The Day I Found My Heart (Rock)

When I took these pictures, I thought it might be the final outdoor fire ever in the backyard of the home I've shared with my family for the past six years.  In April 2010, on the last official burn day of the season, I privately said goodbye while savoring my time here.  A fat, utterly handsome bullfrog came out of his wet cave and watched me and kept me company as I worked to burn winter's fallen debris.

I love this backyard.  I love the trees and wild growing things like the jack-in-the-pulpits, trillium, cross vine, mountain laurel, and wood violets.  I love the creek and the boulders and all the creatures that make the woods come alive with movement and sound.  It's a magical place and I will miss it dearly.  But I've been granted a reprieve.  I can stay here until June 1, 2013.  That's just after my youngest daughter graduates from high school.  I won't miss the house so much, but I will miss this sylvan paradise.

On that spring day last April, I climbed down the bank into the creek bed looking for inspiration.  I was hoping to find some little token that would offer me comfort or a bit of insight.  Walking across a sand bar, I looked down and the first thing I saw was a heart-shaped rock.  It was almost perfect.  I picked it up and have carried it with me ever since.  It accompanied me on all my medical visits.  It went through a biopsy, an MRI, two CT scans, and six weeks of radiation therapy.  Had I a place to hide it, my heart rock would have gone into surgery with me as well. 

With my court date and cancer treatments behind me, I guess I've learned that no matter what happens I still have my heart.  Mostly intact, it's only slightly damaged, just like my almost perfect heart-shaped rock.  I can live with that.  Perhaps one day my beating heart might even be whole again.

Impressions of Autumn

Leaves Floating on Water

Follow The Stream, See Where It Leads

 

Don't be afraid.

The World Is My Oyster

OK, so that's not really an oyster.  I know.  But it's the closest picture of mine that I have available.  It's some sort of fresh water bivalve, right?  It came out of Lake Lanier.  I took this picture during the famous drought of '08.  This empty shell is perched on top of some kind of interesting vegetation that grew where the lake should have been, under normal circumstances.

Why am I writing about oysters?  It's because last Saturday, September 25th, I awoke in a most optimistic state.  Or frame of mind, that is.  The sun was already shining, the leaves on the oak trees outside my window were dancing in the breeze, and my first thought upon waking was, "The world is my oyster".  I let it sink in.  I felt great, for some reason.

As I went about my business that day, and the following day and subsequent days, I kept repeating it:  "The world is my oyster".  But what did it mean?  I knew I had heard the phrase, but why, all of a sudden, was it stuck in my head?  Did I hear it recently?  Did I read it?  If so, where?

When faced with a quandary, I did what I always do.  I googled.  That's right.  Spell check doesn't recognize the word yet, but it will.  Googled is definitely a verb.  Anyway, I came up with the Shakespearean reference to The Merry Wives of Windsor quote, in which Pistol claims:

"Why then the world's mine oyster,

Which I with sword will open."

Well, that didn't sound like me.  I dislike sharp instruments.  I kept pondering.  I dug a little deeper and found out a little bit about oysters, those mysterious bivalves.  (I love that word:  bivalve.  It just rolls off the tongue.)  Anyway, it seems that pearls, the precious objects produced by oysters, are actually the result of an irritation.  Wow.  Pearls grow from discomfort, from an invasion.

And then I began to think of myself as an oyster.  I'm self-contained.  I have an outer shell.  (Figuratively speaking.)  I'm affected by my environment.  I take in things.  Good, nourishing things as well as unhealthy, harmful things.  I'm sort of an ecosystem within an ecosystem, not unlike an oyster, or anything else living in existence.  So where's my pearl?

Maybe my pearl is wisdom; the wisdom that comes from acceptance.  Or maybe it's grace, that spot deep within me that's always perfect.  That place where no harm can be done.  That sacred place where peace dwells.

The world is my oyster.  For now, that is enough for me to believe.

Victorian Boy

This is one of my treasured flea market finds. If you enlarge the photo you can see that he is holding a pocket knife in his left hand. I love the clouds and ethereal quality of this image. Eight dollars might have seemed like a lot for an old damaged photo of a stranger, but at the time I simply could not pass this up. I've had it for years now. I love this little boy of long ago.

Today I Celebrate

Because I can.

Jackson Pearce - Writers' Blok

Discovered a new Young Adult author this past weekend at a local book festival. She's chic, fresh, smart, funny, inspiring. I just love her.

Rugged Rainbow Falls

I'm attracted to this picture today.

I'm sure there's a metaphor in there somewhere.

