tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-261268872024-03-14T04:34:57.761-04:00Lessons From The CreekIdeas, musings, stories and anecdotes .. feel differently .. attract naturally.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger161125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-63987745366588964662023-05-02T16:41:00.001-04:002023-05-02T16:46:33.529-04:00Out-of-Sorts Sorting<p><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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</p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJdFQH4XTlIRg7BpyxThyXd-h4Y_akFHID_24rkwdndEORtKDFM_vUYdpCTtOTzEw_pXYuI279WPuQAvO6a1KxTgUT27eyWPSA6vVfwsz1KtAyJsz9ym6cs8fM_q4ASuVcmkee9f1RCUSM1BmW79QYJZ8FwWCRW3EDeJND7orwYXHe0KUSGrM/s2580/IMG_20221114_153418881_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2094" data-original-width="2580" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJdFQH4XTlIRg7BpyxThyXd-h4Y_akFHID_24rkwdndEORtKDFM_vUYdpCTtOTzEw_pXYuI279WPuQAvO6a1KxTgUT27eyWPSA6vVfwsz1KtAyJsz9ym6cs8fM_q4ASuVcmkee9f1RCUSM1BmW79QYJZ8FwWCRW3EDeJND7orwYXHe0KUSGrM/w400-h325/IMG_20221114_153418881_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I have been sorting through my ancestor’s leavings, piece by
piece by bloody piece. For years! All left for me to sort, donate,
sell, or find the unknown relative who would want the item. The other day. I
decided to tackle photos and letters. This was interesting, if not productive, until
I moved into the mid-1800s and the Civil War became the focus. This photo was taken just
before the "cousins" left for the war. It appears they all mustered in August, 1862. My
challenge was identifying them. The person who named the individuals on the cardboard back, described each of the six as “Cousin Jim,” “Brother Jim,”
“Cousin Ike”, etc. My dilemma was, just who did the labeling? If I knew that, the task would have been much easier. And so I am, once again, sidetracked in my
attempt to catalogue and dispose. <p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> Overwhelmed by the research involved with this Civil War
photo, I move on to some correspondence. And once again I was cruising along
nicely until I came to the Civil War letters. Now just where or to whom should
these go? I would have to read them to find out. But they were too depressing.
Many of the letters were written by women who were maybe more grieved than
their husbands and sons. Or perhaps just better at expressing their feelings. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> I feel such agitation working my way through all this “stuff.”
My parents just packed it all away
and left it to me and my brothers. My brothers simply turned tail and ran. I
try to look at what might be the advantageous angle of taking on this burden of
all my ancestors. Why did I, who has always been the one to keep possessions and collections to a minimum, inherit the chore? It
does not seem that this is my lesson. Right? It’s a lot of family energy that
is not mine. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now for those of you who are tempted to suggest reasons for
this or benefits to me, don’t! I will snap back. I’m just venting. Unless you
are a relative who wants some of this. In that case, I'm very happy to hear from you. Thanks for listening. </p>
<p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-60197378747112759012020-04-15T16:00:00.000-04:002020-04-15T16:00:05.728-04:00Hole UpI'm good. Really, I am. I hear from many of you who doubt that but, I repeat, I'm good.<br />
<br />
Most of what's happening in MI with Covid-19 is in the SE corner (Detroit) of Michigan. It's pretty sparse up here in the NW corner of Michigan's Lower Peninsula. So far anyway. A few spats have broken out between the locals and people with summer cottages and camps up here. We tell them to stay home. They want to come up where they feel safer. But our meager medical system can't handle the influx. So there have been some scuffles. Mostly at the grocery store when a local notices Fred and Marge, who don't usually open their cottage until early- or mid-June, are buying up all the toilet paper. Then it's just a matter of a short time before their kids and grandkids have joined them at the cottage because nobody is working or in school. I figure when The Marge and Fred Family realize that without the lake to play and boat in (the ice is just off), no dairy bar, closed restaurants, a closed hardware where they buy the little nuts and bolts necessary to get the water running and the toilets working again, and limited internet access (certainly not at the bandwidth it takes to watch a movie), they'll scurry on back home where isolation is easier. <br />
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In and around my home, it's just me and the dog and the birds and the squirrels and the rabbits and the deer and the beaver and the coyotes. Too, the bear are emerging from hibernation and raiding known food sources and hungry as a... well, as a bear. We will have to remember to bring in the bird feeders at night. <br />
<br />
It snowed today. I've started spring cleanup and I've managed to rake some spots around the snowbanks. Isolation is a piece of cake for me; my middle name. Another week and I'll be gathering the elusive morel mushrooms and wild leeks. Two of my favorite solo activities. And right now the river is high and the fishing is good. I won't get antsy until the 3rd Saturday in May when Walleye season opens in N Ontario and I can't cross the border. Then I'll be pissy.<br />
<br />
This morning, first thing, I threw a log on the morning coals. As soon as the log went in and I had shut the glass door on the woodstove, I saw a big old spider scrambling around seeking an escape route. There’s really no escape when the door to the stove is closed. But as I peered into the glass I knew I had to help. I mean he (or she) survived the entire winter on the woodpile only to be burned alive!? I don’t think so. I opened the door but every attempt to catch him only encouraged him to scurry away toward the growing fire. Finally, I put on the woodstove gloves (big leather mitts) and coaxed him on to one finger and then transported him all the way to the kitchen door where I flipped him outside. Something in him just clicked and he turned from frantic to mellow. Spider Zen. Isn’t that the way it often happens, when we give in and give up, life turns around. <br />
<br />
It’s a wacky, wacky world out there. Use your Spider Zen, find your hole, and stay under the radar. <br />
<br />
And do send me your thoughts and news.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-11677516879369426972020-03-11T14:23:00.000-04:002020-03-12T07:46:58.445-04:00March Doldrums<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xvyW0y_hUVg/XmU09oUJTwI/AAAAAAAAE_w/sOCYoSedb_ocjkwyWIs13JVG6HLL8oD_wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/100_8275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xvyW0y_hUVg/XmU09oUJTwI/AAAAAAAAE_w/sOCYoSedb_ocjkwyWIs13JVG6HLL8oD_wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/100_8275.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
There comes a time in a Northern Michigan March when I am a bit disagreeable. I’m stuck in the doldrums. <br />
<br />
One moment, the very thing to do is get up and out. To turn my face to the sun, if I’m lucky, and move; move anywhere as long as my back is to winter. <br />
<br />
But still, it is winter here in the North. We know to not be fooled. Some of our worst winter storms come in March. And so, beware you novices to Northern winters. As often happens immediately after that urge to move, you will find yourself being sucked into the couch with the duvet up to your chin. Like Mars, the Roman God of War, March can easily do battle with your desires.<br />
<br />
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I’ve seen March days so stunning I’m flying a kite over an open field with the warm sun on my face and breezes that feel almost tropical at my back. And I’ve experienced March days so cold the creek is frozen over. Most often though, the warm but heavy March snowstorms are what take me down. One day, I’m thinking I’ll not have to move another bit of snow from the driveway. All that remains will surly melt. The next day I’m thinking maybe I’ll have to finish my winter travels to and from the garage in 4-wheel drive.<br />
<br />
Oh, March! Your “In like a lion and out like a lamb” is nothing more than a traitorous saying designed to give us hope but, instead, slaps us silly and walks away laughing, leaving us licking wounds in a pile of slush.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-46710733799479055592019-12-05T02:30:00.000-05:002019-12-06T12:54:37.659-05:00Under The Weather<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I love the first snow. It’s coming down fast now, piling up on everything in the yard. It’s beautiful. It’s stunning. And it’s peaceful and quiet. Me too!<br />
<br />
I’ve settled down, I’m feeling peaceful, I’m quiet, because I’m done. All the yard chores that I was hustling to finish (the wood pile, the leaves, the fire pit, the dead trees, the garden and the compost pile) are done for the season. Oh, they’re not complete. Not by a long shot. They’ll be right where I left them come April.<br />
<br />
But for now I can stop feeling underneath a pile of chores because that pile is buried underneath a blanket of snow.
