My Palomino Ride

Over the years, in times of stress, I have resorted to visiting a childhood memory that lulls me away from the anxiety of the moment and into a peaceful escape.

An unconceivably beautiful carousel, which had originally been crafted by skillful hands in 1926, was purchased from another city by my childhood home town’s Chamber of Commerce many years later.  It touched the ground in our city park the same summer that I touched down in the maternity ward of the town hospital.

Through the years as I grew I watched the magnificent horses go round and round while the calliope music wafted through the air compelling me to hop on until finally I was old enough and tall enough to ride by myself! I purchased what seemed to me to be a magic ticket and ran to the pony that I had long since chosen as my favorite of them all.  A cream colored palomino with a flowing blonde mane and tail.

“Oh you’ve chosen a fine one!” the carousel man said as he hoisted me up onto the saddle and wrapped the soft leather security belt around my waist which fastened me securely to my steed.

I ran my hands lovingly along the smooth painted surface of the mane and leaned over to look into my pony’s big brown eyes.  “Hi” I whispered and felt we were already good friends.

Then the music started and the carousel slowly moved forward. I reached for the brass pole in front of me with both hands and closed my eyes, around and around and around we flew.  Up and down in a happy world with the rest of the world spinning by in a blur.

These exhilarating and yet peaceful moments in time have morphed into a liberating and centering meditation memory for those frazzled moments when I needed a quick mental break from stress in my later years.

I mentioned in a previous blog that I have trudged through the stressful journey over the last two years since Dale died and I am now finally at a virtual blank canvas ready for me to paint what’s next for my life.

It occurs to me that the realization that I actually have control of this pivotal time of my life is making me lean towards a desire to avoid stress!  Why would I ask for more? Aren’t I entitled to a break from stress for heaven’s sake?  I find that I am even very guarded about letting in the stress of the terror that is happening in the world right now.   Because…for the first time in a very very long time…it’s all about ME now!  And this ME wants peace. What possible good can this ME, all by my lonesome self, do that would be of any use anyway!

I have the flu today. The kind with the deep cough that won’t let me sleep kind of flu. The kind that forces me to stay home today; this rainy day, and think about what peaceful and self-absorbing things I want to plan for myself.  I settle down into the comfy chair by the window and watch the rain hit the window and send droplets slithering down in artistic patterns. I consider drawing a raindrop and then I glance over and spy a magazine I selected (for future use) at the local visitors center.  A travel magazine.  I pick it up and flip through it.  I land on an article by Susan Moore titled  “Stress? Bring it On!”  

Really? I think!  In a travel magazine!!  But I start reading it in spite of myself!  Her first sentence reads: “Stress. The name itself is synonymous with all negativity in our lives”

“You’ve got it right there sister”, I whisper in my froggy voice and I read on. She writes (and I paraphrase here):

“Our lives are the byproduct of our decisions. It isn’t the stress that gets us; it’s our belief that we deserve better. You only deserve better when you work to be better.  Earn your better!” …“We have the ability to change. Every action and every inaction has a consequence. Do not be a victim in your life. Meet your stress head on and do something about it. Realize that some things are out of your control, and that’s OK, but most things aren’t. As Ghandi said, “be the change you wish to see in the world.”

She ends with a suggestion to: “Spend less time trying to be happy and more time trying to be useful”.

I know without looking that a blank watercolor paper is taped to my drawing board and my mind wanders to an idea I’ve had for quite some time of a sequence of motivational images that I have wanted to paint. But then I’m instantly hit with the all too familiar stress of whether I’m good enough; reminding myself that my first attempt at this project was sitting in the shredder pile…

And then, my phone blings.  It’s the Daily Message that I signed up to receive each day and it’s a quote by Kim B. Clark today.  It says simply “We do not have to be perfect, but we need to be good and getting better”.

So, OK, I climb off my safe AND peaceful AND stress free mental carousel ride and start sketching. It will be a challenge but I’m already feeling happy and perhaps even useful.  So…bring it on blank white canvases - both real and metaphorical I prefer the consequences of diligent actions to the consequences of a safe and stress-free inaction.  And that thought alone gives me hope that I can be a part of the change I wish to see in the world. Even if it’s just a small contribution, it can be my widow’s mite.

And so my journey into widowhood continues with new challenges.

Live and Learn

I had an Ah-Hah moment this morning.  Interestingly it wasn’t as the shower water turned to an icy spray just as my hair was lathered into a riot of white bubbles and it wasn’t when my brain registered that in my new place I CAN’T run the dishwasher, the clothes washer AND a hot shower all at the same time!  No, the Ah-Hah hit after I had screeched; then blindly flipped off the water; leapt out of the shower; wrapped my head in a towel to keep the shampoo suds from dripping into my eyes and wrapped my shivering body in a warm robe then rolled my eyes, shook my head and muttered under my breath; 

”Well….Live and Learn!” 

