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! 

A Different Kind  of Waiting…

Advent this year held a very differing kind of waiting.   This waiting did not take place in a softly lit sanctuary with candles and beautiful visuals.   My sisters and I experienced waiting by my mother’s bedside as she began the dying process.  And then, after her death we waited for family to arrive to celebrate her life and our memories.  

Advent anticipates a sacred birth, our dying vigil felt sacred too.   Hymns and anointing oils replaced Christmas carols and scents of pine and cinnamon.   Waiting is seldom easy.  I confess I don’t always appreciate the Advent waiting that becomes the focus of most Christian churches this season.  I love the beauty and the symbolism but I sometimes find it odd pretending we are waiting for the end of a story we already know.  Which itself is odd because seldom do I truly know the end to any story. This year every cell of my body felt the waiting, both symbolically and authentically.

We sensed our mother might be preparing to die weeks ago. While I welcomed her release from dementia and wheelchair, I dreaded all the steps involved in a final goodbye.  I feared I’d be too squeamish to keep vigil, and I was already feeling overwhelmed with holiday bustle.  

Waiting for death, as well as waiting for birth, can be inconvenient and bewildering. I resonate with Mary’s predicament: pregnant and anxious, her home preparations for birth were completely disrupted by the sudden trip to Bethlehem.  How hard it is to flow easily with disruptions!  No matter how apparent and normal the process, one is never fully prepared for birth or for death.  Neither can be experienced beforehand.

My mother began showing active signs of dying on Sunday, the same day I decided I could not keep a rescued dog I had come to love very much.  Cree, a striking colored Catahoula Leopard Dog, had too strong a prey drive for our farm.  Our barn and its equally loved critters held too many temptations. How could I give up my precious Cree at the same time I would be grieving the loss of my mother?

Waiting is dark and lonely.  Though warm hugs, words of encouragements and hot meals offered by supportive friends and family make waiting easier, no one could take my grief and experience it for me.   As a wise friend reminded me:  standing in the midst of it all is a process of choosing to let go of what I can’t fix or don’t need in order to embrace what is happening. 

My mom is gone now, as is Cree.  My home is empty of gathered family as my lap is empty of Cree’s big, warm body.  I have no silky ears to pet and no tongue to divert from licking my face.  I no longer have to think about when I will visit mom.  Whenever I mistakenly do so, my heart will feel a pang of loss just as when I spot a toy I forgot to send along with Cree. 

Relief, emptiness, grief and joy arise new every day like the stillness of dawn, the flutter of sparrow wings outside our door, and the aroma of bayberry when I light my Christmas candles.   There has always been a hint of death in the Christmas birth story. I will know that more fully now, just as I more fully have experienced waiting. 

I’m grateful mom is pain-free and rejoicing in another realm. I’m also grateful I don’t have to worry about Cree accidentally getting out and killing a goat.  I like to imagine Mom is with her two beloveds: Jesus and James.  And I imagine Cree in her new home, jumping up on someone she’s learning to love while wagging her whole body.   I’m overjoyed to report Cree has been adopted!   My dear mom and sweet Cree have gone ‘home’ for Christmas! 

Joyfully,

Sharon

                  Mom and my grand daughter, Avery at Conestoga House -12/2009

WE MISS YOU MOM, GRANDMA and CREE!!

                                             Or JRT, Massey with Cree (Catahoula Leopard Dog)

Images




My spirit sings this morning through images. As I cut and paste chickadees chirp, hop above me like tiny cheerleaders. A squirrel scolds. I nod to the bushy-tailed creature. "Sorry. Perhaps today I'm your invitation to deal with irritation."

The smell of incense colors the air. I've reverently pinned my pettiness and ungratefulness onto the sweet stick before lighting the match. Smoke, and my foibles rise up, curl, dissipate.  I smile. Yet, this little ceremony of naming and honoring what needs releasing in me brings contentment and a whispered good bye.  Adios. Adieu. Slainte!

I cherish time for myself, where my soul deepens, my inner senses sharpen. Where I see myself as I am, both my light and my shadow. I name, welcome, integrate each part of myself. Let go when I can.  Radically accept what I can't. Ask for grace.

Images speak softly. Beauty. Mystery. Creativity. Stillness. Reverence. Humor. Fun. Fear. Strength. Desire. Solitude. Innocence. New beginnings. Old egoic patterns. Joy.

Yes to all that is life!

Joyfully,
Sharon


"Everything belongs" Richard Rohr

"People are like stained glass windows: They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light within."  Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

Nothing to Lose But Our Illusions

 
Nothing to Lose But Our Illusions

The above is not my title.  I found it in an advertisement flyer for the The SUN magazine. The title belongs to Derrick Jensen interviewing David Edwards.  Here is segment of interview -

  
Edwards: Once you start to see through the myth of status, possessions, and unlimited consumption as a path to happiness, you'll find that you have all kinds of freedom and time. It's like a deal you can make with the universe: I'll give up greed for freedom. Then you can start putting your time to good use. 

