I’m sure most people, even those who purchase gifts for their pets during the holidays, probably don’t consider the animals as actually understanding Christmas.  Oh, sure, they recognize the changes, notice and even remember things like decorations and trees.  Some may even feel the animals remember that there is going to be a stocking in the lineup with dog or cat treats and toys in it.

How much, though, do the pets really understand? How much do they “get” about this strange annual tradition their family celebrates?

About three weeks ago, we began hauling holiday boxes out of the closet. The first one to come into the living room, in preparation for decking the halls, was the box with the stockings in it. Since 2010, and moving into our current home after my Dad passed away, we’ve actually have a fireplace to hang them on. We set the box on the floor, and immediately, in ran Kai. He was quite excited, and we had to keep nudging him away from the box. At one point, we humans were distracted, and I turned to find the black Saluki’s head buried in the box. He came out suddenly, tail flailing with glee, and went racing through the house….

…with his stocking. Not just “a” stocking, there were nine of them, in various sizes, in that box. It was his stocking. A merry chase ensued, after which I managed to take it away from him and hang it up.  Several times that evening, and the next day, he would wander over to the fireplace and nose that stocking, as if expecting presents to magically appear in it.

In more recent days, as a package or two arrived from a dear friend, we’ve put wrapped gifts under the tree. Kai gave them a sniff or two (and we did have to put the ones we suspect have edibles in them into a box to thwart his interest), but after the first day left them alone. For a pooch who enjoys getting into trouble, he’s been extremely well behaved when it comes to Christmas.

Until this morning.

It’s Christmas Eve. As usual, I was the first one up, and had tended the pets and done most of the morning chores. After eating his breakfast, Kai went to his usual spot on the den loveseat, where he normally relaxes and watches me as I putter about the house. At one point, I sat with him for a cuddle, and told him that Santa comes tonight. We talked about how Santa brings presents, of course, and wondered what goodies the jolly chief elf might leave for Kai.

A short time later, I was standing at the kitchen sink sorting cranberries(*). I thought Kai was still on the loveseat, but suddenly realized that I was hearing a racket under the Christmas tree. I peered around the corner.

There was Kai. He was sticking his nose between the presents under the tree, giving each a sniff, and then shoving it out of his way in order to inspect the next package. It appeared, and felt, and was certainly confirmed by the emotions sensed, that Kai was just making sure Santa hadn’t come early and left his present under that tree!

I had to move him out of there several times, and tell him to “Leave it” (a cue he normally obeys on the first issue without any arguments). Kai was determined to make sure his present wasn’t there!

The above photo was taken just a short while before writing this post. After finally convincing the blackdog of the family that the packages under the tree were not to be tossed and sorted by a long pointy Saluki nose, this is the spot Kai chose to settle in. Yes, there’s a patch of sunshine there…but there are numerous other, larger, and more easily accessed patches in the house as well.

That old Santy Claus sure isn’t going to sneak by KaiGuy!

(*Every Christmas Eve, I make special cranberry breads.  I use whole fresh cranberries, which have to be cleaned and sorted.  I was actually rather disappointed with this season’s cranberry crop.  I wound up having to throw away almost a third of the berries in the bags purchased from our local supermarket’s produce department. I’ve never seen so many overripe, and even rotten, berries in a batch before.  Don’t worry, though, there were plenty of good berries to make two lovely loaves for Christmas morning breakfast.)

No related posts.

Last night, however, it was pretty darned frightful.

Now, I don’t totally dislike the snow.  Don’t misunderstand me.  A new snow is so beautiful, peaceful, pristine.  The fact that this one fell on October 27th, and I had to drive to Cobleskill to get my son to his evening college class in it, though, wasn’t the most peaceful or beautiful moment.  The roads were horrendous, covered in four inches of snow and freezing slush, with white-out blizzard conditions to drive through. Thanks to my dad’s big truck (every winter I understand why he wanted the biggest, heaviest four wheel drive pick up he could get), we made it, though.  It was really nice to get home safely and be able to relax afterward.