Releasing The Past In A Spirit Of Forgiveness

Sets Us Free

"The winds of grace are always blowing; it is for us to raise our sails."

- Ramakrishna

Adding Vibrancy

We Are Always Free To Change The Images Of Our Lives

The grass is greener, the sky is bluer. There's an electric shimmer where earth and sky meet. Clouds suddenly reveal hidden, billowy messages unnoticed before. Just over the hill, treasures and new discoveries seem to await. Warm summer breezes beckon. There's an expectancy, a feeling, that even greater seasons lie ahead. The child in me has been reawakened. Joy is calling my name.

Nutcracking 101

"Never use a sledge hammer to crack a nut if you can use a 10-ton pile driver."

- Stuart Wilde

Well, I thought it was good advice.

I'd Like To Take a Trip

To
Paradise

To recover. To rejuvenate. To contemplate. To heal. I just want to sit on the beach and feel the sun and sand and surf and sea breeze. I want to forget about cancer. And divorce, which still looms on the horizon.

So here's my update: I had surgery on July 13th. A lumpectomy. The good news is that my lymph nodes are clear. The best news is that I had wonderful people to take care of me. I am grateful for all the love and support from my sisters, my niece, my daughters, my Dad, my brother-in-law, friends, and neighbors. You all are the best! I even felt the love and support from family and friends far away but with me in spirit.

The bad news is the hideous wound I'm left with. That's tough to handle. But I guess getting rid of cancer is an ugly battle. Not something that can be fixed with a band-aid or little pink ribbons. If only.

The Meaning of Daisies ...

"Gentleness, Innocence, and Loyal Love"

Sometimes ...

You need a little Nancy Sinatra to get you through the day.

Introducing Charlotte Pippin

I know, I know. I need another pet like I need a knot on my head. That's why when I rescued her I told my kids that it would just be temporary. "We'll foster her until we find her a home", I said. So wish us luck.

Here's how it happened ...

I was searching for our missing dog, Sam, who had been gone for a little over 24 hours. I pulled into a parking spot at a convenience store and noticed a ball of fur sticking out from behind a magazine rack. Of course I had to investigate. I found a tiny, filthy, baby kitten. She was covered in cobwebs and curled up in discarded cigarettes, scratch off tickets, dead bugs and other assorted trash. She was weak, but able to run away from me when I tried to pick her up. Catching her wasn't easy and I went to some effort to eventually capture her. I almost had her a couple of times, but she was determined to elude me. She crawled under one of those propane tank exchange cabinets and there she was safely out of my reach. I gave up (not really) and bought her a can of food and placed it between the propane tanks and the freebie magazine rack. There was a nice, younger man who tried to help me. (He poked at her with a retractable measuring tape.) I told him we were frightening her and to please stop. I said I'd come back later to check on her. He nodded at me but I wasn't sure if he understood me or even spoke English because he didn't speak to me at all. I left.

Later, when the kids were eating dinner I casually mentioned my stray cat exploits. They were beside themselves. "YOU HAVE TO GO BACK AND SAVE HER!". I know, I know. I couldn't leave her, could I? I agreed to go back and take her some water and check on her. There was a thunder storm headed our way, and I was worried that she wouldn't make it through the night. So we made up a small box, filled a plastic muffin cup container with water and off we went, the three of us.

And guess what? The nice strange man with the measuring tape was still there, sitting in his car. I asked him if he didn't have anything better to do with his time. He just grinned at me.

I checked on the kitten and she was still in the same position as before. Out came the measuring tape. (Oh, Lord. Not that again.) Then a small crowd of happy rescuers gathered, everybody reaching and grabbing and poking and prodding but to no avail. It was stressing me out. It was obvious the kitty was in distress or shock. I decided we had to figure something else out. Then it dawned on me. Duh! There was no bottom in the propane cage, just metal bars for holding the tanks off the ground. All we needed was an attendant to unlock the cage, move a couple of tanks, reach in and grab the kitten. Voila! And so we did.

I thanked everyone for their help, especially the man who waited in the red car with the measuring tape. We shook hands. I noticed he was wearing a necklace with a cross pendant. He managed to speak, finally, and he spoke in perfect English. I wish I could remember what he said. Oh, well. None of the rescuers seemed to need a cobwebby kitten, so we put her in the box and left.

As I was driving home, the girls were having an intense debate. "Her name is Charlotte." "No, it's Pippin." "No, it's Charlotte." "No, it's Pippin."