Sometimes what we see is not the truth of the situation. But sometimes, just sometimes, it is. At least until Spring. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-47409900287174645162016-12-26T16:25:00.000-05:002016-12-26T16:25:08.841-05:00Living Out Loud<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
It's the day after Christmas. Sometime during last night, I was awaken from my post-Christmas stupor by thunder and lightening. That's not normal for Northern Michigan in late December. Now, during midday, the temperature is surpassing 50 degrees. We were just far enough into winter that the dog and I were adjusting to the silence. <br />
<br />
I live in the woods, you see. So when winter throws its white blanket upon us, there's a soft sigh as the noise lessens, and lessens, and lessens. Like dropping a bouncing ball, winter noise becomes a high-pitched ping, a softer boing, a few little bouncing rattles and then settles into silence. And that's it until sometime in March.<br />
<br />
Now the dog can't shut up. Only a month ago, what sounds like racket to her now, were just normal wood noises and did not warrant barking. Now she's protecting me from every twitter, chirp, chatter, drip and rattle. Dried leaves and branches brushing against almost bare trees on this windy day sends her into courageous lunges at nothing. "It's not normal!" she insists as she adds to the cacophony.<br />
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As her barks echo off the high banks on the other side of the creek, the birds and squirrels and deer could care less. They are claiming the ability to do more than just seek food. Oh, they're eating for sure. But the woods around my home is more like a noisy diner than an intimate restaurant. They're sliding out of their quiet booths and coming together on stools at the counter.<br />
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Winter will be back soon. There are promises of cold and snow on the way. High winds and whiteouts are just west of me and heading east I hear. We'll see. Right now, it does not even seem possible as I step out into this temperate weather.<br />
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But we in Northern Michigan know better than to expect any kind of weather to last. So for now, we're all living out loud.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-56959853666598264662014-02-27T17:01:00.000-05:002014-02-27T17:08:16.198-05:00Appreciating Apricity<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">This has been the most amazing winter. Cold. Bone-chilling cold at times. Snow to depths I have not seen in years. It has taken me quite some time to get his article completed. We've had so very little of that which I am writing about. And without the sun, I can't seem to find my inspiration. And you don't need to hear me whine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">I'm looking forward to Spring, which will happen soon enough. In the meantime, I'm apricating as often as the sun allows. Cheers!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><b>Appreciating Apricity</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">"I'll give you a winter prediction: It's gonna be cold, it's gonna be grey, and it's gonna last you for the rest of your life." ~Phil Connors from the movie Groundhog Day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Apricity. I loved the word before I totally understood its meaning. It's a short word with a lot of melody and could easily be sung on those days apricity inspires us. As a child my favorite words were "insulated underwear" because I could sing those two words in multiple ways. Like insulated underwear, apricity deserves to be sung; most especially, this time of year as the sun starts to peek above the treetops around my home if even for just a few minutes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Apricity means "the warmth of the sun in winter," which is a rather simple definition. Yet there is a depth to that definition that other words cannot boast. Apricity conjures up feelings long forgotten until this very time of year. Beyond the intellectual understanding of the word, your senses must be engaged to fully appreciate apricity. You don't <i>know</i> apricity until you feel the cold on your face from subzero winter temperatures and, at the same time, the unbelievably incredible warmth of the sun on that same face. Apricity demands that you cannot feel one without the other. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">For me, there's also a smell to apricity. One minute I'm inhaling deeply the smell of bitter cold winter, which is almost no smell at all but nonetheless distinct. Those of us who live in winter and snow and cold, know that smell. And in that very same moment, the sun beating down on an oak tree that has not yet lost its leaves or a dead log or an early patch of dirt, sends to me a whiff of warming leaves, wood and dirt. This too is the contradiction of apricity.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Now before you tell me that you personally appreciate apricity on a beach in Florida in February, for instance, I counter that winter is as much a condition as it is a season. Apricating means you must experience the contradiction of cold and warm at the same time much more than simply experiencing the warmth of the sun in a warm climate during a winter month. Apricity cannot exist in its fullest sense while lying on the beach in January. Unless, of course that shoreline is on a frozen northern lake. Apricity is earned.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Peace and Love<br />
Deb</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-89784025732956390932013-08-18T22:15:00.000-04:002013-08-18T22:19:00.537-04:00The Sands of Time (Revisited)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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2103 has been a challenging year. Most of my challenges have been typical of those things we all go through on occasion but have more impact when they pile up all at once. You know what I'm talking about, I'm sure. House, vehicle, and relationships can all go wacky for us once in awhile. When your house, car and friends all seem to need you at once, it can be a bit overwhelming. I won't bore you with it all. But the most significant event this summer was the death of my Mom. That alone made all the other crap this year insignificant. I miss her and will for the rest of my life.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>The Sands of Time</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>In Memory of Jean Brenda Hill Martin</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>December 6, 1918 - June 8, 2013</b></div>
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"Time is like a handful of sand - the tighter your grasp it, the faster it runs through your fingers." ~Henry David Thoreau.<br />
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These days, there is not much space outside of the time I spend with my mother. So I have found that what I am compelled to write about becomes an extension of my conversations and reflections with Mom. The two of us are spending a lot of time looking back. That's where she's most comfortable. The further back we go, the better her memory. Ask her about an event or person in her childhood and you'll get minute details. Ask her what she had for lunch the minute she finished the last morsel, and you get a shrug.<br />
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Mom grew up on the Atlantic Ocean in Winthrop, just outside of Boston, Massachusetts. Her summers were spent with family on Cape Cod. Her only move was to Michigan and the shores of a much smaller body of water but still huge in its own right, Lake Michigan. This is where Mom has spent the last 72 years of her life and where I grew up.<br />
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The other day we talked about spending so much of one's life on or near a beach. There are many wonderful and interesting things about beach life. Watching wildlife, digging clams and flying kites have been some of our favorites. But in our conversation, Mom seemed to want to focus on sand. We agreed that our beach days will always be part of us and will forever most be defined by sand. Oh, such a tiny thing for such a long life!<br />
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We concluded that our hair, toes, belly buttons and many other unmentionable crevices will always contain at least a few grains of sand. A total cleaning is not possible. We'll both die with sand in some crack. Likewise, we'll forever have sand in our beds.<br />
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We are still astounded at how possessions can get lost for a long, long time as the sand shifts and inches forward and backward with the wind and the waves. And often, with that same shifting, the treasures are unearthed and things long lost return.<br />
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We agreed that sleeping on the sand makes the best nap. Long after the day has cooled, that patch of sand is still quite warm having absorbed the sun all day. Warm sand, properly piled and molded, will allow for rest so deep you'll drool in your sleep and wake with sand plastered to the side of your face.<br />
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We sighed as we remembered the experience of standing at the water's edge and wiggling our feet in the sand. Better than any foot massage we've ever had, our feet emerge baby fresh and buffed.<br />
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I serve up this reflection about sand as an opportunity for you to remember the environment that forever defines you and your relationships. Search for that place in your own life journey. Your eternity is as simple as a grain of sand.<br />
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"To see the world in a grain of sand<br />
And Heaven in a wild flower<br />
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand<br />
And eternity in an hour."<br />
Auguries of Innocence ~William Blake<br />
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"They dined on mince and slices of quince,<br />
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;<br />
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,<br />
They danced by the light of the moon."<br />
~Edward Lear<br />
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Peace and Love, Deb
