Admire from afar

I receive Brain Pickings in my email box every Sunday morning. Today's column highlighted wonderful line drawings of Every Person in New York: Illustrated. Then... another book of people in San Francisco... line drawings filled in with watercolors. I wish I could draw like that.

So many ways

To view the world;

So many ways

To describe the world.

I try to stand back

Admire from afar

Without being jealous

Of a turn of phrase,

A drawing which captures

That particular gesture.

Never mind.

So many ways

Admire from afar

Add my own sparkle

To the world

By writing every day

By paying attention

To the words

To the pictures others draw

Release what I have done

Into the world

Admire from afar

What others see

Add my words to the mix.

Classes begin on Monday

Learning new patterns. We are not in charge of the "returning to school process." Me, the cats, or the turtle. The other two are sliding through a longer process than I had anticipated. One is off getting a bike carrier, the other is vacuuming the rug for her dorm room. I am watching.

I thought it might help

To keep them company

So they might leave

Sooner.

No.

This is a repeat

Of vacation preparation.

I declare today

Is day one

Of moving back

To school.

It will happen

As it happens.

I will write

As I write.

The cats

Remain

Cats.

The turtle is active

In his turtle tank.

The plan was to leave

Today.

Classes begin on Monday.

No matter what

Classes begin on Monday.

You might be Jesus

Have you thought...

Have you thought

You

Might be Jesus

For the next person

You run into?

You

Might be Jesus

For the ants you save

By leaving the anthill

Alone.

You might be Jesus

By noticing the yellow flower

On the weed blooming

Next to the back door.

You

Might be Jesus

When next you say

Yes.

You

Might be Jesus

In the next

Well-placed

No.

The opportunities to participate

Are endless.

You might be Jesus

Absolutely anywhere

At all.

Sidetrack

I love this weather. I see more at cooler temperatures. I spend time sidetracked in order to pay attention to what's next, to "who's" next.

The cooler weather

Sidetracks me to watch others:

Trains in their own right.

Dried lavender

Stopped off at Whole Foods this morning. At the entrance were bunches of dried lavender. Sending the daughter off for year two of college. The two things matched up.

At the entrance were bunches

Of dried lavender

In brown paper,

Tied with raffia.

It seemed the perfect thing

For your new room:

You

Who waft lavender

Through the house

As you go,

Room to room,

Carrying the kitten.

You

Lavender girl.

The next time through that entrance

I will buy a bunch of dried lavender

For us,

Place it on the front table

In the living room.

A reminder.

Someone new

I will walk to Starbucks soon to meet a friend of a friend who recently moved to the area. An adventure.

Off to meet someone new

At Starbucks

A friend of a friend

Who thought we might

Be friends.

An adventure.

I will arrive and scan faces

For someone

My age,

Order the standard

Venti non-fat latte

And a blueberry muffin.

And then

We will settle in.

Who we saw at church today

I never quite know who I will see.

A young girl

In pink rubber rain boots;

A man

In quick recovery

From angioplasty;

A client or two;

Myself

Dizzy with barometric changes.

Home from church

We see the cats

The turtle

Our own particular chairs

The traditional

Sunday afternoon nap.

Words in the evening

I made my way through the list of appointments this week. The yard is still not weeded. Still, every time I go outside there are one or two plants which catch my eye. They curve in an appealing way. There is a stray rosebush branch reaching toward the back door. There is something with heart-shaped leaves that reaches to the front door. 

Words in the evening.

Too much to do

This morning.

The words had to wait

For the sun to sink,

The kitten to sleep,

The laundry

To be halfway done.

Words in the evening

I wonder whether the bats

Will slide through the sky

Tonight

As the sun hangs

By its fingernails

Only to give up

Only to finally give over

To night.

Ricochet Rabbit

Home watching cats, and remembering cartoons of my childhood.

I remember Ricochet Rabbit

As the kitten bounces

From chair to table

To claw her way up the desk chair

To loop the loop

Under the chair arm

Land on the floor

On her head,

Only to begin

All over again.

The older cat watches,

Bemused,

If cat bemusement

Is indeed possible.

Disappointment

Perhaps the kitten will cheer her up.

