Perservere

MT HOOD in Oregon. Credit: Public Domain

“The man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones.”
~Confucius

.

Perserverence must begin somewhere…in a cold and dark room in the very early morning in the dead of winter. It is sharp with a hard edge, tempered by a million stings. Perserverence is tired but hears the shrill of the alarm in that damn biting cold and gets up anyway.

Perserverence doesn’t think. It doesn’t moan or complain. It just acts. It never questions, it does….and never under any excuses does it ever make excuses. It is strong, steadfast and true. It is a port in the storm and it can weather it all, from wind to rain and sleet and snow.  Perseverance can outlast any hurricane.

Perseverance is not easy.  It is hard-fought and not easily won.  It comes in fits and starts and twists and turns. At times it flows like the mighty Mississippi, at other times it drips and drips like a leaky tap. Sometimes it doesn’t come at all. It is when we feel low, when we are alone in the pitch black darkness…we shout and plead and scream “please help me!” and our pleas fall on deaf ears, no one comes to help and our despair only grows.  It as if we are at the end of a slippery rope, our hands bleed trying to hold on, we think we cannot hold on but somehow from seemingly nowhere we find the strength to hold on….

Perseverance is a broken foot that walks a million miles…it is a voice that sings a million songs. Perseverance is a heart that loves a million times over and is always ready to love once again.

You can fall a million times, a billion…Perseverance will get you back up…it always does and always will. Cling on to this miracle. Hold it in your hand and never let go and it will never let go of you…

Credit: Public Domain

Strawberryindigo.

Scribbles from a little blue notebook…

Lonely Field in Cyan- Credit: SBI

Songbirds sing a song tinged with sweet hope bidding a farewell to the dark of yesterday’s night. The sun has not yet risen but they know it will, as do I. The clouds are strewn in patches across the sky. The sky is dark blue interlaced with an even deeper indigo that outline the tall buildings which are spotted with light. It seems every third window is lit with a warm and welcoming light. Each one reminds me there is a devoted soul inside who is engaged in some early morning business. I hope they will stop if only for a moment to watch the sun rise…and rise it will, just as it always does. There is a certain comfort in that. A certain knowingness that no matter how life changes there will always be some things we can depend on.

Credit: SBI

I hear the train in the distance just as I always do. It’s arrival is marked with a melancholic anticipation. The bike riders show up at the last-minute, their blinking helmet lights announcing their arrival. It is always this way. I sip the last of my hot tea and steady myself before we board the train. It is already half filled with early morning commuters.  We are all silent. There are no smiles, no revelry. Some stare out the windows, some read paperbacks and a few others steadily tap away on laptops. Many start to drift off and some are asleep as we make our way into the long dark tunnel that starts my morning journey.

I take out my little blue notebook and start to scribble, recording my thoughts and dreams and hopes and schemes.  I stretch my mind and explore my imagination searching for something profound or funny, but today I find nothing. …just the remnant of a song I heard earlier and the lingering doubts I sometimes feel about myself. Writing eases the lonely hours, this act keeps me from feeling so alone. It will be this very thing that will save me…someday…this I must believe.

Credit: SBI

The sun rises as we make our way from station to station. Yes It did come, this glorious sun! This sun we knew would come. I think of the songbirds back at the station I left far behind and I think of what awaits me at my stop where I will get off.  I smile a little private smile knowing that someday this will be all worthwhile as long as I can just take it day by day…

Reporting from the “wilds” of Beaverton,

Strawberryindigo.

Credit: SBI

Related youtube

NOBODY HOME by Pink Floyd

Related articles

• A New Newness (strawberryindigo.wordpress.com)
• My notebook (ahparr.wordpress.com)
• Scribbles (izmaylova.wordpress.com)

In Search of Good News

I have been finding myself in deep thought as of late. Time has slowed down for me and that has given ample time for refection. At first this made me depressed, as life has been throwing some major curveballs that have been hitting me right in the face. As I looked around I found more and more depressed people…angry people, the worn out and the frightened. This only confirmed my suspicions that the world is going to hell and really anyone can see that. Some even think the end is coming. It certainly does appear that way…while I don’t think the end is near, I do think it is changing…and fast.

I think it can be unsettling to people…the conditions of the world today; the world at large and the world right down the street. It is overwhelming and it overwhelms. I don’t need to list it all here, besides being a significant undertaking it just spreads the contagion.

Contagion

Yes, I do think it’s a contagion, this crazy despair. The media feeds it with sensationalism. I can’t blame them, that is what they do and I suppose they are doing a fair job of distracting us from what’s really important…and there is much to be distracted by.

I feel a prevading sense of desperation…and fear in the air. It seems people on the whole are less hopeful for the future. It takes effort not to get caught up in it.  Is this how it feels to live in a civilization that’s in decline?

