Too late to change my mind...

In September I adopted a 3-month old kitten--Gremlin (who was immediately renamed Webster).  Jen had been mildly encouraging me to add a little critter to my household since Gilly met--and immediately fell in love with--Millie, their adorable feline.  Prior to making the big decision I listed the pros and cons of such an action:  I don't need another animal!  What if he/she scratches furniture?  Will he/she be litter box trained?  It would be a good companion for Gilly.  But what about vacations?  I still don't have a satisfactory answer for the last question.

But within the first five minutes of my visit to C.A.T.S, I was hooked.  After all, when Gremlin, i.e. Webster, began purring the moment I picked him up, I figured he picked me--right?  And how can I say no then?

The paperwork suggested it could take up to a week before new kitten and already-established household pet complete their meet-and-greet.  Webster's experience in meeting and connecting with Gilly took two hours!  Yes, my Big Guy loves other animals, adults, kids, and probably birds--if they didn't fly away when he runs at them...

My life has changed.  I get wa-a-a-y more steps each day on my Fitbit!  I clean the litter box three or four times each day--adding a sorta toe-touching routine as I bend over for this cleanup duty.  I have three spray bottles within reach at all times: 1.  Catnip to remind him where it's OK to scratch; 2.  A no-scratching spray for the furniture; and  3.  One filled with water when he ignores the other two!

Webster is smart.  He understands:

No, Webster.  
I said NO Webster!!

Get down, Webster.
I said GET DOWN WEBSTER!!  
DAMMIT! (squirt, squirt) and he's off the table/counter or no-cat zone item...  Easy AND more exercise!

I bought him a tower which is placed at the patio door.  He loves to watch Gilly roam outside.  But gets even more of a thrill laying in wait to attack as his canine brother walks by.

Since the arrival of winter, I have to admit sleeping warmer.  With a 70 pounder on one side, and my now 7 month old curled under my arm on the other, I literally feel like a bug in a rug.

Life is not perfect however.  Well, at least if you communicate with Gilly.  He has set himself up as my warning system when he catches Webster doing those things that are a NO.  He runs over to Webster and occasionally lets out a low growl to warn him that Mom's on her way.  Then there are the looks.  My beautiful Big Boy comes to me and pleads with his eyes:  Mom, things were so good before.  You know, just you and me.  or Mom, I've never given you this much trouble.  and most touching of all... Mom, you still love me the most, don't you?

So here I am several years post retirement talking, teaching, feeding, loving and cuddling with My Boys, and now, after 4 months only occasionally asking myself:  And I got another pet WHY???

PETS are bundles of LOVE wrapped in FUR.

Loss and Learning once again...

This week I lost...(I want to say a friend, but in reality she was) a casual acquaintance.  The story is tragic.  She was missing from Sunday until Wednesday--when this most loved and admired woman's body was found where on a sharp curve she'd gone off the road and down a steep embankment.

After stepping away from the shock of reading the newspaper account, I thought of the times we'd spent together taking classes.  I think only one time did I run into her and her husband away from the classroom setting.  And now I am sorry our busy lives hadn't crossed paths more often.  And of course I think of her husband.  I can't imagine the pain he's experiencing.

I have no wisdom to explain such tragedies.  I just know they happen, and are devastating to all concerned.

I developed a habit sometime ago.  When I see a date relating to some occurrence...an accident, a child abused, a death...I try to remember what I was doing at that particular time--perhaps laughing over a movie, at a meeting, driving someplace, at yoga--completely unaware that this painful event is taking place.  While I'm merrily living my life, someone else is hurting, trying to escape, running for help, or taking their last breath.

So what can I learn from all the thoughts buzzing around in my head?  Naturally, if I'm not aware of another's problems, there is nothing I can do to help.  Perhaps the lesson for me is that I must live my life with more intention.  I can do those things that bring me and others happiness.  I can also learn from those things that occur, and are not filled with laughter.

I often drive between Medford and Ashland.  Sometimes I only anticipate my destination--a class or lunch with friends or shopping at the co-op.  But when I tune into intention, I see the shapes of the clouds in the sky or the rain spattering patterns on my windshield.  And sometimes the Siskiyous ahead of me covered with snow.  When I take that inward journey, my thoughts are active and alive and give reason to remember the experience and feel gratitude for it.

None of us know what lies beyond death--a new level of consciousness? heaven?  hell?  Some people  have very definite ideas, and that's OK if it brings them peace.  But I haven't met a 21st century Lazarus, so I'm satisfied that I'll learn when the time comes.

