Worthy or Not

 I have already clearly identified myself as one who has trouble with procrastination. Otherwise why would it have taken me so long to start my blog. Little did I perceive that I had a new difficulty. Deciding what is “blog worthy.” I have not read nor do I follow an endless list of blogs. I do know however that they come in all sizes, are written with differing frequencies and cover diverse subject matter.

I know that I enjoy the blogs that are written more frequently. Regardless of the topics they seem to better represent the larger fabric of life that is not easily pocketed in categories. Our lives change every day in some way. We meet with new ideas. We are present to witness specific moments in time. Good or bad an entry can capture slices of those moments. Over time the mosaic might actually prove interesting over what one single entry...that might not be. 

Today being New Year’s Eve there have been several write ups on National news, in magazines as well as in personal blogs reflecting back on the year 2011 and looking forward to 2012.

The older I have gotten to more I believe that reflection is a daily matter. Looking forward to new beginnings could be any moment…any moment that you aren’t so engrossed in being “present” in that time does not exist. And since I have not always been very good at just “being present,” reflection, introspection and imagination have been pretty regular companions.

Every ending is the beginning of whatever comes next. There are opportunities for changes, endings and beginnings all around us. So there are no New Year resolutions here. No grand send ups. No grand send offs.

So, I hope that all have a Wondrous New Year. I will go back to my reading and probably be in bed with snoring dogs by eleven. Tomorrow is another day full of possibilities. And if my book is good who knows what discoveries I might stumble upon yet tonight!

Talking about reading…my idea of a good line is one that either speaks to me enough for me to mark the page for later (which requires me to actually come back for it later) or it is a line that speaks to me enough to actually stop reading and get up and find a pencil. Some individuals would keep writing instruments close at hand at all times but as you might guess, even after years of this, I am still not that individual.

“Destination no longer ruled. My only map was that of free association. I would follow each street only as long as it interested me and then, on a whim, choose a new direction.”

From Without Reservations by Alice Steinbach

Dreams in the Daylight

 Dreams can be so interesting.  Take a new medication and you never know what thoughts might visit you in the night.  Start new projects and again your brain will find unfinished stuff floating about and play with those new images.

I don’t always remember what I have been dreaming. Sometimes I get to enjoy snippets of sights, odd plots and feelings. I’ve read the recent theories of what my mind is doing and it sounds much less intriguing than the deep psychological babble of the past theories. And I am sorry to say that I have never taken up the habit of keeping a pad and pencil next to the bed in order to wake up and capture the miracle that unconscious imagination weaves together when left unsupervised. Any story plots will have to be found another way. I will admit to writing a few lines down later if I remember. Mostly they are gone, gone, gone.

I like the sweet dreams best. The ones that regardless of topic leave you with a feeling that the world is good and you were happy in that dream. You can actually feel the smiles that completed your face. The ones that leave you shaking with angry words spoken even in the dream or adrenaline for the deathly near miss, those I don’t hang onto very long. Then again some of them have been rung true and those angry words were those that in real life had been left unspoken. 

Last night I got to revisit Dale Hollow Lake, that family vacation spot of my childhood that always allowed us to spend more time with our father and relearn the art of sitting near water and being happy. Fishing poles could be involved but not necessarily so. Life was good and around me was the feeling that at that moment, that moment was "enough." I like that in my dream I could rearrange reality and see the old dock situated in the cove and not have to deal with the mega growth of boat storage areas, new highways and new improved floating restaurants and docks.  Our memories can shift through and do that for us. I thoroughly enjoyed the trip.

I can’t even tell you what I was doing out on the water last night but it was beautiful and knew where I was and as soon as I awoke I realized that as nice as the trip felt that the specific location did not exist anymore. So now I get to decide whether I want to feel sad that life keeps changing. According to the specialists even our memories are not immune to taking on a life of their own regardless of what some imaginary video record of an event might otherwise imply. So am I sad for the changes or am I thankful that I had some good experiences that gave peace to my spirit. 

