Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

 Photographer Scott Tully captured this view of a Leonid meteor over rural Connecticut before sunrise on Nov. 17, 2012, during the peak of the annual Leonid meteor shower.

           A few days ago I sang my grandson to sleep.  I recently found new words for this old song; and want to sing them to my grandchildren too.  (posted at end of blog) Children no longer have to wonder about stars anymore. Yet, science doesn’t lessen the wonder of stars! Stars have always delighted me, since the days of my childhood when mom threw a blanket on the ground and gathered me and my young siblings around her to lie back and watch the sky.   As she sang starry songs I looked up in wonder...

            

Despite starry events happening in the night sky this weekend, yesterday neither started nor ended to my liking.  I awoke at 2:30am with a strong sense of urgency.   Midnight to dawn was the peak of November’s Leonid meteor shower. My friend, Christy, reminded everyone on facebook to not miss this and I wanted to go out for her.  She is in lock down (as she calls it), hospitalized, undergoing a stem cell transplant.

For a few seconds opposite thoughts played tug of war in my head:  Get up!  You know you want to!  Our sky is not dark enough so it’s pointless to go out and I don’t know what I’m looking for. The night sky will be awesome!  I never see comets or meteors or falling stars. 

I waffled between the comfort of warm flannel sheets, inertia of doubts, past disappointments and the lure of adventure, wonder, and expending energy in honor of a friend.  Get up for Christy finally got me out of bed. I got up, and so did my expectations.

Bound by boots, hat, coat and further trussed in a thick blanket, I shuffled outside to watch the predawn sky.   The sky was gorgeous, clear and bright, not a trace of cloud.  Silent and dark, our farm seemed mysterious with shadowy lumps of barn, of horse and goat, both fur and wood catching enough light to illuminate hazy outlines.  Without thinking I headed west where I often do my star gazing.   Realizing my mistake, I stumbled east, muck boots catching on twigs and grass clumps in the front lawn.  I walked past the barn, past the light mounted on a pole between our barn and shed, out into the back fields.  Spotting the Big Dipper easily, I scanned the sky until the constellation Leo revealed itself.   This is where all the action is supposedly taking place.   Wonderful seeing Leo so clearly!  With eyes finally adjusted to dark, I back into the open door of the implement shed where protected from chill and breeze, I lean heavily on a giant tractor wheel, waiting hopefully. 

In the cold waiting, I convince myself to stay put. Something drove me out of bed this night. That is my assurance, a guarantee.  Tonight is my lucky night! 

Or not.  After an hour of marveling at the beauty of the night sky, wondering about the strange noises coming from the farm on my right, hearing lots of dogs barking in the distance, and suffering a major crick in the neck, I gave up hope and crawled back into bed.     

I woke up at 7am with a headache.  Internet research informed me if the Little Dipper can’t be seen the sky may not be dark enough to see a falling star.   I hadn’t spotted the Little Dipper.   Yep, I knew our sky was too polluted with light.  

All that day, a tinge of grouchiness followed me around.   I felt grateful for experiencing a starry sky, grateful and admiring of Christy’s cheerfulness during her struggle for healing.  Yet, there was also a keen disappointment over not seeing a meteor shower.  One more disappointment on top of many that had been collecting.  I begrudge showing up when so often nothing happens.  So what was the urgency that asked me to get up?

This morning I woke again, at 4am.  No urgency, just wide awake.  I didn’t lie there debating; I simply got up thinking I would write while the place was asleep.  It’s always hard to find uninterrupted writing time.   Instead of heading to the computer, oddly, I find myself pulling on boots, hat, coat.   Cold without socks, my bare-in-boots feet find their way to the back field with ease, my eyes instantly adjusting to the dark.  I laugh as I move, feeling light and foolish but not caring.  No blanket protects me; the chill penetrates though hat and coat.  Hints of dawn caress the horizon. Hazy streaks of clouds fan the dome of sky, east to west, as if a giant Amish windmill lay up there, cut in half and immobilized.    

There’s the Big Dipper, there’s Leo.  I feel the darkness ache for dawn as the sky fills my soul with beauty.  I gaze, alive and present to this new day.  This is my prayer for me, for Christy, for all: that we dwell in love, soaking up goodness and beauty.   

What was that?   To the left of Leo a tiny flash!   I stare, open mouthed and open hearted, every cell of my body alive and focused.  A falling flash to the right – this one with a longer tail. Seconds, maybe minutes pass.

