Tag: gratitude

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Cicada Summer

They brought him out to the waiting area, saying, “He misses you!” “I know!” I replied.

I have loved the song of cicadas for a long time. I mean, really loved. But the bloom is off that rose. Let the katydids come and the crickets hum. But this year I’ll be glad when the cicadas have died off.

It’s not been a great week. I just spent my Sunday morning, not in one of my personal churches–woods, lakeside, studio–but at the vet hospital with Miles. As an older dog he has kidney and pancreas issues and as a dog who is young at heart, he loves to hunt cicadas. In his younger years, it did not bother his healthy body to snack on them. But this year he’s like an addict, eyes glittering, panting, keening to get out the door and follow their call.

Staring at the door . . .

And so this year he got sick. By yesterday I was fearing the worst.

This morning I was doing my journaling in bed, dreading the experience and the cost of taking Miles to the vet hospital, a thing I’d decided must be done. My last experience had been terrible. I knew it would be expensive. So I started strategizing about how I could pay for it. Another Open Studio? It would have to be a VERY successful one. A big (I hoped) sale of paintings? I just felt like I had to do it.

And then, suddenly, as often happens when I write about a thing, I leapt from worry and dread to gratitude. I realized how lucky I am to have this resource, less than 10 minutes from my home. I have everything I need very close by. I would come up with the money. I felt hopeful and somehow even confident that if I took him there, Miles would be fine.

I bet there are cicadas out there.

So, two things.

a) I have often, as I read or think about gratitude, thought, well, it’s easy enough for me to list many things for which I’m grateful. But how easy would it be for people who are very sick, or who have loved ones who are very sick or struggling? Sure, I can make a list every day. But what about all those people in the midst of war, refugees, the sick and grieving? Gratitude must be very hard to come by.

b) Writing. Journaling. It is SO good for you. Try it! It can change your whole day.

P.S. Right now Miles is doing better. We’ll see how the week unfolds. Cicadas have fallen in my Love Scale, even though it’s not their fault animals love to eat them. And I’m sure they would rather not be eaten. But I’ll be happy when they’re gone.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ― Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

“I am my own querencia. I am my own home. I am my own sounding board. I am my own soulmate. And what a beautiful feeling to carry with me…” ― G. Severino, On the Verge

“You think those dogs will not be in heaven! I tell you they will be there long before any of us.” ― Robert Louis Stevenson

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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Some Bonuses

Here’s my painting, “Green Pot,” which did make it into the Still Life show.

Today I feel as if the world is my oyster, as far as what to write about. I’m tempted to give yet another update on the Poetry Share, as it’s gotten better and better as I’ve gone along. Then, my son is visiting from New York, and that is a joyful topic. But a goal I have for myself in writing these letters is to make sure they’re not too Facebook-y, so I won’t. Then, too, I have an update on the Still Life gallery exhibit at our local arts organization, an affirmation of my writing on Totality in which I struggled with the assignment. I struggled, that is, until I realized AGAIN that it’s always best to draw from within oneself for art, writing, and everything, really.

Then there’s piano teaching, which has become more and more lovely and fulfilling, with students of all ages. And then there’s pickleball, another joyful part of my life. The world is my oyster, of late.

The other day I was walking with Miles on the trail that so many of us love here in beautiful Columbia MO. We dawdled, as we do. Well, Miles is mostly searching around everywhere for a snack of some sort. Dandelion puffs, fallen dog treats, dried up worms, sticks, bits of bark. While the world is my oyster, it is Miles’ smorgasbord.

I was admiring the beautiful polka-dotted bluffs and as I looked up I saw a lovely little columbine growing out of the rock. So pretty! That made me smile, and of course I paused to take photos. Such a pretty little thing springing up out of a bunch of rock. I felt a wellspring of happiness.

Here’s a closer view.

Anyway, we’re dawdling along, ambling, you could say, with the wellspring and the smorgasbord and all–and a voice says, “On your left.” I turn. It’s an older man (my age, I presume), on foot, with a walking stick. Well, I smiled at the warning. I mean, he wasn’t on a bike, or even running. There was no danger. What could happen? I suppose he could have fallen on me or I on him, since we’re old, but we were both quite ambulatory. It just struck me as not only polite but funny. So I say, “How are you?” (I failed to offer a poem, though I had some on me, darn it.) He says, without slowing his pace at all and rather jauntily, the words fairly shooting out of his heart, “Top of the world! How are you?” So I say, “Same!” And we carry on, me with the wellspring, Miles with the smorgasbord, and the elderly gentleman with his walking stick.

What a moment! Two old strangers, senior citizens, you might say, meeting and greeting with that assessment of our lives–Top of the World! I thought, we are two lucky people, aren’t we?

