My
Saturday morning walk was greeted with a casual drop of the promised snow predicted
in the coming hours. I woke up an hour and a half before and was looked at by
lazy dogs that decided that a good morning pat was in order.
After
a good cry that removed the rest of yesterday’s mascara, I put on my boots,
gloves, and hat. I grabbed my walking stick and out we went to the yard.
I
am a bit sad today.
Today it is real. Winter is arriving, I miss
my family; those living and those that have passed and I fucked up.
I did.
I admit it fully.
I am not always the best communicator. Words
come to me easily when I write an essay or blog. I can express myself and
usually get my thoughts and feelings across. When I have to put on my work face
and speak my job language, I am sufficient.
But speaking my truth, person to person in a tongue that they can hear
is not always my strong point. It takes me time to form the words and bring
them forth. Most listeners are impatient and don’t want to wait for them. They
will try and finish the sentence for you so they can say the words they need to
express or get angry because they don’t understand. Text and Messaging is a bit
of a crutch for me. This is my social phobia that I rarely, if ever share with
others. What arises with the modern form of communication is misunderstanding
and conceived ideas that are not always the case. We all do it, but, short, one
line quips can bring on a storm and this is my doing. I feel horrible about the
drama, as in my head, I knew what the outline of the situation was, but I
failed to bring the information out for the receiver to understand. At the
time, I thought nothing of it, but 12 hours later, I have been demoted to the
family single cell life form.
My
dogs don’t care about this, they care about Mama. They sense my sadness as they
prompt me down the hill. I speak to them and give them just enough freedom to
wander and sniff the deer scent left under the apple trees last night.
I
walked over to my sacred circle and spotted a white tail running away. The boys
luckily did not spy this as it would have caused a great alarm heard in the
morning air.
I
turned and went towards the apple trees. I could see the indents of the deer
laying in the grass. This gives me great comfort, knowing that these creatures
use my yard as a place of rest and replenishment.
I
looked down to my boots and a sweet little bird’s nest was at my toes. Entwined
with clumps of dog hair and blue tarp threads. This filled my heart. A reminder-
seasons of cycles in nature. This is what I know to be true, what I always
return to when sadness is strong. When all else is unsure, questionable with no
guarantees, the earth and her seasons are strength below my boots.
My
apple trees are a place of Spirit. I placed a bench under the middle tree a few
years back. I find myself there sometimes at night. When the wind blows, I sit
and speak. The stars peek out of the branches. Each season under the canopy has
a different feel. Spring with blossoms, summer with buzzing, fall with
heaviness and now winter with bare bark. All beauty with different appeal. I
have told this tree many stories, shed tears and buried a few needs.
My
dogs are getting hungry and it is time to move back up the hill. Rufus as
always has a prize carried in his mouth, Bodhi slowly finding his was with nose
to the ground sniffing his path and Beck, by my side guiding me to the door. My
last stop before going in was putting away a garden tool.
My
Nana always said that I had keen eyes. I helped her find a dime once that
rolled away and her kind compliment always stayed with me.
I spotted a small bit of hornet or wasp’s egg
chamber. It struck me and gave me the closure that I needed.
In my work, I associate these little beasties
as angry energy.
Sometimes it is needed in a working.
Today,
it was a message.
A
little bit of anger is needed. As a lesson and a reminder. This is a truth.
Nature
is not always sunshine and green grass.
We
each need to have our feelings.
We
each need our words. We need to be heard and understood.
We
need forgiveness and the time to find it.
Forgiveness
is also a truth.
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My cluttered outdoor altar.I placed the morn's gifts here |