I’m not ready for winter.  I love all the seasons, though fall is my favorite.  When it snows in October I always feel like I’ve been a bit cheated.  This year, especially, because we didn’t have a great fall to start with.  The floods caused by Irene and Lee took their toll on the trees, and many that normally give us nice color just went brown and dropped their leaves.  There are still some leaves on the hardier trees, though they didn’t have the color they usually do.  And now they’ve been snowed upon.

But…it really is pretty.  This morning, with the sun out, and knowing it’s already melting, I stepped out onto the deck early and snapped some pictures.  I hope you enjoy them.

And the doe–that’s our “Birdy”.  I am fairly sure I’ve shared photos of her here before; I know I have pictures of her in my main Facebook profile albums.  Last winter was a tough one.  We had a lot of snow and most of the winter the ground was well covered, making it very hard on our local deer.  There was very little to eat.  Part way through the season, this half-grown doe showed up at our bird feeders.  She would return each day and pretty much empty out everything she could reach.  I believe it saved her life.  We began to call her “Birdy”.

Birdy’s visits to the feeders didn’t stop when the snow melted and the world turned green, though.  She’s been back pretty much daily all spring, summer and fall.  In fact, once the herds started reassembling, Birdy even brought company.  She began to show up with another doe her own age, an older doe and two twin fawns.  I’m guessing it was her own twin sister, her mother, and her younger siblings.  They all appear to like bird seed.

Yesterday late afternoon, as Devon and I were leaving to fight the storm to Cobleskill, I stepped out on the deck, and there was Birdy.  Right on cue, the snow fell, and she visited the feeders and pretty much cleaned them out before we got home.  I leaned over the railing and took a few pictures with my cellphone (the best of them is above).  She finished her snack in a leisurely manner, looked up at me, and calmly walked across the lane and into the woods.

Better stock up on bird seed.  Winter appears to have called early.

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“To fly as fast as thought, to anywhere that is,” he said, “you must begin by knowing that you have already arrived….” (Richard Bach, “Jonathan Livingston Seagull”)

Jonathan Livingston Seagull, by Richard Bach. Anyone who thinks this is just a book about a seagull needs to read it again. And again. And again.

Yes, Jonathan is a seagull. But he’s not just a seagull.

Yes, he’s a seagull who desires to follow his dreams rather than remain confined by the rigid expectations of the flock. That in itself is a lesson of wonder and wisdom, but even that is only the very beginning of who Jonathan really is, and what he teaches.

The byword of the decade, to the point that some people inwardly groan when they hear it now, has been “The Law Of Attraction”. The Secret
book and movie brought it out of the woodwork, though it’s been around much longer than that. In essence, what was taught in The Secret simplifies the laws of reality, which are malleable and mold-able, influenced not only by physical and logical things, but by dreams, beliefs, thought and inspiration. If you follow any of the prominent “Law of Attraction” teachers today, you will find many of them recommending this “little book about a seagull,” in fact.

There are many such teachers now. Everywhere you look, someone else is opening a “teaching ministry”, of sorts, in an effort to spread the “gospel” (and occasionally cash in on the fad) about creative thought in some way. Long before The Secret, however, there were teachers who attempted to relay this concept to their students.

One of the best known, and least known, of these elder wise-men was a seagull. Even when Jonathan first hit the bookshelves, and took the world by gentle storm, people who had the courage to read between the lines saw it as more than just “a book about a seagull”. In that light it was primarily promoted as encouragement to follow ones dreams, to allow oneself to march to a different drum if that was where the heart was leading. It was praised as a book about seeking self-growth, inspiration for those who wished to move toward their own heart’s concept of perfection.

Back then, I don’t recall too many people describing this as a book about the very nature of Reality. Of course, back then, I was thirteen. However, each time I have read Jonathan, I’ve seen deeper levels of meaning. It was not just Jonathan’s determination that helped him to grow, it was his ability to let go of the illusion of the physical world around him and allow his heart to believe that growth, even growth beyond what he had initially been able to conceive, was possible. It was not only possible, but it was a given, as long as he did not give up.

