Category Archives: thoughts

Sunday musings…

 

So, here is something I wrote a few years ago and the theme has reappeared in my Sunday Column today…hmmm

original post was February 25, 2013

I just wanted to share this tidbit with you. It is in line with the many books I’ve read about the power of our subconscious mind – the place with all the answers. I hope you can draw from this…

“During his day, Edison would take time out by himself and relax in a chair or on a sofa. Invariably he would be working on a new invention and seeking creative solutions to the problem he was dealing with. He knew that if he could get into that “twilight state” between being awake and being asleep, he could access the pure creative genius of his subconscious mind.

2013

2013

To prevent himself from crossing all the way over the “genius gap” into deep sleep, he would nap with his hand propped up on his elbow while he clutched a handful of ball-bearings. Then he would just drift off to sleep, knowing that his subconscious mind would take up the challenge of his problem and provide a solution. As soon as he went into too deep a sleep, his hand would drop and the ball-bearings would spill noisily on the floor, waking him up again. He’d then write down whatever was in his mind.”

http://www.wilywalnut.com/Thomas-Edison-Power-Napping.html

and more of the same from another earlier post…

There are no answers. We spend our lives asking questions but no one has been able to come up with the answer key. Minds far greater than mine have thought and pondered and died…never returning to let us know if they were right. I suppose that is why really old people, at least the ones that have been observant, are great sources of wisdom and while they don’t have “the answers”, they can make better assumptions. There are messages in their stories and lessons from their lives, but who even listens – youth is being carelessly spent on worldly things.

 It can be so Shakespearean…

Macbeth:

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

ok, this is deep and dark and Shakespeare can be scary and tragic…I will take the antithesis of this projection and flood my day with light.

I have a lot of questions today; it is a day without a job, a day to be with my thoughts…here’s one I ask myself: 

 Not now, so, when?

b u

p s

questions answered…maybe

I wanted to post something today and I began a story about an owl I saw this evening but no “story” emerged, just a snapshot appeared. I write:

 I went for a short walk today, late in the afternoon but before evening. I walked across the field towards the little coulee that separates my space from a neighborhood and watched for the moon. I did not see it, this winter moon in its waning phase for the sky was cloudy and filtered its light, but as I stood there I heard a whoosh sound cutting the stillness. I looked up to see an owl in flight. It landed near where I stood in a tree – perched there and magnificent. I felt I didn’t belong there, this was his space, it is a place he had come to many times before when there were no people, no houses and concrete. He now seemed out of place and that made me sad.  Later, as I was writing, I heard him outside of my window. By then it was nighttime and he was hooting. There is something mysterious about that sound. It seems foreboding and ominous.

That’s it, that’s as far as I got. I distracted myself from the owl and began rummaging around in my folders and I came across something I wrote last summer – I may have already posted it but, that’s okay, I post again because now, unlike then, I can answer some of the questions. I suppose if we just allow our lives to progress as they should, we can find answers, but that’s not what we typically do, we force things to happen – patience is a virtue. Anyway, here it is, perhaps, again.

 

 
summer 2012
I couldn’t sleep past 5 am this morning even though my bedtime last night approached midnight. It’s good though, I have wanted to see the summer sunrise and hear the silence in my house and I did this morning. There is something special about the beginning of a day – the feeling of aloneness, a place to connect with yourself before the rattle of the day distracts you and you become the chameleon once again. I can see myself more clearly  and I can admit my fears and flaws  and I can get to know me a bit better here in the very early morning when the world is somewhere in the distant and I am “alone” in it. I set goals for myself in the quietness of this morning, simple things like starting a canvas I have already created in my head and packing away the childhood memories in Matt and Drew’s room and then more difficult things like completing  the unending book I began nearly a decade ago, a memoir about Miss Sue and another goal to untie a few more apron strings, to “let go” , to redefine my role as mom and view it more as a sideline “job” while , all the while, wearing my heart on the outside– this is tough after so many intense years of being in the middle of things but it’s rather restful also – less doing and more enjoying. This post is going nowhere…

 
 It’s nearly noon now and I have some reoccurring thought in my head. It’s about change, lifestyle change. I can’t maintain the appetite of my youth – I have to let a few things go before I get weighted down with age and upkeep. I think I will begin with the garden. I have been gardening in one capacity or another since I was 15; Miss Sue taught and inspired me then. I have, by early June, semi abandoned mine and as I look at it I realize it is like a child and needs a lot of attention if it is to blossom and reach its potential. As I look within myself I realize I am not willing to give it the time it needs, at least not now. I have discovered this wonderful place to give me compensation, however, the local Farmer’s Market. I will limit my garden next spring to a square root box containing tomatoes bell peppers and eggplant and maybe cucumbers. Done.