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-5294088128100182312013-01-25T13:55:00.000-05:002015-01-15T11:26:06.634-05:00Hello Sunshine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Now that the Winter Solstice is behind us here in the north, we are moving toward the sun once again. Already I have noticed the difference. Daylight hangs around just a little longer. I have the urge to get out of bed a little earlier in the morning. And I more often see sunshine during the day. The overcast dreary days of December have dissolved into some occasional bright light in January. Just what is that globe hanging in the southern sky that makes me squint on my walks?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">I welcome January. This year I celebrate my 60th trip around the sun. “Not a big deal” I say to myself on some days. On other days it feels shocking. Just how did I make it to 60 when so many of those I idolized have not? Not that 60 is old. It isn't. But I'm a Boomer and some of us lived hard.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Most days, I don’t feel a day over 40 until I look in the mirror. So I just don’t look. Or at least I look without my glasses on, for those glasses too have become a more permanent fixture on my face. For some reason, others' photos of me are often more flattering than what I see each morning when I roll out for another day. I look at those photos and wonder how the photographer did that. Smoke and mirrors? Why can’t my mirror reflect that? So I choose to believe the photos others take of me must be the way I look through their eyes. That gives me just a little of the joy that often comes when we delude ourselves and become the figments of our imaginations.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">I've noticed a shift in the way I talk about myself these days. I have pretty much dropped all titles and labels and credentials. My education matters less now than it did a few years ago. I expect that importance to decline even more. When people ask me what I do, I often can’t find the words to even describe what that is. At any particular time I may call myself a retreat leader or a coach or a guide or just one who likes to reflect and ponder. Sometimes I’m a writer, a player, a fisherwoman and an explorer. I've worn all these titles in the past but they used to be capitalized. Now they are barely more than a word to me. I'm enjoying using whole paragraphs instead of a few titles to express who I am and why I do what I do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Still though, I remain someone who loves to grab people by the sleeve and take them into nature and discovery. I find myself acting on that urge often when I’m talking with someone I know will be awed by what nature and just a little risk has to offer. “Let’s go,” I say. “Come with me. I have something to show you. By the way, bring your hip boots!” And then I take them. And then I do some coaching. And then I know I’m right where I’m supposed to be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">So there are parts of us that remain who we are and what we love, whether it’s a business endeavor or not, no matter our age. At my core, I'm someone who wants to take you on an adventure, internal or external. I’m glad to be hanging my Tilly and my bandana on that until I discover what’s next for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Hello, sunshine. Now sit. And tell me a story. What's next for you?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Peace and Love</span>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Deb</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">"Don't compromise yourself. You are all you've got." Janis Joplin</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-47876786618944868122012-12-21T15:08:00.000-05:002012-12-21T17:58:03.874-05:00Peace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">It’s December 21st. Here in the north, the sun rises late and sets early. Water temperatures have plummeted but not yet frozen solid. The creek flowing below me gives more indication of what the day will bring than anything I can see by looking up. I am no longer able to see the sun because it does not rise above my tree tops this time of year. Today there is a pile of new snow around my home. The wind is briskly whipping, making it difficult to see out the snow-covered windows. Gladly, the woodpile has grown to a decent size. The splitting maul has been retired and this winter white is welcomed to stay. The smell of wood smoke reminds me that I can now rest. Even while the local news reports this “threatening,” “dangerous,” and “perilous” winter storm, this is how I experience peace, in nature.</span>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Finding peace within ourselves contributes to peace within a community, within a country, within the world. Finding peace within ourselves and sharing that sense of peace with our neighbors starts with identifying our own fears. What are you afraid of? Who have you been listening to or reading that has fed your fear? As you allow your fear to thrive, you inject yourself and those in your life with anger, resentment, dread and panic.</span>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">And these are passed on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Give the gift of peace and goodwill this holiday season by addressing your own fears. Perhaps you need to understand that fear is about a future event that may not even happen. Maybe you want to face that which you fear and understand it has no control over you. Possibly you will spend more time in nature and understand that it is the source of all Peace, no matter what is swirling around outside your window or inside your head. Perhaps you just want to release your fear without needing to understand its dynamics, simply trusting and letting your anger dissolve. And just maybe, for awhile, you will turn off the TV and the radio. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Whatever way you choose to ease your fears, know that you are gifting the world. Without our fears peace has a chance.</span>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Peace and Love</span>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Deb</span>
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">“When you find peace within yourself, you become the kind of person who can live at peace with others.” ~Peace Pilgrim</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-23392534147197362062012-08-19T17:44:00.002-04:002020-10-02T13:58:01.185-04:00Lost and Found<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">It is still Summer. But I can smell and hear and feel the change coming. There's fog in the mornings as the colder evening air creates more moisture. Steam rises off the creek. The Bluejays are louder and more vocal, one of the first signs around my home that fall is on the way. Unusual fall fungi have begun to grow in my woods and on the trails I walk. I love getting up each morning and putting on a sweatshirt, no longer waking uncomfortably warm by the uncompromising July nights.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UzhHFV9Qj_U/TZy2eTXkxDI/AAAAAAAAAw0/0gxaUjiETmARWDk_qUWyUUnymioaYIiMQCPcBGAYYCw/s640/HQ0.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UzhHFV9Qj_U/TZy2eTXkxDI/AAAAAAAAAw0/0gxaUjiETmARWDk_qUWyUUnymioaYIiMQCPcBGAYYCw/s320/HQ0.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">The change is within me too. I've been lost. Almost two years ago I lost my Jersey Girl. Now, at the end of July, I lost Boo too. No matter how much I prepare for the death of an old friend and the loss of our relationship, I am always left speechless. And so I wander the house going to the front door to open it when I hear a noise on the front porch, thinking Boo wants in. I reach for his bowl to fill it with fresh water each morning. I hear the beep of my cell phone, telling me I've got a message and I rush to end the noise, remembering that it made Boo nervous. I go internal, finding no words.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">But I have been reminded recently, by a quote that came to me in an email, "Getting lost is not a waste of time."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Jersey and Boo and I got lost a lot. Well, truth be told, they were likely not as lost as I was. We got lost sometimes because we were not paying attention. We got lost sometimes on purpose.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Now I don't want to define our kind of "lost" as not knowing where we were. We had some vague notion. Generally we were lost in the Michigan woods or the Canadian bush somewhere. And we most often knew in what direction we needed to move to become less lost. But we were lost enough to feel hesitant about what to do next. Should we plunge further into our adventure (the dogs most often voted for this) or make a move to better get our bearings?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Fortunately we rarely found ourselves so lost we became immobile, not wanting to move farther into the gap between having a vague sense of where we were and not having a clue. There was always a rock or hill to climb to get a better view. There was always a stream to follow that we knew was plunging toward something larger. There was usually the sun or the moon or the stars.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Boo and Jersey were my trusted guides, not the other way around. If I allowed myself to relinquish the mental reins, give in to being out of control, they would point me in the right direction. They provided this direction not only on our walks but also when I felt lost emotionally and spiritually. They gave me the anchor of their unconditional love and a sense of purpose, even if that purpose was to simply get their dinner or stop working and take that overdue walk.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">And so with the backup of my pups, with that knowing that I could get lost and Jersey and Boo would lead or even pull me through, being lost often became a good thing. It allowed me to step away from the popular opinion that advancement, improvement and progress meant knowing exactly where I was and where I was going. And so, in not simply being lost but in embracing lost, I become present and I became found. I found myself through those two wonderful friends and I will be forever grateful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">"Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves." ~Henry David Thoreau</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-67196258990954332742012-05-04T05:23:00.000-04:002017-04-16T10:34:51.343-04:00The Lusty Month of May<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Here's to May and all the new growth it has to offer! Now do this quick read and get out there. There's something coming up for you. I promise.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><b>Boom! Crash! Boom! Crackle!</b> Today we are in the middle of a delightful May thunderstorm. It started in the middle of the night and has continued into an electrifying day. I love the noise. I love the rumbling and the rattling in my comfortable home. And admittedly, I love the adrenaline rush I get each time there's a close hit. One minute I think it's all over as the sky brightens some and then the next minute it's as dark as a full-moon night. The creek is swelling and I am grateful.</span><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Aside from the rumbling and clattering of days like today, May has a soft side too. The Lilacs and the Lilies Of The Valley are just about to bloom. Soon their sweet smell will be wafting through the air wherever we go. Until that happens, I'm delighted with the aroma of the Trailing Arbutus, or what Mom called May Flowers because of their appearance by May 1. In the wee hours of each May Day morning, before the neighborhood woke, she would leave baskets of May Flowers on porches; this, some ancient tradition left from the pagan celebrations of May 1st I'm sure. Now, the Trailing Arbutus are blooming in the woods around my home. On damp warm days like today, they fill the woods with their scent. And the wild leeks. Oh, my. This time of year I travel with a small trowel, gathering new, fresh leeks as I go. I don't need to look too closely. Their aroma leads me to their hiding spot.</span>