This I cannot accept….I feel the helplessness, the creeping unease, the feeling that you are in a boat with a hole in it and you better start bailing before the water gets any higher.  There are a good many souls on this boat, this “ship of fools”. And while we point the finger at each other and squabble over nonsense, the ship is going down. We know it….we can feel it sinking…we can see the now blatant obvious signs.

I want to hide in my garden, among the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees and think lovely thoughts…I want to write beautiful words and pour my soul out on paper but the unease grows.

I pace and look out the window and a million ideas run through my mind; the good….the bad …and everything in between …. I try to record them all but they spill out into a pile on the floor and it becomes hard to focus.

Until I write and write and write. This unease disappears and I feel that in my own miniscule little way I am doing something.

I have been talking to people, some very smart people and I have been given all sorts of advice but one piece has struck a chord in me. At first it seemed so simple but as my mind ruminated on it the more I came to understand the deeper aspects.

I complain about the media and spreading the contagion of negativity and sensationalism.  I lament: “Where is all the good news?” Surely there are people out there doing good things…somewhere.   I ask, and rather loudly: ”Why aren’t we hearing about good news?”  It can get depressing to hear all this doom and gloom…

And as I lament, a wise person mentions that in some small (very small) way that I, strawberryindigo, the blogger, am a part of this same media that I, Nancy, the person complains about and then she asks me:

 ”Where is your good news?”

This has permeated me ever since…

…And it was there  that I stopped. That was about 3 months ago. I stopped because I was literally stopped in my tracks. This revelation set me back and it was this that told me to abandon everything I had written and focus on some happiness instead. It is easy to share one’s despair but it takes work to share happiness especially when you are not happy yourself. The world is unhappy enough for me to add my misery so, I chose not to finish or publish the above words at that time.

…and really, I didn’t have an answer…I still don’t in all honesty…but I’m looking all the time and I’m finding that sometimes it’s not the world that’s the trouble, it’s the way I’m looking at it.  I lament: where is the good news? where can I find this mythical land of good news.. and then like a flash of lighting it hits me.

It’s been here all along.  The good news is everywhere. It is all around.  I just needed to open my eyes…

 I found the following quote:

“Do your little bit of good where you are; its those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.”
Desmond Tutu

Inspiring words to be sure. Simple and true and sometimes forgotten. I guess I needed reminding…

Goodness can come in many shapes and sizes and good can come from the oddest of places. I am finding the more I look for it,  the more I see. 

What I am finding so amazing is that this goodness typically starts out small, so small and slight that most of the time it goes unnoticed. These seemingly small gestures we do for each other from time to time, tiny interactions between strangers… there’s magic in these tiny incidents. This grows and spreads like a contagion.  We hardly ever hear of these small incidents of good, they are not sensational or exciting. Mostly they are mundane and seemingly unimportant but they can be quite beautiful.

All are important and important enough, in my opinion to acknowledge and tell others about it. This is the stuff of inspiration, this is the good news that I seek.

From time to time I will be sharing pieces of good news; real life stories from inspirational people I meet or hear about. I will be sharing with you happenings and events, tiny miracles and good things as I try to do a little spreading of my own.

                                            

 I have come to appreciate simple acts of kindness more and more.  I have found that we all need some kindness now and then, and in places we’d never expect we’d be. I am impressed by this sort of thing and I believe it is good news that needs to be shared.

♥      ♥      ♥      ♥      ♥      ♥      ♥      ♥      ♥      ♥      ♥

Have any good news to share? Please let me know, better yet write a post about it and let others know too. Let’s spread some good news!

Peace and Happiness to YOU

Strawberryindigo.

GREAT

GREAT WALL of China
Credit: pingnews

“Because of a great love, one is courageous.”

Lao Tzu

Have you ever been stuck on a word? Have you ever used one particular word so frequently that it caused you any worry? Have strangers mocked you using that word in a public place?  If you have answered any of these questions with the word Yes, you must be like me and I am not so alone in my cheap and tawdry word addiction.

I’ll admit it right here and now. I will shout it to the rooftops…” I am Strawberryindigo and I am a wordaholic–my tonic of choice, my vice, the object of my obsession: the word “GREAT”

HAHA…  It is probably of no surprise to you; my overuse and abuse of the word.   It litters my posts and certainly my comments. You are so very nice not to mention this. You may have asked yourself at one time or another…How many times can one person say “Great Post”?

I’ll admit and everyone knows that Great is a great word. (That is why it is called that, duh) If there is any word to over depend on it is this word, this great word. It is positive and it is versatile. To me it sounds strong and certain of it’s place in the whole scheme of things.

I can’t help but think  too much of a good thing (or great word can be just that: too much.

GREAT WHITE SHARK
Image by © David Fleetham/Visuals Unlimited/Corbis

I know what you’re thinking right now… How can I be so impossibly brave? I ask myself that too. Perhaps it is the writer in me yearning to break free of the confines of convention? Maybe I grow bored with my limited palate of words? It could be that if I am to be any kind of writer at all I must extend my vocabulary.  Great just isn’t cutting it.

