It’s cooling off even here in Southern California and now we can anticipate (or dread) shorter, darker days, to give us plenty of time for self reflection on the passage of time.
The Falling Leaves
Today, as I rode by,
I saw the brown leaves dropping from their tree
In a still afternoon,
When no wind whirled them whistling to the sky,
But thickly, silently,
They fell, like snowflakes wiping out the noon;
And wandered slowly thence
For thinking of a gallant multitude
Which now all withering lay,
Slain by no wind of age or pestilence,
But in their beauty strewed
Like snowflakes falling on the Flemish clay.
by Margaret Postgate-Cole (1893–1980)
I had to add this melancholy Nat King Cole song and just noticed he and the poet have the same last name. How cool is that coincidence!
At one point, Angel Boy 2.0 would often ask me to do something for him; for example, he’d ask me to reach something or make him breakfast or a snack or to play MagnaTiles, anything really, and he would become incredibly impatient if it didn’t happen RIGHT THIS MINUTE.
As an impatient type myself who wants everything RIGHT NOW, I totally understood.
Instead of getting angry or telling him to wait, I started to say, “BLINK.”
It was enough of a distraction the first time I said it that he stopped and said “WHAT?”
I repeated myself, “Blink.” I mean do it, really BLINK YOUR EYES, OK?”
He blinked and looked at me.
I said, “Did anything happen? Am I magic? Do I possess magical abilities?”
He slowly shook his head…nope. (I’m sure he thought his grandma was totally cray, and he might be right, but he was engaged and interested.)
“Well, I wish I could blink my eyes so that what you want would happen in the blink of an eye, and since it obviously did NOT, it’s going to take as long as it takes. What do you think about that?”
He laughed and I did, too.
It must have been the perfect response for him because we’ve continued the tradition.
“BLINK! Did it happen? Nope, not for me either. I’m still not magical, I guess, still only human.”
It was a more fun way to get my point across that he could be a LITTLE more patient. I think I got the idea from watching Bewitched. Although I can’t twitch my nose like Samantha, I can blink my eyes.
Angel Girl recently did the same thing as I mended a torn dress for one of her dolls. Watching me, she kept impatiently repeating, “Are you finished, are you finished, why is it taking you so long?”
“Blink, girl. Blink your eyes. Is your doll all sewn up yet?”
She blinked and shook her head while her brother nodded with all the wisdom of his 7.5 years.
“See”, I held out my hands. ” I’m not magic. These hands of mine can only sew one stitch at a time and if you want me to do a good job, it’s going to take as long as it takes.”
It’s not like I have the powers of Bianca in Wishenpoof, the story about a young fairy girl who grants children’s wishes, although SOMETIMES I do swirl my arms around and say “Whish” like she does in the show, but sadly, I’m still not magical. Not at all.
No matter how many times I blink MY eyes, I’m only human.
It’s all going to take as long as it takes. Lesson learned. 🪄
I rescued this treasure at the thrift store, an adorable penguin box crafted of Capiz shells from the Philippines. Used extensively for jewelry and even window panes, it’s the shell of the oyster, Placuna placenta.
The way the light hits it is stunning and artistic for such a small thing.
I love little boxes.
And bowls I can fill with owl and hawk feathers I discover in my garden or on walks.
This sort of reminds me of Mary Oliver, “Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”
No darkness here as you can see, but I guess I’ll have to fill my box of nothing with something, probably and predictably rocks or seashells, and then it will no longer be a lonely box of nothing.
"Above all, do not lose your desire to walk. Everyday, I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness. I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it. But by sitting still, and the more one sits still, the closer one comes to feeling ill. Thus if one just keeps on walking, everything will be all right."~Søren Kierkegaard
It seems as if I’ve see HOKA shoes everywhere. Do you know the brand or what HOKA means? HOKA is a verb meaning to soar or to fly.
I’ve worn mostly all the brands, but never HOKA. Well, never before yesterday, that is. I’m like Cinderella with shoes; they have to fit perfectly or I reject them.
I went to a local athletic shoe store and tried on a mountain of different brands and styles, resisting the HOKA for no real reason, I guess.
I was feeling dejected and a little embarrassed about the wasteland of boxes around me when the really nice and exceedingly patient employee suggested I try HOKA. “Just try them.” he said.
At first I demurred and then I acquiesced because I had literally exhausted their entire stock. When I slipped them on, it was as if my Prince Charming was sure to magically appear because they fit like a glove, so comfortable that I didn’t want to take them off. Now I understand why I’ve seen so many people wearing them.