Now that my casual acquaintance is gone, I think of the impact she had on me...even in our limited relationship.  She was caring--helping me with great patience learn the English/Scottish dance steps.  She laughed often and I rarely looked at her when she wasn't smiling.  I witnessed extreme courage as she pushed herself to continue her active life--with occasional rests--during chemo.

With this lovely lady in mind, I have new motivation to make every single moment count in this life.  I need to ask myself often what I'm giving back. Am I expressing gratitude?  And I can only answer those ever-spinning thoughts by living intentionally--making deliberate choices and learning along the way.

We must find time to stop and thank the people 

who make a difference in our lives.
            ― John F. Kennedy

Wisdom of the Ages or Aged???

Here it is--the end of 2015.  And here I am at 73 1/2 years.  Wow!  That seems old!  But I don't FEEL old.  I feel ALIVE (that's good!); I feel HEALTHY (that's really good!).  And I believe there is still a bit of adventure ahead for me (is that being too optimistic?).  I've had a good life. Certainly not perfect--would change a few participants--yet I must admit they provided some of my greatest lessons.  In all humility, I think perhaps these multiple decades of learning have offered me some wisdom.

1.  I've learned that living in fear prevents the seed of love from blooming.

2.  I've learned that living a life of integrity is severely limited when bound by a thickly constructed wall of rules produced and directed by the male sector of society.

3.  I've learned that I must be honest with myself before I can ever live with integrity before others.

4.  I've learned that intelligence comes from thinking critically--i.e. asking how my opinion/attitude affects ALL members of society.

5.   I've learned that in order to raise an intelligent society we must teach our children to think, to dream, and to believe in possibilities.

6.  I've learned about privilege. One, I'm White!  Two, I'm educated!  Three, I have the right to tell you to go to hell if I choose and won't land in jail, as in other less-privileged-for-women countries.  

7.  I've learned about gratitude.  “Happiness is not the absence of problems. It's the ability to deal with them.” (Steve Maraboli)  I rarely appreciate the problems that come my way.  But in retrospect, I am always grateful for what I've learned from them.

8.  Perhaps my most important lesson: I learned yesterday.  I am learning today.  I will learn tomorrow.  Because there is still much to know.

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.

                   ― Alfred Lord Tennyson 

Hidden voices in published words...

A close friend of mine recently gave me the books WASHING THE DUST FROM OUR HEARTS and THE SKY IS A NEST OF SWALLOWS.  These contain poetry, prose and essays by the writers of the Afghan Women's Writing Project.  These are women who have been so suppressed from thinking, from doing, from being--even their writing must be done in secret with names changed and locations hidden.

After looking over the books, I decided to read aloud one morning. I couldn't believe the sensation that took over because of the clarity of the writing.  I was at once that woman--the writer of the story.  I could picture myself obscured from all eyes, holding a tablet soiled due to the necessity to keep it hidden, and writing words that came from the deepest part of my soul.

One such piece reads:

Read My Poems on the Reddish Stream of My Blood
  by Emaan

I want to write, I want to write about
My dreams which never come true,
My power that has always been ignored,
My voice which is never heard by this deaf universe,
My rights which have never been counted,
My life decisions which are always made by others.
Oh my destiny, give me the answer, what am I for in this universe?
What does it mean to be an Afghan woman?
Hmm, I know you can't provide me with an elegant answer so
Just give me the pen, the hidden pen
So that I can write, that is all I am asking for!

I promise I will take revenge, but not like men
By gun and sword and aggression,
Instead I will write.
I will write even if I am warned not to touch a pen or paper,
I know one thing, that they can't see that hidden pen with their
Blind eyes, no matter how strong their vision.
My eyes will read my environment, my brain will save the details,
And I will write with the hidden pen on the chambers of my heart,
So that when I am caught and executed,
Perhaps in Ghazi stadium like other innocent Afghan women,
People can read my poems on the reddish stream made by my blood.

I will start writing with the hidden pen, and
I know this will lead to a day when girls of this land will be able
To write with chalk on the blackboards of the school
Or by markers on the whiteboards of universities,
And one day they will make their voice heard--
Then the hidden pen will be remembered forever!

From the Introduction of these published books come the founder's words:  AWWP was founded in May 2009 to encourage and nurture Afghan women as they explore the power of their voices and reflect upon themselves, their histories and their possibilities.

