Pushing Through The Mud

After what seemed like weeks and weeks of rain just about every day, we've finally experienced 72 consecutive hours of sunshine! I wish you could see the effect this is having on folks. Not only are the streets filled with walkers, joggers, weekend bikers and mothers pushing happy babies, but people are smiling like it's Christmas morning and they're 5 years old! It's like we've all been on this long, arduous trip through a dark tunnel and we've finally come out the other side into the light. After weeks and weeks of muddy shoes and damp spirits, we're all on solid ground again.

This morning I was reading an article about how we often have to go through dark or difficult times to get to the treasure that awaits us on the other side. The writer quoted Buddhist master and author Thick Nhat Hanh who said:

"No mud, no lotus."

Let's face it, sometimes life in general can be pretty muddy, and often it feels like we're so mired in mud that it takes all of our strength just to get one foot out of the muck and put it in front of the other. However, if you think about it, how would we know what felt good if we didn't know what felt bad? How would we know that sunshine felt better than clouds if we didn't experience clouds? Okay, weeks of constant rain may be a bit on the extreme side ... we got the whole sunshine/cloud thing after about week two ... but it's all too easy to forget what's on the other side of the coin when things are all peaches and cream. We don't need to live in the land of hurts, as meditation teacher Davidji teaches, but we do occasionally have to pay it a visit just to be reminded of the difference.

Today on my way home from a meeting, I noticed with great pleasure how bright and abundant everyone's gardens were. All those weeks of rain had nourished them to the point where it was almost an embarrassment of riches. I passed a row of yellow day lilies that were so vivid it almost hurt your eyes. I guess all that mud underneath was good for the lilies as well as for the lotus. Sometimes you just have to push through it to get to the sunshine.

And so it is.  

Strawberry Summers

This past weekend was one of this areas most loved events, the annual Strawberry Festival in Owego, NY. Every year thousands of folks descend on this lovely town and experience one of the first fruits of summer, the strawberry, in all it's splendor. Anything and everything that can be made from strawberries is offered, along with lots of neat crafts, entertainment, and even a parade. I have to say that on my list of most-liked fruits, strawberries are right there at the top. This is one berry that finds its way into my morning smoothies more often than any other.

This year the word went out that, with all of the endless rain and cooler temperatures that we have been experiencing, and continue to experience, the strawberry crop this year was not the best and a bit on the short side. All the additional water carries a higher risk for disease, and the cold is no friend to the poor strawberry, either. Still, this did not deter the strawberry lovers from near and far who turned out in record droves ... even in the rain ... in support of their beloved fruit. The feeling is that if you don't have enough to make a big strawberry shortcake, cook them down and make strawberry jam! In other words, work with what you've got.

I've always been partial to a saying by the wise and witty Mike Dooley, creator of "Notes From The Universe:"

Do what you can, with what you have, from where you are. 

We could all take a page from the strawberry folks Book Of Life and not let a little thing like weather, or anything else that is out of our control  take the spirit out of our lives. When life hands you lemons, make lemonade. When it hands you a tiny crop of strawberries, make jam, and when it doesn't hand you what you wanted, take what you got and make it into something as awesome as you are!

And so it is. 

Mother Nature's Paint Set

This past Friday my sister and I spent some time at a First Friday Art Walk. Our area is blessed with an abundance of very talented and creative individuals in any and all the mediums you can think of. We have painters of every kind, sculptors, musicians, dancers, builders, technical wizards, and more. On the first Friday of every month, our downtown becomes an open invitation to tour galleries, museums, restaurants and outdoor events that celebrate the creative spirit.

I have to admit that much of what I saw this week kind of went over my head if  you get my meaning. I don't claim to understand what is referred to as "modern art," nor do I think myself educated enough to criticize anyone's work. I just know what I like. If I find a sculpture made entirely out of stay pins or other strange objects, I don't decide to like it or not like it - I just accept it for what it means to the person that created it and move on.

The things that captivated me that night, and always captivates me when it comes to art, were the landscape paintings. There on the walls and stands were canvasses of mountains, trees, gardens, vast fields and even someones personal take on Vincent Van Gogh's "Starry, Starry Night." All of it was beautiful and in each one I could feel that the artist had touched on what Mother Nature had in mind when she whipped out her paint set and went to work on the earth.

I don't care how talented a person is, from a Van Gogh to a Monet and everything in-between, no one yet has come close to what Mother Nature can do with her paint set. Have you ever really looked at a cardinal in all it's red glory? Have you ever seen a field of wild flowers in bloom and just felt your heart melt? Have you really looked at the intricate art work on a peacocks tail feathers and wondered how in the heck it came out so perfect and symmetrical? No human being could have come up with anything close.