 
 

I am still debating about my chickens at this point. I really do enjoy the fresh eggs and do not trust anything in the supermarket so perhaps I will scale down my flock from 18 to just 4. This will have to take its natural course of course, for I do not cull chickens. From this bucolic scale down I propose and post, I hope to unveil time – time to paint, write, and leave, just for small excursions probably to visit my nomadic kids.

Then there is the question of this house – this huge great old house where I raised my family – what do I do? What do we do – us who have rooted ourselves in memories and a place and now want more flexible time and less domestic work; it seems a choice between sentiment and pragmatism – who wins? It’s a great place to accommodate my large family but nearly each day of the year, after Elizabeth leaves, it will be an oversized space for just two people. I do not want to be its slave nor do I want it to be my money pit – I can think of so many other places to throw money, places that make a contribution to someone. I am not prepared to answer this nagging question just now, I think more needs to unravel before I know the answer. I will just pay mind to the contents at this point and try to lighten the interior load and perhaps one day soon, I will know what to do with the rest.

 
Ok.There you have a fair portion of a summer day’s rambling – questions posed, few answered. Exhausting, but it does help to write it down.
 
 
 
 

b u

p s

someone is watching

October began yesterday, and I, like you, wonder just how much faster time can travel. I do look forward to this month of Halloween, autumn leaves and ripe citrus on the trees but I am a bit concerned about how quickly it all happens. I feel like I was just planting zinnias.

The cloudy sky hid the rising Harvest Moon Saturday night. This is something that makes me a bit sad – it only happens once a year and, like Sally telling Linus, “I missed it!”

I wanted to post something this morning – there is something about early mornings that make me reflective and “writerly”. I can so easily go right to ranting and that is a faux pas with my goals for this blog so then I jump to nature and what is happening with her but then I look deeper and go into my real thoughts – thoughts brought on by October, time, and nature, and decide to tap out a few lines about that confusion of contemplations.

 It seems each time I turn the page into a new month, I take a look back, sometimes way back and sometimes just a bit back. This makes me realize that things in our heads seem better than things in real time. It’s funny how we can shuffle through the muck of our yesterdays and just allow the good stuff to rise, discarding those unpleasantries and discomforts and all those “problems” we had. I feel certain my memories of late Octobers of childhood are far better than the actual time. I love thinking about it though – it is as it should be, these places from yesterday that warm our todays, that wrap their arms around you and make you feel good – what could be wrong there and why do I need to be reminded of those nasty spots in my life anyway – I got the lesson and moved on – done.

 I write a lot about memories, I suppose it looks as though I live in the past but I really do not, I reflect on the past, a lot. It is somewhat of a guide book for me, it is a “learn by example”.It is a gift from people like my parents that keeps on giving. I was blessed with many great teachers in my life – I am not referring to the classroom sort – and those teachers are alive and dwell inside of my head, teaching. I also realize the importance of what I do and how I handle situations in my life because somebody is watching and someone will remember. Our history is a very valuable tool, perhaps our most valuable. There is no way to know what is ahead, so I do look behind and try to prepare, all the while knowing somebody is “watching” and I too, will one day be the “teacher” in someone’s head.

Don’t worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.
Robert Fulghum

b u
p s
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

January

I loved the imagery that follows in this poem and wanted to share it on this last day of January. Already, one month is gone, never to come again. I have to be more mindful of  my calories, my money, my words, my energy, my thoughts, and my days and how I chose to spend them. I have been wreckless with all of the above at times; I have yet another day, another gift, to begin again.
I just put this here because I love this picture of Lennon and I do think of how suddenly and without warning his music stopped.
“January is the quietest month in the garden.  …  But just because it looks quiet doesn’t mean that nothing
is happening.  The soil, open to the sky, absorbs the pure rainfall while microorganisms convert tilled-under
fodder into usable nutrients for the next crop of plants.  The feasting earthworms tunnel along, aerating
the soil and preparing it to welcome the seeds and bare roots to come.”

–  Rosalie Muller Wright, Editor of Sunset Magazine, 1/99
b u
p s