As an animal communicator, learning spiritual and life lessons from an animal is nothing unusual. That was a normal part of my existence long before I ventured into the realm of animal communication, in fact. The interesting thing, however, was that an entire generation of humans was picking up wisdom from this particular animal (at least those who could see the book as more than “a little book about a seagull”).

This is a book about a seagull, about a somewhat stubborn and unusual seagull, about a seagull who didn’t follow the rigid mores of the flock, about a seagull who learned that “Reality is What You Make It”. You would think that would be enough, wouldn’t you?

But even that only scratches the surface of what Jonathan is really about. It is about life, it is about death. It is about the nature of reality, and about what exists beyond what we know as reality. It is about growth, growth that goes so far above what we can conceive, that it may just go on forever. There are those who believe that Bach, when penning Jonathan Livingston Seagull, was tapped into some higher source, actually channeling ancient wisdom, rather than “just writing a book.”

I don’t know about that, but I do know that this simple seagull, this high flying bird, when read about with open eyes, open mind, and open heart, can relay some amazing lessons to the reader.

These, to me…to many of us, I’m sure…are very poignant lessons–lessons which I struggle daily to fully comprehend and embrace.

I think I need to read Jonathan again.

No related posts.

I’ll be with you in apple blossom time
I’ll be with you to change your name to mine

May 8th.  My parents would have been married 66 years on this day.  From my earliest memories, they always cherished the song “Apple Blossom Time” as “their song”.  I can’t hear it, or think of it, without my heart going warm and tender, filled with both joy and sorrow.

Some day in May
I’ll come and say
Happy’s the bride
The sun shines on today

Mom passed away on November 1st, 2006.  She was my Dad’s heart and soul.  She had been failing slowly for a while, and he cared for her, tended her needs, totally dedicated to her for the last few years.  When she passed away, a huge piece of his heart went with her.

On the 26th of February, 2010, Pop joined Mom.  Or at least, with all my heart, and with all my many tears, I have prayed that my beliefs are truth, and that they are together again.  Some days, the only thing that keeps me moving forward, is my hope that they are once again happy, together, and as in love as they were for the sixty two years they were together in life.  And yet, through all my hope, I still have fear.  I’ve doubted, and I’ve been afraid to doubt, scrubbing the “what ifs” out of my mind every time they tried to creep in.  I have asked, over and over, for a sign: something unmistakable that would let me know they truly are together and happy.

What a wonderful wedding there will be
What a wonderful day for you and me

Twenty years ago, we purchased two tiny saplings, both flowering crab trees.  We planted them apart, but within sight of each other, between our two houses.  Mom and Pop’s tree died that winter, but ours has carried on.  It’s sickly, spindly, some years only has grown a few leaves, and never once has it bloomed.

And then yesterday, I stood out on the deck, our deck, Mom and Dad’s deck, and looked down toward the house we just moved out of, where my daughter is now living.  There, on the branches of that poor little flowering crab-apple tree … were blossoms.  Not just one, not just a few, but all the inner branches of the tree were graced in pastel flowers.

Church bells will chime
You will be mine
In Apple Blossom Time.

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad.  I love you and miss you with all my heart.  And thank you for my flowers; thank you for my sign.

Related posts:

1. For Judy

Judy's precious portrait of Dancer

Judith Simpson was one of the earth’s finest human beings.  She and I were friends for many years.  Lord, I think it must have been 1994 when we first met on the internet, became friends through Saluki-L, and began to share our common loves.  When word came through from our mutual good friend, Willie Towles, yesterday, that Judy had passed away, my heart just crumbled to pieces.

All evening last night, and all day today, emails and Facebook messages filtered through about Judy.  The number of people whose lives she so deeply touched is astounding.  As I read through them, it dawned on me, and it seems so unbelievable … Judy and I, for all our good times and shared laughter, never had the chance to meet in person.  I feel that I’ve lost a sister, and it is so strange to realize that she was a sister I never “met”.

