSvVzfpmRH9pVUWy6_AESQUMCzmwpABf7YcxuPf5ONXXfiQzMFeoRHCamXM9DDRZNDShL2x1Y1emXDsnMaTtsdVQ9sd3pU" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="960" data-original-width="843" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEho_dei33U8mkl4gbpFWcPP9jR0id6q1o8AYiPZYAXpgNqxz6QPt6ySaRPuWonGqgdU9jCLJl2DFvte8p3mJUpBPdRpkZSvVzfpmRH9pVUWy6_AESQUMCzmwpABf7YcxuPf5ONXXfiQzMFeoRHCamXM9DDRZNDShL2x1Y1emXDsnMaTtsdVQ9sd3pU=w176-h200" width="176" /></a></div><p></p><p>Too many missiles raining down on civilians, destroying cities and tearing families apart.</p><p>Too much conflict that I have no control of.</p><p>Even when I turn off my radio so as not to hear about the famine, floods and murders, still they happen.</p><p>My heart hurts.</p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">And now, s<span style="caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #0d0d0d;">ome medical experts are</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #0d0d0d;"> </span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Gotham HTF", serif;">"worrying about a potential “tripledemic.” </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Gotham HTF", serif;"> </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Gotham HTF", serif;">yalemedicine.org writes that "There’s no scientific definition for this term; it simply refers to a collision of</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Gotham HTF", serif;"> </span><a data-ym-type="fact-sheet" href="https://www.yalemedicine.org/conditions/rsv-respiratory-syncytial-virus" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(21, 90, 147); border-bottom-style: solid; border-width: 0px 0px 0.0625rem; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #155a93; cursor: pointer; font-family: "Gotham HTF", serif; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline-color: transparent; outline-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; position: relative; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">RSV</a><span style="caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Gotham HTF", serif;"> (respiratory syncytial virus), flu, and COVID-19 to the extent that it might overwhelm hospital emergency </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Gotham HTF", serif;">departments.</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13); color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Gotham HTF", serif;"> "</span></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Gotham HTF, serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13);">I remember many, many years ago fighting for abortion rights in Canada. Supporting CARAL in its fight to allow abortions without the approval of a hospital Therapeutic Abortion Committee. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Gotham HTF, serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13);">And abortion laws were changed.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Gotham HTF, serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13);">When I was at college in Boston, I marched supporting integration in the schools. And our efforts led to some changes.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Gotham HTF, serif;">Now injustices around the world seem out of reach. </span></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Gotham HTF", serif;">I donated to the Red Cross and wear a sunflower pin to indicate my support of Ukraine, but nothing changes in this brutal and destructive war. </span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Gotham HTF, serif;">My support of climate action doesn't make crops grow on parched soil today or tomorrow.</span></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Gotham HTF, serif;">So, I am doing what I can locally. </span></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Gotham HTF, serif;">I am a member of Avodah, the social action group at Congregation Emanu-El in Victoria, and we are active in supporting local organizations and schools. "Briefly, we presently are engaged in an ambitious and broad-ranging set of initiatives to bolster food security, to address housing challenges, and to promote health and well-being among youth"**</span></p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Gotham HTF, serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgiVzk-4PYZ0_fkZY9zgcpjCtLoTN3h1fgMPyc703hC77G1QZ5koxOH52l9Hx6DQwiH2sgdmWVsgiFIvt05z-Vdcx-HLqMZtGVsCL4hrkF7SpyBpeOEt1eHt2qn_t34E9Y5XmFJxI66_jFKe2sK2HMwE922rytYH25VgPnsTsItCERMNrZ0IMrOrNA" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3492" data-original-width="2138" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgiVzk-4PYZ0_fkZY9zgcpjCtLoTN3h1fgMPyc703hC77G1QZ5koxOH52l9Hx6DQwiH2sgdmWVsgiFIvt05z-Vdcx-HLqMZtGVsCL4hrkF7SpyBpeOEt1eHt2qn_t34E9Y5XmFJxI66_jFKe2sK2HMwE922rytYH25VgPnsTsItCERMNrZ0IMrOrNA=w196-h320" width="196" /></a></div>We are in the midst of a fund-drive so we will have the funds to continue with our financial <span>assistance to organizations benefiting people in our greater Victoria communities.</span><br /></span><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Gotham HTF, serif;">And, with this work, we can actually <i>see the benefits. </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Gotham HTF, serif;">Avodah has supported a local school for 2 years, helping to fund "good food boxes" which delivers fresh fruit and vegetables monthly to 3 families in a low-income area of the city. Foods I buy for my own meals, regardless of rising prices.</span></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Gotham HTF, serif;">Through two local community centres, <span style="caret-color: rgb(13, 13, 13);">Avodah is contributing to housing assistance.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Gotham HTF, serif;">We were told that a local family has avoided eviction because of our recent contributions.</span></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Gotham HTF, serif;">While I can't stop the horrid murders in shopping centres in the United States or the destruction of whole cities in Ukraine, I can make a real difference in the Victoria community.</span></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Gotham HTF, serif;">While my heart still hurts, these local opportunities allow my shoulders to relax just a little, and the pain to subside a small amount. </span></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Gotham HTF, serif;">I am actually doing <i>something</i> at a time when I often feel so useless and unable to do anything at all!</span></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Gotham HTF", serif;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Gotham HTF", serif;">If you would like to make a donation to help us continue our commitment and assistance to local organizations please phone Congregation Emanu-El at 250-382-0615 Please indicate it's for Avodah.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Gotham HTF", serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgss_7kW57wKtXaWT5vKbxgHb3M4oEpClRWmBusGr0rBtTWz2G55rgL4qGzamJIuo_-qjj44ZkbmeBfZAxVnwXmBtgVYap3nMjUPpHsdRGVsvb2QYbhJpYli-LvWgpjDuCssFK-l6x-KSb7diQf4mUPEMZ83BAso4xyqaHiw3-oC44SS2xTYW-f1Qk" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="1118" data-original-width="2048" height="109" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgss_7kW57wKtXaWT5vKbxgHb3M4oEpClRWmBusGr0rBtTWz2G55rgL4qGzamJIuo_-qjj44ZkbmeBfZAxVnwXmBtgVYap3nMjUPpHsdRGVsvb2QYbhJpYli-LvWgpjDuCssFK-l6x-KSb7diQf4mUPEMZ83BAso4xyqaHiw3-oC44SS2xTYW-f1Qk=w200-h109" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Gotham HTF", serif;"> Until January 1 all donations are being matched.</span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Gotham HTF", serif;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br />*Canadian Association for Repeal of the Abortion Law (CARAL) was a coalition of abortion rights activists, created in 1974, to protest the incarceration of </span><span jsaction="click:sKUsF" role="tooltip" style="outline: 0px; text-align: left;" tabindex="0"><span class="povykd" data-enable-toggle-animation="true" data-extra-container-classes="ZLo7Eb" data-hover-hide-delay="1000" data-hover-open-delay="500" data-send-open-event="true" data-theme="0" data-ved="2ahUKEwiC3vri4cT7AhWHIzQIHVt8A_gQmpgGegQIGRAD" data-width="250" jsaction="vQLyHf" jsname="d6wfac" jsslot="" role="button" style="cursor: pointer; display: inline-block; outline: 0px;" tabindex="0"><span class="JPfdse" data-bubble-link="" data-segment-text="Dr. Henry Morgentaler" jsname="ukx3I" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(112, 117, 122); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px;">Dr. Henry Morgentaler</span></span>, who was jailed for providing safe, yet not legalized, abortions in Canada.</span></span></div><p></p><div>** from the high holiday issue of Koleinu, from Congregation Emanu-El</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhuBYwo7_3kwIKRprGcYG5CmXyfALhB-Tt7hffqp5NkDZAkmeh_QJGD5mkUFDSNJtrTekSw1nVDQHD2eBJII22_bSsS4oP9fAVCfptnp0cJXrPurJAcAha_677UdMPROHNQespvXY6q7Gy1rR4QsoKlsgRp215zZyu-ByT-crn9r_81PzpNxzjNGGw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhuBYwo7_3kwIKRprGcYG5CmXyfALhB-Tt7hffqp5NkDZAkmeh_QJGD5mkUFDSNJtrTekSw1nVDQHD2eBJII22_bSsS4oP9fAVCfptnp0cJXrPurJAcAha_677UdMPROHNQespvXY6q7Gy1rR4QsoKlsgRp215zZyu-ByT-crn9r_81PzpNxzjNGGw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjoG2AUizZPyJCDW-uuCEmoixi2tj8yV-5JJz5MvvCEM-NXm27JPzoQoo3jALl2j42ZopSj9DLrj-d4JRls1I6HBMadCMPxO4S9XYWq_dHS-r9m6n3vorIX95r8KCas82N5J3huO5Sg2FD_Z5PvFeXRM17AOOJtofwxJgqvlqY9bU3fBBQmWVLgbCw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2491" data-original-width="3321" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjoG2AUizZPyJCDW-uuCEmoixi2tj8yV-5JJz5MvvCEM-NXm27JPzoQoo3jALl2j42ZopSj9DLrj-d4JRls1I6HBMadCMPxO4S9XYWq_dHS-r9m6n3vorIX95r8KCas82N5J3huO5Sg2FD_Z5PvFeXRM17AOOJtofwxJgqvlqY9bU3fBBQmWVLgbCw" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><br /><br /></div>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-63960003423743380842022-10-18T16:33:00.003-07:002022-10-18T18:52:13.892-07:00nowhere<p><br /><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAuoW5qQzzlmtUTk7CkD5J3u3Ij5IOY5kjROIqnAXmyoh-DxXd_XF4BmHIaJPK0SNt_brTC6L4gLuk8n9XnNqOy-x0Ca7Jdq-Y4J1XngLciUj453HgFyO7sQa3mB3z_BR8FOIFFlpB_A0S0TiD0QCzrI4EAQvSaR7coXC4IAzOo8Z08P1uO1wEsc8" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2443" data-original-width="1930" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAuoW5qQzzlmtUTk7CkD5J3u3Ij5IOY5kjROIqnAXmyoh-DxXd_XF4BmHIaJPK0SNt_brTC6L4gLuk8n9XnNqOy-x0Ca7Jdq-Y4J1XngLciUj453HgFyO7sQa3mB3z_BR8FOIFFlpB_A0S0TiD0QCzrI4EAQvSaR7coXC4IAzOo8Z08P1uO1wEsc8=w253-h320" width="253" /></a></div><p>Occasionally something happens that makes me go "WOW!" Something unexpected or simply just perfect.</p><p>This occurred today.