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For everything there is a season…
Every beginning has an ending and every ending has a beginning. At the beginning of this blog, I was a faithful writer penning short blog every other week for nine years. Some pieces were better than others, but all were given a quick edit by my dear friend, Sally. She was the first reader and she encouraged me to keep writing even when I didn’t find many readers. She liked the short pieces and the photographs that accompanied them. This accompanying photograph is not mine. It is a photograph of Virginia Woolf’s writing desk. I studied the works of Virginia Woolf and wrote my M.A. thesis at Brown University. What…
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A Season for Everything…
Thinking back to last winter, I remember chasing two great blue herons everyday. They waded in the water, and skated on thin ice. Each day I was happy to go outside at the warmest part of the day to discover what new trick they had created. This year is different. There is only one heron and when I do get out between the cold and the rain, I can’t find him. What has changed? If we begin to follow birds and animals carefully, we will see that they have a vital life of their own. They are not the same every day. Jane Goodall said this and she has lived…
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Modifying our Lives
Change continues to be our sibling as we navigate work, retirement, health and modifying our lives. Since the pandemic our work force has become used to working remotely. As a working mother I remember how difficult it was to commute sometimes 4 hours a day to New York City and back to New Jersey. I would have loved to embrace working remotely even if only a hybrid version. As many workers find themselves in bedrooms and living rooms carving out work space, we must remember that remote need not mean “distant” or having “little relationship.” Create a good space, turn your video on, change your dress from pandemic to casual…
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Becoming
Advent began last Sunday and for me it is a time of preparation and hope. It is both joyful and reflective. My thinking in life has always centered around becoming. What am I waiting for and hoping to become? For me becoming is always in process– looking out to see what one never saw before. A reminder from the Church of Ascension newsletter: “I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hopeFor hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faithBut the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.”—…
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Gone fishing
It is sunset and I am riding my bike for exercise. I am also on the lookout for birds and other animals. A blue heron flew over my head, legs dragging behind it. Her landing was smooth and she touched down right at the water’s edge. She positioned herself well to search for food. Her eyes were quick and darting. The great blue heron’s eyesight is about 3 times acute as ours. Its binocular vision gives it very good depth perception. Many of us are fishing for something–perhaps a change of scenery or something new by the water’s edge. One of my dear friends who spent many years in the…
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The Sun over my Shoulders
In the middle of the journey of my life, I came to find myself, in a dark wood, where the direct way was lost. It is a hard thing to speak of, how wild, harsh and impenetrable that wood was, so that thinking of it recreates the fear. It is scarcely less bitter than death: but, in order to tell of the good that I found there, I must tell of the other things I saw there. Dark Woods and fear I cannot rightly say how I entered it. I was so full of sleep, at that point where I abandoned the true way. But when I reached the foot of a…
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Random Thoughts
I know I say I am doing well and In comparison to most that is true But there are thoughts ringing in my head that never Were there before. Thoughts of suffering and change around the world. In Bangladesh cancelled clothing orders have snatched meals from women and families. Elderly musicians in Louisiana and North Carolina keep singing and playing without any income. Even with a modest income I am privileged. I try to divide up my pie to help the hungry here and far away, but it is never enough. I don’t sulk, but reflect on what it is to live alone. I thought I was fine with this…
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Tabitha Grace
Last Fall my darling cat Tabitha became very old almost overnight. Her narrow shoulders sloped downward the way an old person’s would. When she sat down with me on the porch, where we could feel the sea breezes, she would circle around her soft bed and tuck her legs gently under her with perfect delicacy. I could almost feel the arthritic pain. I winced knowing that, I too, would someday be her age and, having been a runner for most of my life, would also feel this pain. She moved so slowly, but with such a strong spirit. On April 28, she left this earth. I was with her at…
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Cutting Down the Cherry Trees
Anton Chekhov’s “The Cherry Orchard” is a story of Russia in the throes of social upheaval. It takes place during the last days of Lyubov Ranevskaya’s beloved estate, which is set to be auctioned, along with her famed cherry orchard. In the end, Ranevskaya is unable to save her estate. A former serf buys it at auction to turn it into a housing development. The last sound heard in the play is the chopping down of the cherry trees. I remember the first time I saw “The Cherry Orchard” at BAM in Brooklyn. It was a long and agonizing play and all the lamenting in it struck me as tiresome.…
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Tabitha Grace
My darling cat Tabitha has become very old almost overnight. Her narrow shoulders slope downward the way an old man or woman’s shoulders would. When she sits down with me on the porch of my apartment where we feel the sea breezes, she circles around her soft bed and tucks her legs gently down under her with perfect delicacy. I can almost feel the arthritic pain. I wince knowing that, I too, will be her age someday and having been a runner for most of my life, I will feel this pain. She moves so slowly, but with intention. Her spirit is strong. When I leave her to go…