In 1996, when my darling dog Jai, only four years old, passed away suddenly, Judy’s voice was one of the first I heard on the phone.  She brought me words of comfort, gave me a shoulder to cry on, and I have never ceased to thank her for that kindness.

Our long friendship actually began when we discovered that my boy Yoda, my first heart dog, was from old English bloodlines shared by her own Salukis.  Judy sent me reams of photos, pedigrees, articles, and we chatted back and forth, comparing notes, and deepening our united love of this wonderful breed.  After Jai passed, Judy was instrumental in information gathering for “S.I.G.H.” (Salukis In Good Health), a short lived but influential little organization that helped bring into the public eye a unified effort to explore health issues in the breed.  Judy’s strong support of Saluki Health Research never faltered from that moment on, and I, and Judy’s other friends and family, encourage those who wish to honor her memory to make a donation (see link at bottom) in her name.

Judy was many things to many people, and Salukis were often the center of whatever part of her world she was gracing.  She was a talented watercolor artist.  Many of her friends have prized portraits of their hounds, done up by Judy’s loving hand.  I am no exception to that blessing.  My portrait of WindDancer, who passed in 2007 at age “almost fourteen”, is one of my most treasured possessions.  I will never forget the day the painting arrived.  I set it upright in the living room and Dancer lay across the room on the sofa, staring at it, for hours.  She’d raise her ears, tilt her head back and forth, and just gaze in the most amazed and loving way at her painting.  I have no doubt at all that she knew it was a painting of herself.  (Dancer was also my Saluki who would put her paws on my bureau so she could admire herself in the mirror above it.  She was incredibly cute, who can blame her?)

Yesterday was my son’s birthday.  Devon turned twenty this year.  He told me, in the morning, that he’d had a dream about Dancer.  The connections, many of them, did not occur to me until after the news of Judy’s death arrived.  Dancer took ill in 2007 on Devon’s birthday (the 16th of March).  We made several emergency vet trips over the next several days, in an effort to get a raging and sudden infection under control, but we lost our little Dancie-Pants on the 21st.  Here we were again, on Devon’s birthday, Dancer came to him in dream, and the artist who so lovingly painted her portrait passed into the spirit world later that day.

Was Dancer letting us know she was there to help greet her Aunt Judy, along with so many other Saluki friends?

Judy had so many Saluki friends, both fur-covered and of the human variety.  She and I, along with our dear friends Lin and Mandy, have monitored the SalukiFriends email discussion group together for several years now, bringing us all even closer.  Her dedication to the breed is unsurpassed, and she mentored many new Saluki owners over the years.  The number of hounds out there who called her “Aunt Judy” is uncountable.

Judy was also a talented writer, published under several noms de plume, and a mentor to many aspiring authors.  She taught creative writing courses, and brought many new writers encouragement and wisdom.  In her role as writer and mentor, she had a dream, and worked hard to bring it to reality:  Lost Bard Books was due to open its doors officially very soon — my own mid-grade mystery novel, and a collection of short stories I wrote, were to be among the first books published by Lost Bard.

My heart is broken to pieces to think that Judy will not be here to see the realization of her wonderful dream.

At least, she will not be here in physical form.  I know, I pray, I hope, and I believe, that she will still see her dreams become reality.  Miss Judy, the Southern Belle with the charming accent and the heart of gold, will look on from a higher place, watching over all of us who strive toward that dream.

For Judy: my love, my prayers, and my wishes for a gentle journey into the spirit realm.  May your beloved Salukis gone-before, and your dear partner in life, Tally, be there to greet you with kisses and loving arms.  May your son, Tobby, and sweet Duke bring one another comfort.  And may your kind heart and gentle spirit inspire us all, always, to be better human beings.

For we are, indeed, better human beings just for having known you.

Sweet sleep, my friend.  Sweet sleep.

Related Links

• Lost Bard Books
• Saluki Health Research
• Willie’s dedication to Judy
• Lin’s dedication to Judy, including a beautiful watercolor of Miss Ellie

Related posts:

1. Essay: Dance With The Wind

When something difficult or painful happens, Gayze, always look to see what it makes possible that wouldn’t have otherwise been possible.