So I am asking you a favor…Please if you see me or hear me use that word–you know the word–THAT word, let me know in no uncertain terms that I am being a weak overdependent hack. Tell me this, I deserve it. We will all be better off this way.

Besides…

GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS

There are so many words I can use instead: Words such as…

abundant, ample, big, big league, bulky, bull, colossal, considerable, decided, enormous, excessive, extended, extensive, extravagant, extreme, fat, gigantic, grievous, high, huge, humongous, husky, immense, inordinate, jumbo, lengthy, long, major league, mammoth, mondo, numerous, oversize, prodigious, prolonged, pronounced, protracted, strong, stupendous, terrible, titanic, towering, tremendous, vast, voluminousable, absolute, aces, adept, admirable, adroit, awesome, bad*, best, brutal, cold*, complete, consummate, crack*, downright, dynamite, egregious, exceptional, expert, fab, fantastic, fine, first-class*, first-rate, good, heavy*, hellacious, marvelous, masterly, number one, out of sight, out of this world, out-and-out, perfect, positive, proficient, super-duper, surpassing, terrific, total, tough, transcendent, tremendous, unmitigated, unqualified, utter, wonderful GREAT PYRAMID OF GIZA

WISHING YOU AN UTTERLY SUPER-DUPER DOWNRIGHT EXCEPTIONAL DAY!!!

Strawberryindigo.

Related articles

• CHANGE YOUR WORDS CHANGE YOUR WORLD ♥♫☼ The Great Words Ever ♥ (joy2theworld2012.wordpress.com)
• Ate, with a not-so-silent ‘H’ (idealinterruption.wordpress.com)
• Great White Sharks (animals.nationalgeographic.com)
• Great Books (www.greatbooks.org)
• The Wizard of It (whyirideharleys.wordpress.com)

Dress me up weird Portland

Here I am in the middle of downtown Portland.  I am wandering around looking for interesting goings on to write about. Portland is a city that prides itself on being weird. Bumper stickers with the motto ” Keep Portland Weird” is plastered all over cars. People take this to heart around here. That is one of the aspects of Portland I enjoy the most.

So it is of relatively no surprise when I spy Robin. Yes, THAT one, Batman’s Robin. Well, it kind of looks like Robin, he’s got the costume except this guy is unshaven and dirty and is carrying a backpack.  He’s appears to be flying a sign asking for spare change.

I hear” Hey Robin!” from a passerby. Robin deftly and quite expertly flips the offender his middle finger, I begin to laugh and I try to snap a pic of the scene but the boy wonder is too quick for me and hides behind his sign by the time the flash goes off.

This is the sort of thing I came down here to find. The raw, the unusual, the sometime crazy but wild creativeness that is urban living. I have been witness to many strange scenes on the streets of Portland but never before have I purposely set out camera in tow to look for them.

I told my family I was going downtown for the excellent hubs of blatant consumerism that I have been known to frequent in the past. Little did they know I was setting out into the wilds of the urban jungle in search of a story, or a little adventure perhaps. At least I’d be getting some exercise and getting out of the house.

Robin was the first but certainly not the last person I saw in costume that afternoon.

It didn’t take long before I saw two others dressed up. I tried discreetly taking their picture which resulted in some not so good photos. I vowed to get a better shot next time. There seemed to be a theme going. People dressing up in costumes and just walking around going about their business like it was nothing.

I have to admit that I am probably a bit out of it. I am a middle-aged mom with two teenagers. I’m sure people have been walking around in costumes for years…” Where have you been lately?  You may ask. I don’t know… but I do know that it is a little strange, definitely Portland weird for sure and I like it. I not only like it….

I LOVE IT!!!

I am jealous. I instantly wish I had worn some sort of really hip and happening kind of outfit, avant garde, edgy and creative….something with bright colors…wings too and boots!

I have always liked to dress up since I was a wee one. At five I would sneak into my Mother’s closet and try on her dresses and put on her makeup. As I grew older I would continue the tradition. I have always had a flair for the dramatic and when you are 10½ or even 20½ it’s considered cute and when you are 42, it’s odd to say the least. I realise this and have confined my dressing up to the only socially acceptable day for this sort of thing: My favorite holiday, Halloween.

I have accepted his little “fact” of life and I’ve gone along with it; waiting patiently for Halloween to arrive so I can let all my dramatic weirdness come out.  I’ve made it no secret that I am a big kid at heart. I think engaging in a little fantasy and play is good for one’s psyche.  Some of us take this adult thing way too seriously. We need fun and some of us won’t admit it.

I say embrace your inner child and if it doesn’t hurt anyone…Go for it!  No matter what it is…..as long as you have fun and who care what anyone thinks? Make a total fool of yourself (it’s not officially fun unless you do.)

So in the tradition of The Power Puff Girls and Robin, Larpers and Furries, Comic-cons and “crazies” let’s dress up!