And then….bling....

It occurred to me at that moment just what a gift those two things are to me.  Such a precious gift of still being Alive.  And amazingly, I can still LEARN.  It’s a flippant little statement, “Live and Learn” one that I’ve said and heard many times over the years but now, when I know how quickly life can be taken, and how there is still so much I want to do and learn that this good old throw-away statement changed direction and marched to the top of my motivational list as a highly valued mantra!

Like my water heater’s capacity, I often learn things the hard way.  I’d like to avoid that form of learning in the future as much as possible.

I’ll always remember a hard lesson learned the early autumn day when I was six years old while walking around the yard of my Grandpa’s old white farmhouse. I had picked up a twig and was dragging it behind me in the dark green grass when my eye caught site of a teeny-tiny bird falling through the air from the branches of the giant apple tree and bouncing abruptly onto the thick carpeting of lawn below. I ran to it, and oh it was so tiny, no feathers yet, just a bit of hair on its flesh colored body and skeleton wings. His oversized eyes were closed tight but his yellow beak opened and closed as if to say; “Whoa, what just happened!!”

I gently scooped him up into my hand and examined him closely to make certain nothing was broken, looked up to locate his nest and then tucked the trembling little body into the pocket of my sweater.  I climbed up on the white picket fence next to the tree and reached for a branch, pulling and inching my way up, up, up. My sweater caught on a sharp branch and R-I-P but that didn’t matter, I was on a mission to bring the little fellow back to his home.  I arrived at the nest, found a good branch to sit upon and felt inside my pocket…all was well there!  Whew.  I pulled him out and gently dropped him back in the nest with his brothers and sisters.  “Where’s your mommy?” I asked as I carefully tapped each one on their cute little heads and did some nest cleaning by pulling out some of the brilliant blue cracked shells.  Then I settled back on my branch chair and pulled a bright red apple hanging from another branch to munch, pleased as punch with my compassionate service.

I heard my Grandpa calling from down below.

“Up here!” I called back. Grandpa was a tall man, with hair as white as a baby lamb and eyes as blue as the broken robins-egg-blue shells that had been in the nest.  He was close to 80 years old but he was easily able to hoist himself up to sit by me in the giant 50 year old apple tree.  I told him what I had done and thought I would get a good pat on the back.  But instead, he said, “Oh dear. When a human hand has touched a baby bird, or a nest, the mother robin might not return”. The apple fell from my hand as the tears fell from my eyes. I didn’t know!

“What will happen to them?” I sobbed, feeling more miserable than I had ever felt in my whole 6 years of life.

“Well, I’m not sure,” he said. “I’ll watch to see if she returns but what I do know is that the Bible tells us that Heavenly Father knows and loves each and every little bird and he will protect those little birds or take them safely to live with him again.”

“Is Heavenly Father mad at me?” I asked Grandpa.

“I’m sure He knows that you were trying to help and that now because you know, you’ll do better next time…Live and Learn”. And he climbed out of the tree, lifted his arms and helped me down.

I prayed and prayed that Heavenly Father would forgive me and asked if He would kindly take care of the little birds and to please tell them I was so very sorry.

When I came back to the farm a week later, Grandpa didn’t mention the birds so I didn’t ask.  I assumed the worst and then pictured in my mind the little birds sitting by Heavenly Father singing Him a cheerful song.

So, today, I am committing to learn something new every day while I’m still alive. Never before has so much information been so readily available for learning and learning the easy way, not the hard way.  In fact, I think I’ll just start out every day by saying “LIVE AND LEARN” and have it be a ‘woohoo’ instead of an ‘oops, oh well’.

Possibilites

I awoke before daylight this morning, a thing that is not so very hard to do on a winter’s day when even the sun itself wants to sleep in just a tad longer. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I slipped out of my warm bed and into my fuzzy slippers that were waiting by my bedside and padded into the living room. I blindly clicked a switch and the lights on my Christmas tree illuminated a cozy corner of the room and touched my heart with a gentle joy.  I noted that there are still no ornaments on the tree, just the white lights shining among the branches like tiny little ice crystals.  There seemed to be a hope in the simplicity of the sight. A feeling of possibilities.