Like a new adventure, a closer friendship, or chocolate in your peanut butter.

Everything makes you better,
The Universe

I was angry this morning. This post planned to be a vent, a warning to others, and a way to express the hurt, the anger, the upset I’ve been feeling since my father died on February 26th.

And then, just before I opened my browser to write the post, I checked my TUT Thought from the Universe for this morning, and found the above.  Once again the Universe found a way to smack me upside the head and tell me to think clearly.

The truth is, I really don’t feel like thinking clearly.  I want to cry, to whine, to complain — all of which, if you’ve read my blog for a while, really is not the focus of this website.  I do appreciate, though, the timely reminder (as so often happens) that there is always a silver lining, and that, even though I might not feel like looking for it today, it will eventually make itself evident.

The original name of this post was going to be “Leeches and Predators”.  It was going to be about heartless people who lurk behind rocks of deceit, waiting to pounce on and take advantage of families in their grief.  It was going to be about the Main Street lawyer who immediately hit us with a fee of “five percent of the total estate”, which would have nearly wiped out the small bank account my dad left behind, and would have eventually caused us to lose our home.  Said attorney then shrewdly wheedled it down, out of his kindness and generosity, of course, to “just” an hourly rate of “only” $250/hour.  It’s still going to take a big chunk, but we might have enough left to pay for Pop’s cremation, and cover his final bills, afterward, at least.

It was going to be about how a will, even when drawn up by an attorney … who, at the time of the writing, witnessing and signing, assured us that the will was worded in a special way so that on my father’s passing, the properties would immediately transfer to me, and we would not have to go through courts and probate … is a worthless piece of paper.  Suddenly, the lawyer insists he “never said that”, and the county courts are taking their cut, too.  But, you see, they don’t have time for us, because this is just an estate settlement, and they are booked up with criminal cases.  We still hang in limbo, can’t get access to accounts, can’t pick up Dad’s ashes, and haven’t even been able to really sit down and have a good cry.

And now, the sudden shift, as I am gently reminded that new doors will open.  I don’t know where they will appear, or what they will lead to, but I do know they’re out there.  I still want to have that good cry, to give myself time and permission to miss my father without having to worry about bureaucratic red tape and fighting to protect all that he worked so hard for all his life.  But, I’m going to keep my eyes open, too, for whatever this loss is going to make possible.

When my Mom died in 2006, I tearfully asked her to help me get through it.  Within a few days, people began asking me, “Have you seen The Secret yet?”  That question led to a world of discovery, a life-path of learning and adventure that even after three and a half years, I know I’ve barely begun to travel.

Now, a new road, a new leg of the journey.  Although he is gone from this world, I do still believe in the depths of my heart, that my father walks that path beside me.

Eventually, the leeches will have been left behind, and new doors will have opened that will allow me to keep my Dad’s dream alive.  This beautiful little plot of land on a mountainside, the culmination of decades of hard work in the subway tunnels of the South Bronx, is holy ground to me.  My heart’s desire is to keep it safe, to keep it sacred, and to make sure it is secured for my children, and my children’s children, and further generations beyond.

So, I’ll allow the tears to fall.  I’ll deal with the vultures and bureaucrats as they appear.  And I’ll keep my eyes pealed for that chunk of chocolate in the peanut butter.

PS: I would like to extend a heart-felt, thank-you to all the friends who have expressed their sympathies, and been there to support me through these painful days.  You are loved and deeply appreciated.

PPS: And the attorney’s office just called.  The court refuses to believe I’m the sole heir and the will is uncontested.  We need to find a second witness, other than family, to prove that my father wasn’t lying when the lawyer made out the will.  So, I’ll give that warning to all now … make sure your loved ones, your heirs, your beneficiaries’ names are on your accounts, on your property deeds, before you die.  There are Leeches and Predators out there just waiting to take everything away from them, to kill your dreams, and to wipe out all memory of you, when you die.

PPPS: Thank you, Scott, for saving the day.