Disappointment arrives

For a visit.

I’m not sure how long

She will stay.

I have put her in the guest room

With the kitten.

Perhaps the kitten

Will cheer her up.

It is difficult

To remain uncheered

In the presence of a kitten:

Chasing flies

Springing off the walls

Placing a water bottle cap

In the toe of every shoe

She finds.

Anxiety

Sometimes anxiety wants to dance with me. Most of the time I'd like to sit this one out.

Sometimes anxiety

Is just

Stray synapses firing.

Sometimes anxiety

Wants to dance

With me

You know the moves,

She says,

You know the steps.

I tell her once I learned the box step,

Tried to learn the cha-cha-cha,

But mostly I make up the steps

As I go along.

Sometimes I am rather hard to follow.

Anxiety says

You’re telling me!
You never let me lead!

We might live almost anywhere

Where to live? Oh where to live?

It seems

We might live anywhere

Except New Orleans

Or perhaps the Amazon.

I would like a place

Where indoor air blends

With outdoor air,

A regular breeze

Blows through it,

An occasional firefly

Blinks on and off

Water flows at a distance

And a train whistle blows.

If a rose breasted grosbeak

Happens by

We will know

This is indeed the place.

Entirely possible

Asheville was a little like Iona, which was a little like Santa Fe. I'm not sure if maybe it's in the rocks.

In vacation mode

It is entirely possible

To meet the woman

Who had to wait for her dinner

Last night

One table over

Because it was delivered

To you

Instead.

It is entirely possible

To meet that woman

In the thrift store

The next day

Oh you’re the one

Who got my dinner

She says

The one

Without mushrooms.

I say

That was me

Except I wanted mushrooms

With mine.

Today

She says

I want a hamburger.

In vacation mode

It is entirely possible

To have conversations

Like this,

Count them somehow

Significant.

Consolation

Re-entry today. Consoling the cat is task number one. Tomorrow we pick up the kitten.

We are home

Consoling the elderly cat

Yes

We love you

Yes

We will stay home

Awhile.

I declare today

The last day of vacation.

Re-entry must be taken

One day at a time

Like everything else.

We console the cat.

The refrigerator

Must be cleaned.

Grocery shopping

May happen.

Friends

Of course here changes with time. We leave for home today. First we stop in Asheville. I heard from friends in Thailand this morning. My beloved just heard from the church grease-trap people back in Illinois. Hmmm.

My friends are spread

All over the world

I should have known.

Me

I stay put

Somewhat

Consider where we might move

Or not

When the time comes.

My friends are spread

All over the world

I have been planted

Here

For now.

Vacation plus planning

The point of vacations is not to accomplish everything planned.

It must be working:

This vacation thing.

I have lost track

Of the week

Entirely.

Even the planner

Among us:

She who must be listened to

Is still asleep

And not planning

At all.

We leave tomorrow.

We will wind our way back home

With our vacation brains.

We have not done everything

The planner

Has planned.

I guess we may

Have to return.

Forgiveness

I received a gift last week. It was a gift which I received along with my own baggage of how another important person had not given me the same gift, in exactly the same way. I woke up this morning realizing I 1) had not received the first gift fully, and 2) No one gives things in exactly the same way as another. Another lesson in forgiveness.

I wake up and realize

I have now forgiven you

For something

You never said

You never even

Implied.

It was the small child in me

Who was rarely noticed,

Rarely praised,

Who interpreted things

In a twisted way.

Sure

You might have said things better

But now I hear the tone,

A clear tone

Almost

A silver bell.

I look at the mountains,

Out the window,

My shoulders relax,

The bell sounds,

And it is simply

Gone.

Evening yoga

Vacation goals. One of mine was to take individual yoga lessons. My intention at the beginning was "not to have a seizure" afterward. Two sessions: intention realized! My third session is tonight. My intention will include something "more positive." Yay!

Now I have learned

Some

About evening yoga practice.

I’m sure I will not use

The correct language.

This is not my area

Of expertise.

I have learned enough

That I may well continue

When I arrive home.

In my own way

I will do the stretches:

The starfish

The baby cobra

The cobra.

Being me

I will probably make up

A few names

And laugh.