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">And this note can only be complete with a discussion of the tastes of May. The leeks of course go into everything. Scrambled eggs with leeks, potato and leek soup and potato-leek pie are three of my favorites. They are especially good with the wild asparagus I find volunteering itself to be picked in open fields where once an old farm garden stood. I'll see and eat fiddlehead ferns before this month is over. Their delicate taste goes well with just about any dish that needs a side serving. And my May flavor favorite, the morel mushroom. The temporary warm temperatures in April confused this delicate fungus. But I've managed to pick a few pounds and make some mouthwatering treats. Their flavor is so distinct and full that I prefer them on the side or on the top of some of my favorite dishes. I just can't bear disguising the flavor of this granddaddy of all May edibles. Oh, and did I mention fresh spring Walleye? My first May fish fry will complete the grazing opportunities this month has to offer.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Okay, got to go. I'm drooling. I hope your May is just a little Lusty too. </span>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><b> </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><b>The Lusty Month of May</b></span><b>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> </span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Tra la! It's May! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">The lusty month of May! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">That lovely month when everyone goes blissfully astray </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Tra la! It's here! That shocking time of year </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">When tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear</span>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">It's May! It's May! That gorgeous holiday </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">When every maiden wishes her lad would be a cad</span>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">It's mad! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">It's gay! A libelous display </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Those dreary vows that everyone takes, everyone breaks, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Everyone makes divine mistakes, the lusty month of May!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Whence this fragrance wafting through the air? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">What sweet feelings does its scent transmute? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Whence this perfume floating everywhere? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Don't you know it's that dear forbidden fruit? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Tra la la la la! That dear forbidden fruit!</span>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Tra la! It's May! The lusty month of May! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">That darling month when everyone throws self-control away </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">It's time to do a wretched thing or two </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">And try to make each precious day one you'll always rue!</span>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">It's May! It's May! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">The month of "yes you may," </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">The time for every frivolous whim, proper or im-
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">It's wild! It's gay! A blot in every way </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">The birds and bees with all of their vast </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Amorous past gaze at the human race aghast! </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">The lusty month of May!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">From Camelot</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Hugs, d</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-45809711417358774162012-03-22T19:08:00.001-04:002017-01-02T14:33:39.982-05:00Feelin' Groovy...A March Mix<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><b>The Light is Back!</b> We have more daylight. But that's not all. It's a different light of brightness, crispness and tinges of color. There is a warmth to the light I have not seen in awhile. No longer the dull light of winter, this the new light of March triggers a change in my perspective. As I notice the spaces in my home dramatically altered by the way the light inhabits them, I too change in response to the way it inhabits me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">With the brightness, my eyes wander from one new perspective to the next. Gone is the desire to hunker down with a good book as a way to change my perspective. I get edgy to do something and I no longer can much tolerate a passive pastime like reading. I must get out and move in this light. It has so much to give me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vdpzXtUUJb4/WGqrBZrFjiI/AAAAAAAACNg/A-JSmOU6TagLSDs8EQBWohhhFjLoxXicwCLcB/s1600/Einstein.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vdpzXtUUJb4/WGqrBZrFjiI/AAAAAAAACNg/A-JSmOU6TagLSDs8EQBWohhhFjLoxXicwCLcB/s320/Einstein.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Albert Einstein's Birthday</span> was this month. So in the spirit of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Feelin' Groovy</span>, here are some quotes from a man who got it!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Imagination:</span> "Imagination is more important than knowledge."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Reality: </span>"Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Intuition: </span>"The only real valuable thing is intuition."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Education: </span>"The only thing that interferes with my learning is my education."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Peace:</span> "Peace cannot be kept by force. It can only be achieved by understanding."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Problems:</span> "We can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Curiosity:</span> "The important thing is to not stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Truth and Knowledge: </span>"Whoever undertakes to set himself up as a judge of Truth and Knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of the gods."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Death:</span> "The fear of death is the most unjustified of all fears, for there is no risk of accident for someone who's dead."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mystery: </span>"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom his emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: His eyes are closed."</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><b>The Waters of March</b>.</span> This one always makes me skip and dance lightly. The <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6MNknFy2gdQ" target="_blank">Waters of March</a> written by Antonio Carlos Jobim and performed by Susannah McCorkle</span><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/6MNknFy2gdQ" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Now go with the flow and I'll see you on the flip side of Spring.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Hugs, d</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-70128112950701923882012-01-07T19:20:00.000-05:002016-12-28T08:51:51.033-05:00The Best of All Possible Worlds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--Drf36pzr6c/Twjar6R8iuI/AAAAAAAAA3k/kDodZoZQ-NQ/s1600/Cheers%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="169" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--Drf36pzr6c/Twjar6R8iuI/AAAAAAAAA3k/kDodZoZQ-NQ/s320/Cheers%2521.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Happy New Year, Everyone!<br />
<br />
Relax. No resolution suggestions will be shared here. I am a Resolution Free Zone. I just don’t make them. And I've come to accept that I cannot convert everyone to my way of thinking. Make your New Year resolutions. And have fun.<br />
<br />
And if you still have some inspiration left over from the new leaf we all turned when January 1 came around the bend, here are some ideas that are not really resolutions at all. Take only one, or one a day, or one a week, or one a month, or create your own. It’s your choice. The question is:<br />
<br />
What can I do or who can I become, this year, that will help make this the best of all possible worlds?<br />
<br />
101 Suggestions:<br />
</span><br />