</p><p>I will be giving three art workshops through Quadra Village Community Centre and, in preparation, I've been gathering my supplies together. The classes will introduce groups of women to creating small collages on 2 1/2 x 3 1/2 inch cover stock. </p><p>I'm packing two small fruit boxes with pages of various colours and designs that I have torn from magazines over many years. I've also gathered an assortment of cards that I've made, again over the last several years, to give the participants an idea of what's possible. </p><br /><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhGlzmalLqAm4Z_p2cFoGvgIErdCfJU6ejwm1150-V9mqKFE4_WommryqOGACjT4Wt-GnUQqgjF6o_LFhZ2lteq9n6RQCYM93aZmJG1J9cs5FgoIYGrEwcmhiexuFnMTDgrdak-1NxykQJhOcnE05eRtVukY5m5-dtOTg4SNc14FeBQ0hj-BUOHZL8" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3559" data-original-width="2891" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhGlzmalLqAm4Z_p2cFoGvgIErdCfJU6ejwm1150-V9mqKFE4_WommryqOGACjT4Wt-GnUQqgjF6o_LFhZ2lteq9n6RQCYM93aZmJG1J9cs5FgoIYGrEwcmhiexuFnMTDgrdak-1NxykQJhOcnE05eRtVukY5m5-dtOTg4SNc14FeBQ0hj-BUOHZL8" width="195" /></a></div>I call these Blessing Cards as I glue letters to form a word on the other<div>side of the card. Some of the words I've chosen are: dreams, joy, courage and laughter. </div><div><br /></div><div>My original intention was to pick one each morning and to hold the word throughout the day.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgSpLoB3TpE8BdrGc4nvT1W0b0LqNuJ1hQbW7zBCJKxdKjHGkx56gJhohWBR134X7H7bZAGisxoHsyRUaqpKIKf3h5GJ8UMkMIT0GkHR7lW35Q5RJ16fZyYQlGt2LxgblGoOqu3r1qcG_uFZHq2EuweV0KVEU1qLzF8pQwZN5hi11KNS0c2nbSSll8" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2796" data-original-width="3728" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgSpLoB3TpE8BdrGc4nvT1W0b0LqNuJ1hQbW7zBCJKxdKjHGkx56gJhohWBR134X7H7bZAGisxoHsyRUaqpKIKf3h5GJ8UMkMIT0GkHR7lW35Q5RJ16fZyYQlGt2LxgblGoOqu3r1qcG_uFZHq2EuweV0KVEU1qLzF8pQwZN5hi11KNS0c2nbSSll8" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>I've made a few cards with large letters and numbers, mixed with colour, to show the possibility of incorporating text.</p><p>Today, when I looked at one of my selected cards, I thought "Oh no!" The cutout word spelled NOWHERE. No Where. This seemed negative which was certainly not my intention! Nor did I want to use it as an example.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5y9DhKsCC3YDP15l8_9nd9evJZhWHWnfYNq-HtDHQYye-alf1jT1JQBXEztxhhsAOeVlMATI447VGXp4PkG-am96K3xyVOwaPaZ0hKNqAs7qUiPJ_TCoMylGiOmRNcp1VD8U42-xgHJJ-WMklx485eGlWz6sPjDEKffAPLsykagjJ8ZBHqxnAJxU" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2513" data-original-width="3351" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5y9DhKsCC3YDP15l8_9nd9evJZhWHWnfYNq-HtDHQYye-alf1jT1JQBXEztxhhsAOeVlMATI447VGXp4PkG-am96K3xyVOwaPaZ0hKNqAs7qUiPJ_TCoMylGiOmRNcp1VD8U42-xgHJJ-WMklx485eGlWz6sPjDEKffAPLsykagjJ8ZBHqxnAJxU=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>As I imagined how I could alter the word, perhaps covering part of the letters, the WOW happened. </p><p><br />NO WHERE shifted and became </p><p>.... NOW HERE</p><p><br /></p><p>From being lost to being fully present in the moment</p><p> It's often just how we see things!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4F1l7pJdpQ3Z1qq8WJ4ZPZ6HqAbmfqL3xKNyvJ9VxqFqBTxUE5LJ_CkOzhPCfGoMPQQqBfj5-qPQuGUkDgbWiBAtZbLopxdgyg2aNBqOxjDpVTR5MhF76fMekVNvgZGs8LFkDT_dfggR-Zl78WRghywDQD-hiatQirLUG82jRfV34tibJUxkjRRo" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1986" data-original-width="1617" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4F1l7pJdpQ3Z1qq8WJ4ZPZ6HqAbmfqL3xKNyvJ9VxqFqBTxUE5LJ_CkOzhPCfGoMPQQqBfj5-qPQuGUkDgbWiBAtZbLopxdgyg2aNBqOxjDpVTR5MhF76fMekVNvgZGs8LFkDT_dfggR-Zl78WRghywDQD-hiatQirLUG82jRfV34tibJUxkjRRo=w261-h320" width="261" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgyi3Cwp6GDuwlLIKpcKU1ogZbASGPcazxk82FDldnQ19EjVeqOaU6w6I1aHXY00ZODta8erR2Bi538lNC-_obB4OKpgQY3qGYly-4pLYpCLxHQLdZVhvaiw2kvcBlNtYQxkYnKQCbrYPyNRxARtabG6885yRciJ6IV999JfaCMpCWNHConCxdQgfY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3804" data-original-width="2794" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgyi3Cwp6GDuwlLIKpcKU1ogZbASGPcazxk82FDldnQ19EjVeqOaU6w6I1aHXY00ZODta8erR2Bi538lNC-_obB4OKpgQY3qGYly-4pLYpCLxHQLdZVhvaiw2kvcBlNtYQxkYnKQCbrYPyNRxARtabG6885yRciJ6IV999JfaCMpCWNHConCxdQgfY=w294-h400" width="294" /></a></div></div></div><br /><br /><p></p></div>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-19688364002945576332022-09-23T17:08:00.006-07:002022-09-24T06:41:16.565-07:00in my pine desk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjlGMQayFbOnajPp6ia5Im4V167lpZOiPpMyt5_hv5V5qvV_VWoSEiDLPGB8PxFS1PFNaRH37zUJOk8ef8yjOK4MQTpyGKsjnlSaIAuHGo_Del5vMvjvrQAPDotbye38fqzizogUUJkTK211ItRuJ_P-qpHRCHmm-qDR2Pyyo7MoXbvj_G12CSCjo" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3316" data-original-width="2659" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjlGMQayFbOnajPp6ia5Im4V167lpZOiPpMyt5_hv5V5qvV_VWoSEiDLPGB8PxFS1PFNaRH37zUJOk8ef8yjOK4MQTpyGKsjnlSaIAuHGo_Del5vMvjvrQAPDotbye38fqzizogUUJkTK211ItRuJ_P-qpHRCHmm-qDR2Pyyo7MoXbvj_G12CSCjo=w320-h400" width="320" /><br /></a></div><p>My dresser is really an antique pine desk with 4 drawers, or what Wayfair.ca calls a "drop front secretary desk". The drawers hold my clothes and, in the upper part, there is organized clutter. </p><p>There is some jewellery tucked into small boxes and a blue travel soap container holding a strand of moonstones. A ziploc bag holds charge cards I seldom use (one from the Bay another for our bank in Sedona) and holds Brian and my records of vaccination.</p><p>Behind these cards is a small stack of yarmulkes, some from bar mitzvahs, and a single black one that was my dad's. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiogAZSLQ-dY16HEszcsnINhgSNmGy77-FbEpa-5xegpg4f8WU8-ahgSDF3Paau302WNzHb8skR_3wyhoqNFpDufmaILeqFztMKKJhw-WcmqJ66_aCWqRXLjB0Y1vylDbVYYBaYYiRPup4XBcK7xtjPnPrE0ZeMCRXQTijl7gG3SGn5YthuQpnPh2c" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2709" data-original-width="3139" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiogAZSLQ-dY16HEszcsnINhgSNmGy77-FbEpa-5xegpg4f8WU8-ahgSDF3Paau302WNzHb8skR_3wyhoqNFpDufmaILeqFztMKKJhw-WcmqJ66_aCWqRXLjB0Y1vylDbVYYBaYYiRPup4XBcK7xtjPnPrE0ZeMCRXQTijl7gG3SGn5YthuQpnPh2c" width="278" /></a></div><p></p><p>There is also a heart-shaped cookie tin with Superman on its lid where an intricately carved ivory necklace and a simple ivory bracelet reside, no longer worn because of the ivories' origin.</p><p>My father's watch, unable to be repaired, is there too.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgl0Mc_Cf2M9mnQBLonKv0k1Kv7LIcW7pxxB5qC6zqZDkuKsB5UHLhKsUIHo4w_sPHlEdmi2I89SQD1PPMN9eTOktZft2dpW52VOSO4gNzmhFzDLkp3f4_n5Ozc_Duzds3FCEfj2d-emkYzq_Rd7mvduA98U4co3COJu_ZZZNTFc4HddseyRocdzKQ" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgl0Mc_Cf2M9mnQBLonKv0k1Kv7LIcW7pxxB5qC6zqZDkuKsB5UHLhKsUIHo4w_sPHlEdmi2I89SQD1PPMN9eTOktZft2dpW52VOSO4gNzmhFzDLkp3f4_n5Ozc_Duzds3FCEfj2d-emkYzq_Rd7mvduA98U4co3COJu_ZZZNTFc4HddseyRocdzKQ=w320-h240" width="320" /></a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>But what I see first when I open this desk is a photograph of me. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh132YCgBmuUQttr-dF7rw3JoakEAXtDqKif4YlX-MXWNwIqlPfj8FsrCgxNLsdmhXVIp0n2rWSaA41ZU1NJ5W_-2KqDESt73BLmgNWCcnOCeEJwxKlevINQBYlBS5gh5HpOonGmiQ-FiEn8vmuNDO1SQL_-moAadvoWwIhg6QLPDvHJ7jEe5yAku4" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3316" data-original-width="2659" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh132YCgBmuUQttr-dF7rw3JoakEAXtDqKif4YlX-MXWNwIqlPfj8FsrCgxNLsdmhXVIp0n2rWSaA41ZU1NJ5W_-2KqDESt73BLmgNWCcnOCeEJwxKlevINQBYlBS5gh5HpOonGmiQ-FiEn8vmuNDO1SQL_-moAadvoWwIhg6QLPDvHJ7jEe5yAku4" width="192" /></a></div><div>It is part of a passport photo. Removing my sister's and mother's images from this photocopy, I had used this single picture of me in a tiny collage, </div><p></p><p>I look perhaps 5 years old, wearing a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar and bangs cut in the manner popular then, and never seen today.</p><p>The passport allowed us to travel to Tucson, Az where my mum and I spent one or two months for me to get relief from my asthma. </p><p>Memories of that time exist solely through photographs of me in jodhpurs sitting atop a horse named Jigger and a now-missing image of me with braids tied with beautiful ribbons, standing in front of a Christmas tree at the nearby clubhouse.</p><p>Yesterday, when I told a friend of the strong attachment I felt to this photograph of my young self, she asked me what I was like then. Was I quiet? Shy? Outgoing?</p><p> I said that I didn't know but that I remember my dad telling me that sometime during my time in the desert, I had started lying "rigid as a board" (his words) refusing to let my mother help me to dress. </p><p>So I conclude that I was already strong-willed and stubborn!</p><p>But my attachment to the photograph rests less with who I was and more with the not knowing.</p><p>I think of that little girl just beginning her journey, not looking to her past or imagining her future. </p><p>Unaware of the challenges and joys and disappointments that lay ahead.</p><p>Unaware too of the choices she would make.</p><p> I am proud of her!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmshU48bosUYOBSmmWGjBUxG-q6aaW1B5-L1GJyO2IMmHJoITkavG34sSYfeW_9iM6Xm0_r7zH_gDMoebp74DlFDxLiV4hKIySbviQyvNMkVqrPUqhB9WkIWkaHSyAjAVR-Pa5uhwyI0dgxvimrCo4lH3pi-1TwK_uXDxujEbhwxbI7o8qWwlrOkk" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="500" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmshU48bosUYOBSmmWGjBUxG-q6aaW1B5-L1GJyO2IMmHJoITkavG34sSYfeW_9iM6Xm0_r7zH_gDMoebp74DlFDxLiV4hKIySbviQyvNMkVqrPUqhB9WkIWkaHSyAjAVR-Pa5uhwyI0dgxvimrCo4lH3pi-1TwK_uXDxujEbhwxbI7o8qWwlrOkk" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgoMMzOfdwyHAOnbL3WAy-ThYOse2Dh26Sel4dRCbCGPjQnGXHQGgBV4H1-CcXH2JFGdkz7O0_ndsD5hOgIOc638DaMdFDnCNZtEAQX6IwlDKDRH8PwyeSe31eD6CYcSzYBwQg1E5zwNev5-pLAD5Xc5p1PCEhvRYY8YzgtEeXRViHh80N0PwjTlpA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgoMMzOfdwyHAOnbL3WAy-ThYOse2Dh26Sel4dRCbCGPjQnGXHQGgBV4H1-CcXH2JFGdkz7O0_ndsD5hOgIOc638DaMdFDnCNZtEAQX6IwlDKDRH8PwyeSe31eD6CYcSzYBwQg1E5zwNev5-pLAD5Xc5p1PCEhvRYY8YzgtEeXRViHh80N0PwjTlpA" width="320" /></a></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWraQYYfTTdKs6z3Li-s6k-5_syAWcs5BywuRV2AJrFr5aLyWb-h96PvGQMdOnJJvZSVVeXsc1-Jy6cXb6cnFKlVhW8H81MMTI1z1pI0gCYJRzgCItLmieXZ-qu0hTfDH-cstm7cAvg3bCnH0PgKSoXmS_lbdhcb8cpJSrwTyx3gufHV0GfSmLl4w" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWraQYYfTTdKs6z3Li-s6k-5_syAWcs5BywuRV2AJrFr5aLyWb-h96PvGQMdOnJJvZSVVeXsc1-Jy6cXb6cnFKlVhW8H81MMTI1z1pI0gCYJRzgCItLmieXZ-qu0hTfDH-cstm7cAvg3bCnH0PgKSoXmS_lbdhcb8cpJSrwTyx3gufHV0GfSmLl4w" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiVTmdjR75IBYDTaKcwE3NyK_GTpvltpakeNgkEp3kCaFTYJ5KoE3ml8nzUIGWG6COp9xoqU0DmIfyPci_-FvBD9peCJ-hd8SGrHI3mNPjloQQHxmnARzcCJ1H2GLncLqvvXqxDQq69c8-BGYfsfAo319JXjnCFwAaaNJEW-VrSBRXslmXp__UdybQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiVTmdjR75IBYDTaKcwE3NyK_GTpvltpakeNgkEp3kCaFTYJ5KoE3ml8nzUIGWG6COp9xoqU0DmIfyPci_-FvBD9peCJ-hd8SGrHI3mNPjloQQHxmnARzcCJ1H2GLncLqvvXqxDQq69c8-BGYfsfAo319JXjnCFwAaaNJEW-VrSBRXslmXp__UdybQ" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-91910872224101703372022-07-27T17:22:00.008-07:002022-07-27T21:21:05.720-07:00generosity<span style="font-family: inherit;">time sits heavy<br />with my arm held tight<br />and<br />the garden knows i can only look<br />and<br />wish the weeds to disappear<br />i sneak between the plants when no one is looking<br />and<br />pull a few<br />the ones with shallow roots</span><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />and<br />friends have been generous<br />bringing food <br />from their kitchens<br />and<br />a big box of chocolates<br />to help with the healing<br />of a humerus* fracture</span><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">shaped like an L</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">*the large bone in the upper arm</span><br /><p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">below