Damn convention and all that….I DARE YOU!  

…I will if you do…

HAVE A FUN DAY!

Strawberryindigo.

Related articles

• Keep Portland Weird (maxredline.typepad.com)

Garden Confessions

I have to admit something that I am not proud of and this is difficult for me to do.  I am somewhat ashamed but I have the need to confess…I am a nature lover.  I proclaim this in much of what I write. I cannot help but do this since I feel a profound connectedness to nature, I do.  I am a big advocate for the environment. I recycle, I reuse, I hug trees and all that….yes, I am a nature lover….. and I am a neglectful gardener.

For the past year really, I have barely done the bare minimum in my yard and it shows. My sanctuary, as I once called it, is getting ragged at the edges; weeds are popping up, left to seed, the grass has brown patches and the roses are wilty.

Queen Anne’s lace has taken over in the back and choked the life out of one of my favorites: a spectacular white swan coneflower, its creamy whiteness and dark brown centers stood in terrific contrast to the Black-eyed Susan. Now only the Susan remains; her bright yellow petals were being encroached by the fine white flowers of the over-zealous and jealous Queen Anne.  A wild and invasive royal who is apt to take over the whole kingdom. I have been digging out her bundled white roots but no matter how deep I dig there is always more.

Black Eyed Susan

I lament this. This is my fault. I am not only a neglectful gardener, I am a soft-hearted one who tends to let an unknown mystery plant grow and grow until I find, which I usually do that it is an invasive weed.  These science projects, so to speak have run rampant as I have not kept up my previous level of commitment.

The Hot Lips Salvia has grown leggy and the usually sensational Scarlet Daylillies never emerged due a growing shade from a behemoth of a hedge that has taken over the west side of the yard.

The hydrangea need pruning but the fuchsia has never looked better.  I am amazed at the resilience of nature; how it endures. How no matter how much we mere mortals try to have it our way, nature has hers in the end.

That being said, it would be foolish of me to fight what has been going on since before we know-it-all humans came on the scene. Nature has her checks and balances. It is a good system and insead of trying to buck that system I am going to try to mimic it as much as I can.

My plan is to plant mass quantities of White Sweet Asylum; a free-seeding, free-wheeling annual that’s ambitious and attracts a good number of various beneficial insects. The Queen and the Asylum will battle it out and hopefully, with some help from me, the Asylum will win out.

I am coming to the realization that I can use these priciples anywhere. The trick is to go with what already works. I have been reading up on the subject and plan on eventually taking out much of the grass and replacing it with native plants and edibles.

This will take a few seasons but I’m not in a hurry. I will document my progress and keep your posted.

For now I will try to stop cringing when I see the brown patchy grass and the wilted roses…and I’ll try to hold my head up high in the neighborhood. Having an unkempt weedy lawn doesn’t make me a bad person does it?  Hey, I can proudly say that we used less water this summer…conservation is important too!

Have a happy day!

Strawberryindigo.

♦

(Note: all the above photos were taken last summer)

Related articles

• 5 Garden Weeds You Can Eat! (livescience.com)
• Bugs in your garden? Look closer! (northcountrypublicradio.org)
• Good Morning Glory (solvgreenteam.wordpress.com)

Weekly Writing Challenge: A few of my favorite THINGS

“We see things not as they are.

We see things as we are.”

The Talmud

Old and Unwanted Things

Here I am at the local dump amongst old unwanted things. The place reeks of decay.  It is quite the surreal scene and there is much action going on. People dumping this thing and that. Workers busily compacting it all; pushing it aside for the next dumpload. I am here with my sister. We have reached that stage in life when you end up going through and cleaning out your parent’s stuff.  It is a strange and bittersweet task that most of us will experience in our lives at one time or another.

We have a truckload of old junky things from the garage, nothing too sentimental or important; those things will come later, for now it is this.  My sister is a wonder of a worker and she immediately gets busy throwing things onto our assigned section of a giant junk pile.

The Joy of Destroy

This is only my second time here but I have begun to enjoy it. Yes, it is loud and stinky and full of garbage that the birds fight over. It’s not those parts I enjoy. It’s the throwing out of things. It is a terrific stress reliever and its a lot of fun. I love to take an item; a thing…whatever it is; an old wooden chair, a mangled wicker basket, an ugly old lamp, whatever. I throw it in rather haphazardly with thump and a crash and sometimes a dull deep satisfying thud into a pile full of other people’s junk. I am not a violent person but I do admit this act of throwing things out is exhilarating and liberating too.  At times it can be fun to break things…the sound, the feeling, the energy emitting from the very act. Molecules crashing into each other. My whole body shakes as I release piles and piles of pent-up stress and anxiety.

It is a rather freeing experience. All our lives we are taught to value and treasure things. It’s a bad thing to break them. Things are valuable.  At one time someone paid good money for all this stuff; these very things that litter this gigantic open air warehouse which sits on the industrial end of the city. Now these things are unwanted junk and it feels good to destroy them.

