Saturday, October 24, 2015

Eyes Open

Driving today, coming down the river valley with the slanting afternoon Sun hitting the trees across the river and setting the changing leaves aglow with the fire of autumn, I noticed a woman sitting on her back step smoking a cigarette. The back of her house faces away from the river. The front has a wrap around porch with rocking chairs and a beautiful view. I started thinking as I drove across the river  do people get so accustomed to beauty that they no longer see it? Is it possible that the woman on her back step no longer sees the glory of the river in the fall? I notice this often in my travels, when I pull off the road to look at a beautiful formation of clouds or a sunset that stuns me or a flock of snow geese against a brilliant blue sky.

I'm the only one stopping to look in my little area, my small piece of road. Maybe someone is stopping elsewhere but I don't see them and I wonder can I be the only one that sees this? Are people so immersed in their day-to-day lives or their cell phone conversations that they no longer see what's happening all around them? What does this mean for us? If no one sees beauty and no one recognizes it when it's there or acknowledges it will we continue to value it? Are we running the risk of becoming so self involved that we will no longer pay attention to the world around us? I wonder when I think of these things what the ramifications are for us as humans. I believe that it is imperative that we pay attention to our world, the world outside of our own heads and our own technology and keep our eyes on what's important, what's real.


In my mind there is nothing more important in the moment than the sight of the Sun setting amidst the clouds over the river valley or  deer grazing in a field covered with low-lying mist or the joyful sight of children playing out on their front yards. No matter what is happening in my life, how busy or preoccupied, or how filled with misery and despair I am, I still notice. These are the things that give me hope, that make me feel connected and a part of the world and that's how I think I would like everyone to feel. It saddens me to see the beauty around us being ignored and the world around us being abused.

If we don't care enough about beauty to keep this world a beautiful place I do believe we're doomed. I often wonder what people think of me when I stop my car and lean against the trunk just to look. Do they wonder what it is that I see?

Or am I being insensitive to the lives of other people, their worries, their errands, their day to day concerns? Maybe they do take note, but just don't have the time to stop. I hope so.
aàà

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

The Grands

 We are so blessed.

How is it possible to go from the depths of despair to happy beyond all measure? My brain chemistry  rules my emotions, and that's all the explanation I can give. I just have to remember the up times to get me through the downs. This photo will help.

Thursday, September 17, 2015

Ready

I am in that horrible  empty place again, joyless and weak, a  hollow shell ready to crack at the sound of  whisper,empty but for the constant clamor in my head,the noise that never goes away. Am I the only one that feels this unending sorrow?

If I try to pin down a specific event or trigger for these  terrifying slides down the side of that bottomless pit,I am stymied. They come on me when I least expect them when I am least prepared to deal
with my emotions going all kaflooey. All l know is that i am sliding.
I had a thought about illness and how we face it.  We go to our doctors to help us feel better. And in the time before we see our docs, we want to live. But those of us with with mental illness, all we want is to die. I don't need anything, just  prescription to end this life and i am good to go.

Maybe it sounds like i am being fasicious, not treating a heavy subject with the solemnety it deserves. And it is heavy, far more than i am able to carry at the moment

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Nannie's Direct Line

It had always been a standing joke in our family that my grandmother, Nannie Vasta, had a direct line to God. She was a devout catholic who carried her rosary with her at all times, because 'you never know' as she would say. She had medals of various saints pinned everywhere, in her purse (a patron saint of pocketbooks?), on the visor of their car (St Christopher, of course), her wallet, inside her jackets and coats; she had herself covered against any and all eventualities. She had her little book of novenas in her purse at all times, and when she promised the novena, she read it, every 15 minutes no matter where we were. We'd pull the car over and put the flashers on and Nannie would do her version of text messaging God; in the mall there was always a handy bench or the chair outside the dressing room in a pinch.

I had occasion to talk to Nannie today, (as I have done all my life), to ask her to put a word in for my newborn granddaughter, Hayden. One day old and she is having a serious enough issue to land her in the NICU for 48 hours. Her heartbroken parents have to go home without her and we are all worried although we have been assured that it is just a precaution. All life is precious, but this one is especially precious to me, hence my silent plea to my dear Nannie, gone these past 22 years. This baby may not be of my blood, but she is of my heart and I need her to be well. I can sleep knowing that Nannie is already on it.