This post may not be popular, not at all. But I want you to think about what I am about to say….
Every time September 11th rolls around I cringe. Seriously, I want to curl up and hibernate until it is over. And for the few days leading up and following it.
Because I don’t want to remember that day. It was a horrible day. I really don’t need to say anymore. We all know.
Lives were lost. Heroes were made. It was a day that probably changed most of us forever. But why do we want to relive those feelings every year? It doesn’t change the events. It just brings us sadness.
Why do we choose to remember bad stuff? I feel the same about people’s death anniversaries. Why remember a day that was so very sad? Why not remember all the days they were with us rather than the day they were taken away?
When we focus on things we give them power. Let’s not bring up the pain of the past. Let’s leave it there, where it belongs. A moment we have lived. A turning point in our lives. A thing that hopefully made us love more, live more.
Let’s focus instead on bringing that love into the present day and our future, so we can heal the world from 911s.
Love and peace,
There’s a nest of hornets under my deck. They come back every year. This year, they nested right near the water spigot that I use to water my back gardens.
I’ve been gingerly turning on the water, moving slowly so as not to alarm, as they go in and out of the lattice work that blocks off the ugly under-deck.
Until two days ago. This past weekend Andy was working on the deck and got stung. He kept working there, assembling the beginnings of our pergola, but he told me “don’t make any loud banging noises!”
The dogs also got stung by nosing around near the nest.
The next day, as I stepped in gingerly to turn on the water, a small army of hornet guards flew forcefully out. I stepped back. Then I tried again. The next round of guards flew out at me.
Okay, okay. I got the message. I asked Andy what he thought we should do. He thought we should wait until the end of the season then take down the nest. I need to admit, I was starting to think “exterminator.” But I quickly dismissed that thought because I don’t want chemicals sprayed at my house (could they take it down another way?) and I did some research and found out hornets are predators for a lot of harmful pests in my garden.
So I figured I’d run a hose from the front of the house, through the garage, to the back. It’s only for another month, really, that I’ll need to water. Only before I did that, I decided to try late night and very early morning watering. That has seemed to work. The hornets are either in for the night or lazily flying in and out of the latticework as they used to.
We’ll warn anybody who is visiting about the nest. But we won’t try to take it down. Humans can live with nature instead of destroying it. We can use our brains to be resourceful and figure out how to deal with a less-than-ideal-for-us natural occurrence.
The hornets love it under our deck. Sure, I wish they’d nest elsewhere. But if that’s not to be, I welcome them to our home.
There is a knowing we can all achieve.
It’s not what we thought.
Or what we’ve been taught.
We would learn so much more from our collective wisdom if we realized we don’t all have to think the same, believe the same, act the same.
I walked to the beach to have a moment.
Little did I realize what a moment I would have.
Standing there, drinking it all in, I realized how dazzlingly blue it all was.
I had never felt immersed in so much blue.
Not sure why they use the word blue to describe sadness.
Because to me blue evokes feelings of peace, calm, serenity.
Nothing depressing about it.
It is a color of pure contentment.
Oh, yes, and I felt it.
We can fly long distances in an airplane,
float weightlessly in the sky in a hot air balloon,
hover in a helicopter.
We can soar in a glider,
ride above the ocean with a para-sail,
or above the land with a hang glider.
We can do loop de loops in a trick plane,
hug cliffs as we traverse mountain top to valley in a flying suit,
fall straight from the sky with a parachute.
But to really fly,
to do all of that,
requires being a bird.
No wonder their “words” are called songs.
As I sit down to work,
I want to be anywhere else…
In my garden,
On the mountain,
In the woods.
With my feet on the ground,
My hands in the dirt,
My head in the sky.
Breathing the earth,
Caressed by its beauty,
Connected to all that is real.
In the world of thoughts,
I am there.
What if death is actually the beginning
of an incredible life?
What if those who have gone ahead of us would,
if they could,
let us know that it’s all more than okay?
What if they could tell us that they are happy and at peace
and that everything they thought mattered when they were here on earth
just melts away to nothingness?
What if we knew that,
given the choice,
they would choose not to return to their former life?
What if we are already there with them,
only we don’t know it yet?
Death is a part of life, and yet it is so very hard. It seems like so many people I know have lost precious loved ones lately. I wrote this poem thinking of them, and I wrote it for me. Because death seems so final to those of us still on earth, and is so full of sorrow. And yet we are told by our spiritual teachings – and by people who have had near-death experiences – that death is not final. It is a transition to another life. Imagine becoming a butterfly after being a caterpillar. Would we want to return to our caterpillar form once we became this beautiful being capable of flight?
I don’t feed my animals until 5 o’clock pm. This is not because I am a stickler for routine. This is because my animals can tell time. They know when it’s dinner time. And they come around asking for it. So, if I move the time earlier, ever, they’re gonna come around earlier to beg. And I don’t want that.
We do have a little challenge those times of year when we have to change the clocks. Nutty tradition. I wonder what animals would say to humans changing time.
So, today they came around at 4:45. And started begging. I told them it wasn’t 5 o’clock yet, and immediately Jimmy Buffet’s song came into my head. Almost like they were telling me it’s 5 o’clock somewhere telepathically.
And then they gave me that it’s-5-o’clock-somewhere look….
And when I stuck to my guns…
Because of my hard-heartedness I am now the recipient of dog slobber on my shirt, my skirt, my legs.
But by the time I decided I’d write a blog post about this they were happily munching away at their kibble.
I would end with, “and now it’s time for me to have a beer.” But I don’t drink beer. Kind of wrecks the perfect ending.