There are mountains here

Not Illinois.

We awaken to trees

Out the window.

These are North Carolina trees.

Mountains live

Around them.

There is a train

Whistling past

It is not the standard

Illinois train.

We are ten hours away

From Illinois.

Even the road sounds are soothing

Here.

It is humid but somehow

North Carolina humidity

Does not bother me

Like the humidity

Of Illinois.

I awaken to North Carolina trees

And frizzy hair.

There are mountains

All around me.

It is not Illinois.

Vacation church

This is the problem with clergy visiting other churches. My tendency is still to assess the worship experience: What works, what doesn't. It doesn't matter that I mainly worship in the pew these days. I am on vacation, which means "vacation church." The bread was square. The wine tasted like grape juice. My daughter told me it was wine. If so, it was a grape juicy wine. It was good to find out that children are still children here.

We sat in the back row of church

In Black Mountain.

The music was lovely,

Even supplemental.

There was a massive Jesus window

Behind the altar

One arm to the sky

One arm down

So we could tell

He identified as both God and man

But He was still

Very white.

The bottom of the window

Held mountains.

The young boy

At the end of our pew

Crawled under the pew in front,

Then back,

Then under again.

People laughed.

A good sign.

That massive Jesus

One arm up

One arm down

Will stick with me

For a while.

Gentle yoga

In an hour I will walk up the hill for my first private gentle yoga session. I guess I needed to make a new beginning in North Carolina. After that I will see whether I continue.

I feel myself

Settling in to where I am now

Soon: gentle yoga

Not in control

We all have decisions to make all the time. I declare this is day one of our vacation...no matter when we leave. We have a reservation for seven nights at an airbnb in North Carolina starting tomorrow night. We may only stay there six nights. Still... I declare... this is day one of our vacation.

I am not in control.

The kitten has reset certain settings

On my computer

By walking on the keyboard,

Clicking unknown keys.

I am not in control.

Three of us are leaving today

For vacation

The other two are still asleep

With clothes in the washer

And dryer.

They arrived home at 11

Last night.

I am not

I am not

NOT

In control.

I am awake

And writing this.

We may be a day late

To leave for vacation

So I have begun my vacation

Here,

Hot coffee in my hand.

I watch the cats,

The sun pouring

Through the window.

My two companions

Are still asleep.

Taking pictures

I admire those who capture what they see on film, and somehow, even add to the seeing. Amazing. I am in awe.

Taking pictures:

It’s not a strength of mine. No.

Not a strength at all.

Tend the sick, Lord Christ

Number five in the bedtime prayer reflections.

So much to do at night

While others sleep.

Our God is a God

Who doesn’t sleep

Ever.

Our God doesn’t close His eyes,

Close Her ears.

Our God is always attentive,

Always present,

With a cool washcloth,

A hand to hold,

A breeze to soothe

A fevered brow,

A quiet word that morning

Will come

A whispered word

That all looks better

In the light of day.

Companions

It didn't occur to me that this hinges on yesterday's reflection, until I got to the end. Where's the bread? What's a companion? Who will walk with us, and who will stand at the door and wave farewell?

And so

I find companions,

One at a time,

Those who see

What I am getting at,

Those who hope to see

What I am

Getting at,

Even those who ask me

So what?

When I threaten

To stay stuck.

Oh yes

And even those

Who wave farewell

As I walk out the door.

Bread

I am the Bread of Life. Yeah. Right. Huh?

Jesus meant a lot of things

When he talked about Bread.

No wonder his disciples

Were confused.

Still

He didn’t say

Fools

It’s a metaphor.

He just kept talking,

Tried something different

Perhaps if he talked

Perhaps if they listened

Long enough

They would get it.

I’m not sure they ever

Really did.

Still

They trailed behind him

Walked next to him

Perhaps soon

It would be clear.

Performance

The older cat shows up at the front door, like a dog, to welcome in whomever has arrived. The kitten is not into display behavior for the sake of display. She is almost "anti-display," while still being full kitten. The visitor says: Maybe you can socialize her. She is a cat. Social is as social does.

The kitten:

She does not perform

On anyone else’s

Schedule.

She is a full member

Of our family

Already.