I start to feel good. The sun is out. It is a nice day and I start to forget why I’m here.

Reflection

This is a freeing experience but it is also a reflective one; all the while that I’m releasing all this pent-up aggression I am also watching myself throw out pieces of my past: the old white chair that sat in my parents room. I used to like to sit there, sing songs and talk to my Mom about all kinds of things when I was small about 5 and 6. It reminds me of those times…there goes my Dad’s old metal desk with a massive ka-boom!  I remember the drawers being filled with pens and rubber bands. I remember him sitting there writing, stapling things. I recall the smell that his adding machine would give off when he used it. It seems like almost yesterday…there goes that ugly green lamp. It used to sit in the living room of the old house. I always hated that lamp, now I think I might miss it. It’s strange. All of a sudden I feel like taking it all back; the desk, the chair, the lamp.  “I can save these things. I can fix them.”  My thoughts race. I never put much stock in these things before but now, now as I watch these pieces of my past, these things and they are just things…as I watch myself throw them out one by one…I realise these are moments I’m tossing out, moments with loved ones that I’ll never get back.  Now quite unexpectedly these things; these old pieces of junk have gained significance to me.

I admit I was tempted to keep some of that old junk but I didn’t. I couldn’t but I did keep something; I noticed it when we first got here. I had almost stepped on it.  It is an odd thing to see at a place like this.  A photo of a smiling and happy family. I don’t know who they are but it strikes me as lonely thing…this orphaned photo. Someone’s memories laid out there. Left behind. For some reason it made me feel better to snap a photo of it. To me, it’s like in some small way these people, whoever they are won’t be completely forgotten.

My Favorite Things

Since that day I have taken inventory of all the things I treasure most in the world ( my favorite things) and I’ve discovered that not one of them hold any real monetary value. These things I hold so dear, are representations of moments but it goes beyond that; to me, it’s as if a tiny drop of essence of the owner is left behind in the object. I can almost feel it. At least it makes me feel good to think I can.

One of my most recent treasured objects is a Buddha statue. It was my Dad’s. It sits on my nightstand. Whenever I look at it with it’s happy smiling expression, I think of him and I smile back.That feeling is priceless and could never be replaced by a million things.

Strawberryindigo.

Related articles:

Weekly Writing Challenge: A few of my favorite things (dailypost.wordpress.com)

Weekly Writing Challenge: A Few of My Favorite Things thepunktheory.wordpress.com)

Few of My Favorite Things (beebeesworld.wordpress.com)

Weekly Writing Challenge: A Few of My Favorite Things (sks-whatevs.com)

Weekly Writing Challenge: A Few of My Favorite Things (scrapydo.wordpress.com)

Nothing

I have countless notebooks jam-packed full of ideas and subjects to write about. I have  been blessed/cursed with an active imagination. So I’m sitting here thinking about what’s next, I must feel passionately about the subject at hand or the words don’t flow, it becomes strained and forced and there is no point to writing anything at all. Fortunately this rarely happens and when it does I just walk away and do something else. The time has to be right….

…and so this very afternoon I lament this to MM;  He has a gift for making my complicated little life dilemmas into simple bite-sized pieces that can be easier to chew but sometimes not so easy to digest..

I remarked in passing how I felt like writing (Ha, big surprise) but that I didn’t know what about. Currently I’m in a layed-back Sunday mood although it is a Tuesday, it feels like it anyway. It is cloudy and cool and I am listening to some soft melodic guitar music. The coffee is hot and it’s black and I shouldn’t be drinking it but what the hell it’s Sunday…I mean Tuesday and life is too short…

…and so I am sitting here and I lament all this to MM.

Have I mentioned what a wise person he is? Well this wise person suggests that I should write about nothing….  At times I  have foolishly resisted his advice but today I’m taking it.

This may sound a bit difficult to write about nothing but I am always up to a challenge like that. So as MM carefully crept out the door and down the hallway and I, like a dog with a bone, set out to write about my just found obsession: Nothing.

I know that MM knows I will be tapping along for a while; at least 400 or so words at a stretch. He knows I can’t help myself and that I will be distracted with this very thing: Nothing.

And as I’m tapping along MM goes and does the dishes…without my knowledge, under my very nose…he’s like that you know. (sorry ladies, he’s taken)

And so, as this wonderfully lazy day goes on with me writing and pondering the deepest philosophical mysteries about nothing. MM has the satisfaction of knowing he’s doing a good deed all the while pulling one over on me in the process…

..and me? I’m going for my second cup of coffee….

Strawberryindigo.

The Diary of a Mad Blogger DAY 366

Madness

It has been 366 days since I published my first post and joined this wonderful world of the real and the surreal: the blogosphere. 