Freezing, and without any need to coax more from the universe, I turn slightly toward the house when another spark catches my eye.  Barely visible, the falling gleam of light validates that I’m indeed seeing a meteor shower.  I walk gratefully, reverently back to the house.
Later, I write in my journal:  when I get out of bed obligated or expecting, the day sometimes is more duty and unfulfilled moments than a life open to possibilities.  Love urged me to go out last night.  Love moved me out of bed this morning too.  

Some days I show up sleepy or shielded by expectation and subtle agendas.  Some days I am wide awake; other days I simply show up.  I can’t make anything happen, nor can I always regulate how I show up.  I can’t always feel the flow of love.  I can’t even make any pronouncement that being awake and fully present will bring love or whatever it is I seek.  I can only desire to love more deeply, to live more fully present and aware.  In all things, ask myself: Who is God (love) and who am I? 

God help me love deeply, and freely.  

 

Joyfully,

Sharon 

 

 

“Now I know only in part; then I will know fully.   Faith, hope, and love abide. The greatest of these is love.”  St Paul

“I learned that the power had never been in my losses or the obstacles that arise in life, but in the love revealed through them.”  Paula D’Arcy

This blog is dedicated to Christy Warthling, her personal work in healing, and her work in organizing an information group concerning AngioimmunoblasticTCellLymphoma.     Love you Christy!  http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/Angioimmunoblastic/

 The New Twinkle Song

Twinkle twinkle little star
Now we know just what you are
Making atoms in your core
Helium and many more
Twinkle twinkle little star
Now we know just what you are.

Twinkle twinkle little star
How I've wondered what WE are
Now I know you're made of dust
Now I know you're just like us
Twinkle twinkle, oh so far
Now I know I am a star.

                   Verse 1 by Connie Barlow; verse 2 unknown

Under the Pine Tree  

            

 

Early morning in

 the garden

 is clear

and calm.
  

 

 

Blue morning glories spill over each other in a rush of bloom before the first frost, as Ladies in Red salvia rise up, relishing the promise of clear skies and late summer sun.

 

 I sit on my garden bench and soak up the morning.
 

 

The circle of pottery people gathered near my cofffe cup, reminds me of those I hold dear, their joys and troubles.  Bumble bees, butterflies and house sparrows keep me company as the day awakens. 

Red impatiens and begonia remind me of a friend, a lover of the color red.  I hold her in my thoughts, and in my heart.   I think of another friend, bald and beautiful, resilient, surrounded by friends and family. I hold her in my thoughts and heart too.

 

I love

the

colors

of the

 garden

in September!


 Gazing makes me feel vivid, abundant, like the overflowing planter of our pump trough.

 

 Here, yellow meets lime which borders purple, exhausted foliage gives way to renewed, and dying kisses living.

One does feel close to God in garden!


     



                        
In a
garden....
                  

scuptures...


 






.....express the joy of goodness, truth, and beauty.....






chickens don't scratch up dirt...

 

....and cups contain kindness! 

 

   

In a garden, herbs feed your soul as well as your body. 

 

 

 

Bells ring silently, on slender stems.

foxglove

 

 

Gardens make feet happy,

 

 

and bring hints of other lands.  

Irish moss

          Come sit with me under the pine tree! 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy September! 

 

 

Joyfully,

Sharon

 

 

 

 

Burren’s Lair   

The Dump.  The Mutt Mosh Pit.  The Sand Trap.  The Great Icky.  

Those are all names for Burren's Lair.  It is under the old picnic table in the dog yard, shadowy, dark and cool, often damp and rank just like I remember the musky dirt floor basement of my childhood home in Goodville, Pennsylvania.  The basement was not 'good' in my imagination; I had to fetch potatoes up from there every night for our supper and was convinced the bottom of our house harbored a dungeon with skeletons in a far corner I hadn’t yet explored.

