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Same Old Lesson

Once again I learned that same old lesson. The day that looks gloomy from inside can be glorious when you’re out in it.

A couple of weeks ago we had a cold, wet, cloudy Sunday, the sky packed full of clouds. I was not eager to go out again into the dreary weather after my two short dog walks. I had a couple of big computer projects to work on. Well, the first was my MerryThoughts letter, which I almost always write on Sunday morning. Then another bigger task took a few hours. Well, my body was crying out for a walk by the time I was close to finishing. Back, neck, shoulder all so sick and tired of sitting at my desk.

Despite the look of the day, I bundled up, put on my waterproof boots, and went out, with an especially lovely walking meditation to listen to.

So you already know, then, that the walk was absolutely glorious. I went over to a little neighborhood park where a friend has carved a narrow path through the tiny woods. There’s a stream running through, too. Charming. Lovely. Soul satisfying. The wet only accentuated the fall colors against the black bark and branches, just as it does. Remember? Remember? Just as it always does. I did not need sun to jazz up the color or open my eyes wider. It was all there, all the beauty, the glory of nature, just as it always is, at the ready, no matter what the bigger elements decide to do. Always.

The chill on my face was enlivening, as the rest of me was bundled up. My feet were dry. (You know what they say–there’s no bad weather; only bad clothes. Remember?) I had some beautiful words to listen to. I felt refreshed, rejuvenated, reborn, both during and after that absolutely glorious walk. I felt bouncy and boundless, full of life, renewed and wanting to tell everyone this thing that I had (once again) discovered.

And I felt chastened, as well. How many times have I learned that lesson? So many! I once had a card and still have a print that reads, “Be patient. Sometimes you have to learn the same thing over and over again.” Boy oh boy. I will probably learn this again, too, since I am a human being. But as with meditation, I don’t have to learn it. I get to. Yeah, I get to.

“You are the one who declared a gloomy day as gloomy! In fact, there is neither a joyful nor a gloomy day, only a mind that evaluates what that day is!”― Mehmet Murat ildan

“And from the midst of cheerless gloom/I passed to bright unclouded day.” ― Emily Bronte

“When a bad thing happens a pessimist thinks, ‘just my luck’, an optimist thinks, ‘this will pass’, and a teacher thinks, ‘what’s the lesson here?’.” ― Garry Fitchett

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Quiet

Here in College Town USA, summers are quiet, and Sundays even quieter. My dogs and I can cross Broadway with almost no waiting on a Sunday, much as we did on any given day during 2020. Traffic is less, downtown sees fewer people, and stores are markedly less full. The slower pace and the quieter ambience are nice, for those of us who live here all year long and who don’t depend upon students for our livelihood.

In the next week or two, the buzz begins. Students come back to town, start moving into apartments and dorms, fill up the stores and roam around downtown, especially in the evening. We welcome them back, though, and there’s no denying that the added liveliness is contagious. It will soon be time for us all to absorb the seasonal changes that give the Midwest some of its charm. But right at first, it’s a little bit hard to lose that quiet time of summer.

Early mornings find me writing my Morning Pages, in bed. If the weather is nice enough for my windows to be open, I love listening to the quiet. As dawn unfolds, and sometimes before, I’ll hear a single bird begin to sing. Cardinal, usually, although I’ve learned that I sometimes mistake a wren, with its loud voice, for a cardinal. Now that’s just wrong. Clearly, I am no birder! I only know a few things.

Before long I hear my neighbor out front with her dogs, and maybe another dog walker chatting with her. And then the neighbor’s car pulling out of her driveway. I’m pretty sure I’ve already heard the high school marching band, practicing for the start of school. They are back on the job before the other students, and up and out early, with the birds. The sun rises higher in the sky and the town wakes up bit by bit. I love a slow morning!

Quiet is good for the soul, along with the hum of cicadas in the evening and the sounds of my neighbors, playing fiddle and guitar in their backyard. I love the combination of human and insect music, easily heard on these quiet evenings.

So now we get ready for the bustle and buzz of students, school, and traffic, the human parts of the changing seasons in a college town. Change is good. It helps us grow.

“Have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn? Or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? Or perhaps you know the silence when you haven’t the answer to a question you’ve been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause of a room full of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you’re alone in the whole house? Each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful if you listen carefully.”― Norton Juster, The Phantom Tollbooth

“She liked the life she had. She loved habits. She craved a day with nothing in it, a long, quiet stretch of hours in the studio.”― Ann Brashares, Sisterhood Everlasting

“When you pay attention, you prop the door of your soul ajar to welcome the unexpected and the uncontrolled . . Paying attention is a habit forming mind-set that comes with repetition and with intention. You give yourself permission to “do nothing.” You create quiet spaces. You open a door.”― Cindy Crosby, Chasing Dragonflies

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Walnut Leaves

Still waiting for all the beauty to stop but no

the yellow walnut leaves continue their twirl and dance

past my window, sun insists on cascading down

and this generous sky paints its signature shade of blue

behind the many tall trees waving their graceful arms

(at me?  I think so, yes) gaily swinging their vines

to and fro and what am I supposed to do,

thus entranced, how do I wrench myself away

from this humble little window sitting here

quietly minding its own business relentlessly

displaying these magnificent small wonders

on and on and on, no end in sight?