are some recipes for the meals wonderful friends cooked for us </span></p><div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> m</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">oroccan spiced chick pea salad</span></div><div><p><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span face="Optima-Regular">3 cans chickpeas, rinsed and dried</span><br /><span face="Optima-Regular">1/2 cup red onion, diced</span><br /><span face="Optima-Regular">1/3 cup red pepper, diced</span><br /><span face="Optima-Regular">1/2 cup apple, diced</span><br /><span face="Optima-Regular">1/2 cup mint, chopped</span><br /><span face="Optima-Regular">1/2 cup cilantro, chopped</span><br /><span face="Optima-Regular">1 cup dried cranberries </span><br /><span face="Optima-Regular">1 lemon, zested and juiced</span><br /><span face="Optima-Regular">3 tbs red wine vinegar</span><br /><span face="Optima-Regular">1 tbs honey</span><br /><span face="Optima-Regular">1 tsp cumin</span><br /><span face="Optima-Regular">1 tsp cinnamon</span><br /><span face="Optima-Regular">1 tsp curry powder</span><br /><span face="Optima-Regular">2 tsp salt</span><br /><span face="Optima-Regular">1 tsp olive oil</span><br /><span face="Optima-Regular">mix together in a big bowl</span></span></p><p><span face="Optima-Regular"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">keeps in the fridge for up to 5 day</span>s</span></p><p> ............and another</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">organic chicken thighs</span><span style="text-align: left;"> -</span><span style="text-align: left;"> bone in skin on - olive oil - sweet paprika and salt - bake 1 hour @350</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">this was so good that i ate a piece standing by the stove, even before it was plated.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">no more skinless boneless chicken thighs for me!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">........................................................</span></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-Xbhu8EvI3c3YlnOP8OphpgoQA_JNw6kZcVNv6gMyM9JQ_WfHaKHnSxOSM_VKVpqAS71PcgwGvrySaATAcgHnsn5ChMpHtLD9kaArYqz8r-9Ia8mAFv5KG-BWyTJOnxsEyNDRpMc3SzyIYKq6CgrKBhEVieXRxJur7L0bvuRXRlYG43MmDv0XWTc" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-Xbhu8EvI3c3YlnOP8OphpgoQA_JNw6kZcVNv6gMyM9JQ_WfHaKHnSxOSM_VKVpqAS71PcgwGvrySaATAcgHnsn5ChMpHtLD9kaArYqz8r-9Ia8mAFv5KG-BWyTJOnxsEyNDRpMc3SzyIYKq6CgrKBhEVieXRxJur7L0bvuRXRlYG43MmDv0XWTc=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>.................................................</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">another friend made a big pot of chicken soup, based on the recipe for 'homemade chicken stock' from <a href="barefoot contessa">barefootcontessa.com</a>. with quantities and ingredients adjusted </div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> the addition of dill added a subtle flavour and i will add some in my next batch</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">...................................................</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">when i asked the chef for the recipe for her paprika chicken and olive orzo dish, i received this response 'with regards to the recipe i don't actually have one. i made it up as i went along-memories of previous meals.' she then added 'i'm relieved it worked out.' me too!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">..............and another </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjOq_9HHcOzjZvNG8_46ZGt-K5TM5BbkRWyS9pfdbxoYj5GWkS39SicbrGFnhnuh7_NW9N_C2QND7BRnejArCgyIWNxyihYLKsFiMKLEQWx3lt0El5Bp6dpLq0AgriuJ6Xsz1q2D_qFixRq9PAtJEYfSWvlyudOIskU1oDVGolGBYR-AbSEvN4AJcY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="478" data-original-width="408" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjOq_9HHcOzjZvNG8_46ZGt-K5TM5BbkRWyS9pfdbxoYj5GWkS39SicbrGFnhnuh7_NW9N_C2QND7BRnejArCgyIWNxyihYLKsFiMKLEQWx3lt0El5Bp6dpLq0AgriuJ6Xsz1q2D_qFixRq9PAtJEYfSWvlyudOIskU1oDVGolGBYR-AbSEvN4AJcY=w547-h640" width="547" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">the delicious meal we were gifted didn't have asparagus or spinach </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">the lemon stole the show!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: start;"> .................................................</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">2 friends adapted a chili recipe from the moosewood cookbook. they said that they reduce or eliminate the bulgur, ' <span face="Optima-Regular" style="text-align: start;">then use whatever vegetables we have. Always red/yellow/orange peppers. Always the lemon and we put cheese on when we eat it.' </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Optima-Regular" style="text-align: start;">they said 'we think it’s because of the spices they use that we keep using that recipe. But it’s always slightly different each time</span><span face="Optima-Regular" style="font-size: 18px; text-align: start;">. ' </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="recipe land.com/recipe/v/moosewood-vegetarian-chili-20786">https://recipeland.com/recipe/v/moosewood-vegetarian-chili-20786 </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: trebuchet; text-align: left;"> with huge gratitude</span><span style="font-family: monospace; text-align: left;"> </span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: monospace; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: monospace; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: monospace; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: monospace; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">i'm still in the immobilizer holding my shoulder and arm close to my body, so again i'm typing with only one hand- so no capital letters or proper punctuation that needs 2</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p></div></div></div>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-59610188351487172002022-07-09T09:40:00.003-07:002022-07-09T11:16:21.068-07:00thank you e.e.cummings<p> okay. here goes</p><p>I'm going to try and write a blog using only my right hand, so no capital letters, question marks or other keyboard clicks that need my left hand as well.</p><p>please insert them yourselves.</p><p>the reason for my single handedness is because of a fall i had monday morning at about 6 00 am</p><p>starting to make my bed, i stubbed my toe on at the metal corner of its frame, recoiling so dramatically from the pain that i lost my balance, landing hard and flat upon my left shoulder. </p><p>i knew i had broken something.</p><p>somehow, i managed to go upstairs to wake brian, shaking his arm and indicating with sign language that he needed to put in his hearing aid and that he had to get up and take me to emergency for x-rays, right away </p><p>and</p><p>all the while, cradling my left arm tight against by body.</p><p>once inside the emergency entrance of the royal jubilee, i was told to use sanitizer before checking in. near tears, i said i couldn't. she pointed to brian, asking him to help me, but quickly realized that even that wouldn't work </p><p>and </p><p>she motioned for me to come forward. </p><p>after showing her my care card, i was told to take a seat in the room to my left. i felt optimistic as there were only 2 other people seated there.</p><p>i was to learn that this was just room one</p><p>i'm not going to continue with the hospital saga because that's really not what this blog is about.</p><p>it is rather about how this painful proximal humerus fracture* has suddenly changed my day to day life</p><p>and</p><p>how alongside this pain there has been connection.</p><p>to set the scene, i am in a immobilizer that holds my shoulder and arm tight against my body, a cloth substitute for a cast, which would be impossible for the injured area. it's a bit like a tight sling.</p><p> the doctor told me i'd be 'dressed' this way 24/7 for 5-7 weeks, only removing it to shower or bathe.</p><p>and</p><p>i've been wearing the same tee shirt since monday morning.</p><p>i'm writing these words and sentences to help me move forward while sitting very still.</p><p>i'll start with sleep </p><p>and </p><p>the necessity that i sit up for this essential segment of my life.</p><p>yes, to sit up throughout the night ...exclamation mark... </p><p>my daughter, hilary, ordered a wedge-shaped foam for me to lean against </p><p>and </p><p>i moved one of our couch's large pillows onto my bed to try out as well. </p><p>pills -coffee- -breakfast -toilet paper -zara -her food and socks - each present their unique challenges.</p><p>jar lids are either off all together or loosened or, like this morning, brought upstairs to a sleeping husband to unscrew.</p><p>last night i was in tears when i saw how only 4 days of neglect had impacted my garden. </p><p>tall plants leaning over, crowding their neighbours and the path, peonies not dead-headed, weeds on the march </p><p>and </p><p>precious potted plants dry and struggling.</p><p>and </p><p>my art. </p><p>scissors, glue sticks and a table covered with uneven layers of special papers and cut-out letters are now hidden under wraps. the small collaged blessing cards i had been creating still remain between heavy books to keep them flat.</p><p>and </p><p>week-day fast-paced walks with my dear friend s, are cancelled. walks when we talk about our lives, present and past, and make-up stories about our futures, gradually becoming trusted guardians of each others deep and complicated selves.</p><p>on tuesday, without looking, i pulled one small card from a beautiful antique butter bowl which is in our hallway. in this collection, each card has a single word written on one side </p><p>and</p><p>they originate from findhorne, a foundation of 'transformative learning experiences' in scotland. </p><p>the word i drew was 'communication'</p><p>and</p><p>that is what has been happening.</p><p>friends reaching out and asking what we need </p><p>bringing delicious food</p><p>and </p><p>my wonderful neighbor twice washing my hair</p><p>and her partner getting out of bed one night to figure out how to reassemble the immobilizer we had removed to cut away a scratchy label</p><p>and</p><p>a busy friend i hadn't seen in over 2 months has spent time with me twice this week</p><p>and</p><p>another drifting friendship has become reconnected over the promise of a pot of soup</p><p>and</p><p>both my wonderful daughters have phoned me every day.</p><p><br /></p><p>accepting what is being offered to me with love has been a humbling experience.