The thrill of the capture beginning to wear off, I said, "I know I'm going to regret this". My oldest scolded me. "Mama! You know you had to save her. If that was a human baby you wouldn't have left her there to die." A compelling argument, I suppose. But had it been a baby rattlesnake, I certainly would have left it exactly where it was.

We got home and I constructed an elaborate bigger box for Miss Charlotte Pippin. Several hours passed and she was still not coming around. She just stared at me with pleading eyes. I went on-line to a cat rescue site and found out what I needed to do. I headed out to Kroger in a blinding thunderstorm to buy some kitty milk. I fed her half a medicine dropper and then she took a nap. The next morning she was revived, and meowing. She drank one and a half droppers full. She started to purr. She shivered. The shock was wearing off. She took more milk each feeding time. After several days, I switched to saucer feeding. Eventually she began to eat wet food and now she eats a combination of wet and dry food.

She was so tiny when we first brought her home! I read on the rescue site that I needed to burp her after dropper-feeding. You don't know what cute is until you burp a baby kitten! I won't tell you how you're supposed to simulate a mama cat licking her young, though, in order to stimulate elimination functions. You can Google that if you really need to know. That wasn't nearly as much fun as burping her.

We've had her for 3 weeks now. She's thriving and full of playful energy. I'm ready to find her a good home. She's been to the vet and has a clean bill of health. I'd love to keep her, but my plate is full. Two days after bringing her home I found out my diagnosis. And I already have too many pets. But I had to rescue her. I kept thinking about Sam, out there in the world somewhere lost and hungry. I kept praying that someone would find him and help him. I just couldn't walk away from this kitten and pretend she wasn't there.

Could I?

Fighting For My Girls

Little Angels

Admiring Big Sister

(I just love that little bald head)

If you know me personally, you've probably heard that I've been diagnosed with breast cancer. In addition to the "D" word, I'm also facing the big ugly "C" word, too. Yippee.

Both my sister and my niece told me to "fight like a girl". I hadn't heard that expression, so what I pictured was two uncoordinated girls slapping at each other and pulling hair and crying and yelling MOM! Like we did when we were kids. I didn't get it. Someone had to explain it to me.

I love my girls {the ones pictured above} and I have to do everything I can so that I'll be here for them for as long as I possibly can be. Plus, I haven't really lived yet. There is so much I have to do, so many dreams to fulfill. There are too many people who want me to stick around awhile. And I've always looked forward to being a grandmother. I'm gonna be a GREAT grandmother some day.

I hope.

Rest In Peace Sam

We love you.

Thank you Jim and Michael for bringing him home one last time.

Sandra Louise

One day, when I feel like it, I'll tell you how Sandra came to live with us and how she got her name. Right now, though, I just feel like hugging her.

Looking Heavenward

Hugs for Sammy.

Two hawks soaring.


Maybe they'll spot SAM and guide him home.

We're missing our dog Sam. Someone deliberately broke our gate open last Friday night or early Saturday morning allowing all three of our big dogs to get loose and get lost: Sam, Sandra, and Umberto (or Bear for short). We recovered Sandra and Bear, and I am forever grateful to the gentleman who found them and held onto them. Literally. I was driving and searching for them when I rounded a curve and my daughter screamed "BEAR!" On the side of road was a very nice, concerned stranger who had braved the traffic to save them from getting hit. He held a dog by the collar in each hand. We stumbled across them at just the precise moment, as if by miracle. How long would he have been able to hang on, I wonder, before letting go?

So many people have assisted us this past week as we searched for Sam, but so far no luck. Everyone has been extremely helpful. Even the two officers who pulled me over for making an illegal U-turn. (I swear I didn't see that sign. And I promise to get that brake light fixed, too.) I'm making another trip to the animal shelter tomorrow. I just pray he is safe, wherever he is. Maybe another kind person found him and decided to keep him and fatten him up a bit. I hope they have lots of tennis balls for him to chase.

I miss you buddy. You silly dog. I wish I had gotten to kiss you one more time before you went away.

Remembering Mom Today

..."And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue;

They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space.

Through the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth." ...

- from "The Prophet", by Kahlil Gibran

Live Bold

This is Destiny

This is my friend Nina's precious pet. Sadly, Destiny is no longer with us, but her spirit lives on.

Nina lives an artful and art-filled life. Every time I visit her home, she's reinvented and redecorated another space or created something new. She's full of energy and gives graciously. I have one of her paintings, entitled "Live Bold". Living bold, for me, is not easy. But I'm learning. I'm glad I have friends who inspire me and remind me to live life creatively and in the moment.

Another Perfect Moment Captured

There's a saying: There are no perfect days, only perfect moments.