 I started this blog on a lark with no real idea or theme.  No organization or any kind of plan whatsoever. I was new to cyberspace and not technical in the least bit, fortunately, I can usually find some humor at my feeble attempts to do something, which can be often.  I still have trouble with the simplest things and the fact that I refer to these things as “things” is a testimony to my utter and complete lack of any technical knowledge whatsoever.  The road is long and strange but slowly I am learning.  Now after a year I am finally able to post a link without embarrassing myself ( I hope) 

On Being Fruity and Colorful

I did realise when I signed up to get a blog here at WordPress that I might be introducing myself to the strange and unusual world of cyberspace and I did have my reservations.  I considered many types of avatars and had decided on a purple nebula (really) and it was not until the last-minute I decided on using my real life image.   I am not one for pictures of myself. It takes some getting used to, but it’s me and it’s honest and that is what I try to adhere to.

I know what you are thinking:  How honest is someone who claims to be some weird name like Strawberryindigo?  It was a name I came up with for Trip Advisor and I just kept using it. If I knew then what I knew now I wouldn’t have picked something so…well, weird. In the beginning many people thought I had a food blog and kept searching my site for recipes.

But again I guess it’s me…and I like colors and fruit and so…what the hell, I could have done worse.

I feel free to write whatever I want. I feel I can expose my inner self by being somewhat anonymous. One day I may change my name, and my site.  Totally scrap the whole thing and start anew, but for now, I’m doing fine just being fruity and colorful.

A Community of Creatives

What I didn’t realise when I signed up to WordPress was the rich community of bloggers that I would become a part of.  It is refreshing to be around so many alive and creative people.   I value each comment and every “like” I have received. It does the heart good to see many of you returning again and again. I  look forward to our visits. I can imagine us as neighbors chatting over the back fence.  I am getting to know many of you through your blogs and comments and I have found you all to be some truly wonderful and amazing people. I have learned so much from you. This is a fantastic little community we are creating here.  I thank you for this!

  Typically, I am a  very shy and reserved person.  In the past I’ve mostly kept my thoughts to myself.   Through my writing here I feel connected to a whole world.  I am coming out of the shadows and into the light…..and it feels spectacular!

The Mad Blogging Part

I started this as a sort of online diary that quickly morphed into something else…just what that is, I do not know.  (If anyone has any thoughts on this please let me know because I am sort of all over the place.)   I guess what I’m attempting here is to train myself to be a writer.  A real writer.  Not just some hack with a laptop and a dream as I perceive myself to be now.  It is my life’s goal to succeed at this endeavor. I have found through trial and error that nothing makes me happier.  It is the air that I breathe and it is engrained in my very essence.  After many years of soul-searching;  it is what I believe I am meant to do.  I know this sounds grandiose and stupid and highly unlikely but I want to somehow make the world a little better because of my writing, if only in some small way…

I started this all as an experiment with the time period of one year. I wanted to see what a year of blogging would do and what I would become after all this….

…and I have found that I’m still in the act of becoming…

I will continue to blog. It’s in my blood now and I don’t want that to change. As my writing continues to evolve I will keep at it, I can’t stop anyway. Writing is essential to my existence. My plans are to eventually start submitting my work and see where that goes but I know that I still have some work to do–my journey continues.

Looking forward to day 367…

Strawberryindigo.

I want to let you know that I will probably never write so much about myself again in one post….I appreciate those of you who are still reading this and I commend you. Thanks.

Related Articles  

My Little Part of the Sky ( My first post!!!)

Diary of a Mad Blogger: the second attempt  

life’s little pleasures

 Right now

This very moment. This is just one out of a seemingly endless round of moments that make up your life.  How you fill these segments in time becomes your story.

It can be difficult sometimes to weed out the minutiae and  it’s easy to get caught up in the day-to-day trivialities and miss what is truly important.  This often happens with me.  Life in this modern world can get stressful especially during “interesting” times like these.

During my recent ”bout of wicked overdoneness” I was forced to slow down.  This allowed me to catch my breath and really see what was truly going on.  I realised that little by little I was missing the small things.  Life’s little pleasures that I enjoyed so much.   I  didn’t notice they were disappearing until they were gone.

 I have been trying to appreciate the small things whenever and wherever I can find them. Sometimes it’s not easy, I’m a sensitive person and I have my share of bad news and bad days.   I find that it is after one of these bad days that I need  life’s little pleasures all the more.

About three weeks ago I made a plan of action. A basic outline of activities that I would try to incorporate into my daily life. These are very simple things.  They appeal to me personally. I have taken on each one of them.  Some are obviously easier than others. I am still working on the last one.

Life’s little pleasures plan of action master list.

Greet the day: Soon after waking I will greet the day by going out to the back porch for a breath of fresh morning air and a much-needed intake of some urban  nature in the backyard. 

Stretch:  I will stretch my body and my mind. I will explore new horizons and grow.

Walk:  I will walk, to move my body,no matter the weather. To get out into the community and out into the world. I will seek out natural areas.  I will go off the beaten path. I will explore.