I was drawn to the rose gold with black which is a change for me as I usually pick the brightest colors in the shoe palette.
(I guess this is a kind of review, but solely from my own experience because I didn’t get them for free or any other form of compensation.)
Even with a torn meniscus and all the other broken stuff in my knee, I will continue to perambulate, to move my body — because like Kierkegaard said, “if one just keeps on walking, everything will be all right.”
Or, as I like to say, “If you don’t use it, you lose it.” Anyway, that’s MY philosophy.
I knew it would happen again, and sadly it did, at the EXACT same location. It's not a good outcome when emergency vehicles stay on-site for more than an hour.
Another update...After talking to a couple of local police officers, and at their suggestion, I called the traffic division. When someone returned my call two days later, I can't say she was all that interested in my near-death experience but gave me some mollifying type of assurance that she'd request enhanced patrols on the weekends at that busy intersection. It was a spectacularly unsatisfying conversation. I felt placated and patronized. I have every belief that nothing will change, someone else won't be as agile as I was and they'll have a more tragic outcome to deal with.
Quick update: Is there something in the water here? Just now as I was grocery shopping, yet another almost collision occurred. The lanes I was driving in had no stop signs or a light, but the cross street had a stop sign. There were two lanes and a couple cars and I were traversing in the same direction when a car that SHOULD HAVE STOPPED and waited for us decided for some unknown reason to NOT stop. If we hadn't both been going slow and able to swerve safely out of harm's way, there would have been a collision. I swear, you could probably have heard my horn on the east coast. The errant driver yelled, "Sorry!" but that doesn't change the fact that it's dangerous to be a pedestrian OR a driver. The moral of the story is to be extra careful, extra cautious, and alert!
I think I just used up about four of my nine lives on Sunday. Without being accused of being melodramatic, it was the closest to death I’ve ever been.
I woke up around 6:30 a.m. because I heard a really loud diesel truck idling outside, which is unusual around here.
When I ran downstairs and looked out the living room window, the street in front of my house was filled with the bright flashing lights of fire engines and paramedics. I watched as they took away my neighbor strapped on a gurney, but I don’t know what actually happened.
A similar thing occurred last week to the neighbor on the OTHER side of my immediate neighbor; paramedics and even police cars were there for a couple of hours. So far, I don’t have any intel on that event, either.
I think these odd episodes set the stage for what (almost) happened. Could it be due to cosmic forces and planetary tumult? Don’t things happen in threes? I think I heard that somewhere.
Anyway…
There was surprising and UNforecasted welcome rain last night and it left behind much cooler temperatures, so I decided to walk to the beach.
I was almost there and stopped to cross the street at a well defined four-way stop and pedestrian crosswalk. (That’s at Garfield and Tamarack if you’re from my town.) There were stopped cars at three of the stop signs. Knowing there are distracted and horrible drivers everywhere, I pay careful attention to stuff like that.
I began to cross and as I approached the middle of the intersection walking north, the SUV that had been stopped at the stop sign going south, just started going like a bat out of hell, making a speeding left turn, directly at me, as if I was invisible or something. Which I’m NOT.
There was no real time to think about avoiding being hit because in that split second, I knew I was going to be badly injured.
What I recollect and what four witnesses corroborated, was that at the point of NEARLY being impacted by this accelerating vehicle, I actually slapped the side of her left hood with my hand and did a very ballerina-like twirl to avoid being hit. The SUV almost touched me as I evaded the collision. There was truly about an inch between me and the vehicle, an INCH!
I didn’t call the police because not one of us could get her plate number since she sped off as I believe she realized what she had done. It was a woman in a ubiquitous white SUV, and there are literally a million of those around here. We couldn’t identify any specific make or model because it all happened so fast.
People came out of their houses to see if I was OK. They said it looked as if I had been hit. I was a bit shaky and shocky from all that adrenaline so I sat down for a few minutes and had a glass of water.
The four witnesses high-fived me (really!), commented on my agility and how that saved me from serious injuries. They said they had never seen anything like it because the impact seemed unavoidable. They were also suitably charmed by the string of unfiltered expletives that I hurled at the driver as she sped away.
I’m beyond grateful for those many years of ballet training because if I hadn’t reacted like that, I can’t even imagine how many broken bones and internal damage I’d have to heal from. The whole thing probably took less than five seconds and as quick as it was over, it also felt as if it was happening in slow motion — all very strange.