Yesterday, I did the equivalent of fetching potatoes from a yucky place.  I cleaned Burren’s lair.  Burren is my dog.  Maybe part Catahoula Leopard Dog, part Border collie, part anybody’s guess but, mostly part hoarder.  I have a dash of collecting myself, but I stick to pretty things like bird nests, rocks, books, teapots. Burren likes dead, decaying things.  Figures I’d end up with a collector dog.   

already half cleaned up

Just for the record, this is what I found in Burren’s Lair:  one half eaten cow hoof, a bitten up nylabone stuck vertically in the ground for better gnawing traction, 20something sticks from our storm littered yard, one log, 3 chunks of maple tree bark, 2 rotting apple slices, the carcass of an expensive frog stuffed toy, a weather beaten marrow bone, one strip of miniature horse hoof, sand (ok, I put the sand in there for ease of clean up), dirt, rocks, dog hair, piece of bird nest (ah, I can appreciate this especially since the baby bird poo was already cleaned off), baby bird feet (disgusting!), dried grass clumps, spoon (and I blame the kids for stealing my spoons), a piece of fabric from my neck pillow (the brat), a red Dove candy wrapper, tufts of batting from the expensive frog toy, grandkids' plastic sand shovel, the garden hoe I forgot to put away, a wet soggy decomposing Blue Dog Bakery bone (what??  She wants to eat my neck pillows but not the bones I buy especially for her?), and a piece of ribbon binding from her blankie. 

Burren came to me a few months ago; I adopted her from Bonnie Blue Rescue in February this year, and already she’s taught me much.

1.  Persistence pays.   Burren is determined to dig holes in the yard. I’m equally determined to stop her. I fill each of her new creations with dog poo.  (give me a break; I tried everything else!)  She leaves that hole, but ponders her next move. Currently, she’s trying to perfect the skill of flicking turds out with a dainty, delicate toenail so she can excavate some more, without actually coming in skin contact with the ‘nasty’.  If she learns this skill, our dog yard is toast.  

2. Sometimes it’s okay to give in.    As my friend Patty says, so let her dig. I put sand under the picnic table and buried some toys in it just to attract her attention.  I even got down on my hands and knees and pawed the sand for her. She nearly killed herself from all the excitement. In complete giddiness she dug and snapped at the sand, eating great mouthfuls of it.  I envisioned insides turning to cement and feared for her life.

3.  Surrender.  (another form of giving in)  Massey, the Jack Russell older bratty brother, took over the sand box. Burren left it for weeks.      

4. Wait.  Those who don’t have the same passion will soon tire of pretending they do. While you are waiting and honing other skills.....

  

 life will tone down unnecessary zeal.   Eventually, Massey lost interest and Burren took over The Lair, sans sand eating. 

5. Gather happiness around you. Especially when life is boring or difficult,  know how to comfort yourself by gathering what you love around you.

still quite proud of her remaining stash 

 

6.  Treasures are everywhere!  Open your eyes, look, dig up, listen, sniff, savor, savor, savor!!!  And if you can’t quite let go of the moment, a little hoarding is acceptable.  

7. Don't worry, be happy.   Happy, happy, happy, bounce, bounce, happy, happy, happy, always happy!!!  Burren’s theme song.  Odd how trusting she is with a history of being dumped on a deserted road as a young pup, shuffled and loved through many different foster homes for months before finding me.  Instead of becoming grouchy and suspicious she became more trusting and happy.  (thanks again Bonnie Blue Rescue foster people!)  She lived as if each place were a new adventure with new doggie siblings to get to know.  Life is good!

8. Be a kiss up. 

 

9. Don't guard what you’ve stored; share extravagantly!  Burren was genuinely happy I found her stash.  Such exuberant wriggling and prancing about as I knelt in The Lair.  Didn’t matter what sounds I emitted as I plucked up things, whether chuckling or gagging, she assumed each noise was a ‘shout out’ over her exquisite finds. She was so sweet about the removal, I decided to throw her a bonfire party.

10.  Enjoy life.  If life gives you sticks, make a bonfire! 

"Ummm, those are mine but I'll share"

            Grilled cheese and turkey sandwiches for  humans; leftover grilled chicken for pups. 

Burren's reward for stick gathering. (what am I doing, allowing her to eat from a
stick?  Now she'll be more stick obsessed!)



 Want, want, want to snatch those boxes of good sniffies but I'll distract myself

  

not sure about that smoke!

Resting in after-party glow



Joyfully,
Sharon and family

       From the moment they met, Massey snubbed Zsa Zsa. He was not swayed by her cuteness, had no compassion for her travel weariness, her fears over ending up in this strange place separated from her siblings. He refused to acknowledge her presence.  He is selfish, willful and wants attention.  He reminds me of myself on really bad days!  Thankfully, he doesn’t hold a grudge forever.  If I give him space, respect his opinion, or distract and redirect, he eventually does what I expect of him.   