No related posts.

Wikipedia says:

The Saint Valentine that appears in various martyrologies in connection with February 14 is described either as:

* A priest in Rome,
* A bishop of Interamna (modern Terni), or
* A martyr in the Roman province of Africa.

The Farmer’s Almanac newsletter states:

…a Christian bishop named Valentine was martyred on February 14 in A.D. 271

Yet the Wikipedia entry states that no “Valentine” appeared in the earliest list of Roman martyrs, which was compiled in A.D. 354.

In other words?  No one really knows for sure who St Valentine was.  And no one seems to be able to track exactly why Valentine’s Day became globally associated with sweethearts, courting, and gift-giving.

Though I say “globally”, Valentines traditions vary across the world.

In Japan and South Korea, only the boys receive gifts of chocolate on Valentine’s Day.  The girls have to wait their turn until White Day, which occurs on March 14th.  In the Republic of China, although White Day is also celebrated, the order is reversed … with the girls getting gifts in February and the boys in March.  Some countries celebrate February 14th as a day to honor love and friendship, others do not celebrate it at all.  In some regions, a “lovers day” is marked on a different day of the year.  In Slovenia, though February 14th is a special day, it is the day that farmers traditionally begin working in the fields.

In some areas of the world, Valentine’s Day has even been banned … due to religious and cultural conflict.

Although the stories of St Valentine, whoever he may have been, are ancient, many countries have only begun celebrating any version of Valentine’s Day proper in recent times.  For many, it’s simply a modern celebration of love, offering various ways to show appreciation for the people you care about.

The way I see it, however you view St Valentine’s Day, showing appreciation for your loved ones can’t be a bad thing.  Like many other holidays that had their roots in religious observation, Valentine’s Day has become more of a social celebration.  Although there may be some who still focus on the martyrdom of whichever St. Valentine they believe the day is based on, I think those people are probably few and far between.  For most of us, it’s a day to say “I Love You”.

So, to all my friends and family, to my darling children, my wonderful husband, my precious animal family and companions, and to all of you who have touched my life and made me smile….

Happy Valentine’s Day.

I love you!

Related posts:

1. Halloween: Day of the Dead, or Just a Day of Fun?
2. Mother’s Day and Moving Day

We’ve all been asked the question, “What would you do if you had a million dollars?”

What would your answer be?  Would you be philanthropic with your money? Would you invest it in your future? Would you put your kids through college?  Would you simply start by catching up on bills and debts?

The dark days of winter lead me to odd contemplations, to mental meanderings, to vivid daydreams as I gaze out the frost-painted windows onto the cold, white landscape.

One of those meanderings has been to revisit that old question.  What would I do with a million dollars?

Oh, portions of the answer that runs through my mind include all of the above, of course.  The animals of New York Wildlife Rescue Center and Northeast Llama Rescue, and the Salukis of STOLA, for instance, would see their needs met a little easier, and with some less of the back-breaking work for the dear humans who run the rescues.  My kids would be able to move forth without having to worry about paying for college loans or a future with financial worries.

During these winter days, however, asking that question, or any related, tends to lead me to daydreams about my hobbit hole.

For decades, I have dreamed of an underground home.  I’d include an above-ground atrium area to the north, but with a slanted roof facing south and covered with translucent solar panels.  The front, south-facing section would be round, like the beautiful hobbit homes created in New Zealand for The Lord of the Rings.  I’d have gardens planted all around, for my daylilies and flowers, and a prolific vegetable garden.  The house would be fully insulated by Mother Earth, so the only heating it would need would be easily provided by a nice outdoor wood furnace.  Since the earth completely isolates the house, we’d probably only need to run the furnace for a little while each day.

The solar panels on the atrium roof would supply all our electric needs.  I might even patch back into the grid, so the electric company would owe me money indefinitely.

Wandering outside the above-ground portion of the home front would be some nice fat laying hens.  I think I’d like to get Orpingtons or Cochins;  hearty, cold-resistant breeds that would do well in our northern climate and provide me with plenty of rich brown eggs.  The veggie gardens would be done in the Square Foot Gardening style, easy to care for, and would provide beautiful fresh vegetables that I could freeze or can for the winter months.