There are two ways to think about it. Either it wasn’t my day, or it really WAS my day. I can’t for sure say it wasn’t divinely scripted. Do angels exist? Did angels intervene? I really need to stop and think about it.
I feel like I’ve used up several of my nine lives – I only hope I have a few more. There’s so much to be grateful for, that’s for sure.
I finished my journey, took a photo of the ocean, calmed down, and walked back home without any further scary experiences.
There it is, the peaceful serenity of our Pacific Ocean. Sadly, there weren’t any whales or dolphins, but it’s still an eternally beautiful and nourishing sight.
Reaching my destination almost killed me, but I persisted, prevailed, and live to tell the story.
Susan Jeffers was a psychologist and best-selling author. Although she died in 2012, her universal messages of love and gratitude continues to touch us, along with her belief that joy, not happiness, is the goal of life.
From her book, Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway:
And what is joy? It is something that expresses the ebullience of the spiritual part of ourselves. Joy is characterized by lightness, humor, laughter, and gaiety. Lighten up. If you have ever been around a person who is centered and enlightened, you are struck with their humor and ability to laugh at themselves. All the brittleness is gone and only fluidity remains. So commit! Commit yourself to pushing through the fear and becoming more than you are at the present moment. The you that could be is absolutely colossal. You don’t need to change what you are doing— simply commit to learning how to bring to whatever you do in life the loving and powerful energy of your Higher Self.
Yesterday’s bizarre event gives a whole new meaning to dumpster diving.
Driving home from a few errands, I was about a block away when I noticed a GIGANTIC truck blocking the street, backing a GIGANTIC dumpster into someone’s driveway.
I first thought to myself, “I wonder who’s getting some work done” and then I thought it seems to be right next door, which is weird cos they’re having their first baby any day now and nobody would begin a major remodeling project with a newborn to care for.”
As I got a bit closer, I said to myself, “HOLY SHIT, THAT”S MY HOUSE.”
The driver began to unload the massive dumpster as I drove up and from my car I frantically (as you can imagine) told him to STOPSTOPSTOP!
I jumped out (after snapping a photo) and asked him what the heck did he think he doing and he needed to take it away IMMEDIATELY.
He showed me the work order which definitely had MY address, but the account name was my neighbor who lived three doors up the street. I guess it was a typo or a careless, not-very-thorough employee who didn’t do his/her due diligence.
We both walked down the street to double-check with said neighbor who confirmed that they ordered it and with a bunch of apologies to me, the driver successfully deposited the dumpster where it was supposed to go.
If I had been just one minute later than I was, I would have come home to an absolute disaster, a true dumpster diving nightmare! Timing is everything.
As it was, I’ll never get back the twenty minutes of my life I spent on the phone with the company to make sure that I wasn’t charged for a dumpster I didn’t request.
After that, I needed to take a few deep breaths, calm down, and lower my blood pressure…disaster BARELY averted, thank goodness.
How, It only takes One precious little soul To light the way For so many of us, to see
A Little Poem by Athey Thompson
A true artist, Athey Thompson strips language down to what is most moving and emotional, at least for me. There is abundant beauty in its simplicity. Her words deeply resonate.
Out of the mouths of, well, not babes exactly, but out of the mouth of my Angel Boy second grader.
A long time ago, even before there was an Angel Girl, AB and I would hug when we first saw each other and then at various times throughout the day and before bed.
I always asked first, “can I have a hug?” or “would you like a hug” because of course it’s all about body autonomy and if he didn’t feel like being touched, it’s his right to say no. That’s a good lesson for all of us, right?
Then he started to say, “I need a Grandma hug” and my arms would open wide.
When Angel Girl came into the world, she would stretch out HER arms and say, “Hug” and who could ever say no to that? Definitely not me.
Now they both jump into my arms and just about knock me over. I tell them I have two arms so there’s plenty of love for both of them. Yes, there’s a bit of sibling rivalry because AB had me all to himself for almost four years and sharing his grandma has caused some angst. Actually, learning to share anything is an ongoing lesson for him…
Recently, Angel Boy has become a bit more thoughtful about what it means to be his grandma.
He told his sister, “With Grandma, the hug store is always open. Right, Grandma?”
I hugged them both and said, “That’s a really cool way to describe it and you’re one thousand percent correct. Best of all, it doesn’t cost a single penny. My hug store is always open, night or day, 365 days a year.”
After that beautiful moment, I told him we needed to write a story about The Hug Store, and that’s exactly what we’re doing.
There’s an endless ocean of love with these two angel kids. ❤️
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 