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Be happy</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Love openly</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Plant something</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Meditate</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Talk about the things you love</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Pass on conversations about the things you dislike</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Pamper someone you know</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Pamper a stranger</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Turn off the TV</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Turn off the computer</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Reuse more and dispose of fewer things</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Use <a href="http://www.freecycle.org/" target="_blank">freecycle</a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Give away some books</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Give away some clothes</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Give away some food</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Give away some time and energy</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Play in nature</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Support something you know is right</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Stop supporting something you know is wrong</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Help change something bigger than you</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Think before you buy</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Share an insight</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Share this list</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Make more of the things you use and eat</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Take a nap</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Take your time</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Take a trip</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Take the train</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Support another’s dream</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Add a splash of color</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Laugh</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Help an acre, or a few thousand acres, of earth be free and wild again</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Help a person, or a few thousand people, be independent again</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Help a needy animal, or a few thousand animals, be safe</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Give of yourself</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Gift to yourself</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Downsize your <a href="http://www.resourcesforlife.com/small-house-society" target="_blank">home</a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Become curious</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Stop tolerating junk mail</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Learn something</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Then become good</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Then become a master</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Then teach it</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Then break the rules</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Speak up</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Write about something important to you</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Thank everyone</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Become patient with someone</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Become patient with yourself</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Smile at friends</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Smile at yourself</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Smile at strangers</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Follow your heart</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Give your heart</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Make something for someone</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Create some wacky solutions to your dilemmas</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Allow others to do as they please</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Ask for a better reason than “Everybody’s doing it.”</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Clear your clutter</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Use the things you love</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Fix that which needs fixing</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Create some freedom in your day, week, year</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Create some freedom for someone else</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Understand that which you fear</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Be silent</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Become conscious</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Bake something for someone</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Aspire to the <a href="http://www.tedprize.org/" target="_blank">TED Prize</a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Climb to the top of something</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Climb to the bottom of something</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Take naps</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Move naturally</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Live and work in a walkable community</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sUSUDeAMVWE" target="_blank">De-convenience</a> your home</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Meditate</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Share a meal</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Create your own <a href="http://www.bluezones.com/" target="_blank">Blue Zone</a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Focus on what's important for YOU each day and let your legacy take care of itself</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Learn a language</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Send a stranger some silent love</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Visit someone you know and admire whom you've never met in person</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Write a letter of appreciation to your favorite author</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Write a letter of appreciation to a politician who has supported something important to you</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Write a letter of appreciation to yourself</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Write a letter of appreciation to someone who has supported you</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Write a letter of appreciation to a stranger</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Grow something</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Raise something</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Notice the amount of disposable plastic you buy</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Throw a party</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Know what's in the food you eat</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Be aware of your <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Food_miles" target="_blank">food miles</a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Kiss the ones you love</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Kiss the cat</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Kiss the dog</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Kiss a fish</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Kiss a stranger</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Take a risk</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Take a break</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Call your Dad and by all means...</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> Call your Mom!</span></li>
</ol>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> "I don't like that man. I must get to know him better." ~Abraham Lincoln<br />
<br />
"If we cannot now end our differences, at least we can make the world safe for diversity." ~John F. Kennedy<br />
<br />
"The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it." ~Albert Einstein<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>The List Coaching</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">If you find value in this list and would like to experience some group coaching around this list and additional items we come up with as a group, zip me an <a href="mailto:deb@portagecoach.com">email</a> or give me a call at 231-879-4178. <br />
<br />
I would be happy to provide 9 sessions (55 minutes each) of group coaching via teleconference for only $150 per person. Calls will be recorded should you miss one. <br />
<br />
We will explore in depth many of the items on this list, create some of our own, and support every person in the group to create their personalized list and focus for 2012. If 2012 is the year you want to help make this the best of all possible worlds, consider joining us. <br />
<br />
I need a minimum of 5 participants and a maximum of 15. Days and times will be determined once we have our group.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-32668425344963534552011-10-29T11:19:00.001-04:002011-10-29T12:25:28.976-04:00Happy Halloween!<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">When witches go riding,<br />
and black cats are seen,<br />
the moon laughs and whispers,<br />
‘tis near Halloween.<br />
~Author Unknown</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls. ~George Carlin</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Backward, turn backward,<br />
O Time, in your flight<br />
make me a child again<br />
just for to-night!<br />
~Elizabeth Akers Allen</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">May Jack-o-lanterns burning bright<br />
Of soft and golden hue<br />
Pierce through the future’s veil and show<br />
What fate now holds for you.<br />
~Author Unknown</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x7bxcxXVth8/TqwXWqnKluI/AAAAAAAAA14/wteHNxZtd8I/s1600/pumpkin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x7bxcxXVth8/TqwXWqnKluI/AAAAAAAAA14/wteHNxZtd8I/s1600/pumpkin.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Eat, Drink and be Scary. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Love, Deb</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-80211903049850712302011-10-20T16:11:00.000-04:002017-01-14T09:51:38.900-05:00Keeping The Campfires Burning<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">At the top of my love list of all things Fall are warm campfires, an illuminating centerpiece for all my backyard gatherings. At the end of a cold and damp day, whether cutting firewood or playing with my hunting and fishing friends, I gravitate to the fire with the enthusiasm of old dog in need of comforting warmth. No amount of clothing, no matter how adequate and appropriate for this season, can compete with the radiating heat of my campfire. On crisp evenings, I hold my feet in front of the flames, the warmth spreading up to my glowing face. Once my jaw is adequately lubricated by an appropriate amount of both drink and campfire heat, I find my words coming effortlessly, maybe too much so. So, I rotate and turn my back to the fire, enjoying the inhale of brisk air and the immediate silence that comes with facing the darkness and a brilliantly star-lit sky.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">For me, campfires are:
</span><br />