Inside, my hobbit hole would be warm and friendly.  Dark wood beams would support the roof and walls, which would be of a soft stucco off-white.  The kitchen/dining area would sport a big butcher-block deep-brown table around which friends would always be welcome.  There would always be bread baking in the mornings, and the coffee pot would be forever on.

My favorite part of the house would be the atrium area.  It would be so light and pleasant, that indoor gardens would grow all year long.  My desk would be tucked into one bright corner, and the cats and dogs would have roosts and lounging spots scattered throughout, to keep me company as I worked.

The more our world progresses along its current course, the more I wonder if the survival trend of the future will be toward self-sufficiency.  As a society, I believe we are moving to a place where we need to depend less on the fragile economy around us, and more on creating our own abundance.  To me, one way to do that is to look to the earth and her Creator to provide.

An earth-sheltered home, home-grown vegetables, home-raised eggs, the sun providing power and a natural source of warmth….  The majority of our family’s needs would be taken care of by nature and a good supply of elbow grease.

If I had that million dollars, that is….

I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments section:

• What would you do with your million?
• What would your dream home be like?

Links of Interest:

• NY Wildlife Rescue Center/Northeast Llama Rescue
• STOLA Saluki Rescue
• The Hobbit Holes of Hobbiton (Google Images)
• Lord of the Rings Tours (origin of above photo), New Zealand
• An Underground Homes dealer site, complete with sample plans
• Breeds of Backyard Chickens
• Square Foot Gardening

Related posts:

1. Vibration

It’s a quiet day, somewhat melancholy, the silence of Christmas fills my home.  Things change, they evolve, they grow, they die, and they always remain the same.  Christmas time brings that to light in the most joyful … and sorrowful … way.

All is calm, all is bright….

The Solstice has passed us and we now grow brighter.  The days will slowly become longer, and that darkest of nights is behind us.  Yet the solemn peace of that longest night travels with us into the future.  It brings quiet into our chaos, and ancient stirrings to the fast-paced modern life we lead.

Round yon virgin mother and child….

Whatever your history, your ancestry; whatever deeply ingrained, even genetic, celebration calls you at this time of year, the magic of the season cannot but stir your spirit.  It is this time of year which touches us most deeply, and no one, not even Ebenezer Scrooge, can escape it.  Whether your ancient memories follow the young Sun King as he enters the world and grows, bringing longer days and the promise of spring, or the Christ Child as he brought his own very special Light into the world, or the Festival of Lights commemorating the rebirth of God’s most Holy Temple, it matters not.  Whatever your heritage, whatever ancient stirrings touch your soul, these dark days are days of wonder.

Holy infant so tender and mild….

It has long been said that Christmas is for Children.  In my eyes, what this time of year does for us all, is rekindle the Child within.  There is nothing like a child’s sense of wonder as he peers into the darkness of these magical nights.  The anticipation, the excitement, the discovery, the mystery … it renews our youth in ways that are irresistible.  “Kids from One to Ninety Two”, whether they admit it or not, all feel the magic of the season.

Sleep in Heavenly Peace….

My wish for you this holiday season, is that you embrace that magic.  Let the holiness of this season touch your heart, like the soft snow touches the deep green boughs of the evergreen.

Sleep in Heavenly Peace….

Happy Holidays to All.

Related posts:

1. Vibration
2. Infinite Maybes (Reflections On Human Nature)
3. KnitWit: Sockin’ Around the Christmas Tree

I was chatting in email with a friend this morning, and the topic of “vibration” came up.  It’s had me thinking since, and as a pebble tossed into a pond spreads ripples toward the shore, those thoughts have led to this post.

Vibration.  Everything, whether it is something we think of as living, or something we think of as inanimate, has vibration.  Even the most stationary of objects is actually in continual motion.  That motion may be at a level that only the most powerful electron microscope can detect … but it’s still there.  If you examine any object, and continue to crank down your point of view until you are viewing its most base elements, you will see those little electrons whirring away, like tiny moons around a planetary body, a minute universe of their own.