Stop:  I will stop and notice the simple beauty that surrounds me everyday.  A bird, the sky. A smile from a child, the laugh of a loved one.  I will take it all in and try to find the goodness in everything I see.

Dance:  And sing and let it all out. I will embrace my inner child and go with those eccentric urges and just have fun.

Let go:  I will learn to let go of that which I cannot control and just simply Enjoy Life as it comes.

Wishing You an Amazing Day! 

Strawberryindigo.

Related articles

• A wicked bout of overdoneness (strawberryindigo.wordpress.com)

Busyness

Image via Wikipedia

 What’s the rush?

It seems most people are in a hurry these days, always on the run. A blur of activity. Many practically live out of their cars.  Ferrying themselves and their children from here to there, from work to home, to school, to activities. What’s for dinner is decided in the drive thru of a fast food joint and eaten in the backseat by sleepy children after a much too long day filled to the brim with busy.

There is literally no time. No time for this or that.  No time to talk..”gotta’ go”.  No time to eat, let alone cook a healthy meal. No time to say hello, or good-bye. No time for family or friends, no time to read a book or take a walk.  No time for improvement or creativity. Or fun?  No time for love. No time to stop and smell the roses or appreciate a beautiful sunset.

No time to think, or reason or ask why. No time to see the man behind the curtain.

Time ticks by and every moment; every second is a miracle. It is a gift and most of us, myself included, just plow right through it.  Always in a hurry.   Always a full agenda.  It can’t be helped, you know..I’ve said this to myself.  People have responsibilities.  I’m swimming in them and my life is full.   Sound familiar?

Busyness

How many times have you asked someone how they’ve been doing and your query was answered with “busy”  How many times have you said that?  I know I’ve said that.

It is the correct answer, most of us are busy. With jobs and families and everything else in this ever-changing ever evolving world.  Our society becomes faster paced and more complex.  The bar is set higher and higher and you better run faster and jump higher than the next guy because it’s a jungle out there.

Even when we are not busy, most of us say we are. Idleness is looked down upon. Busyness is related with importance.  An important man is a busy one and his time is more valuable than yours, so you wait.  The poor and insignificant spend a lot of time waiting.

Busy people are needed and wanted.  Busy people are in high demand. It is those that are the movers and the shakers in this world. It is the busy ones that get things done. The busier you are the more important you are and the more valuable your time is.

In Praise of Slowness

There is much to be said for slowness in our fast-paced society.  The fact that  the very concept of “slow” is seen in a negative light shows our need for the benefits that slowness brings.  It’s difficult to see clearly when your life in always in motion. Growth can only come with examination and reflection.

Life is not a road race or a competition. It’s the journey not the destination. Life is meant to be savored. The people in our lives are important, our children are important. You can do more for your child’s development and future success by talking and spending time with them rather than dragging them to a million activities and “enrichment” classes. Time spent together is essential.   Years from now when we are old and running out of it time will any of us look back with rue and regret about how we didn’t spend enough of it at Busyness?

 

Strawberryindigo.

Related articles

• The Paradox of Our Times (ayannanahmias.com)
• 8 Tips for Beating Busyness (tombasson.wordpress.com)

Winter garden devastation

Winter: the season that tries many a gardener.  And what devastation it can bring.   We in The Pacific Northwest are fortunate enough to live in a rather mild climate, but winter does pay us a visit to varying degrees every year.  Some years an early cold snap strikes and kills off a few stunned victims. Last winter it was a beloved lavender and two pineapple sages.  Other forgotten plants in lost memory haunt the cold shadows and depths of the winter garden.

I must confess: my interest in gardening does wane this time of year.  Nothing much grows and its damn cold so I spend more time inside.  This leads me to feel guilty as the harsh season proceeds with itself and ravages the garden. I see pictures upon pictures of regal well-appointed winter gardens with  an amazing structure of tidy Evergreens dusted with sparkling snow. Everything is so cozy, so tidy….

I always plan to prepare for winter but… well,  those plans usually don’t pan out as more pressing matters arrive and thus my garden enters winter unkempt and wild. I watch as autumn’s tender leftovers; the jeweled nasturtiums and snapdragons turn to frozen flower pops after the first round of freezes.

Cold Snapdragon survivors

 Leaves litter the grass and the beds, never raked up.  Potted plants remain lining the driveway. Discarded yard art sits barren. The tiny Buddha statue looks cold and all alone, standing in a patch of frozen Sedum. Its companions, the colorful sprays of Viola and Marigold have gone, so have the stately Susans, leaving behind only Black- eyed seed heads sitting atop willowy stems, half eaten by birds and standing like sentinels along the rocky outline of the empty flower bed.

Black Eyed Susan in December

Black eyed Susans last August

I enter by the side gate crunching on frozen grass, surveying  the wreckage with dreams of last seasons color in my head. Unlike last season, so far, this has been one of the milder ones.  Lots of sun and with little rain, it is mid December but I see some flowers still in bloom:  A hardy fuchsia reigns supreme here, its smallish pink and purple blooms still attracting the odd hummingbird in this late season.