Jenson: And if someone says, "But the problems are so big, what can one person do?"

Edwards: Once you realize that helping others is also helping yourself, the size of the overall problems becomes irrelevant. You're not a one-man or one-woman army out to save the whole world. You help simply because it does good and it feels good.

These words caught my attention.  I've experienced moments of wanting to change the world, save the world.  Sometimes I ponder what greed holds me.  And, who doesn't want freedom?  

In the last few months, I've felt clingy.  The interview invites me to examine the relationship between clinging and greed. Was there a hint of greed in clinging to my old, sick dog, not wanting to let her go, or in clinging to familiar patterns of family, friendships, church, relating to others and not wanting things to change even while purposefully making new decisions, excited by personal growth, opportunities and healing relationships?   How does one discern the difference between healthy emotions of grief, achingly longing for a better world and unhealthy nostalgic clinging or entitled wanting?   One's interior can be a tricky landscape.   

I had a physical experience of clinging recently, clinging to a rock wall!  A few weeks ago, under the expert guidance of my sister, Elle, and brother-in-law, Rich, I tried rock wall climbing using a rope and harness. Halfway up, I couldn't find the next hand/toe hold. I froze.  Every cell of my body, especially my fingers and toes, remembers the clinging.  I responded, “I can't!" when Rich instructed me to make the next move.  Like my experience of being stuck on that rock wall,  I've been interiorly frozen in place, gripping the familiar, holding onto my thoughts-ideals-wants, trying to be open and free but unable to make anything change exteriorly or interiorly, tiring, yet afraid to let go and lean into the harness of life.  

Long before the rock wall experience, back when I first climbed into some real unknowns in my life, I remember eagerly embracing the concept of living the questions.  I even felt some pride in my ability to be at peace amid the questions. Then, fatigue set in. Irritation and frustration followed.  I'm reminded of the iconic story of the children of Israel wandering in the desert for forty years. As a kid in Sunday school I remember tuning out that story – who can take the hundredth telling of all that Israelite complaining and grumping?   Now, I just smile, seeing the human condition, seeing my own weariness in barren places. Like the Israelites, I easily become my wants.  Even my high ideals can become wants.  Is this also greed?    

I sense some interior shifting. This sense of easing up began before my rock wall climb. The actual climb has become symbolic, a marking of my intention toward greater self-awareness and growth, a way for my body to help move my soul along. Elle tells me the body is made for this, but often I forget this wisdom. I’ve intentionally put my body in positions of trust through yoga moves, prayer prostrations, using the lovely wooden kneeling meditation bench a friend made for me, but I easily forget other physical activities like running, walking, exercising, body rolling, massage and wall climbing can move me along as well. Fully integrating body, mind and soul is my growing edge. Perhaps my religious ancestors were wise to get up from their church bench, turn around, kneel on the floor and face the back of the bench during corporate prayer.  

I want to lose my illusions, let go of greed and clinging, but I also want to honor the difficulty of the process and be gentle when I find myself holding on.  Sometimes I'm simply unaware that I cling. Self-awareness takes time, courage, solitude and practice.  I bow in gratitude for every one and every thing companioning me in this process: every teacher, guide, pastor, family member, dog, bird, mountain, rock, river, flower and tree...every illness and interaction...every song, poem, word, hug, interruption and experience.  Okay, I admit my mind recoiled when typing ’interruption.'  My heart is truer than my smaller self, wanting to let go of irritation when I'm interrupted, so I allow my fingers to say the message first and trust my soul will move in that direction.     

In reflecting, I always come back to trusting life will bring exactly what I need to flourish and grow; sometimes the moves will be easy, as were my first spider-like moves up that rock wall.  Sometimes it will take more courage than I have and others will need to pull on the rope and help me move. Occasionally, I'll have no other option but to completely let go and fall into the harness. Then real stuff not illusions will hold me. Love. Awareness. Authenticity. Trust. Beauty. Goodness. Truth.   
                                                                

Joyfully,
Sharon         all photos on this page are courtesy of Elle Beiling      

~We inhabit ourselves without valuing ourselves, unable to see that here, now, this very moment is sacred; but once it's gone, its value is incontestable.             ~Joyce Carol Oates

~Dependence on God is not submitting to a greater force, or surrendering to a God who makes me do things against my will, or who will discipline me for every intention not fulfilled; it is just loving this wonderful and weird created world, accepting life as it unfolds (not being a door mat though), embracing what is, learning from mistakes and allowing Love to grow, without believing the illusion that I'm in control of everything."  Sharon         

~Be transformed by the renewing of your mind...        ~ Saint Paul, Romans 12:2