</p><p><br /></p><p>maybe i can step away from being invincible </p><p>and</p><p>just be me</p><p> <span face="arial, sans-serif" style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-size: small;">*a fracture occurring close to the shoulder joint</span></p><div class="MBtdbb" data-ved="2ahUKEwjfqJ6ouun4AhWUGTQIHdpgBaEQ7NUEegQIFBAD" id="exacc_0jjIYt_3FJSz0PEP2sGViAo3" jsname="rozPHf" style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: arial, sans-serif; position: absolute; width: 651.997314453125px;"><div class="ymu2Hb" jsslot="" style="position: relative;"><div class="t0bRye r2fjmd" data-hveid="CBQQBA" data-ved="2ahUKEwjfqJ6ouun4AhWUGTQIHdpgBaEQu04oAHoECBQQBA" id="_0jjIYt_3FJSz0PEP2sGViAo30" jsname="oQYOj" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; opacity: 1;"><div id="0jjIYt_3FJSz0PEP2sGViAo__3"><div class="wDYxhc" data-md="61" style="clear: none;"><div aria-level="3" class="LGOjhe" data-attrid="wa:/description" data-hveid="CAcQAA" role="heading" style="overflow: hidden; padding-bottom: 20px;"><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-52881477593737411132022-06-04T12:11:00.014-07:002022-06-05T08:38:02.716-07:00"We are our choices"<p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif" style="background-image: none; color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Although Jean Paul Sartre has been accredited as saying "We are our</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;"> choices</span><span style="font-size: 15px;">", as far as I can tell the only person who said that was Dumbledore. </span></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif" style="background-image: none; color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">"It is</span><i style="font-size: 15px;"> our choices,</i><span style="font-size: 15px;"> Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."</span></span></p><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;">These words have surfaced again and again these last several months, insisting that I pay closer attention.</span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif" style="background-image: none; caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;">They seem to hold both purpose and power, leading me to review the choices I have made on </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;">my journey in this lifetime. </span></p><div><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;">Dating a popular boy at aged 16, feeling lucky that I had been chosen.</span></div><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, Segoe UI, Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif" style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">Marrying this young man at 20 and moving to Vancouver, far away from my Montreal family.<br /></span></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, Segoe UI, Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif" style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">Divorcing as I turned 30 and caring for my two very young daughters, aged three and five.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">And then, the following year, opening an antique store with my friend Nora.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">WHAT?@!</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Neither of us had any experience running a business, so there was a steep learning curve, although, truthfully, it was the buying trips that sustained our excitement. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">Four years later, I </span></span><span style="color: #282829; font-size: 15px;">swerved again, as I made choices that were to change the trajectory of my young life.</span></p><p><span style="color: #282829; font-size: 15px;">I moved to Duncan, on Vancouver Island, </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;">purchasing 30 acres of forest land on the Cowichan River.</span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, Segoe UI, Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif" style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">WHAT!?@!</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZPjS0l7MTfDQS6P8nMKLl-KFLtniMPV8bfbl7RY4qhYT59xPPDvoIY-7yaWbIGy45iNCawTDRZTU-1LnkddalwaBGAOzKgxYuMzBntvYlXvXOu1oEinOhiq5h3Wf5Sj03N1-3eAwVWBzwMmBqJHzcDP0alZME8IcaX3wuSHLpfxBj7Kt0p1Obbeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="945" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZPjS0l7MTfDQS6P8nMKLl-KFLtniMPV8bfbl7RY4qhYT59xPPDvoIY-7yaWbIGy45iNCawTDRZTU-1LnkddalwaBGAOzKgxYuMzBntvYlXvXOu1oEinOhiq5h3Wf5Sj03N1-3eAwVWBzwMmBqJHzcDP0alZME8IcaX3wuSHLpfxBj7Kt0p1Obbeg" width="296" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px; text-align: left;">Our home, hidden in the forest</span></div><p></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, Segoe UI, Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif" style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">While renting a house in town, I worked to prepare a large garden on our new property, while the construction of the house I had designed hadn't yet begun. </span></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, Segoe UI, Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif" style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">An experience I had at this time still makes me both laugh and shudder. </span></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, Segoe UI, Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif" style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">As I worked alone on this isolated piece of land, mixing manure into the soil, I heard a huge roar and two burly guys pulled to a stop near me on their motorcycles.</span></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, Segoe UI, Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif" style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">I was young and blonde and wearing a bikini top and cut-off jeans. </span></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, Segoe UI, Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif" style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Without thinking, I raised my arms and my voice telling them to leave as this was </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">private</span><span style="font-size: 15px;"> property!!</span></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, Segoe UI, Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif" style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">And they did. VROOM!</span></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, Segoe UI, Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif" style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">It was after they had disappeared down our half-mile gravel driveway that I began to shake.</span></span></p><p></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, Segoe UI, Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif" style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Six weeks after moving into our new home with my daughters, then aged 9 and 11, I met Brian, now my husband of 41 </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">years.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">Several months later Brian and I went to the immigration office in Nanaimo so that he could renew his visitor visa.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">It was then that we found that it could not be renewed and that Brian would need to return to his home in </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">Britain.</span></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, Segoe UI, Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif" style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">I kinda proposed to him at the immigration office and we were given three months to get married!</span></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, Segoe UI, Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, Helvetica Neue, sans-serif" style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">Another choice.</span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;"> </span></p><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;">Gardening, painting, canning and home-brewing filled the hours that I wasn't cooking or caring for my kids.</span></p><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiNLKSCr5yyV_qVgFjsSy-xh1iThgksEqudtb40KCiqgKDbLlkZ-Hi7T998P8-zOptlOaA8gEVRMX0cLzyZ7E2cMmtxRqrpznXgX3Pr8lXFA743CVjt-QI8Wyygah0FiHT1oOYaDI6cZkl9_IRW-TfzemIO1BEp3s65japUmtE9DafHFJ7q9uBlCt8" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="770" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiNLKSCr5yyV_qVgFjsSy-xh1iThgksEqudtb40KCiqgKDbLlkZ-Hi7T998P8-zOptlOaA8gEVRMX0cLzyZ7E2cMmtxRqrpznXgX3Pr8lXFA743CVjt-QI8Wyygah0FiHT1oOYaDI6cZkl9_IRW-TfzemIO1BEp3s65japUmtE9DafHFJ7q9uBlCt8" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;"><br /><span style="color: #282829;">Gumboots were my </span><span style="color: #282829;"><span>footwear and life was good.</span></span><br /></span><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">My dad visited many times, working in the garden and often sitting on a large tree stump smoking, while overlooking the Cowichan River</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">dad in our herb garden</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWxoJTOMQhfuYHpDMks1yGXRa6z2fwvoAOrxhnO-jyounw6pExzh7YYRo1Se05YWLIQ9lwfeLAH-tCESLvXw19U0dc84wZ1XFJJ2QEqBtzWmFaznz2TsONlgHUEtJNuwAah2zB4qfIve_QxWtSV0HpJOmzCHtHrlWA-te3AKGZ070alRL18nll9kU" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="741" data-original-width="522" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWxoJTOMQhfuYHpDMks1yGXRa6z2fwvoAOrxhnO-jyounw6pExzh7YYRo1Se05YWLIQ9lwfeLAH-tCESLvXw19U0dc84wZ1XFJJ2QEqBtzWmFaznz2TsONlgHUEtJNuwAah2zB4qfIve_QxWtSV0HpJOmzCHtHrlWA-te3AKGZ070alRL18nll9kU=w225-h320" width="225" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">On one of these visits he told me that he and my mum had assumed that I would return to Montreal </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">after my divorce.</span></div></span></span></div><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">WHAT!?@!</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">It had never occurred to me. I hadn't lived "at home" since I had gone to college in Boston, just as I turned 17.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">My life's choices had guided me to other vistas and to other areas of exploration and discovery.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">How very different my life would have been, back in Montreal, within the radius of my sister and parents. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Expectations. Conformity. Comparisons and norms.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">Instead, my choices have guided me to live the fulfilling life I have now.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">A home surrounded by enough space to grow a beautiful garden.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEF5R33z3-ZFfB8M-29StLnWH0lgBGM3bJigxAvuAQbCJc6AeCPQTSEVaXgCqYUG8xLa7Clc4G8pRljTiIlpAwFkdGHbjn91NX0JdfurIX_wmjWpXo3XRqPmOvbd_heE44A59c3AELp81x3X0plA0pXYx562SjcMO69BnoEXcLjxpwZue_rG-dXVs" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1696" data-original-width="1272" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEF5R33z3-ZFfB8M-29StLnWH0lgBGM3bJigxAvuAQbCJc6AeCPQTSEVaXgCqYUG8xLa7Clc4G8pRljTiIlpAwFkdGHbjn91NX0JdfurIX_wmjWpXo3XRqPmOvbd_heE44A59c3AELp81x3X0plA0pXYx562SjcMO69BnoEXcLjxpwZue_rG-dXVs=w150-h200" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiRJd4UG30Hu8VxZTf6vObs1mqN6YqFfAG47HyKmmhNFXyiG995q2Ol0-cTG0uMscPfH7AIWFGsD0LunUUtcJaeX4KhvkEBTRUvIHzgYPF0g0GlsquzR8yqFT3bWwN_vSO9cl2FObCwmndu4uh_UEPGtuq0VFTUBIouiE-wdBNqnbfBpAuwntgcslM" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3766" data-original-width="2824" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiRJd4UG30Hu8VxZTf6vObs1mqN6YqFfAG47HyKmmhNFXyiG995q2Ol0-cTG0uMscPfH7AIWFGsD0LunUUtcJaeX4KhvkEBTRUvIHzgYPF0g0GlsquzR8yqFT3bWwN_vSO9cl2FObCwmndu4uh_UEPGtuq0VFTUBIouiE-wdBNqnbfBpAuwntgcslM=w150-h200" width="150" /></a></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHg1NJp32nTFLs05UxTRkLe0p2-fyEvyqeW3zPU_GfDi5KKZDgPAssB4TRVvHLSWpMAGARL3zRzkFrTY-aaC44hl7siO41XEqg4o_SGVT28P-1z6sEtnqW1236_01LqNstqUJp-HS703ypFthQO8dY4Xn9b1d82U79PWfsmKJIyxLMD-MgH2CiKf8" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHg1NJp32nTFLs05UxTRkLe0p2-fyEvyqeW3zPU_GfDi5KKZDgPAssB4TRVvHLSWpMAGARL3zRzkFrTY-aaC44hl7siO41XEqg4o_SGVT28P-1z6sEtnqW1236_01LqNstqUJp-HS703ypFthQO8dY4Xn9b1d82U79PWfsmKJIyxLMD-MgH2CiKf8=w200-h150" width="200" /></a></div><br /></div><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;">A working studio and gallery planned and built during our first year in Victoria.