The Fuchsia

Despite my neglect, life goes on.  Nature is in command here, not me.  I am but a caretaker that’s fallen down on the job, but as I said, life goes on.  It is what we make of it as it does.  I survey the skeletons and ghosts of last summer.  All this empty space allows me to envision to plan for next years garden.  I smile as I pass the empty spot near the deck where two rose bushes will go, I can smell them already.

Old summer guilt is replaced with the hope for the future.   A cold wind blows across my path reminding me that winter has yet to officially arrive.  I step inside with my plans, my dreams and my little schemes, vowing to enjoy the winter and all of its glorious devastation knowing that it is out of this which brings the promise of spring.

I am reminded of a favorite quote:

“Nature is ever at work building and pulling down, creating and destroying, keeping everything whirling and flowing, allowing no rest but in rhythmical motion, chasing everything in endless song out of one beautiful form into another.”

John Muir

Wishing you a Beautiful Season.

Strawberryindigo.

Related articles

• Wild Sanctuary (strawberryindigo.wordpress.com)
• How to protect your Garden Pots this Winter (gardeningandplanttips.wordpress.com)
• The Winter garden (madewithloveuk.wordpress.com)

Happiness is a warm teacher

I am fresh from a round of parent teacher conferences, between my two wonderful teenagers, I have now attended 19 of them during my continuing career as involved parent.  The last few have been “arena style”.  This style has come into vogue as of the last few years and I believe it adds to the surrealism of the event.

Imagine a large space, perhaps a cafeteria or gymnasium.  You are in the middle, surrounded by rows and rows of tiny desks.  At each one is seated a teacher.  Most are engaged in discussions with worry-faced parents.  There is an air or solemn soberness.  Most voices are hushed and not a wisp of laughter or small talk that usually accompanies large groups.  No, this is not a social event, like Back to School Night.  Like war, this is serious business and like war it is filled with short bursts of excitement mixed with long stretches of anxiety and boredom.

Every conference is unique unto itself and as the years pile on I have come to expect one thing; the unexpected. It is interesting to see your child, your beloved “perfect” child through the eyes of another.  It can surprise you and as one who has been surprised a number of times, I can attest to that wholeheartedly.

These surprise have been varied and thankfully never life-threatening.  Some in fact, a good number of them have been pleasant surprises.  I am blessed with  fantastic kids who have  given me many occasions to swell with parental pride.  However, I have experienced a time or two when I wanted to just sink right through the chair and  disappear into the  freshly polished checkerboard floor.

 It is on these occasions that the past gets the bite on me and I am transported back to the 80′s, back to the days of big hair and bad taste.  Back when I was a punky teen with an attitude and poor grades.  It feels like I am getting “busted” for something and all I want to do is run.

But I cannot run, I am a “responsible” adult and I must face the fire.  The fire being a stressed teacher with legitimate gripes about my child.  I smile.   I say all the right things, seemingly passing an untold test on the proper reaction to the given circumstances.  I have always been cooperative and I have tried to not take any of this too personally but, at times I have felt the sting of the hot lights of interrogation which upon reflection, seemed a bit much.

I try to put things in perspective but it is at these worst of times that stick in my worried mind and anxiety tends to creep in every year at conference time.  I have tried many methods to calm my nerves but really, all I can do at this point is to hold my breath, cross my fingers and hope for the best, and help pick up the pieces later.

 I vowed to make this year different.  I have found myself a bit more reflective since I have been writing in this blog these last few months and I’m realising that perhaps I have been projecting my old latent fears and struggles with school and authority figures from the past into now.  This is coloring my attitudes with regard to my role in these conferences.

Usually one’s unfounded fears never materialise they way they are expected and this current round of conferences proved to be no exception to that.   I took them for what they were, which was not so bad, really.  I guess that holding my breath and crossing my fingers paid off, not to mention the hard work by my kids with a lot of nagging by me.

 Number 18 went as smooth as can be.  No interrogation or hot lights.  The arena  had been abandoned for a more intimate setting in indivdual classrooms.  The report went well with progress made and hope for the future with an actual “A” mixed in….I was walking on air all the way to the next school and my date with number 19.

It was the end of a long morning, the sun shone through the cafeteria window drawing a bright beam of light across the stained linoleum.  The teacher smiles and offers me a seat.  We  exchange pleasantries. He tells me that my daughter is self-directed and motivated and that she too, has shown  progress.  We spent the rest of the time having a pleasant conversation about books.  Just two people; an energetic enthusiastic teacher and an involved parent having a talk about a mutually beloved subject.

  It will be these conferences I will endevor to remember  when it’s time for the next round.   (with some finger crossing too.)

 Wishing you blue skies and a happy day!

Strawberryindigo.