So there you have it. All sorts of grace. Beautiful day, lovely walk, son about to visit, poetry, pickleball, piano, painting, and people. All of the important things in a little jaunty parade, marching through my life. It doesn’t get better.

Yes by William Stafford

It could happen any time, tornado,

earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen.

Or sunshine, love, salvation.

It could, you know. That’s why we wake

and look out – no guarantees

in this life.

But some bonuses, like morning,

like right now, like noon,

like evening.

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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On the Second Day of Summer

On the second evening of summer, from here at my desk and with the house all closed up against the heat, I could hear cicadas singing. I love them. I love them very much and as far as I had observed, this was their first chorus of the summer. I usually try to also notice their last song of the summer, but I’ve never yet been successful at that.

I stepped outside to my narrow balcony and they settled back down, as they do. Birds were carrying on and at the back of the yard, the barred owl took up calling. My neighbors were playing fiddle and guitar. And then, in the distance, I could hear the barred owl’s mate answering the call. As I turned my head in the hope of seeing it, I saw the tiniest sliver of a crescent moon in the Western sky. It must have risen very early. Next, a couple of fireflies lit and the cicadas made a false start at singing again.

Well, I don’t know that I need to say that I just stood there against the railing shaking my head and smiling in wonderment. I mean, wouldn’t you? One loveliness after another within a span of five minutes. Oh sure, these are all small things. The hum of life. The music of summer. The little pretties. All these things that make my heart glad.

I want to be that person who needs nothing more than these small things, ever. I want to to be the one who lets all grievances and petty irritations flutter on by. I want to remain unruffled by whatever little thises and thats wave in my face, trying to get a rise out of me. I want the kind of equanimity that keeps me sailing smoothly along, moment to moment, past the moments of beauty, all the way through the other decidedly not beautiful ones.

I do have equanimity sometimes. There are definitely moments, minutes, even hours or days when these small things are enough. I had no petty grievances right then, that evening. I am unruffled at times. And shouldn’t that be enough then, along with the cicadas, the owls, the crescent moon, the fireflies, the music? Just right then? No one is unruffled always. No one is consistently possessed of equanimity, not even the Dalai Lama. Where would the passion be? The life! The humanity.

So, since we are humans, these small moments of beauty and of contentment, brief or lasting, simply have to be enough. They are the gifts. And then we bumble along through the rest and we wait patiently for the next round of gifts that truly do come. And polite as we are, we say, “Thank you.”

“While getting lost in all those little things that seem so important, don’t forget the little things that matter . . .”― Virginia Alison

“The small things of life were often so much bigger than the great things . . . the trivial pleasure like cooking, one’s home, little poems especially sad ones, solitary walks, funny things seen and overheard.” ― Barbara Pym, Less Than Angels

“I live to enjoy life by the littlest things . . . Just the feeling itself of being alive, the absolute amazing fact that we are here right now, breathing, thinking, doing.” ― Marigold Wellington

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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The Little Orphan: A Woodland Dilemma

You just never know what you’ll find in the woods!

Yesterday I took a long walk with a dear friend at one of my most beloved places–Gans Creek Wilderness Area. This is my favorite wild place in Columbia, meaning that, amazingly, we have several to choose from! We are incredibly lucky. I had looked forward to having another of our usual wide-ranging, heartfelt and thoughtful conversations as we walked–and I was not disappointed.

Gans Creeks is full of gifts for those who love to wander. There are woods, there’s a big old creek, there are gorgeous blufftop views, there are maple groves. This is all year round, of course. Right now, there are the wildflowers. Oh my! They have just gone crazy out there. I’ve never ever seen so many trout lilies or Dutchmen’s breeches in bloom in one spot! That was amazing.

Now to the titular little orphan. Luckily, I had not brought Miles, because walks of that length are now too hard on him. He would not have behaved well towards the little squirrel that was seemingly looking to be adopted. (I’m saying “he” just because my first inclination was that he was a little fellow.) He ran right up to us, oblivious of any possible danger, including my friend’s exceptionally shy, considerate dog. He got right on Lynn’s shoe and stayed awhile. He appeared to want to climb up her pants leg! He was completely unafraid of shy, considerate Olivia.

So tiny, so friendly, so adorable! I wanted to pick him up.

I didn’t. But should I have done? We thought it best to leave him, in the hope that his real family would find him. But oh, that was a hard decision! At any moment there in the woods some ferocious animal (like Miles) might race up and grab him. Game over. But he so wanted to be with us! He even chased us down the path, as he had done with a family of humans walking ahead of us. Desperate for somebody to go home with. Oh oh oh. Did we do the right thing? I don’t know. He would not have fared well at my house, I do know that. We naively hoped his own family would come for him.