</span></p><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;">The ocean 21/2 blocks away.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgi2TAZZozGqX45vreZiDV2JmLvN0ihy0KeRSEMQRdO3eJUdEcMpbS1T5I11O4tQIlZ_h7BEujLRQhP-5nyH1YRTQiIEfuwONBmIrYeMKnOExV0En3j_grAO8CtsYiQ0571nKNQeVjBYdANgGMSK8gs56XTBK4iQiiEuw3r3P33eVZDZH8wlN4nMq4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2339" data-original-width="3613" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgi2TAZZozGqX45vreZiDV2JmLvN0ihy0KeRSEMQRdO3eJUdEcMpbS1T5I11O4tQIlZ_h7BEujLRQhP-5nyH1YRTQiIEfuwONBmIrYeMKnOExV0En3j_grAO8CtsYiQ0571nKNQeVjBYdANgGMSK8gs56XTBK4iQiiEuw3r3P33eVZDZH8wlN4nMq4" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #282829;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px; text-align: left;"> A salute to Dumbledore!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="color: #282829;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); font-size: 15px;"><div><span style="text-align: center;">a painting by Brian showing the camas meadow on our Cowichan Valley property</span></div></span></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXFvjU7Nly9-pVK-CLF_2D9fII05R2geAqA_lJ2LcIiKjq19pPDPKLRu-x_9PDoIwkGc3bqxR7pLbezYsHgkKJR5YgFJ8qTlhuQKi6rL3bew78DNKKTBReX1n46Yg9uyI5mzbtp8dMxOSoSTqMzMZIj9KMjrM-WYu77amuKk_03i5dhTsPJsyioTI" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1190" data-original-width="969" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXFvjU7Nly9-pVK-CLF_2D9fII05R2geAqA_lJ2LcIiKjq19pPDPKLRu-x_9PDoIwkGc3bqxR7pLbezYsHgkKJR5YgFJ8qTlhuQKi6rL3bew78DNKKTBReX1n46Yg9uyI5mzbtp8dMxOSoSTqMzMZIj9KMjrM-WYu77amuKk_03i5dhTsPJsyioTI" width="195" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjV8D293CY4a795Ti9arRZUcH2FletbMe3fOP2qko-oog6Kn4QL05iwjAGkg982GIggyU1yP2-WqlUnI6XqPP6sQYN9zFl9zT56xWHDC8DqKUvR3tmB7TZl4kazhdrW_FlEv0iRVxW9eHzCDvqEmNEKISa8JA9NoBMldr53JXnRC0mwc3d73khhB_Y" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="957" data-original-width="1221" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjV8D293CY4a795Ti9arRZUcH2FletbMe3fOP2qko-oog6Kn4QL05iwjAGkg982GIggyU1yP2-WqlUnI6XqPP6sQYN9zFl9zT56xWHDC8DqKUvR3tmB7TZl4kazhdrW_FlEv0iRVxW9eHzCDvqEmNEKISa8JA9NoBMldr53JXnRC0mwc3d73khhB_Y=w200-h157" width="200" /></a></div><p></p><p></p><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"> </span><div><span style="caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"> another painting by Brian of the fawn lilies, also on our property </span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div></div><span><i>The system to leave messages on this site is fragile at best, so please email or leave me a message on Facebook<br /></i></span><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif" style="background-image: none; caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif" style="background-image: none; caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif" style="background-image: none; caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif" style="background-image: none; caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif" style="background-image: none; caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif" style="background-image: none; caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif" style="background-image: none; caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="-apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Helvetica Neue", sans-serif" style="background-image: none; caret-color: rgb(40, 40, 41); color: #282829; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p></div>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-11865712666725847872022-03-07T15:27:00.002-08:002022-03-07T23:04:56.569-08:00good enough<p> I seem to be more introspective than usual. Reflective, pensive and whatever other words indicate looking inward in a contemplative way.</p><p>Maybe I'm just noticing my emotions even more clearly during this time of Covid and of Russia's war to eliminate Ukraine.</p><p>Maybe it's because I have a venue to share my thoughts through this blog.</p><p>Whatever!</p><p>As I've written on Facebook, I have had a book of my Letter Poems printed. Forty copies, which I believe is a real show of bravery. </p><p>Poems are still making themselves known to me...my job is simply to paste down the letters.</p><p>In these new poems the letters are not bold and colourful, but rather smaller black letters cut from magazines and their background colours are muted shades of cream. I have found out that to scan these more subtle poems, a more sophisticated scanning process is necessary, and involves an increased cost per page.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrzeGltNpJ13cKnpGAT4xd56Je9Wws6rIfH6_ms0H4hDCDD2aqSW2EBRxM46ylXOcI1x6rmqL0U9_lwJdSbxrt5gelBHQe6k3KWwBCG-qyLjEEMzod9-trKRJeBgQYYSDkHf7UAGtJUZYhdR9JFv2qDSwMIR2nORupZDOMcF9iPsUg4Y_68RSwIKg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrzeGltNpJ13cKnpGAT4xd56Je9Wws6rIfH6_ms0H4hDCDD2aqSW2EBRxM46ylXOcI1x6rmqL0U9_lwJdSbxrt5gelBHQe6k3KWwBCG-qyLjEEMzod9-trKRJeBgQYYSDkHf7UAGtJUZYhdR9JFv2qDSwMIR2nORupZDOMcF9iPsUg4Y_68RSwIKg=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="text-align: left;">Upon learning this, I have gone into a spiral of doubt. "This is too expensive." "I can't justify paying this much per book." </span></div><p>Read.."..my work is not worthy of these prices." "The poems aren't good enough to spend this amount of money on them." "Maybe people bought my Letter Poems book simply because they are my friends".</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJAAUfPvm6PASVwzuxevRkpd2CDX9BQn1n_x2JXDgos9PkvXDEFGRBszHEPJazmPy33UVFUR_Enu3EDahdtECrm8gwLEa-slXrdl3ZReEo8RZ6T5SXe04A7hZK8WJ-rYGTRVsm119xUMCXAMmrHyTK_LzjDRtIAYuK7OyU2hUIOzT89BgyR95oDQc" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2682" data-original-width="3428" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJAAUfPvm6PASVwzuxevRkpd2CDX9BQn1n_x2JXDgos9PkvXDEFGRBszHEPJazmPy33UVFUR_Enu3EDahdtECrm8gwLEa-slXrdl3ZReEo8RZ6T5SXe04A7hZK8WJ-rYGTRVsm119xUMCXAMmrHyTK_LzjDRtIAYuK7OyU2hUIOzT89BgyR95oDQc" width="307" /></a></div>I even went so far as to justify the price because I haven't bought new clothes, haven't travelled and have barely eaten out these last years of the pandemic!<p></p><p>Finally, I saw the absurdness of my story-line: the fact that I've generously donated money to organizations and family members and yet couldn't support my own self in this very tiny way! </p><p>It wasn't the small monetary increase that was the issue...it was my worthiness. </p><p>And then two things happened on Saturday that were integrally connected to my circling around worthiness.</p><p>I went to Cobbs to buy cinnamon buns to bring to a friend's place later in the morning. The woman serving me, while shifting the position of her mask, told me she was so very tired of "all of this". A conversation followed as I told her that I too was struggling and found this was the hardest time since the beginning of restrictions. Also, that friends of mine found this too. </p><p>As I prepared to leave, she asked if I liked blueberries. When I answered that I did, she slipped a blueberry scone into a little bag and handed it to me.</p><p>Later that day I went to Canadian Tire to buy some plastic containers to hold my millions of cut-out letters. </p><p>As if by magic, a sales person there began talking to me. She said that she has a friend in Kyiv and that she was very worried about her. She continued that the woman's husband was very ill so that they couldn't possibly drive out of the city. She talked about how they were texting and that these messages were a way to hang on to each other.</p><p>Before returning to work, she thanked me for listening and for caring. </p><p>I saw that I was valued by these two women and that it was past time for me to realize my own worth.</p><p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjU0U_cVuOJHWRd9HxOwOih2wBcWUkA7baEN7dM5YjsQahvt5NW95p64pjVvUZNOqNkosCcnIN1biS09u8KNGElPoFRgr3jCyPgCboqSltw6Tkt_S0_vmsGVDyGFLdM5X1sds0U7_nnFChcXX2PcLRHk7oVgXggrLA_fWWHKywPpW7ttdNM-E7EJKI" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img data-original-height="480" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjU0U_cVuOJHWRd9HxOwOih2wBcWUkA7baEN7dM5YjsQahvt5NW95p64pjVvUZNOqNkosCcnIN1biS09u8KNGElPoFRgr3jCyPgCboqSltw6Tkt_S0_vmsGVDyGFLdM5X1sds0U7_nnFChcXX2PcLRHk7oVgXggrLA_fWWHKywPpW7ttdNM-E7EJKI=w320-h320" width="320" /></a></p><p><br />By the way, I am continuing to write and create collages for my next book!</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcbulg7_TIv681DyeKZpir9TQuv3uAK_Ee83pNaiTC7Y8oODto0hs1KlGdCphc5WIy1Kss4lR56pnWsLzulNX_hPS5HElmzlx7IFIeFtTHyD0D7S8ylQiOrepCBadc7VvEll4KMH3aIEuFYr3R7lmXr85m7nuFmYOHHo7pycBJ527_pP6SYGLhWW4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcbulg7_TIv681DyeKZpir9TQuv3uAK_Ee83pNaiTC7Y8oODto0hs1KlGdCphc5WIy1Kss4lR56pnWsLzulNX_hPS5HElmzlx7IFIeFtTHyD0D7S8ylQiOrepCBadc7VvEll4KMH3aIEuFYr3R7lmXr85m7nuFmYOHHo7pycBJ527_pP6SYGLhWW4=w320-h240" width="320" /></a></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcbulg7_TIv681DyeKZpir9TQuv3uAK_Ee83pNaiTC7Y8oODto0hs1KlGdCphc5WIy1Kss4lR56pnWsLzulNX_hPS5HElmzlx7IFIeFtTHyD0D7S8ylQiOrepCBadc7VvEll4KMH3aIEuFYr3R7lmXr85m7nuFmYOHHo7pycBJ527_pP6SYGLhWW4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><u><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhblcUGSj5N9WIhmAFy3qlVni-kNAUyNzow33eSIJ-PKwA96QMtvHORISPn2ajBi1pdnszyO84goe7DC3hX9LOJQ3YrQ0BrHmT6qsT2CWYYE8l0Ci1AFn9rtRDXonszrmbXje4J3FZ5JbfBWPHnQajGdpA6p7hK-pK0ICH8hIWHDFZTr4mKCVInAxY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhblcUGSj5N9WIhmAFy3qlVni-kNAUyNzow33eSIJ-PKwA96QMtvHORISPn2ajBi1pdnszyO84goe7DC3hX9LOJQ3YrQ0BrHmT6qsT2CWYYE8l0Ci1AFn9rtRDXonszrmbXje4J3FZ5JbfBWPHnQajGdpA6p7hK-pK0ICH8hIWHDFZTr4mKCVInAxY=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><br /></u></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><u><br /></u></span></span></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-77537132385895949412022-01-29T12:21:00.001-08:002022-01-31T15:51:14.082-08:00our inside selves<p>A few days ago I visited with an artist-friend in our studio. My newly made Seville marmalade was the excuse for our meeting and partnered with her freshly baked scones, we settled into conversation.</p><p>I had shared some of my Letter Poems with her through email, and I showed her another, pulled from the drawer. It was one I knew well, so I recited it to her rather than reading it.