Everything that moves … moves everything around it.  The energy of that motion sends out waves of contacting energies, setting its outer space rippling in response.  I’m made to think of the butterfly effect, and how a small change, or movement, can initiate waves of energy that spread outward, like those ripples on the pond, and effect untold numbers of possible events half a world away.

What initiated the ponderings that have led to this post, though, is not so much how small vibrations can effect distant events … but how each object resonates with those around it.  Vibrations occur at various frequencies, and the norm is that adjacent objects, or spirits, or souls, or energies, have a tendency to vibrate on similar frequencies.  When an object  is not vibrating in harmony with the space around it, it is considered to be in discord.  Think of playing a chord on a guitar or piano, and pressing a wrong fret, or hitting a wrong  note:  discord.  It makes one’s teeth ache.  It’s rather like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, vibrationally speaking.

We have all, at some point in our lives (sometimes over and over again), felt like we weren’t quite “fitting in”.  Whether we are talking about the child who doesn’t seem to jive with any school-population cliques, or simply that over-all feeling of unrest, or dis-ease, that we can’t quite put a finger on, we are all familiar with the feeling.

Today, I’ve found myself wondering about this, and how that sense of dis-ease may relate to vibration.  Everything around us is vibrating at a certain frequency.  That frequency is affected by adjacent vibrations, which are affected by those a level out, all resonating in relative harmony as one tuning fork sets the next humming.  Then, here we are, sitting in the middle of it all, and we are drumming out a hard rock beat while everything else is humming along with Beethoven.  We are, vibrationally, in the wrong place at the wrong time.  We are trying to fit our square peg selves into the round hole of the space around us.

It makes our teeth ache.

What can we do about it?  It certainly will be extremely stressful to try to force our way through the current like this.  The air around us will grate against our spirits, like trying to navigate the torrents in a blender.  We could examine the vibrations around us, I suppose, and try to make ourselves conform.  But if we are in a space where our unique vibration is necessary to us, despite the fact that its not resonating with the universe around us … would changing our vibration be a cop-out?

We might also try to change the vibrations in our own space so that we feel more comfortable.  Although it’s impossible, I believe, to do this without at least minimally sending that change outward and affecting others, if it’s done gently and with good intent, that affect might be steered toward a beneficial one.   Changing the aura of our surroundings can be as simple as playing music that feels good to us at the moment, or as complicated as moving to a totally new location.  The key is to listen to our inner critic, find the thing that feels right, that soothes us, that makes us feel like we are a better fit, and take action on it.  Changing decor, collecting images that feel peaceful, or simply spending time in meditation upon things that bring us joy, are all things we can do to change the vibrations around us.

Or, the third option, is of course to meet the first two in the middle.  Compromise.  If we use our emotions as guides, we can make some minor tweaks in our own vibrational energies at the same time that we change the energies around us, to find a space that feels more comfortable.

I look around me at the situation our world is currently in, with both waves of great hope, and ripples of terrible fear.  I observe the vast numbers of people who are suffering from depression, from mental instability, from deep worries.  Our world is going through some intense changes … some good, many not so good at all.  Any change is movement, and any movement generates vibration.  Is our human response to that vibrational change part of what is causing these various ills?

By changing our own vibrations, or by reaching out to our own personal space with intentions of peace, joy, love, and harmony, can we create a ripple?  Can we become the butterflies that will eventually cause a global response that will counter-act all of the negative we are seeing in the media around the world?

I don’t know, but it certainly can’t hurt to try.  At the very least, it may affect our own small place in space so that we feel better about the tune we are humming.  We may not fit in on a global scale, those of us who dance to a different melody … but at least we will feel more like we fit in our own skins, with the potential of lightening the energies which immediately surround us.

Related posts:

1. Little Victories, Big Gratitudes
2. The Heart’s A Muscle, Too
3. Of Kriyas and Crias