So the next time you go to an art gallery, or see some artwork on display somewhere, whether you agree with it's message or not, just remember that the artist is trying their very best to express something within them that is bursting to get out. And remember that even though no one can match Mother Nature, there's no harm in trying. We can certainly use all the beauty we can get.

And so it is.

Just Say "Yes!"

Saturday was very warm, almost 80 degrees, and sunny. Sunday was dark, chilly, and rainy. This morning I woke up to 45 degrees and gusty winds. When I looked up at the wall calendar hanging next to my desk, I realized that I hadn't turned the page to June, not that it mattered much. A calendar no longer gives me an accurate account of what month it is let alone what season it is. The fact that we can have all four of them in the space of a weekend at any given time should be as valid an argument for climate change as the overabundance of catastrophic storms we've had over the past few years. So I've just decided that the only way to get through this without losing my mind is to just say "yes."

It takes twice as much work and stress to fight against what is, than it does to just accept what is and find a way to make it work for you. I can rant and rave all I want about the weather, but no amount of my ranting and raving is going to change it. So I have to ask myself: How can I adapt to this to make it work for me? So I make sure I always have a small, fold-up umbrella in my tote bag or close at hand. I don't put away all my winter clothes but, rather, keep a few sweats and long sleeve shirts handy as well. I check my newly planted seeds in their pots every day and turn the lights on and off as needed depending on whether Mother Nature has decided to grace us with sun that day. I make sure I have change for the bus handy in my purse just in case it's sunny when I go inside the store and pouring when I come out (where I live riding the bus is cheaper than owning a car). 

It seems to me that my animal relations have survived whatever Mother Nature throws at them because they know how to adapt. It's only we humans, the newest members of the earth if you think about it, that have it have it their way all the time. They don't wake up in the morning, see a rainy, gloomy day, and hit the snooze button. They wake up and go about their business. They say "yes" and keep on trucking. This morning when I woke to this frigid, windy day, the birds were still singing the day awake. Sure, they were hanging on to the branches a little more tightly than usual, but they were still singing their hearts out. I could swear one of them was saying yes!

And so it is. 

Memories Are Made Of This

Last Wednesday I was blessed with the opportunity to spend the day at a beautiful lodge on a lake deep in the woods with a bunch of beautiful ladies for a day-long retreat. For once the weather decided to cooperate and we had the opportunity to walk the grounds, sit and dream by the river, and hike some of the paths. As I was walking around the main building, the wind shifted and I caught a familiar and much beloved scent ... lilacs! How I love the smell of lilacs. They usually don't bloom until June around here but we've had several days of warmer-then-normal temperatures and with all the rain we've had, it combined to produce a bumper crop this year. Their sweet perfume wafted on the wind and took me back to my childhood, our backyard, and my mother.

Growing up in Queens, New York, it was unusual to have a backyard, let alone a garden, but we had both as our house sat on a double lot. Part of the yard right outside the back door was cement and provided space for a picnic table, folding chairs and my Dad's sacred grill. Behind the house we had a garden that was not much on grass but blessed with bushes, trees and shrubs. We had two rose bushes, a hibiscus tree, and my favorites - two lilac bushes. When the windows were open to the afternoon breezes, the smell would tiptoe into the house and fill the back laundry room and the kitchen. Even as a youngster, I had a knack for flower arranging and my Mother would have me arrange the lilacs she cut in a vase to put on the dinning room table. Every time she walked through the room and saw them, she would smile. I think the sight and smell of them made her happy. She never did tell me why they had that affect on her and I never asked. To this day, whenever I catch the scent of lilacs, I remember my Mother and that smile when she saw what I had created in that vase.

It's funny how certain scents can spark memories. The smell of popcorn always reminds me of Saturday matinees at the movies. Coffee dripping in the pot brings back scenes in my mind of Sunday mornings and the smell of coffee that woke us all up. When someone in the neighborhood lights a fireplace or fire pit, I remember trips up to the hunting camp my Dad shared with some friends and our summer vacation sitting around a fire and catching lightening bugs. But I think it's the smell of the lilacs that move me the most.

Yesterday as I sat here at my desk working, I caught the scent again as the breeze picked up in anticipation of an incoming rainstorm. Looking out of the open window I spied the bush in front of the empty house next door that they are renovating. There they were in all their purple glory, more lilacs. When the guys come back to work on Tuesday, I may just wander over and ask them it it's ok for me to cut a few for myself. After all, by the time they get done with the renovations and people move in, they will most likely have already died off. What a waste! I want to take them up here to my little nest in the sky and arrange them in a vase on my table. Then every time I walk by the table, I can look at them, inhale them, think of my Mother, and smile.