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjO5T-NjX24K2cUsQ5dLjSSSS7NRHeeFu5DdsUIajb9lgxeCst4_IKCX15BaoyoXDdBFbSOPsRk9o-sh2TgvvN_fVqsBFXgBu-GKjsRrFEaEyD1Qnnl_wr5TDkjQa5JhpOS1-YsUVcIue2wSlXfpT6SL6k4PXeluymhNagUAs4t8vy2lHUWpWprzS8" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjO5T-NjX24K2cUsQ5dLjSSSS7NRHeeFu5DdsUIajb9lgxeCst4_IKCX15BaoyoXDdBFbSOPsRk9o-sh2TgvvN_fVqsBFXgBu-GKjsRrFEaEyD1Qnnl_wr5TDkjQa5JhpOS1-YsUVcIue2wSlXfpT6SL6k4PXeluymhNagUAs4t8vy2lHUWpWprzS8" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg7WOlIIfZWwcJ0Swof_W32F4AKWzbkLIifVe2G6qect0R_KoLthD6Bm2-TABThasPIrLqi7X7BsgzrwJgWGw4FWPunnlg4fr3IBrcFoCzgXfvFhBdf8qu-JIp_1VnVXIzCEZenG9J0Xa_Fc55EbiwJRBBqr2TZQNEZ7A3NPtkdr1oNKy7yBUSK_MU" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3063" data-original-width="1966" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg7WOlIIfZWwcJ0Swof_W32F4AKWzbkLIifVe2G6qect0R_KoLthD6Bm2-TABThasPIrLqi7X7BsgzrwJgWGw4FWPunnlg4fr3IBrcFoCzgXfvFhBdf8qu-JIp_1VnVXIzCEZenG9J0Xa_Fc55EbiwJRBBqr2TZQNEZ7A3NPtkdr1oNKy7yBUSK_MU=w205-h320" width="205" /></a></div><span style="text-align: left;">She immediately said that she wanted to video me, standing against the white wall behind us, reciting the poem. My reaction was loud and clear...."absolutely not!" The suggestion ignited terror in me.</span></div><p></p><p>She responded that she was completely surprised by my reaction as she sees me as a person "out there" and "so self-confident".</p><p>Other people have said something similar. It's what they see. It's not how I usually see myself.</p><p>I often come back to something a therapist shared with me, perhaps 30 years ago: </p><p><i>"We compare our inside selves to other people's outside selves."</i></p><p>I think that my friend was comparing her vulnerable inside self to my outside self. Meanwhile, I see her as an artist, not only of creative excellence, but also of great confidence.</p><p>Later in the day, while speaking to a friend, I spoke of a memory I had from my early days in Duncan. At that time, I had immersed myself in painting: I was free and having a wonderful time. </p><p>An artist friend invited Brian and me to her studio where she had a show of perhaps 40 portraits painted on small metal panels. We took our time looking at her work, and chose one to buy. </p><p>My perception was that she was extremely confident in her work to exhibit such a large number of paintings. </p><p>What that meant to me was that <i>she </i>was super confident!</p><p>I was comparing my inside self to her outside self.</p><p>I am preparing to have books of my Letter Poems printed, perhaps as early as this week.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh6yJ-g1rtlxQXriK-6ftZYrxIXx3pUReXbWvILLbhNF4eD5Yh-H4tCbh04tLOQqLwfAhijEww8ivILyVp-pmqP-UhHk4CD2EWf73qFjK8OiZVnB5f3aRZxBGc8VByGp-5XIxVgKSrmgMwYcULX3oWWgmgYstg8wI0p2WvIV7plH1AsiRlBwPLdCMQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh6yJ-g1rtlxQXriK-6ftZYrxIXx3pUReXbWvILLbhNF4eD5Yh-H4tCbh04tLOQqLwfAhijEww8ivILyVp-pmqP-UhHk4CD2EWf73qFjK8OiZVnB5f3aRZxBGc8VByGp-5XIxVgKSrmgMwYcULX3oWWgmgYstg8wI0p2WvIV7plH1AsiRlBwPLdCMQ" width="320" /></a></div><br />HOW BRAVE! <br /><p>Yes, that my be true, however that does not stop me from trash talking to myself! </p><p>"What am I thinking?!" "Who will want to buy one?!" "I think I should reduce the number of copies Island Blue is printing!" </p><p>These negative thoughts are then added to my criticizing the poems I've selected to have printed.</p><p>So, while people see my bravery and confidence, they don't see the inner torment I'm facing, the "not good enough" cloud resting on my shoulders.</p><p>Writing this, I see that my vulnerability is part of who I am. This emotional exposure and uncertainty makes me easily hurt, however it moves me forward. It allows me to risk, trying new things</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgwPzImwrxxiFGbJW2tfrCQPrKHiVVh6p-acbBVG3MJtqsTpRFISgaQRzHZeK6Cxcj4nE_pQhM9pmOWCm6OI4_DZ50k2mlgVi025cgmNi_LlnsSEwpJ6BmwycUkSLwbgmm0WVXh6tE3SuiT8gklmc62qE64_Vuk0PIlDtxazl0MwM_Il-fc1aGif3A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2428" data-original-width="3763" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgwPzImwrxxiFGbJW2tfrCQPrKHiVVh6p-acbBVG3MJtqsTpRFISgaQRzHZeK6Cxcj4nE_pQhM9pmOWCm6OI4_DZ50k2mlgVi025cgmNi_LlnsSEwpJ6BmwycUkSLwbgmm0WVXh6tE3SuiT8gklmc62qE64_Vuk0PIlDtxazl0MwM_Il-fc1aGif3A=w400-h258" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>I love receiving comments and it seems email and Facebook are more reliable than this site.<br /><br /><p></p>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-52293767636659122402022-01-03T13:47:00.008-08:002022-01-04T08:13:51.399-08:00my dear friend<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Fp8enS1xQ0c/YdNIlTgmJzI/AAAAAAAAEd4/Ufyiw8q3AWcRbI2YcrQXWHDg6Ia0pLZaQCNcBGAsYHQ/painting%25232.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div></div><img alt="" data-original-height="1632" data-original-width="1387" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Fp8enS1xQ0c/YdNIlTgmJzI/AAAAAAAAEd4/Ufyiw8q3AWcRbI2YcrQXWHDg6Ia0pLZaQCNcBGAsYHQ/w272-h320/painting%25232.jpg" width="272" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div> I am going through our book shelves once again.<p></p><p>"Will I ever read this book?" I ask myself. And the question, "Will I reread this book?" follows in quick succession.</p><p>A pile of "No I won't" balances precariously on an Ikea black stool in our den.</p><p>I see a piece of paper tucked between the "30 Minute Seder" haggadah and <i>The Diary of Anne Frank.</i></p><p>As I begin to read, I see it is a letter I wrote several years ago after my dear friend Jean died.</p><p>Today, as my blog entry, I will transcribe this note, just as I wrote it. </p><p>It is an honouring of Jean. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_rkqSbV7Oao/YdNIxq42_yI/AAAAAAAAEeE/ztzlTHNqe8gllvkyLLARrsG6T6UpTsRVwCNcBGAsYHQ/P1960482.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="150" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_rkqSbV7Oao/YdNIxq42_yI/AAAAAAAAEeE/ztzlTHNqe8gllvkyLLARrsG6T6UpTsRVwCNcBGAsYHQ/w200-h150/P1960482.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G-84uXngL3k/YdNIlvlLmNI/AAAAAAAAEd8/hzEBPqlItogB7pCB3gF1EwV2QXoRisGagCNcBGAsYHQ/P1030738_Facebook_lowres_pinecone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1288" data-original-width="966" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G-84uXngL3k/YdNIlvlLmNI/AAAAAAAAEd8/hzEBPqlItogB7pCB3gF1EwV2QXoRisGagCNcBGAsYHQ/P1030738_Facebook_lowres_pinecone.jpg" width="180" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-psq-M4pcvHY/YdNI04f77NI/AAAAAAAAEeU/1I12TcMVRc8GMgEta40x6TzKUXMj3AdIwCNcBGAsYHQ/P1060251.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="150" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-psq-M4pcvHY/YdNI04f77NI/AAAAAAAAEeU/1I12TcMVRc8GMgEta40x6TzKUXMj3AdIwCNcBGAsYHQ/w200-h150/P1060251.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">"dear source. I am needing your comfort right now as I feel compressed- holding myself too close- I wish to understand where to find comfort for the sadness I am feeling with the loss of my dear friend Jean and the sadness I feel that I will not be able to walk around the neighbourhood with her and notice the trees' cones and the flowers, with falling seeds to put into our pockets. Who will miss me, I wonder-</span><u style="text-align: left;"> </u><span style="text-align: left;">and where is Jean now?</span><u style="text-align: left;"> </u><span style="text-align: left;">I believe she must be somewhere,</span><u style="text-align: left;"> </u><span style="text-align: left;">floating around making shadows on my studio wall- beside me as I tidy my garden. Oh, the source of all- where do people go when they die? Where will I go? Who will hold my shadow in their arms, as I hold Jean's.</span></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9uQoG_IIeT8/YdNI7GAGNmI/AAAAAAAAEec/2uRWpO5vfDEIjaaYkbF7_mDclLW62cViQCNcBGAsYHQ/P1160727.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9uQoG_IIeT8/YdNI7GAGNmI/AAAAAAAAEec/2uRWpO5vfDEIjaaYkbF7_mDclLW62cViQCNcBGAsYHQ/w240-h320/P1160727.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>My dear Jackie- your heart is open- to sadness and also to love. The sadness will never leave you fully- it will sit and mix with gladness & the joy that your heart also holds. You will still notice the flowering plants & you will still gather seeds & put them in your pockets. The memories of Jean will be a part of your life forever. It will not be in the same way, and remember there are many many ways. An uncountable series of thoughts & feelings, and you will experience them all.<p></p><p>Jean is with you- though in a different manner than before. Your parents are also beside you always. In the sun's rays, in the clouds' forms and in the dancing shadows on your studio walls."</p><p><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TOrlcuxYjMU/YdNI76hn-sI/AAAAAAAAEeg/MU1P8Us80qAGZ8gtrLIZv-ymrnn0JJc4gCNcBGAsYHQ/P1160740.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-TOrlcuxYjMU/YdNI76hn-sI/AAAAAAAAEeg/MU1P8Us80qAGZ8gtrLIZv-ymrnn0JJc4gCNcBGAsYHQ/P1160740.JPG" width="320" /><br /></a></p><p><br /></p><p> May her memory be a blessing.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="3845" data-original-width="2772" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3bZpxPgAMJE/YdRxlS017eI/AAAAAAAAEfg/ynk5igc63Aos9Y-Y-niAOni5ZFe9uWiCQCNcBGAsYHQ/w288-h400/P1180047.JPG" width="288" /></span></div><p style="font-style: italic;"><i><br /></i></p><i>This is the letter I found, tucked between 2 books</i><p></p><p><br /></p><p> If you would like to comment, please send me an email, or a message on Facebook</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-69940525568181549672021-12-14T19:52:00.001-08:002021-12-15T17:46:14.997-08:00tidying<p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G6aH_tWwU7M/YbkXqy7l1rI/AAAAAAAAEdg/mWcy14LaUogBljHag1-QRjq5qZ_58wWNQCNcBGAsYHQ/P1170976.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3526" data-original-width="2390" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G6aH_tWwU7M/YbkXqy7l1rI/AAAAAAAAEdg/mWcy14LaUogBljHag1-QRjq5qZ_58wWNQCNcBGAsYHQ/w217-h320/P1170976.JPG" width="217" /></a></div><span style="text-align: left;">This week I have decided to Really Do A Tidy Up. To go through the shelves in our den and dispose of bits of paper, old notebooks and some piles that presently camp out on the floor.</span></div><p></p><p>Of course, that means reading everything first.</p><p>I find a list of words and half sentences on pages from an old day-timer.</p><p>"incredible sweetness - fearless contender - rivers of my heart". Why had I gathered these beautiful words together?</p><p>And, "the sadness of leaving behind- change"</p><p>The note,"walk with Ken", is from years ago, reminding me of a friend who moved away and with whom I've lost contact.</p><p>"Nov. Will's birthday 1984" reminds me of another young man who has slipped away from my knowing. </p><p>And written in black ink is "shiva @ 5", yet I don't remember whose death was I honouring.</p><p>And, finally, the phone number of Victoria Pest Control Ltd., bringing back the sounds of the nocturnal scratchings within my bedroom walls!</p><p>But these scribblings were really only a cover for the most important papers I found.</p><p>These are two somewhat brittle and browned newspaper articles from The Globe and Mail, one from December 11, 1993 and the other from January 27, 1998.</p><p>I remember finding them perhaps 6 or 7 years ago, when, after reading, I carefully tucked them into a faded red file folder, which I returned to the cluttered shelves.</p><p>The earlier article is written by Roger Rosenblatt, of The New York Times Magazine, titled, "WHAT NEXT?" Its subtitle reads "After a lifetime of writing, research and meditating on biology, Lewis Thomas contemplates his own imminent death from cancer."