Right or wrong, it felt like a huge privilege to have that encounter.

Later that evening I saw the two barred owls that frequent my backyard, together on a branch, grooming each other, while six deer cavorted beyond the fence. The young ones dashed back and forth across the creek, over fences, clearly having fun. That, too, was beautiful to see, and right in my backyard.

Golly! How I could ever complain about anything or not be thankful for everything I have? It boggles the mind.

“Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn’t learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn’t learn a little, at least we didn’t get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn’t die; so, let us all be thankful.” — Buddha

“Silent gratitude isn’t very much to anyone.” — Gertrude Stein

“I suspect that it was simply that I had admired the earth, and the universe. The more I say and think that I admire it, and love it, the more it gives me what I admire, or strange coincidences that leave me in more awe than I was before.” ― Michael Whone, Winter Lyric

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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Blocking the Blessing

A friend just shared with me the phrase, “Don’t block my blessing.” I had been offered a ticket to something I felt I could not afford and I’d declined, feeling like I should have been paying my own way. I am okay being a little bit extravagant now and then for things that I really really want; but I’m also okay sitting out if it’s a stretch for me. So I thought, it’s nice of her but I am okay with not going.

But. “Don’t block my blessing.” It actually took me a moment to let this sink in. I’m offered a gift–a blessing–and by not accepting the gift, I’m blocking a blessing that she wanted to bestow. That’s an interesting way of looking at receiving generosity.

So here’s that word, “bless,” again, used in a beautiful, non-religious way. Or maybe it is religious. It’s the religion of Us. Ordinary people blessing each other, without hierarchy or rank, in an everyday way, by offering gifts, favors, kindnesses, gentleness, a helping hand now and then. No one stands above, in robes and beads. These are blessings among equals, neither person more important nor better than the other. One half of the blessing is the giving, one to another, things that we lovingly want to give. The other half is accepting the gift. If we don’t accept it, the gift lies unopened.

Acceptance, too, is a gift.

Left on my porch last winter by two lovely friends

Acceptance and gratitude are part of the religion of Us, too. These are faiths in which I want to participate. I am grateful for the blessings of words, offered to me by everyday teachers–friends, family, even strangers. Around any corner, in any conversation, there’s wisdom to be found.

“Gracious acceptance is an art – an art which most never bother to cultivate. We think that we have to learn how to give, but we forget about accepting things, which can be much harder than giving . . . Accepting another person’s gift is allowing him to express his feelings for you.” ― Alexander McCall Smith, Love Over Scotland

“Giving feels fantastic and for there to be a Giver, there must be a Receiver, so allowing yourself to receive is an act of love.” ― Rebecca O’Dwyer

“Because we idealize Giving so much, we ignore the ability, blessing, and duty to Receive.” ― Ashlecka Aumrivani

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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A Large Amount of Gratitude

“Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.”

— A.A.Milne

My heart, too, is holding a rather large amount of Gratitude lately. Yes, it’s 2020, a challenging year. The coronavirus changed everything for everyone, world over. Wow. But in this difficult year I have been lucky in very many ways, most of them directly because of the very thing that made this a challenging year.

I am almost ashamed to admit how happy and content I am, of late. Yes, if I look at the world as a whole, things can look pretty bleak. But I try not to listen to all of that too much of the time, remembering that right here in my little world, I am lucky, happy, safe and sound.

This morning in the woods where I walk with my dog Miles I said, aloud, “Oh my God, I’m happy.” It was a cloudy, chilly day, too. But there is so much everywhere to love. There are certain trees. I wrap my arms around one particular tree each morning, pressing my body into a me-shaped indentation in the huge trunk. It feels very comforting, especially now, when we are warned against hugging each other. Here’s a photo of it but I’m certain you can’t really see the lovely concave place that fits me perfectly. I even like pressing my cheek to the rough old bark. I feel a thrumming inside there, and then of course, in my heart. It feels like meditation.

My meditation tree.

So now I sound like a total goofball. Well.

Beautiful wet sycamore up close. I love how the bark does.

On Thanksgiving morning I make a list of all I’m thankful for. Why not? Why not just put it all down on paper? It feels really great to do. I’ve been doing it for so long now that I would miss it if I didn’t. I put all sorts of things on that list, including trees. It seems right and good to do so. We have miracles all around us and we owe it to them and to ourselves to acknowledge them. Several trees will be on my list, along with other things big and little that give me a light heart. That list is always very long and I think it might just be even longer this year.

This card, ENC310 Dance is available on my Ampersand Cards website.

So thank you for reading this (now I’m thankful for that!) and I hope you have an intimate but wonderful little Thanksgiving in this year of 2020.

Kay

P.S. If you are looking for cards or art, you can find all of that at Ampersand Cards.