Doubt

I'm back. Try as I might to go astray, this blog haunts me. Its callings have been ignored for other fancies. Cooking classes, cleaning closets, walking and wondering. I've been writing in my head all along. But, that doesn't count.

This is my practice place. A venue that just asks me to show up. Polished words and perfect grammar are not required. Blogging holds me accountable to my writing commitments. It's time to chase the shadows looking over the page, trying their best to hold me back.

A Virgin Notebook Full of Promise

By Anita Crean

 

Doubt follows me to the writing table

pulls up the grey upholstered chair.

Doesn't want coffee,

but comments on how the Dark Brazilian roast might have been a better choice.

 

I take out my tools.

My favorite fat pen with the padded grip

that skates across the page.

A virgin notebook full of promise.

Just waiting.

Doubt creeps in:

Put the pen down,

scrub the toilet,

brush the dog,

sweep the porch.

 

I turn on soft instrumental music.

Doubt turns it up and adds lyrics.

I begin.

Words flow

connected by adverbs, adjectives, punctuation

chugging across the page.

I think I can.

The sun rays slant across the paper

encouraging,

illuminating the way.

Then Doubt casts its shadow.

Puts a slash through all my words.

I thought I could.

 

Doubt, you suck.

My ideas hide behind you.

My inspirations are lost in your vastness,

beacons searching through the fog,

that try as I might, I can't reach.

There will be no saving today.

Words strangled by doubt.

 

Promise to self. Show up. Write a few more sentences. I know I can. Unless my words get tangled in turkey and tinsel.  Now....for just a little while.

 

 





Freedom Walk

If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.     African Proverb


I never taught Trudy how to heel. She had to learn so much as a pup. Heeling seemed a little too rigid for her.Trudy's a smart, spirited dog. Stubborn to a fault. I wanted her to have some sense of control. At first there was lots of pulling on the leash. I even had to use a gentle leader (which I called the "nose thing") for awhile. I reigned her in just enough so that she was ahead, but not jerking me forward. I allowed her to lead me. I felt it gave her a sense of freedom. Dogness.

She was my personal trainer those first years, pawing me during breakfast, anxious to get to her work of clearing the neighborhood of squirrels, chipmunks, and geese. So I'd slurp down my coffee, clip the retractable leash to her red leather, bone studded collar and off we would go. In the beginning I watched her paws. She was jogging, I was power walking, with her occasional pauses to sniff or potty. We'd go at least 2 miles, many times more. We had different routes, and each day I would let her pick the direction at the forks in the paths. Some days she knew exactly which way to go, others, she would point her snout to the air, twitch her nose and pause before deciding. To this day, if I don't choose to go the way she wants, she pulls on the leash. I love this tug of war game. It shows her feisty independence.

She and I developed a strong bond, walking pretty much every day through heat, rain, snow, ice, and fog. It was my nature time. I discovered my peace on a path with my dog. I found bird's nests, drift wood, feathers and rocks that would "follow me home." I saw dew kissed spiderwebs dotting the soccer field like miniature circus tents. I witnessed herons spearing fish, turtles laying eggs and an owl studying me from a hollow in a tree. Every walk was a gift.

Trudy is 14 now. She still leads me. We go at a snail's pace and most days we don't even make it a mile. She stills looks over her shoulder to be sure of me. After our walk I give her a treat and head back out, dogless, to get  more exercise. I feel naked, vulnerable, without her lead. My morning walk takes much longer now. But I will walk that 40 minute mile with her for as long as she wants to. It's the least I can do. Thank you Trudy for sharing the wonders of nature with me. You can always be sure of me. Together we go far. Now...for just a little while.

Summer

Summer has set in with its usual severity.   Samuel Taylor Coleridge

If you can't say anything nice then don't say anything at all. Summer. What's nice about stifling heat, sweat, mosquitos and stinging insects. Not my favorite, but I will fill my glass half full of lemonade, sit in the shade and try to count some summer blessings.

School's out. Who can forget that feeling. It's been years, but I still remember. The joy of kickball, pool splashes, sidewalk chalk and the ice cream truck. Street lights and box fans. The freedom of summer. Fourth of July fireworks, sand castles and salt air.

Butterflies. Their magnificent colors painting the garden. Hummingbirds dive bombing each other for a place at the feeder. The smooth brindled bark of crepe myrtles supporting bursts of pink, white and purple blooms.

Summer walks slowed to a sultry saunter. On today's ramble I witnessed a fledgling running after mama, wings fluttering, beak open, chirping. Wanting to be fed. Summer scents. Curtains of honeysuckle and magnolia blossoms hanging in the humid air. Their scents drifting with the scant breeze, luring me to stop. To pause and surround myself with the shade and smells of summer.

So as I sweat and hide in the joy of air conditioners and ceiling fans, I will try my best to say nice things about summer. Slow down. Enjoy. Pay attention. Besides, this morning I spied a fall tinted leaf under a dogwood tree, boldly displaying its scarlet color. Now that was nice. Just sayin....Now for just a little while.

Wonder

Not all those who wander are lost.  J.R.R. Tolkien

And not all who wonder are ignorant. I want to stray from the path, turn off the GPS, fold up the map and get lost. Get away from certainties and absolutes. Dream. Enjoy the journey.

Today as I wandered, I wondered about clouds. Big marshmallow fluff that magically morphed into mermaids and dragons.  Sharp whiteness against a bright blue sky.  Clear day clouds. No haze. A feel good sky. I appreciated their beauty without knowing the name of the clouds billowing above me. I think they were Cumulous, but does it really matter. Will naming them change their wonderful whimsy? Their splendor?