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Peace:</span> As I start to warm from the outside in, I feel a sense of peace. I slow down. I breathe deeply. My campfire is a place to just be.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> </span></ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Great Conversations</span>: When I have the pleasure of sharing a warm campfire with friends, and sometimes even strangers, the conversations always seem a little more provocative, open, entertaining and free.</span></span></li>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> </span></ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Stories</span>: Oh, yes, the conversations are wonderful. And the stories we tell around a campfire are even better. Even the weakest storyteller among us is able to weave a tale worthy of attention while the heat glows on his or her face and only the little ring of fire keeps the dark and the cold at bay.</span></span></li>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> </span></ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Reflection</span>: As the firelight and heat reflect off everything in the presence of a campfire, one warms to the opportunity to go inward and reflect about those things most important to us as well as the little things that seemed trivial minutia during the day.</span></span></li>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> </span></ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Food</span>: Campfires mean the concoctions never end. Eating begins as soon as the fire is started and can last well into the night. Everything has its own cooking time and while some dishes need a quick hot flame, others do better buried deep in hot coals. This time of year it's spice cider, baked potatoes, wild game, mulled wine, warm garlic bread, a big pot of chili or stew or chowder, spoon bread, bread pudding... no hurry, we have more than 14 hours of darkness this time of year and it's increasing every minute.</span></span></li>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> </span></ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Morning Coffee</span>: If I've banked my campfire just right, I've got good hot coals with which to enjoy my morning coffee.</span></span></li>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"> </span></ul>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Come on over any time. I'd love to share a fire and hear about what keeps you warm. Bring your flashlight.</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Through-Flashlights-Beam-collection-ebook/dp/B002IA0EJC/portagetransitio" target="_blank"><img alt="Through the Flashlight's Beam" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41dk1AST3RL._AA160_.jpg" style="border: 0px solid; border: 0px solid; height: 250px; width: 250px;" target="_blank" /></a><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Creepy-Campfire-Tales-Vol-Halloween/dp/160404103X/portagetransitio" target="_blank"><img alt="Creepy Campfire Tales" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41FaPDBjiKL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" style="border: 0px solid; border: 0px solid; height: 250px; width: 250px;" target="_blank" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">"To poke a wood fire is more solid enjoyment than almost anything else in the world" ~Charles Dudley Warner</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">"The most tangible of all visible mysteries - Fire." ~Leigh Hunt</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">"One can enjoy a wood fire worthily only when he warms this thoughts by it as well as his hands and feet." ~Odell Shepard</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">"Fire is the most tolerable third party." ~Henry David Thoreau</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-71836097876161755282011-08-14T16:12:00.000-04:002017-05-02T10:01:41.491-04:00A Fish Tale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7InxBDrMTio/WQiRMr89HSI/AAAAAAAACSQ/eGASu6b_8UMMspyLOvBltUP_9QPyclcpQCLcB/s1600/May%2B2007%2B012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7InxBDrMTio/WQiRMr89HSI/AAAAAAAACSQ/eGASu6b_8UMMspyLOvBltUP_9QPyclcpQCLcB/s320/May%2B2007%2B012.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">A remote Northern Ontario lake<br />
Alone in the boat <br />
Alone on the lake<br />
I cast<br />
Drat!<br />
My lure hits a beaver!<br />
Splash! Slap!<br />
My line screams out<br />
And out<br />
And out<br />
Do I cut the line?<br />
I hang on<br />
Little line left on my reel<br />
But, wait! <br />
I'm reeling in<br />
I breathe <br />
I reel in<br />
My line screams out<br />
I reel in<br />
I am hopeful...<br />
...to help that beaver <br />
...to recover my lure<br />
...to keep the boat upright<br />
Will I be lucky? <br />
Will this be a disaster?<br />
My line screams out<br />
I reel in<br />
Dare I play this out or cut line?<br />
Do I want that beaver near the boat?<br />
He won't be passive<br />
I ponder inconsiderate acts of fishermen<br />
I'm tired<br />
I reel in<br />
A stiff drink and the warm camp, more than an hour away<br />
I reel in <br />
Big and heavy, under the boat<br />
The water swirls<br />
Can I recover my lure? <br />
Can I rescue that beaver? <br />
Can I save myself?<br />
Wait!<br />
A fish head at the end of my line?<br />
Wait! <br />
A fish tail on the other side of the boat?<br />
Yes!<br />
Drat! No net<br />
Drat! No camera <br />
I release the Northern monster <br />
Drifting back down<br />
Out of sight now<br />
70 feet of water shrouds the giant<br />
An hour back to camp<br />
A warm campfire<br />
A stiff drink<br />
A clear night sky<br />
The wolves are howling<br />
And I feel alive!<br />
<br />
"Many men go fishing all their lives without knowing it is not fish they are after" ~Henry David Thoreau<br />
<br />
"I love fishing. You put your line in the water and you don't know what's on the other end. Your imagination is under there." ~Robert Altman<br />
</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-26782861782507408132011-03-27T15:38:00.001-04:002011-03-27T15:41:10.910-04:00Over The Top<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b_CWjL1s3ik/TY-ODCsc85I/AAAAAAAAAwg/gSviZ4Y7HeA/s1600/March+Ice+Bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b_CWjL1s3ik/TY-ODCsc85I/AAAAAAAAAwg/gSviZ4Y7HeA/s320/March+Ice+Bridge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">With March, we have more light. The sun increasingly rises above the tree tops around my home. Critters are sticking their noses out of burrows, dens, holes, brush piles and woodpiles and taking good long sniffs of the air.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Winter is hanging on this year with another 12 inches of snow just last weekend. Yet gone are the dreary days as we celebrate the light that now holds some tints of color and a warmth around midday that makes promises of more to come.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">My furry and feathered friends and I are happy. How about you?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">There is still a couple of feet of snow around my home. I’m not complaining. We need the moisture.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">But since December I have lived by the path. The path, that is, to the compost pile and the woodpile, the bird feeder, the fire pit, and my well-worn path along the creek. The paths have become beautiful as the March wind carves striking lines and shapes in the snow. The banks, and the paths, and the piles have flowing and crisp edges.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pIdWV6XSB0g/TY-No9nC-FI/AAAAAAAAAwc/XXuzAeBXYEQ/s1600/Walking+on+March+Snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pIdWV6XSB0g/TY-No9nC-FI/AAAAAAAAAwc/XXuzAeBXYEQ/s400/Walking+on+March+Snow.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">The pin oaks are finally giving up the leaves they have held on to all winter. I beg them to drop their leaves in the fall, making cleanup needed only once each year. But they ignore me. My paths are full of leaves. The wind blows them down the paths and they huddle together in the dips and curves as though they were little brown creatures scurrying to get out of my way.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">And now comes the fleeting warm ups when the temperatures rise just a little above freezing for short spurts during the day. It’s perfect Maple Syrup weather when moisture locks up tight on cold nights and then flows freely for even just a few hours during midday.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">For months now, the way of the path was my limited walking world. But I have become flighty with the new freedom the contrasting warm and cold temperatures have given me on my morning walks. As the snow warms up each day and then freezes hard each night, a crust is created that can support me. If I rise and get out early enough, I’m free to go anywhere I please. Just this month, I've hiked over bushes that would grab at my clothing and snarl me up any other time of year. I've walked on water over the creek. I've run down slopes that, in the summer, have so much dead fall I’d surly break a limb on my way down. And I've walked over the marshes and swamps, knowing there are all kinds of critters underneath my steps waiting for Spring.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">What a contrast to my path routine. I’m free, unconfined, and able to move quickly. March is warm sun on my face and cold wind at my back, serious enough to freeze my toes and frivolous enough to encourage me to take myself over the top.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">"Spring is when you feel like whistling, even with a shoe full of slush." ~Doug Larson</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-47209913368055532912011-01-24T16:49:00.000-05:002017-01-24T16:29:57.908-05:00Give It A Rest<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Once again, January has locked the Northland in a deep freeze.</span> <br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/TT3zI47c1HI/AAAAAAAAAvs/4YbQBsa1w3s/s1600/Chickadee.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/TT3zI47c1HI/AAAAAAAAAvs/4YbQBsa1w3s/s320/Chickadee.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">With the cold temperatures, little moves. The creek has numerous ice bridges over it and the little bit of running water moves toward the river like liquid gelatin. In an otherwise silent world, the river itself is full of ice flows, creating an unearthly groaning sound as they bounce off the frozen bank. The chickadees, jays and nuthatches stay busy at my bird feeder, a little more frantic for the food that will sustain them in these cold temperatures. They have become friendlier, grateful I imagine for the unending source of seed I am able to provide. They speak little, too busy eating for warmth than having conversation over a meal. The deer move in each evening for a snack on what’s left of the corn I’ve thrown down for the jays. The squirrels have moved inside their tree-top nests, the partridge and rabbits are buried deep in their snow caves. There is little evidence of night activity beyond a few mice prints on each night’s new snowfall. Life moves minimally. Everything has fallen silent.