Through the window I could see just a touch of daylight.  I wrapped my robe more tightly around me and walked to the large window that looks out over the rooftops of the charming homes in my neighborhood and the banks of the river with the pine-tree-covered hills beyond. Everything appeared to be white. I stood entranced as if watching a beautiful stage being slowly illuminated.  As the lightness grew I could see snowflakes the size of goose feathers silently falling and I was again struck with the beauty of the quiet simplicity and pureness of what was unfolding before me.  Again, in that moment, a feeling of hope and possibilities seemed to recharge my lonely heart.

I walked to my studio desk where just last night I had tidied up my paints and brushes and attached a clean white watercolor paper to my art board.  This morning it appeared to be another beautiful white enticement with a hope of possibilities waiting for my touch.

My stomach growled and I suddenly remembered that yesterday I had purchased a box of hot chocolate mix in anticipation of the arrival of my grandchildren on Christmas Eve, so I headed to the kitchen to heat some water and to take the bow off the new mug that I found on my doorstep last night just moments after I heard the knock on the door, no one was there, just the mug in a festive bag and no gift giver’s name on the card. It had my initial on the mug which was filled with candy and nuts. It came at a moment when I was feeling discouraged and more than a little bit lost.

For over two years I have known what I needed to do.  From the time of Dale’s illness I knew that I needed to help him fight, take him to the many doctor’s appointments, survive the sleepless nights trying to comfort him while he courageously dealt with the pain. Then, his death and knowing that I needed to take care of all the things related to that horrific and yet in the final moments, beautiful event. The sudden new requirements of widowhood, the lawyers, the bills, getting the house ready to sell, giving away so much, going through Dale’s many things with all of the memories attached, packing, moving to my sister and brother-in-law’s home that became a beautiful bridge between the then and the now periods of my life while I still worked at Dale’s business and searched for a new home. I finally found my place and then came the quest to fit into smaller quarters what I had packed away in storage, establish a new décor design, buy new furniture, pack up (again), retire from work, move in and work at the task of getting settled.  Fill the pantries, establish a routine, become familiar with my surroundings, where to shop, where to get gas etc. etc. etc.

And now, this morning I realize that the angst I was feeling last night stems from the fact that I’ve done it - All those things on my to-do list.  My life now is a blank canvas. No wonder I’m concerned, when was the last time my life fit into that description? I’m a bit stuck with this new realization.  Nothing and no one (at least of the mortal kind) is guiding or directing my steps through the long days now. Everything and everyone else is tucked neatly into their places now. I’m not responsible for anyone or any thing really. It’s actually a little unnerving, somewhat confusing and quite lonely on the other side of the long, rough and unexpected journey that brought me to this destination in my life.  

I think I should give this cartoon a new caption now being: 

                     “Ok, I’m Finally Here!!…Now what?”

And then in my mind’s eye I see the me of nearly 10 years ago pulling my carry-on bag out of the overhead bin of the plane that had landed in Copenhagen Denmark after a long and often times bumpy journey across the American continent and the wide Atlantic Ocean. I was alone, I didn’t have a plan other than it was something I had always wanted to do since I was a child and now here it was, my ancestral home waiting for me to explore; an entire country filled with possibilities and all I had was…time and a desire to figure out why I had been given this opportunity.

I pour the boiling water into the mug and the hot chocolate is now too hot to sip so I take it into my study. I see a blank paper on my desk. It’s my “to-do” list.  And normally, in the past, it would be filled with more items than I could possibly do in a day’s time but today it doesn’t even say “To-Do”, just a blank white page. I sit at my computer and open up a blank white Word document....

I’m suddenly reminded of a statement by Larry R. Lawrence that I read recently:

"Our Heavenly Father knows our divine potential. He rejoices every time we take a step forward.”

And so I take a drink of the hot chocolate, set it down, look at the blank screen, pick up the mug again and take another drink, it’s good and it’s warm and it’s comforting and I begin to write.

The sun is up now, there is even a break in the snow clouds. As I take on the task of stepping into my next reality, I realize I need to reach into the inner me. The time is mine now and I don’t want to waste it in any way. I need to pray for comfort and ask for an understanding of what I am to do now, at this new juncture:  this actual arrival at blank canvases and possibilities.

I remember standing at the quarry in Carrera Italy and thinking of Michelangelo’s statement that he would look at a block of white marble until he could see the figure inside that needed to be released and then he would get to work. And then later while standing at the Academia in Florence I studied and absorbed the mastery of his work - Atlas, a prisoner escaping from the stone.

Clearly, it’s a time for me to bundle up in my warmest attire and take a walk along the shore to think and pray and seek to understand how I can release the inner me now.  The me that is focused on being right here, right now and determining how I am to fill in all of these blank white canvases, both real and metaphorical.

I’ll keep you posted on this next un-requested step of being a widow!