</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-h3lxALEFLVs/YbkWKm1Q4AI/AAAAAAAAEdE/w2YEDi3UdN8iIlYEWipuTgQBR4a5MTOuQCNcBGAsYHQ/Document_20211214_0001.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1700" data-original-width="2200" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-h3lxALEFLVs/YbkWKm1Q4AI/AAAAAAAAEdE/w2YEDi3UdN8iIlYEWipuTgQBR4a5MTOuQCNcBGAsYHQ/Document_20211214_0001.jpg" width="311" /></a></div>Reading it this morning, the question Rosenblatt hesitatingly asks catches my attention. "What does dying feel like?" <p></p><p>"Weakness," he answers with a strain of bitterness. "This weakness. I'm beginning to lose all respect for my body."</p><p>"Is there an art to dying?", Rosenblatt continues.</p><p>"There's an art to living." Lewis brightens a bit. "One of the very important things that has to be learned around the time of dying becomes a real prospect is to recognize these occasions when we have been useful in the world. With the same sharp insight that we have for acknowledging our failures, we ought to recognize when we have been useful, and sometimes uniquely useful."</p><p></p>The second article, written by Alex Mogelon, is titled "Whose funeral is it, anyway?" In it, Lila tells her husband of 47 years, that she wants the poem "Do not stand by my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep" read at her funeral. <p></p><p>She continues that she has made a list of her pallbearers, friends that she wants to carry her. When her husband sees that she has not included "George" in this list, he worries about what this man will think. Her reply is that George can be on her husband's list, and says that she will be the last person to know what he thinks!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OKeItRKxhiA/YbkWwB77LaI/AAAAAAAAEdU/MlKhfkGgPI4cpqc4K-l0BUIafYySzNZAgCNcBGAsYHQ/Document_20211214_0001.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1700" data-original-width="2200" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OKeItRKxhiA/YbkWwB77LaI/AAAAAAAAEdU/MlKhfkGgPI4cpqc4K-l0BUIafYySzNZAgCNcBGAsYHQ/Document_20211214_0001.jpg" width="311" /></a></div>The most wonderful part of this article is when she wonders if her husband has thought about her obituary. She does not want the devoted wife loving mother kind of stuff.<p></p><p>When he asks what she wants to say, she recounts an amazing list of accomplishments. "That at 16 I was a radio operator intercepting Japanese sub signals off the coast of Vancouver Island...that I was a youth leader...a camp director..an artist...a magazine editor...a business executive...a video producer. That my life meant something! That I didn't spend my years making chicken soup."</p><p></p><p>"And, one more thing. Tell the rabbi not to call me a woman of valour." </p><p>"Lila, I can't tell him how to..." stammered her husband. </p><p>"Yes you can. Whose funeral is it, anyway?"</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EdILGmDQtTQ/YbkYUqUu8fI/AAAAAAAAEds/cZsCYM0mFPogPUNMhRYb0EUCcDzSbHQwgCNcBGAsYHQ/P1170970.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2562" data-original-width="3076" height="333" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EdILGmDQtTQ/YbkYUqUu8fI/AAAAAAAAEds/cZsCYM0mFPogPUNMhRYb0EUCcDzSbHQwgCNcBGAsYHQ/w400-h333/P1170970.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />I would love to hear from you, however, the most reliable way is to send me an email or leave</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> a message on Facebook</div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-10864740811579804092021-11-07T12:31:00.025-08:002021-11-08T07:28:35.939-08:00outspoken<div><i><br /></i></div><i><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; display: inline; text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left;">And,
she had this weird
habit of being herself
all the time;
that’s why,
not everyone liked her.
-unknown</i></div></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; display: inline; text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left;"><br /></i></div></i></div></div></i><div><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_DzL08YMfgQ/YYgrzjxmXkI/AAAAAAAAEbo/PKgabsfyQzcrU_0DK3j58Slc3W3Y9pcQwCLcBGAsYHQ/P1170747.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_DzL08YMfgQ/YYgrzjxmXkI/AAAAAAAAEbo/PKgabsfyQzcrU_0DK3j58Slc3W3Y9pcQwCLcBGAsYHQ/w240-h320/P1170747.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />Being myself. Who is this self that I'm being?</div><div><br /></div><div>If I were to ask 10 people who they think I am in this world, would I get 10 different words describing me? </div><div><br /></div><div>If I were to ask a co-member of Congregation Emanu-El's social action group, Avodah, would she/he see me differently than a member of my mahjongg group? </div><div><br /></div><div>Would both groups see me as "involved" or as "outspoken"? </div><div><br /></div><div>If I had my way, I'd like "committed" and perhaps "dedicated" added to "outspoken".</div><div><br /></div><div>Vocabulary.com defines "outspoken"this way: <div class="pos-icon" name="s100104" style="border-bottom-left-radius: 12px; border-bottom-right-radius: 12px; border-top-left-radius: 12px; border-top-right-radius: 12px; border: 1px solid rgb(0, 123, 196); box-sizing: border-box; color: #007bc4; display: inline-block; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14px; height: 24px; padding: 0px 8px;" title="adjective">adjective</div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14px;"> characterized by directness in manner or speech; without subtlety or evasion</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: "Open Sans"; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div>Reading this definition, "outspoken" doesn't sound too bad at all! </div><div><br /></div><div>Searching online, I see that the Merriam-Webster definition of "outspoken" includes "candid", "direct", and "forthright" and then adds "openhearted" in the middle of 20 descriptive words!</div><div><br /></div><div>We recently held an art exhibit in our studio, showing and selling work that spans about 45 years. There were paintings of mine whose mediums included powdered poster paint and house enamel! </div><div><br /></div><div> painted in 1977</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uRyMcGREUUs/YYgoMBHRrUI/AAAAAAAAEag/-kw0i7IrrwUg7ZKojWXLc8N9j5M2ajFBwCLcBGAsYHQ/J%25238.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1081" data-original-width="785" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uRyMcGREUUs/YYgoMBHRrUI/AAAAAAAAEag/-kw0i7IrrwUg7ZKojWXLc8N9j5M2ajFBwCLcBGAsYHQ/J%25238.jpg" width="174" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>In most of these paintings, there seemed to be an explosion of creative energy! Direct, confident and...outspoken! I had no barriers in our Cowichan Valley studio.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RswPsPui2_I/YYgpMWHJ1WI/AAAAAAAAEa4/yb2M7rx_IeI2zZnwXHcOfG5ggsCVhgs0wCLcBGAsYHQ/J%25235.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="834" data-original-width="1174" height="227" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RswPsPui2_I/YYgpMWHJ1WI/AAAAAAAAEa4/yb2M7rx_IeI2zZnwXHcOfG5ggsCVhgs0wCLcBGAsYHQ/J%25235.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the remaining image from a series of masks I painted, influenced by our African art collection</div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-S6DD_Uv5fY8/YYgolmBQ_-I/AAAAAAAAEas/ywSJ5mk0Hio80Tcfo4OBebjfcMx4DsaMQCLcBGAsYHQ/P1040160_Facebook_lowres_pinecone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1288" data-original-width="966" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-S6DD_Uv5fY8/YYgolmBQ_-I/AAAAAAAAEas/ywSJ5mk0Hio80Tcfo4OBebjfcMx4DsaMQCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/P1040160_Facebook_lowres_pinecone.jpg" width="300" /></a></div> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SvZhMXDBtB4/YYh7uAZtefI/AAAAAAAAEcs/m3_ou_wv0gIWoTGV3FeYUqfN26NUmDF5QCLcBGAsYHQ/P1000505%2B2.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1414" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SvZhMXDBtB4/YYh7uAZtefI/AAAAAAAAEcs/m3_ou_wv0gIWoTGV3FeYUqfN26NUmDF5QCLcBGAsYHQ/w276-h400/P1000505%2B2.JPG" width="276" /> </a></div></div></div></div><div>I've never before thought of my art work in that way.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-H-zW9tJPS4Q/YYgq5mCYw5I/AAAAAAAAEbQ/jUjDVfbYHFQ1wOcnqtqdbEcPqhWK53tNgCLcBGAsYHQ/J%25233.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1486" data-original-width="1110" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-H-zW9tJPS4Q/YYgq5mCYw5I/AAAAAAAAEbQ/jUjDVfbYHFQ1wOcnqtqdbEcPqhWK53tNgCLcBGAsYHQ/w239-h320/J%25233.jpg" width="239" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">And my garden? Maybe that too.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">As I recently celebrated my 78th birthday, I become even more aware of the finite life I have been gifted.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><div>How do I wish to be in this world and at this time? </div><div>How can I truly live my values? </div><div>In what way can I contribute to the well-being of one single person?</div></div><div>In what ways can I contribute to the well-being of more than one single person?</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div>Returning from our first trip outside of Victoria during the pandemic, after having spent 3 1/2 days walking on the peaceful beaches of Tofino, I am committing to more often pressing "delete delete delete" on my computer's screen. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-K7aH_aGA0Fs/YYgp4yWhPvI/AAAAAAAAEbI/SnB0PcdSspQSEcuYIgo-SjQFLtoBkXkxACLcBGAsYHQ/P1170889%2B2%2B2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1342" data-original-width="2048" height="264" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-K7aH_aGA0Fs/YYgp4yWhPvI/AAAAAAAAEbI/SnB0PcdSspQSEcuYIgo-SjQFLtoBkXkxACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h264/P1170889%2B2%2B2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div></div><div> </div><div>-Being in my body as I walk more often.</div><div>-Contributing time and energy assisting agencies and community centres.</div><div>-Being less impatient. (a hard one!)</div><div>-Saying "I love you!" more often.</div><div><br /></div><div>AND, being outspoken with AN OPEN HEART!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gwR0fgKyDBc/YYguXaK3bHI/AAAAAAAAEb0/BZkrY9RY9y4m8eakIQYDKuBPXeGOr-rGwCLcBGAsYHQ/P1170744.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gwR0fgKyDBc/YYguXaK3bHI/AAAAAAAAEb0/BZkrY9RY9y4m8eakIQYDKuBPXeGOr-rGwCLcBGAsYHQ/w240-h320/P1170744.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-f_B8IZN4KeA/YYgutZjtiJI/AAAAAAAAEb8/xNrYnXBfes0NksPIruBDGlBSGQWjUP_lQCLcBGAsYHQ/w240-h320/P1170737.JPG" width="240" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8XAvacOEJyI/YYgv83ycYBI/AAAAAAAAEcY/9dJXk2RPAYMUdtOQlsAW_13TuqtvoTmYQCLcBGAsYHQ/P1170779.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8XAvacOEJyI/YYgv83ycYBI/AAAAAAAAEcY/9dJXk2RPAYMUdtOQlsAW_13TuqtvoTmYQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/P1170779.