Umberto

One of my boys. He makes me smile.

Delicate, Perfect, and Free

A visitor to my garden

Where Did The Silliness Go?

I've just recently reconnected with a friend from high school. About 10 years ago we got together briefly before losing touch again. In her last e-mail she mentioned she could tell something had changed in my style / tone of writing since we found each other again. She wondered where the fun and silliness had gone, while also recognizing the stress I'm currently under. Even so, I wonder myself where the silliness went. I can't remember the last time I was carefree and totally happy. I feel like I've been carrying around the weight of the world forever. When did I become so serious?

I searched my photo files to try and come up with a silly picture and a story to tell. I found the perfect one. This one's for you, Tracy:

Last year, when Melody turned 14, she asked for one thing. Naturally, she waited until the night before her birthday to ask, and I found myself scratching my head and scrambling to fulfill her only wish: "I want a special cake. Not just a regular decorated cake. But something spectacular!"

Great. Where am I gonna find that, I asked myself.

But seeing that I always try to please those I love, especially on birthdays, I decided to go ahead and get the regular old boring Publix cake, but I'd embellish it. Yep. I bought swizzle sticks and candy sea shells, jelly beans, multicolored crystal sugar sprinkles, and chocolate covered candy coated sunflower seeds. The piece de resistance, however, was an acrobatic frog. Oh, yeah. This cake was fan-tabulous!

She loved it, of course, and we all giggled and had fun making the frog jump. (I think I went too far, though. Those chocolate covered candy coated sunflower seeds reminded me of technicolored hamster droppings. I never do know when to stop.)

My oldest daughter, Rachel, observed all this quietly and refrained from making any derogatory comments with regards to my artistic cake decorating abilities. (I was impressed with her restraint.) But afterward, once we'd eaten our cake and ice cream, she goes, "Mom. For my birthday? I don't want a pimped out cake."

Pimped out cake.

Happy Birthday!

Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May

and

Carpe Diem, Y'all









Two of my friends, Michele and Mario, share the same birthday today. I'm wishing you both a very, very happy day.

Michele is an astrologer as well as a gifted writer and dancer, and those are just a few of her many talents. Both my May 20th friends are gifted communicators. Both friends were born outside the US and both inspire and encourage others. I'm fortunate to know you two.

The two pictures I've chosen for this blog entry were taken one year ago, May 2009, during my solo trip to the Biltmore House in Asheville, NC. I think it was a fated trip. Even though I had never been there before, the landscape seemed familiar and I kept having de ja vue moments. Especially when I got lost and kept driving around and around trying to find the exit I was looking for. I experienced that exact situation in a dream years ago. Asheville was unfamiliar at the time of my dream, but I recognized it once I arrived.

I also dreamed one time that I was lost in a dense fog. I was wandering alone in a strange sea side town. I could hear water lapping against the moored boats, even though I couldn't see them through the misty, gray veil. I could hear sails rustling in the breeze and metal clanking against metal as the waves gently rocked the boats. I could smell and taste the salt air, and feel moisture from the invisible sea against my skin. I was lost and searching for someone. Eventually I found my way to the beach. There were many people there, all having a good time. There was music and dancing and bonfires and food and drink and laughter. Yet I still wandered alone. Searching.

I'm sharing this dream because Michele told me that I've been living in a fog of denial for years. She's not being cruel, just honest. Plus she has the gift of insight. She has an uncanny ability to get right to the heart of the matter.

I also believe that my unconscious mind has been trying to wake me up for a long time. Sometimes we need a jolt, as painful as that may be.

It's time for me to walk out of the fog and embrace the sunshine.

Water Lilies

For when you need a little Zen.

Transformation

Do you see it?

The phoenix rising from the flames.

After The Rain

I know there's a silver lining.

Beauty Everywhere

One time, when my youngest daughter was not quite three, she sat outside my closed bathroom door while I got ready for work. As I was brushing my hair, I heard her musical little voice say, "Mom, are you brushing your hair?" And I replied with a smile on my face, "Yes, Melody. How did you know?" (I knew she could hear the sound of the bristles as they brushed.)

She got very quiet, then I heard her sigh. She said, just a little bit exasperated, "There's beauty everywhere, Mom."

Yes there is, Tiny Teacher. There's even music in my hair.

Where there is life, there is beauty. Even during times of trouble, we just have to look, listen, touch, taste and smell to recognize it.

My Tiny Teacher just turned 15 and as I face divorce after almost 23 years of marriage, I hold her lesson dear to my heart. No matter what, beauty remains, if we are open to finding it.