Massey is a Jack Russell Terrier.  Zsa Zsa is my new foster pup, a Catahoula Leopard Dog mix.  Mostly, I keep the two dogs separate although they can see each other through a baby gate. Every night I put Massey in his crate, Zsa Zsa in hers, and hope the 'together but separated' thing will get them used to each other in a non-threatening way. 

 

This 'together but separated' reminds me of when my kids were young. Sometimes their  tussles  got  the best of them.  If no amount of hugs or apologies could soothe hurt feelings and restore play, I’d sometimes hand each child a rag and a squirt bottle, march them to opposite sides of the door and tell them to spray and wipe the glass until they felt better.   If really young, the invitation to squirt and slop brought instant delight.  As they grew so did their ability to stay upset. Rags were taken with much eye rolling and grumping.  Sometimes it took two doors and a couple windows but eventually they figured out no matter how violent the squirting and scrubbing, one kid could never rub the other out.  The trying always caused contorted facial expressions that resulted in laughter and a new readiness for play.  If only adult conflicts could be so easily remedied!   

Days later, Massey's chill does begin to thaw.  And, as the photos reveal, the two are becoming tentative friends.  They are very different breeds with very different backgrounds and very different needs. Yet, they find common ground in just being dogs.  Dogs often inspire me.  I wonder why humans aren't as eager to find common ground in their humanity. 

Savor your friendships.  Be open to new ones, even with those who aren't like you.  Laugh and play a lot!  It really is that simple. :)

Joyfully,
Sharon

See Zsa Zsa’s story at http://bonniebluerescue.wordpress.com/)  I love Bonnie Blue Rescue’s motto:  Bringing families together one pup at a time!  Are you looking for a doggie companion?  If so, please check out Bonnie Blue Rescue.  www.bonniebluerescue.com 

Hope is…..

….the first cry of a precious newborn babe.

….an early morning walk in white, thick mist where only an impression of the
       rising sun exists.  My soul feels the sun’s warmth before my eyes see
       proof.   

….definitely a thing with feathers.   Especially red bird feathers!

….poetry, songs, laments.

…a Jack Russell keeping vigil on the window sill awaiting his masters
      homecoming.

Life is full of changes.   Last month I kept vigil as my mother was in the active process of dying.  This month, I kept vigil as Elizabeth (daughter-in-law) labored to give birth.  Emptiness has been my companion for many months now.  It’s hard not to ‘judge’ this emptiness, to think I shouldn’t have it, to excuse it for sorrow of loss.  Some deeper wisdom asks me to just let it be.   It's not a problem unless I make it into one.

I'm aware that within the emptiness is deep joy.  Not joy as a feeling or emotion, but as being part of a greater whole.  Like nested dolls, each doll is part of a larger doll with the largest doll being God, Christ, Joy.  I hold my new grandson and marvel that he is a tiny ‘whole’ all in himself.  Yet he is nested in my arms, another whole, separate being.  He is nested in the love of his parents and extended family, who are equally nested in family, church groups, cultures, neighborhood, city, state, country, hemisphere, earth, galaxy, universe, other realms…and all are nested in the Greatest Whole  of Love, Creative Energy, God.  All are wholes within the Whole.   It gives me such grounding, such joy!  No matter what emotion, thought or circumstance I experience.

Sometimes the emptiness following me is felt deeply, but Joy is right there too, and quite sustaining.  Perhaps my grandson's birth helped me 'know' this in a deeper way.  I find it awesome that little Jude entered this world with the same gentle soul-soothing music that eased my mom’s transition from this life. What a healing, sacred way to celebrate the circle of life! I like to think mom’s spirit smiled with this little one’s arrival.  As I look into the cradle where Jude sleeps, I feel mom’s joy.  She always loved a baby with a ‘Vicks cough drop’ shaped mouth.  When Jude is hungry he sucks in his lower lip and puckers his top one emphasizing a perfect tiny triangular mouth.   Yes, Love surrounds Jude as he sleeps in the same cradle that nestled his daddy twenty-eight years ago.  

I am held, cradled by Love….always, no matter what happens or doesn’t, nor matter what is felt or not felt.  We are all held in the same Love, always.   Hope and joy are part of the embrace.   

Joyfully,
Sharon

                                                                Happy Birthday Jude!