We wanted their stories, but we knew we needed to be cautious. These women, in offering up their private thoughts and experiences for outsiders--Americans, no less--were embarked on an act of breathtaking courage within the traditions of their society.  Some came from families that believed a woman who used a cellphone was a whore.  Our growing volunteer team created a blog to feature their work, and we agreed:  no full names, no sharing of emails, no specific locators.
                                                                                            -- Masha Hamilton
                                                                                                 AWWP Founder

Visit awwproject.org for more information about the Afghan Women's Writing Project.

I invite you to visit the above website and purchase their books. In the process you will find out more about the courageous women whose one mode of expression, though done in secret, has given them a voice to the world.

History is changed by the small actions of ordinary people.

                         -- Zahra A.

Another anniversary of sorts...

For some reason this is the year I've chosen to acknowledge timelines.  I celebrate another one today.  Eight years ago I arrived in Medford to begin my retirements years. My front porch was decorated with balloons and a welcoming committee of three important long-time friends. 

A few months before I had purchased a house ALONE--scariness accompanied closely by great excitement.  Medford is not a new town for me--having graduated from Medford High School some !@!^!% years ago.   I always wanted to return to this beautiful valley.

Eight years later, my house is my home--a place I'm told looks just like me.  (I take that as a compliment...though I'm not sure.)  My very small backyard has the look of a woodland--if I can't live in the forest, I'll bring it to me!   Flowers, shrubs, and trees find a welcome spot--though in all honesty I can't give you the names of most of them. 

Books find a special place in every room.  Jane Austen, Carlos Ruiz Zafon, Shilpi Somaya Gowda, Kate Morton and Maeve Binchy spotlight my bookcases.  I visit with these authors to know more of their lives and cultures.  I love their company!

Yoga and daily walking with my best bud, Gilly, are routines that dominate the better parts of my life.  Volunteering on the Citizens' Review Board allows me to contribute to my greatest passion--keeping kids safe!

Taking classes and dancing away to Austen era music--my mental partner Will Darcy, of course--fill many hours.  And most certainly, new and old friends have an important place in my heart!

No one's life is perfect--and sometimes for no reason but to have a pity party, I am grumpy and out of sorts.  

However, these eight years in Medford have been pretty amazing!  And fun!  And a great adventure!

Life comes from physical survival;

but the good life 

comes from what we care about.

           -- Rollo May    

 

Looking back with a smile.

As I think of a loved one today, I want to remember these words...

I am always saddened by the death of a good person. It is from this sadness that a feeling of gratitude emerges. I feel honored to have known them and blessed that their passing serves as a reminder to me that my time on this beautiful earth is limited and that I should seize the opportunity I have to forgive, share, explore, and love. I can think of no greater way to honor the deceased than to live this way.                                                                                           ― Steve Maraboli 

Betcha' Didn't Know...

I won first place in a ping-pong tournament with my boyfriend in the 9th grade.

I loved peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwiches as a child.

I danced among the gas pumps of a service station as the songs from American in Paris ran through my head--on the way home from the theatre.

I had the starring role in a school operetta in third grade.

I was also a majorette beginning in the third grade.

I have entered and used male bathrooms all over the world--never liked reading signs.

I broke my arm roller skating as an adult.

I removed a diamond wedding set from a "five and dime" store when I was 13--and returned it--when I finished pretending to be engaged--later that day.

I covered dog biscuits with peanut butter in the 8th grade and gave them to a teacher as a snack.

My first--and last--brass instrument was an alto horn--extreme animal abuse!

I played drums in the school band in junior high.

I am terrified of mice, and will hold spiders in my hands.

I peed along the Columbia River as a train went by 15 feet in front of me--not all that many years ago.

I played badminton as a teenager quite proficiently.

I married my high school sweetheart.

In high school, my favorite perfume was White Shoulders.

As an adult, my favorite smell is horse manure--only my therapist knows the connection.

I love BBC series--they just know how to do it right!

I shattered the overhead stage lights throwing my baton in the air.  The glass came down showering me with bits in front of a large audience.

At 13, while sitting next to my boyfriend, I fell backwards off a 3-tier set of bleachers as we watched a softball came--complete, total, and utter embarrassment!

My favorite activity is English/Scottish Dancing--Jane Austen style.

Mr. Darcy is my one true love. 

I'm a very proud feminist because I believe in equality and justice for all.

We are all wonderful, beautiful wrecks.  That's what connects us--
that we're all broken, all beautifully imperfect.  
                                                                                   -- Emilio Estevez 

                                                                                             

 Confession IS good for the soul....