If there had been a companion with me on my wander, perhaps we could have talked about it. Wondered awhile on clouds. Our conversation could have floated into the past, where as kids, we observed clouds from a grassy hillside on a lazy summer day. Fresh cut grass sticking to our bare legs. The buzz of bumblebees our soundtrack.

Talk drifts to Elementary School. Earth Science. Cloud names that were hard to focus on as we gazed out the window looking for the real thing.

We'd ask one another, have you ever flown above the clouds and seen the ocean of softness below you. Certain it could hold your weight.  Wishing you could roll in it.

Then we'd wonder whether people take the time to watch a lazy summer sky these days. Wondering about life. We could Google "clouds" and name them all in a few minutes.  But it sure is nice just to wonder.  Now......for just a little while.

Winter Blues

I don't live in Boston.  I'm a southern girl.  That's why I can honestly say I am mourning the passing of winter.  Sleeping in under quilts so heavy it's hard to turn over.  Scarves and hats to hide bad hair days and sagging necks.  Crackling fires in coffee shops, where we turn our chairs to avoid the draft from the door and customers keep their coats on just a little longer.

Hearty stews and soups simmer in crockpots all day, their scent like perfume, sticks to my sweater.  Anything baking in the oven, invites warmth and winter appetites.  Carbs are a staple at every meal.

Trees bare their souls, majestic and strong against winter skies, donning the occasional white for a striking silhouette.

Snow in the south causes pause.  Everything shuts down.  We slow down.  Yes, even more. We have to stop and enjoy this white magic, because its visits are rare and quick.  Walks in white powder. Snow quiet.  Nothing like it.  Houses and yards covered in  white frosting, hiding dead gardens and stained roofs. Books and coffee welcome us under blankets inside.

Tomorrow is the first day of spring.  I can't stop it or change it.  Birds are nesting.  Daffodils are blooming.  I like spring too, but in the south, summer chases it away much too quickly.

So Boston, while you welcome the slow melt of parking lot glaciers, I'll mourn winter.  Maybe I'll have to fire up the grill, brew some iced tea and watch the trees bud to chase my blues.
 Now....for just a little while.

When was the last time you did something for the very first time. 
    - A quote seen on a pillow

The above message inspired me on many levels.  When I saw this pillow, my mind immediately went to a train ride on the Orient Express, base camp at Mount Everest, a villa in Tuscany, or going on safari in Africa.  All these premiers sound exciting, fresh, compelling.  But there are so many other firsts that can be experienced right now.  Just as I am.

Starlight, star bright, the first star I see tonight. Twinkling and true. Full of promise. The first snowfall of winter.  Gentle feathered white fluff covering the last colors of autumn.  The first daffodil bloom of spring.  Yellow sunshine rising from the winter landscape.

Although an event may not be my first ever, I can always view it with a new appreciation. Spotting a dolphin arcing through an ocean wave or catching a glimpse of a deer in the woods always takes my breath away.  Every single time is just as amazing as the very first time.

I'm not afraid to try new things.  A new hairstyle, a fresh recipe, learning a new skill, taking a class, or just trying a different coffee or shampoo provide many firsts for me.  I love going to movies, good or bad, it's still a first.  I enjoy exploring books, new authors, new bands, travelling to new places.

Trying new things has given me an expanded appreciation of my personal landscape.  Through differences I see newness.  Firsts.  I am blessed by all the firsts in my life. I hope for many more.  Like a kid, I want to go out of my way to find a puddle to splash in, a pile of snow to crunch through. Trusting.  Exploring, as if for the first time.  Knowing that my feet won't always be wet or cold.  Now...for just a little while.

New Year....New Words

February 13, 2015

The soul always knows what to do to heal itself.  The challenge is to silence the mind.
                                                                                                           Caroline Myss

In 2010 I contracted a bizarre crippling illness.  While I could not communicate, my husband posted daily on CaringBridge ( a site that keeps families and friends informed during medical journeys). He wrote about my infirmity daily, until I was able to speak/write for myself. Fast forward to 2014, the year I committed to blogging about my memories from the daily CaringBridge posts, for further healing and writing practice.  I posted weekly for most of the year.  But the holidays and the ringing in of 2015 found me at a loss for words.  I didn't want to blog any more. After much pondering, I deduced that I needed to be more present.  I will stop blogging about my daily struggles in ICU and Rehab.  The past has a lasso around me.  The rope gets tighter when I do too much reflection.  The shadow is still there.  It haunts me. The past bleeds into the present, staining precious moments with fear and worry.

This year I will try and be more present.  Deal with the demons head on.  And sometimes ignore the darkness completely, allowing my wandering mind to explore nature, magic, and miracles. If you want a blow by blow account of my illness, visit the CaringBridge website and search Anita Crean.

It's been over 4 years since I started on this odyssey and healing is still occurring.  The numbness, tingling, muscle weakness, spasms, balance and endurance issues are constant reminders of where I have been. Today I am so grateful to be independent.  Sure there are things I miss.  Bike rides on the beach.  A swim in the pool.  Feeling the strength of my muscles.  Sweating.  I miss these things like a graduate longs for summer break.  I'll never forget the way it was, but it will never be the same.  My perspective has been altered. I've had to move on and get back to living again.  I saw a sign the other day.."Life doesn't have to be perfect to be wonderful."  That's what I want. I hope for a summer break full of bike rides, beach trips and frozen drinks.  For now though, I strive for peace to accept where I am right now, persistence to work for more, and patience as I look forward to further healing.  Now....for just a little while.