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/TT3zXMg_ajI/AAAAAAAAAvw/8d5bidew5Lw/s1600/Socks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/TT3zXMg_ajI/AAAAAAAAAvw/8d5bidew5Lw/s320/Socks.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">And even though we have so little light during these days of January, I too feel the urge to close my eyes and enjoy the peaceful darkness of a nap. While I excel at napping any time of the year, my body seems to be designed for this midwinter type of siesta. In January I take napping to new levels, finding accessories like a down duvet, body pillows, hot baths and intoxicating scents sprayed on these adornments. I am a pro. What Mother Nature doles out at other times of the year, warm sunlight, breezes carrying heady smells, a hot sandy beach or the lapping of waves on the shoreline, I have learned to manufacture in my frozen north.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">I’ve been good at napping all my life. Falling asleep during required nap time was embarrassing when I was in kindergarten and Brownies. I had no problem closing my eyes and drifting off. But I’d wake with all my mates staring and giggling at the spittle running down my chin, my damp mat-crushed hair, and one wrinkled and red cheek that had previously been plastered to my sleeping surface, usually a rug. They, of course, had not slept at all and had entertained themselves by watching me. I probably got unmentionable and gross things stuck in my nose, ears and mouth as I blissfully slept on. I’m thankful I’ll never know.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">However lately, napping has new respect. Maybe I’m noticing more nap appreciation in others because I’m hanging out with an older, nap-loving crowd. Or perhaps folks of all ages are turning on to the power of a nap. Either way, I no longer get laughed at. I get envied. Those who do not have the time or a place in their day to nap, marvel at my ability to sack out for an hour or so each day. So, with new level of approval, I’ve improved my napping proficiency.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">For those of you who want to learn napping, the single most important thing to understand is that napping embraces the often-forgotten talent of doing only one thing at a time and doing that one thing well. When you turn the prestige of being able to multitask on its head and elevate the old way of doing things, single-tasking, the lowly nap not only seems more respectable and even doable, it becomes art. Oh, granted, there are multiple benefits from napping; a sharper mind, better motor coordination, happiness, lower blood pressure, to name a few. But you are not the “doer” of these. You are, by simply taking a break and becoming a master of The Nap, “being,” the recipient of these, nothing more.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">And as a reminder, all good things arrive when you’re sleeping; Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and even Spring. Try it.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">"Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap." ~Barbara Jordan</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-13941494543385077362010-11-22T11:30:00.000-05:002017-01-24T16:35:25.153-05:00Let's Do Better<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/TOqUnlAVdnI/AAAAAAAAAug/8NCiDY28HoU/s1600/Jersey.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/TOqUnlAVdnI/AAAAAAAAAug/8NCiDY28HoU/s320/Jersey.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">I've been away for awhile. I lost my precious pup, Jersey, in October and after 15+ years with her by my side, I felt paralyzed.</span><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";"></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">We are at the tail end of Fall and here in Northern Michigan everything is slowing down. I still manage to sit on the front porch with my morning cup of coffee, watching the stars twinkle out as dawn approaches. But it's quite a bundling I have to do to make that happen. Over my flannel pajamas goes a down vest and then a fleece jacket. A hat on my head, mittens on my hands and wool socks on my feet complete my ensemble. It's not pretty but it works. One cup of hot coffee and I'm ready to come back in. But it's a morning ritual I'm reluctant to give up. Perhaps the chair will stay on the porch all winter this year. We'll see. Come on over. We'll share a cup. On the mornings that the stars are out, it's really quite spectacular.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Now that we are a few weeks away from elections here in the U.S. I can't help but scream...Let's Do Better! Every year the election process gets uglier as candidates run less on their political views and more on attempts to scare us. The fearful banter that was floating around earlier this month has not dissipated and I'm talking to more and more people who are worried about their future.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Let's do better...</span></b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Let's create some space. Let's make room. Let's create some reserves in our lives. Let's do better at living with less instead of suffering in order to live with what we think we need. If it feels overwhelming to count the number of things we own, we've got too much. The less we want, the less stressed we become. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Let's all be super, super productive for a short period of time and then go play, rather than "putting in our time." Let's create a community of people who are having fun, enjoying life and happy.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Let's refuse to be scared. Let's turn off the TV, turn off the radio, turn off the internet and drastically reduce our time with these distractions. If you don't like what you hear or see in the media, do something about it. Otherwise, listening and watching with no action diminishes us. As someone who makes her living using the internet, I have come to appreciate it immensely. But I've also learned that too much time in front of the TV or on the internet drastically reduces my creativity. While we're at it, let's go paperless.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Let's test our assumptions about everything. Chances are that a lot of what we assume is not true.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Let's choose to do the things that give us pleasure without suffering.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Let's focus on what is important. Once we decide for ourselves what is important and not what the unimportant and negative people in media tell us, we can use our own filter. And that's empowering.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Let's let go of perfectionism. Everything we do is perfect in the moment. We don't have to micromanage our lives or those who want to help.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Let's stop being busy. Let's breathe. Let's create a life that is full of joy and cheer. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Let's make the upcoming holidays truly thankful occasions without the pressure to do it all, buy it all, and make it all while hosting numerous events in order to include everyone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Enjoy your Thanksgiving everyone!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Love and Hugs</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">d<br />
</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-20877183842652729012010-07-24T18:00:00.003-04:002017-04-20T09:23:51.258-04:00Disconnected<span id="goog_21882939"></span><span id="goog_21882940"></span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WIK4Y91t3ZQ/TclNC_e6SVI/AAAAAAAAAxA/a_7L0UG_JMI/s1600/JohnsCabin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WIK4Y91t3ZQ/TclNC_e6SVI/AAAAAAAAAxA/a_7L0UG_JMI/s320/JohnsCabin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms";">Summer in Northern Michigan is busy. Busier than I like. There are too many people, too many events, the lines are too long, the traffic is too thick and the noises are too loud. In Summer, I crave becoming disconnected. <br />
<br />
Being connected is so easy. All we need to do is just call someone up on our cell phone, even while we, ourselves, are on the move. Or, just stop by the neighbors for a visit. Or, just pop into the local grocery and chat with everyone we know or don't know in front or behind us in the checkout line. Perhaps we go to an event where we are surrounded by people we don't know, and still we have the connection of sharing whatever it is we are all there to experience. Daily, most of us just get online and share our life activities with everyone we know on one or more of the social networks to which we belong.<br />
<br />
So I go north to fish. And yes, I go north to disconnect. My travels take me far enough that a phone call is impossible without getting in boat and/or a vehicle and traveling at least an hour. I usually have a cabin to myself and make choices about who I will or will not talk with on any particular day; that is, if there is anyone else in camp to talk with. The laptop stays home, unplugged and unused for as much as two weeks at a time. My Jeep, also unused, rests at the furthest point it can go before I must find other form of transportation. At some camps, I can drive as far as the cabin door, but often the boat launch or the train station is the final resting point for the driving part of my journey north. My cell phone, too, has no need to travel north. Phone, cell and computer access are all "technically" possible if I'm willing to travel at least a couple of hours, but my unwillingness means it's just not going to happen.<br />
<br />
I sit on a bench in front of the cabin or on the cabin steps and enjoy "twittering" of a different sort as the Whiskey Jacks are all too happy to see me and share my breakfast, lunch or dinner. At 5:00 a.m., a cow moose wanders on the beach, past camp and I feel no urge to wake others to see the sight. I fall deeply into a novel I picked up at my local library in a rush out of town, no thought to its contents or who the author might be. In the moments of my reading, I am consumed. Now, a few weeks later, I can't tell you the name of the author or the title of the book. I eat breakfast with the rain clattering on the metal roof of the cabin, absorbed in a simple meal, thinking it's the best I've ever had, with no desire to share, to pass the recipe on, or even to make note of what I did so differently when I prepared this simple, familiar fare.<br />
<br />
