Day – 41 Dance of the Sycamores

From High on Happiness, January 30, 2013, When the Moon was New

With the birds gone from their nests and the leaves gone from their boughs, the sycamores were finally alone.

For a long time, they stood together simply enjoying the silence. They watched as winter settled in, quieting the stream, blanketing the hills with her snow. They napped beneath her deep clouds and dreamed beneath her glittery stars.

But now they were well rested and wide awake.

They chatted about the subtly lengthening days and delighted in seeing the first V of geese flying northward. Deep beneath the frozen soil, they felt the delicate stirring of their roots.

“Tonight is a new moon, my love,” one whispered to the other. They knew, from their ancient memories that only one more would come before springtime arrived. “The stars will hang bright and low.”

“Ah, yes,” the other smiled. “What do you say? Shall we dance?”

Day 40 – Playtime

“Aw, c’mon,” my camera said as I picked it up. “Can’t we do something besides snow and birds?” (Of course my camera doesn’t really talk. But we’ve been together a long time and we definitely understand each other.) I had to admit that I was ready for a change, too. Besides, I had already put on all that winter gear once and climbed the slope to deliver the day’s vittles to the Little Pine Cafe. I left plenty to get my feathered friends through the day, and I really didn’t want to go outside again.

“Okay,” I said to the camera. “Let’s find something fun in here.” Just then, my eye fell on one of my paper weights. It had been a while since I gave it any attention. So I grabbed it and one of its cousins and few pieces of cut glass and took them to my studio. The light was good and varied in there.

As I glanced out the studio’s window, the snow on the roof below caught my eye. It would be the perfect background for the pieces. I opened the window, set one of the paper weights in the snow and turned on my camera. It giggled.

We played, losing ourselves in alternative worlds. It felt as if we had stepped into an entirely different dimension. I can’t tell you how long we were there. Time simply disappeared. But here are some of the treasures we brought back . . .

Day 39 – Word’s Getting Around

After the ice storm, the sunflower seeds just slid right off the rocks where I’d been putting them for the birds. I had to find a new location.

I had noticed that the cardinals and several of the smaller birds liked to hang out in the branches of the young pine at the curve of the retaining wall at the back of the yard. They would grab seeds from the rocks and take them there to eat beneath its protective branches. So it seemed a fine spot for opening a new diner for my little friends,

“Here you go!” I sang to them as I scattered seeds beneath the tree’s boughs. “Little Pine Cafe is open for business!”

The grand opening was a success. The juncos and chickadees rushed right in. Then the cardinals came, followed by the doves, the woodpecker, and, at last, the jays.

This morning a second pair of cardinals came, newcomers to the yard. The place was full and reminded me of the donut shop in town where the old men gathered to gossip over donuts and coffee in the morning.

Then, to my surprise, a final guest arrived, a fellow rarely seen in these parts. The jays scattered at his appearance, but the cardinals and the little birds paid him no mind at all. He was quite splendid I thought, in his gray snowsuit with his whiskered face and bushy tail. He ate his fill, then scampered away.

The word, it seems, is getting around.

Day 38 – Compensation

I spent the first hour of my morning listening to a conversation between two physicians about the latest reports on vax injuries and on the content of the shot itself. In the comments section of the video someone listed the statistics on the increases in various medical conditions reported by the US Department of Defense: 300% 500%, 600% 1500% in 2021 versus the past five year averages. It’s an extensive list. And now we’re giving this potion to our babies!

Meanwhile, in Ottawa, the police are going to arrest anyone who supplies fuel to the truckers who are standing against the tyranny of the mandates.

I finish my cup of coffee and remember that the birds are out there in the cold waiting for breakfast. The temperature has risen to 30 now, and as I step outside I am struck by the sight of the treetops, gleaming with ice and quite stunning against the blue sky. The powdery snow sparkles in the sunlight. The birds call from the branches of the spruce.

“Ah,” I say to myself with a sigh of welcome relief. “There’s still this. There’s still this.”