And so it is.

The Gift Of Another Monday

An oldie from last spring that is so fitting on this Monday Morning. Enjoy!

So, here I am on this glorious Monday morning, sitting with my coffee and watching the clouds sail overhead, kissing the tops of the trees on the hills beyond. I'm thinking about what I want to do today as opposed to what I have to do today. In reality, I don't have 

to do anything. Every moment is a choice between happiness and something else. For some folks, on a Monday morning, happiness is more of a dream than a choice.

I can remember all those years I dreaded getting up on a Monday morning and dragging myself out to a commute I despised only to get to a job I truly hated. Every other face I saw on the street, on trains and buses, and in cars, had that same, sorrowful look: "Good God, it's Monday again!" Sure, I had to work to put food on the table and a roof over our heads, but every time Monday morning rolled around again I began to question my sanity. 

Whenever I have been stumped by a situation, or felt lost on my path, I have always found my answers by watching the natural world. After all, we humans are a late addition to the game (the natural world having a good thousand years or so more wisdom and experience than we have), and if we fell off the earth tomorrow the rest of nature could go on very comfortably and, I expect, a lot happier, without us. It behooves us to spend some time studying with the masters.

Humans are the only ones who have the need to measure time. For the rest of nature it is enough that the sun comes up and the sun goes down. Each and every morning the birds sing the day awake outside my window, rain or shine. They go about the business of feeding themselves and their families. Not one of them says to another: "Oh, God, it's Monday again!" They do what needs to be done without complaint because they don't perceive anything missing from their lives. At some point in the day they may even take a moment to play chase in the sky with other birds, or simply soar for the love of it. Squirrels react the same way to a new day. They are up with the sun, in search of a meal (and maybe a little something to put back for later), yet still find time to play tag up and down the trees or across rooftops. I once had a squirrel neighbor that liked to stretch out on his tummy on the roof across the way and just take a nap in the sun. To my knowledge, that fact that it was Monday, or Tuesday, or even Thursday, never came into the picture. They had awakened to the grace of another day and that was all they needed to know.

Even for those of you who must still get up on a Monday morning and take yourself to work, keep in mind that the fact that you have been granted another day on this earth is an act of grace, be it Monday or Sunday. Every day is a gift. How you decide to see it is your response to that gift. Mother Nature didn't assign names and attitudes to each day of the week, we did. Maybe it's time to change the name and choose a different attitude, like, maybe, gratitude. Gratitude changes the start of the day from, "Oh God, it's Monday," to, "Thank you, God, for another Monday." 

If I'm going to be honest, I have to confess that I did wake up a little grumpy this morning, but, thankfully, I know how to get out of that now. I sit myself down, take a sip of my coffee, watch my furry and feathered neighbors greet the day, and say, "Thank you, God, for this day." Works every time.

And so it is. 

The Language of Flowers

Like many lucky mothers across the country yesterday, I was gifted with beautiful flowers for Mother's Day. A sweet pot of dark magenta mums sits next to me here at my desk. Once they become acclimated to their new home, they will be put into a bigger pot that will become a feature in my tabletop fairy garden. I also received a bouquet of fresh cut, tiny orange day lilies that are now gracing the table where I eat my meals. Every time I sit down to eat or walk past it, I will be re-gifted over and over with their simple beauty. In every way, they are truly Mother Nature's messengers, sending messages of beauty, joy, and gratitude for the simple things in life.

Did you know that flowers have a language all their own? For many years, and especially during the Victorian era, people associated flowers with specific meanings. For example, we all know that red roses usually refers to romantic love, but did you know that white roses represent new beginnings? That's why they are popular in bridal bouquets. Pink hydrangeas also represent love, while white ones are symbols of purity and abundance. Gardenias represent trust and hope, and stargazer lilies represent ambition and encouragement. Tulips, those long-awaited signs of the arrival of spring, represent enduring love between partners and family. And we've all heard the saying, "Rosemary for remembrance." 

I like to think flowers are the way Mother Nature shows off her artistic abilities while reminding us that beauty is all around us and and always has been since the beginning. It's where the great artists got their inspiration, and where writers like Henry David Thoreau and poets like Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson found meaning. We don't need iPhones and iPads to find beauty and meaning in our lives. We just have to put down the devices, go outside, and see for ourselves. No text message or Facebook selfie can compare to the messages of love that are all around us each and every day.

And so it is.