Brainwashed, we often think that everything we do or say is dependent on others listening and reacting. And worse, we often think that everything we do or say is important. Only when we dare to disconnect, are we able to enjoy our own company without placing much importance on our perceived value. It's oh so very worth it. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-64772687381160937112010-06-06T17:18:00.006-04:002017-01-25T09:32:40.259-05:00In The Stillness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/TAwP6deP92I/AAAAAAAAAtw/ISyYA57fqXg/s1600/Stillness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/TAwP6deP92I/AAAAAAAAAtw/ISyYA57fqXg/s320/Stillness.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms"; font-size: small;">May has ended and we are entering June. I'm noticing stillness all around me. This is not the stillness of Winter when much becomes dormant, quiet and in hibernation. This is the stillness of Summer when there is a more lazy and centered movement. It's the stillness of contentment.<br />
<br />
The woods around my home are greening. The frenetic activity of the critters has slowed. Birds are sitting on their nest now. There is plenty of food on the floor of the woods and in the trees. Breaks are easily taken during the middle of the day when the shadows of the trees around the creek provide a peaceful resting place to absorb the cooler, darker, moister air. There is a new stillness.<br />
<br />
The nights are still noisy. The peepers come out around dusk. But their talk is more like neighbors chatting on the front porch than the calls of those looking for a mate. The owl still makes a vocal appearance each night before the morning sun rises. It's a low, slow hoot now. The whippoorwills get vocal every dusk and dawn, but they seem to be talking of the celebration of Summer instead of the need for attraction. And the phoebes have ceased their incessant calling and tapping on my windows.<br />
<br />
Even the thunderstorms roll through with low, lazy, long rumbles, taking their time to pass over and soak my world.<br />
<br />
The creek has become slow and vague, veiled by the undergrowth and hosting dragon and damselflies on the sand bars that are starting to appear as the water slows after the Spring rush. It simply trickles now over rocks and downed trees, smelling of sun-soaked cedar and warming summer grasses. It has become another creature entirely, as it meanders through the tall grasses and ferns.<br />
<br />
Even the mosquitoes seem less interested in biting, giving me fair warning before they pick a spot on my exposed skin.<br />
<br />
Sit back, breathe deeply, rest. It's June and such an opportunity to enjoy stillness. Stillness is not necessarily where activity ends. It can be where creation begins. When you become still, you let go of not movement but, instead, control. Stillness can be very dynamic. But its movement contains no conflict and is, instead, in harmony with the actions you take. It is your truth come home to rest, simply letting go of the thoughts that bubble to your surface, allowing them but not controlling such thoughts.<br />
<br />
"Within you there is stillness and a sanctuary to which you can retreat at any time and be yourself." ~Hermann Hesse</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-34719889192701197612010-04-03T13:28:00.002-04:002013-04-28T11:43:56.955-04:00In My Wildest Dreams<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/S7d6hCbp23I/AAAAAAAAAq0/rtePWEibukI/s1600/Boat1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/S7d6hCbp23I/AAAAAAAAAq0/rtePWEibukI/s320/Boat1.JPG" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">The hard shell of winter is cracking and the luscious gooey center called Spring is oozing out. My nighttime noggin is doing the same with dreams so rich, colorful and vivid that I feel like I've entered a children's book where all the characters are past acquaintances, human and critter, who have come to tell me a story full of metaphors only I can interpret and appreciate.<br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">This happens to me every Spring. It's crazy. My dreams become so wild that anyone reviewing them would insist these events just don't happen in the day-to-day world. And yet, the vividness, the colors and the intricacy of every moment of the dream only serves to prove the dream must be every bit as real as the world I walk in wakefulness.<br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">I wonder how Spring brings this on. I suppose it has something to do with the beginning of new life. Perhaps it's the slow tilt of the Earth's axis back to the Southern Hemisphere and a more luxurious weather pattern that allows for free time and play and less emphasis on survival.<br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Maybe vivid and extravagant dreaming requires a sense of the stirring of life, seen and unseen, that is all around me.<br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Perhaps dreams as extravagant as my Spring dreams are prompted by the constant flow of the season.<br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Whatever the source, I love my Springtime dreams. As bizarre and outrageous as they are, there's a sense of being more connected with everything, including you.<br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">"I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each other's dreams, we can play together all night." ~Bill Watterson<br />
</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-79749603542337520552010-04-03T13:00:00.002-04:002013-04-28T11:44:55.753-04:00Spring!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/S7dywcBj4fI/AAAAAAAAAqk/vkv6tFCHXJ0/s1600/Crocus+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="119" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/S7dywcBj4fI/AAAAAAAAAqk/vkv6tFCHXJ0/s200/Crocus+004.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">It's April. Spring is on the rise, literally, from the ground up. Early morning on the porch with coffee; peepers, pussy willows, phoebes, crocus, sand hill cranes, ... ahhhhh.<br />
Good thing I made a whole pot! <br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/S7d0BC9gsII/AAAAAAAAAqs/PahBAdoERD0/s1600/Jersey.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/S7d0BC9gsII/AAAAAAAAAqs/PahBAdoERD0/s320/Jersey.JPG" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">My Jersey celebrated her 15th birthday on April 1. A Noble Dog.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><a href="http://www.squidoo.com/WalkingTheDog">http://www.squidoo.com/WalkingTheDog</a> </span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-54855399239428157522010-03-03T12:36:00.002-05:002013-04-28T11:45:51.524-04:00River Running<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/S46dxqKfrmI/AAAAAAAAAqc/D84fycLQ4WI/s1600-h/OnTheBank.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/S46dxqKfrmI/AAAAAAAAAqc/D84fycLQ4WI/s320/OnTheBank.JPG" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">As usual, along about the end of February, I find myself musing about things to come. I become a little less present as I plunge my thoughts and emotions into the upcoming fishing season. As the snow begins to melt and trickle from seemingly flat surfaces towards the lowlands of increasingly bulging creeks and rivers, I notice the new swiftness and I can't help but feel the urge to do a little river running.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">It's the nature of rivers to drop in elevation over distance. That is, of course, how they flow. Some relaxing and beautifully meditative rivers drop consistently with few or no surprises. I love to travel these wonderful rivers because they give me the opportunity to play with friends or trail a fishing line or lean back in my canoe and contemplate something important or nothing at all. This is the nature of most of the rivers I travel in Michigan.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">Many of the rivers I travel further north, into the Canadian Shield, are not gradual. These rivers pool and drop and pool and drop, keeping me ever alert. The deep pools of swirling water are where I often find the fish. I love these rivers for their energy. They lift me up and move me forward at sometimes breakneck speeds. The canoe goes forward, up and down, right and left and side to side all at the same time. My paddle becomes a rudder and a brace, slowing and turning me as the conditions demand. My arms hurt. My back is rigid and my butt and legs are an extension of my craft, using body language to direct me. And then it's over too quickly and I'm bobbing on riffles, heading towards calm water where I once again must use my paddle to move forward. Sometimes these rivers even force me to stop and get out of my canoe, wary about a drop I might not be able to navigate.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">I don't prefer one type of river over the other. They are both special. It's the variety that is important to me. Moving forward at a steady pace, as in the case of my Michigan rivers, is delightfully energizing in the way a nap rejuvenates me. Moving forward in a chaotic way, shaking things up and amplifying the adrenaline, as in the case of my Canadian rivers, energizes me in the same way a good brawl gets the juices flowing. <span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">It's March and it's time to rumble! See you on the river or on the bank. Your choice. But I'm not waiting.<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"> </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">"All rivers, even the most dazzling, those that catch the sun in their course, all rivers go down to the ocean and drown. And life awaits man as the sea awaits the river." ~Simone Schwarz-Bart</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">"Eventually, all things merge into one, and the river runs through it." ~Norman Maclean</span></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26126887.post-82221017723950284052010-01-30T11:56:00.001-05:002010-08-17T10:58:52.258-04:00Moon Shadows<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/S2Rjp89y6DI/AAAAAAAAAqI/pqV8CYOr8uE/s1600-h/Shadows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XnMtGgxZ0_A/S2Rjp89y6DI/AAAAAAAAAqI/pqV8CYOr8uE/s320/Shadows.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;">It's cold, very cold, bone chilling cold. <br />
<br />
Early this morning, the light from my porch light rose straight up on the ice crystals in the air. <br />
<br />
Last night's almost full moon created brilliant moon shadows on the pristine snow. The two dogs and I fell into step and there were 6 of us whenever we were not in the shadow of a tree or bush. <br />
<br />
Tonight's full moon is the Wolf Moon. Named for clarity of the wolf howl on a cold night, traveling on the brittle air much like the light from my porch. <br />
<br />
I'm torn between immersing myself in the bright silence and the temptation to let out my own howl.<br />
<br />
</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0