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-9371120353130405092021-10-15T11:48:00.002-07:002021-10-15T12:05:13.075-07:00fromtheothersideofseventy/plus<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9NY6B8nSEOQ/YWj8MOYCHKI/AAAAAAAAEZg/tSQCnzpsmsk_aEQW33Re5YMofpK3p63IgCLcBGAsYHQ/13697235_10209521653985866_543495209077760408_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="344" data-original-width="480" height="286" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9NY6B8nSEOQ/YWj8MOYCHKI/AAAAAAAAEZg/tSQCnzpsmsk_aEQW33Re5YMofpK3p63IgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h286/13697235_10209521653985866_543495209077760408_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Brian has recently been forced to adhere to a very limited diet for the health of his kidneys. Think very little green and orange, no seeds and nuts, and the elimination of what we have learned to believe is healthy eating. Okay is: white rice, pasta, cauliflower, cucumber and, for a hit of color, kale. Plums okay, prunes not. Cooked carrots okay, quinoa and beans not allowed.</span></div><p></p><p>It has become a challenge to cook what both tastes good and is very low in potassium.</p><p> So, this evening, I opened the oven to check on what I was preparing for dinner. </p><p>Pulling out the roasting pan, I suddenly realized I had no oven glove on my left hand. And, yes, I continued removing it with ONE hand. Half-way out I knew it was a stupid mistake and 3 seconds later it crashed onto the floor. The cabbage, sliced thin and marinated, and the carrots with a new combination of cayenne and cinnamon ON THE FLOOR!</p><p>Oh, and the skewers of souvlaki-marinated chicken from Red Barn on the floor too. After screaming with words assembled from the eighties, I took the spatula and gathered together the seasoned cabbage and returned it to the pan. After all, I had swept the floor just this morning...and it would be heated again before we ate it. And, quite frankly, I didn't care! I can think of deaths worse than one caused by floor-a-bacteria.</p><p>Back into the roasting pan and into the oven. I pulled out the mop and bucket and washed the floor and wiped down the spattered lower cabinet.</p><p>I poured another glass of wine and gathered together plates and silverware. </p><p>Another crisis averted. Or, rather, overcome.</p><p>I think being on the other side of seventy let me move through this without tears.</p><p>However, it isn't all hot water and movin' on.</p><p>Earlier today I sent this to my brother-in-law and to my sister who has just turned 80. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-U-nTeqml32A/YWjri4tZeXI/AAAAAAAAEYs/c_9zXu1FZCUlc8UVgkn6PeXxoDXUGLSXACLcBGAsYHQ/78357040_814467525680430_4496829174069067776_o%2B2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="767" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-U-nTeqml32A/YWjri4tZeXI/AAAAAAAAEYs/c_9zXu1FZCUlc8UVgkn6PeXxoDXUGLSXACLcBGAsYHQ/78357040_814467525680430_4496829174069067776_o%2B2.jpg" width="192" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><div style="text-align: left;">I wasn't prepared for the response:<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 18px; text-align: left;">"One of our neighbours fell while putting on his pants and broke his hip"</span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="text-align: left;">Continuing on the theme of aging, yesterday was my birthday and Brian and I had planned to go to Gordon's beach. The small cooler was ready and a small knapsack was by the door to hold some new beautiful stones and rocks that I planed to collect. I love this small beach and going there has become a beautiful birthday ritual.</p><p style="text-align: left;">However, the weather did not say "come to the beach". It was drizzly and cold. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Instead, we ate blueberry cornmeal muffins from Pure Vanilla and set out to a few special places. I believe that on my birthday it's about "giving" not about "receiving", so we first drove to St. John the Divine to make a donation to their food bank and then to Quadra VillageCommunity Centre with another donation envelope.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Two of my paintings then found new homes with friends who loved them. </p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6z5uPeDxRKg/YWj4-JfUkxI/AAAAAAAAEY0/FxKMCtMy1vwaaLQ4W_LnPkjHg6rN1UZxACLcBGAsYHQ/four%2B2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="371" data-original-width="380" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6z5uPeDxRKg/YWj4-JfUkxI/AAAAAAAAEY0/FxKMCtMy1vwaaLQ4W_LnPkjHg6rN1UZxACLcBGAsYHQ/four%2B2.jpg" width="246" /></a></div><br />Gifts so lovingly given and so warmly received.<p></p><p style="text-align: left;">A perfect birthday, even without salt air and sandy shoes.</p><div>So, as always, I wish for good health and bountiful love. For creative energy and for kindness. </div><div>For patience when things seem to be out of control. </div><div>For a more just world.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>And gratitude for Zara's soft coat and unconditional love.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0cb_xJynpCA/YWj7YBfXibI/AAAAAAAAEZQ/n-nTPlSxjzcz43893FG_zkEEjpRV2rZtwCLcBGAsYHQ/JSR%25234.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1189" data-original-width="884" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0cb_xJynpCA/YWj7YBfXibI/AAAAAAAAEZQ/n-nTPlSxjzcz43893FG_zkEEjpRV2rZtwCLcBGAsYHQ/JSR%25234.jpg" width="178" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">a few of the paintings sold at our art show <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Sv702RvmBh8/YWj6f_xkpPI/AAAAAAAAEZI/tmax_dWBFEws_5XOch1dPShs2HxAK5esQCLcBGAsYHQ/P1040115_Facebook_lowres_pinecone.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="669" data-original-width="1070" height="200" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Sv702RvmBh8/YWj6f_xkpPI/AAAAAAAAEZI/tmax_dWBFEws_5XOch1dPShs2HxAK5esQCLcBGAsYHQ/P1040115_Facebook_lowres_pinecone.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>& finding new homes</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UNZGZxvffkY/YWj5JTCltjI/AAAAAAAAEY8/Fr38ZQYsbXQfwxPjLS9URqaXjooFtl4uQCLcBGAsYHQ/woman.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="300" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UNZGZxvffkY/YWj5JTCltjI/AAAAAAAAEY8/Fr38ZQYsbXQfwxPjLS9URqaXjooFtl4uQCLcBGAsYHQ/woman.jpg" width="189" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><p></p>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7989666955495773038.post-2456294387754657912021-09-12T16:22:00.006-07:002021-09-13T16:53:32.124-07:00acceptance <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5fRQFkqfpEU/YT4oeRGTGhI/AAAAAAAAEXs/Movp3wtDNrA0fHmM4h5ARSkACTRfMNhmQCLcBGAsYHQ/s960/16195307_758913014264327_3478682427597598439_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="783" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5fRQFkqfpEU/YT4oeRGTGhI/AAAAAAAAEXs/Movp3wtDNrA0fHmM4h5ARSkACTRfMNhmQCLcBGAsYHQ/w261-h320/16195307_758913014264327_3478682427597598439_n.jpg" width="261" /></a></div><br /><br /> I'm not sure why this is happening again and again.<p></p><p>I seem to be unable to concentrate on reading. I start a book and then very soon I slip in a bookmark. When I return to reading, this bookmark might advance only a half-dozen pages.</p><p>I belong to a book club and I haven't read more than a dozen pages from this month's selection. And now, someone passed on their copy of October's selection,<i> The Boat People</i>. I settled on the couch to spend an early morning hour to begin reading. </p><p>By the 20th page I understood that this was going to be hard read: a boatload of refugees arriving in Canada and the man we have been following has his 6-year old son taken from him and placed on a bus with the women and children.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XwJL3TaMb8M/YT4oe7HFs_I/AAAAAAAAEXw/WsDhPdNKBAQOgp1Vh-WrOdDhJoOz3k4ewCLcBGAsYHQ/s1091/P1040130_Facebook_lowres_pinecone%2B2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1091" data-original-width="875" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XwJL3TaMb8M/YT4oe7HFs_I/AAAAAAAAEXw/WsDhPdNKBAQOgp1Vh-WrOdDhJoOz3k4ewCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/P1040130_Facebook_lowres_pinecone%2B2.jpg" width="257" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div> I have closed the book and instead have started this post.<p></p><p>I have noticed, over these many months, that I seem unable to read anything that is painful: either sad or angry. A few months ago I jumped ahead in another book to read the ending, something I have very rarely done before. In fact, something I have reprimanded my husband, Brian, for doing!</p><p>I do recognize that I am a sensitive person and feel things deeply but this new avoidance seems different, more acute, more poignant.</p><p>Looking for reasons, I grab onto The Pandemic. I wonder if the isolation and pain surrounding Covid is the culprit. Enough pain in our present lives; why read about more. </p><p>Yes, <i>The Boat Peopl</i>e is fiction, but only the refugees' names and country of origin have been changed. </p><p>This has happened before. </p><p>During the Second World War, a boatload of Jews was not allowed into Canada and was instead returned to the Nazis. And now, especially by the United States, many hundreds of thousands of other refugees are being returned to the danger of their homelands.</p><p>Many years ago I looked through our bookshelves. There were a number of books that I hadn't read, many purchased at a wonderful bookstore in Flagstaff, Arizona. A great many of these related to the Holocaust. Without even reading the blurbs on their back covers, I packed them up and gave them to Russell's Books.</p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OeSqu2-PKsg/YT4of1u5oPI/AAAAAAAAEX4/JCxKp4qb52oqlEL_HVJezZ992Jo36riWACLcBGAsYHQ/s1204/P1040132_Facebook_lowres_pinecone%2B2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1204" height="227" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OeSqu2-PKsg/YT4of1u5oPI/AAAAAAAAEX4/JCxKp4qb52oqlEL_HVJezZ992Jo36riWACLcBGAsYHQ/w320-h227/P1040132_Facebook_lowres_pinecone%2B2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Iks0wHv6-VU/YT4qIqGguvI/AAAAAAAAEYM/UMsybdWeGNUf3v_eNwquQYYwNOz7ib7XgCLcBGAsYHQ/P1040128_Facebook_lowres_pinecone%2B2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="1278" data-original-width="927" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Iks0wHv6-VU/YT4qIqGguvI/AAAAAAAAEYM/UMsybdWeGNUf3v_eNwquQYYwNOz7ib7XgCLcBGAsYHQ/w232-h320/P1040128_Facebook_lowres_pinecone%2B2.jpg" width="232" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Visiting with a dear friend yesterday, drinking glasses of Prosecco, she related how many years ago she had forced herself read the entire TimeLife Issue on the Holocaust. She told herself then that if she read and saw photographs of this horror, she would never need to revisit it again.</div><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WtkqsU95dYU/YT4of85eXxI/AAAAAAAAEX8/AcDf9L2qORAaOVKS-yTqM2zisMPOs6PGwCLcBGAsYHQ/s598/towards.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="598" height="250" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WtkqsU95dYU/YT4of85eXxI/AAAAAAAAEX8/AcDf9L2qORAaOVKS-yTqM2zisMPOs6PGwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/towards.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>Maybe I won't read<i> The Boat People</i>. Maybe I need to accept and honour my avoidance-- accept that this is too heavy for me to carry right now.</p><p><i> I created these collages about 35 years ago</i></p>fromtheothersideofseventyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099214589783592401noreply@blogger.com1