Paying Attention

I like to grab a book at random from my shelves now and then and leave it somewhere that I can spontaneously pick it up and read a paragraph or two. It was a piece of good fortune that the one I’d set out on my kitchen countertop a week or so ago was Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Arriving at Your Own Door. It’s subtitle is “105 Lessons in Mindfulness” and it’s simply a wonderful little book. It’s about 5 inches square and each page is one little lesson printed atop a gentle green design that looks like a veined leaf.

In Lesson One, mindfulness is described as “a way of befriending ourselves and our experience.” Then it goes on to say, “Of course, our experience is vast, and includes our own body, our mind, our heart, and the entire world.”

The remainder of the book simply guides you past the obstacles that stand between you and that friendly relationship with yourself and all that you experience.

I opened to Lesson 24 one day this week, It’s titled “Autopilot.” Oh yeah, I thought. Been there done that. Like over and over and over. Here’s the whole lesson:

“Paying attention is something we do so selectively and haphazardly that we often don’t see what is right in front of our eyes or even hear sounds that are being carried to us through the air and are clearly entering our ears. The same can be said for our other senses as well. Perhaps you’ve noticed.”

Noticed! Ha ha! Now that you mention it, I haven’t really noticed, I thought. But now that you did mention it, let me turn on my scanner and see what’s going on. So I did. And it was quite wonderful.

Of course it’s not possible to stay there, paying attention to all the experiences that your senses and thoughts and emotions are providing to you. And if you decided that staying aware is some goal, that being mindful is a measure of achievement of some kind, you can get grumpy with yourself for forgetting to pay attention for the huge swaths of time that you forget.

But if you read on, you’ll come to Lesson 59, “Acceptance and Compassion,” where you’ll be reminded to be kind to yourself. “Gentleness,” says the page facing this lesson, “is not a luxury, but a critical requirement for coming to our senses.” In other words, you can’t be open to the gifts of your senses while you are beating yourself up or ranting about how things should be different than they are.

To learn to let go when you’re all riled up is no easy task. But catching yourself being riled up is a fine first step. Sometimes, when you notice that being riled up is what’s going on, you might find that you can even laugh at yourself. And the very act of noticing changes everything. That’s what it’s all about.

As I went through the week, the lessons unfolded, and I remembered to practice paying attention more and more. I’m so glad. Otherwise, I might have missed seeing the way the freshly fallen snow glistened in the sunshine, or hearing the adorable chirpings of the chickadees.

Wishing you a week where a little voice sometimes whispers to you, “Pssst. Pay attention!” Listen to it. You’ll be glad.

Warmly,
Susan

Day 36 – Never Underestimate the Little Guys

They roll with the punches. They know how to cope. They’re tougher than you might think.

They have friends in the background who cheer them on and sing, “Hang on! Hang on!”

And besides, somewhere deep within, they trust that they were made for this day.

Day 35 – At the Edge of the Storm

In the afternoon I tried to nap but couldn’t sleep. The kid in me is too full of anticipation over the coming storm. We’ve had freezing rain all day. The spruce boughs are heavy with its crystals. It taps against the window panes as if someone is hurling thousands of needles at them. But I am waiting for the snow. Once it starts, they say, we could get an inch an hour.

I wasn’t even a teen yet when I adopted the Girl Scout motto: “Be Prepared.” I’m ready, as best I can be, for whatever the storm may bring. My highest hope is that I’ll wake in the morning to a warm house and electricity. I pray for all those who won’t, and for those who will brave the ice and snow to restore life-saving power where the storm takes it down.

I am moved by the courage and compassion that people show in emergencies and when they must rise to defend and protect the things they hold dear. From all over the world, stories come in now of people taking to the streets to reclaim their freedom from would-be tyrants. It stirs me to my core.

Whatever storms may come, we will rise to the occasion. Whatever power is lost will be restored.

Day 34 – Unstoppable

I woke to the news that Punxatany Phil saw his shadow. (How could he not, with all those TV lights!) meaning Spring is still six weeks away.

But I saw an awesome flock of Canadian geese flying north, honking and honking, and honking.

And even the date joins in their song: Oh Two, Oh Two, Two Oh Two Two

Honk.