I do want to be able to recognize the small blessings of wonderfulness should I accidentally or otherwise be so lucky as to wander through amazing experiences in the future. I hope that the future will hold opportunities to feel again like that sweet dream...only awake. And a hope that I will have the wisdom to recognize the moments when they come.

In Rememberance of Voices

And it is Christmas. I usually try to ignore the date and quietly move right on into January. I have almost made it. There were no decorations again this year unless you count the ones that the dogs wore to visit their friends and the health care facilities. And yes I admit that sometimes in a weak moment I ask them to wear something silly just to do a ride along in the car. They do look so festive.

I have gotten to attend two very different Christmas presentations. Last Thursday evening, Remi and I drove out through the large puddles and down the dark roads to the health care center to watch and listen to their Christmas production. A few outside musicians and several residents presented some holiday songs and shared joy with their families and friends. Most of the resident’s performances demonstrated a love for the sentiment of the season but not so much the ability to hit the right key. As you might expect ones breath control goes along with health especially when you are not called upon to sing around the piano with friends and family much anymore.  But there was no getting around the laughter and cheer and warmth that permutated the room. It was all good.

On Christmas Eve I drove my stepmother over to her church so that she could attend her evening service.  You need to understand that we are now on the other end of the spectrum of Christmas performances.  When did Methodist ministers start dressing like Catholic priests? I guess it had been awhile since I had attended church.

The church is large, fancy, well established and nestled into one of Cincinnati’s wealthiest neighborhoods.  I used to sing in the choir when I was in high school.  Christmas Eve music was always part of the magic of Christmas in those days only I remember the church as over flowing with standing room only in the back and completely filled with candlelight at the end.

The candlelight is still touching at the end as the lights are lowered but sitting up front I noticed that there would have been room for some additional stragglers. I guess I am not the only one who has wondered away from formal church services.  The music still dramatically tries to sweep everyone up in the message and mood of the night. In my opinion the flute player could have done it alone. No organ extravaganza would have been needed.  But then this particular choir hires a couple of soloists to sing with them every week and presented some sweet solos as part of their music.  I kept trying to see back to that sixteen year old me and wondered if I would have been qualified to sing in such a quality choir.  Sigh. I used to be able to sing.

In college I even enjoyed music enough to take lessons for two quarters.  I stopped when we realized that by the second quarter I would be required to sing before a “jury” in order to receive a grade. I was average. My grade average didn’t appreciate the hit.

Fast forward through thirty years of teaching. I only made it through the first 15 before I realized that what little voice I had was lost. Oh, I can still lead an amazing rendition of, “Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed,” or “Little Rabbit Fo Fo,” in my lower register but don’t ask me to sing in a normal pitch. Those vocal cords are destroyed. Nonverbal students don’t complain (or grade) teachers that sing in their lower register. 

So now when I do go to events that expect “singing” as much as my heart may have memories of past wonderful experiences, I stand silent and listen and remember and miss singing.  I miss that personal lift that music can give the spirit.  Oh, the sound of others still grabs me but I miss being able to transport myself along with all the other sopranos in the Halleluiah chorus.  Now my voice remains silent even at the nursing home if that lets you know how gone it is.

It may be one of the reasons I avoid church.  The music was the part that mattered to me.  So, I loved that the residents of the health care center still had enough voice to be able to sing and that they didn’t have to worry that they weren’t good enough to sing with the soloists.

And I get to stand silent and miss my singing voice but enjoy theirs.  And I wonder how the child who was nonverbal and autistic felt as he sang with me with his “hands.” There was always so much more he wanted to say. 

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star...

 Last night on the news program the story about an inmate was shared. A man who has been falsely imprisoned for twenty years and whose case has just recently been overturned with the help of the Innocence Project and others.  He stated that the first thing he was waiting to do this week when he left the prison is look up and see the stars.  He hasn’t been able to see any stars for twenty years.

Twenty years on a charge of rape that had no physical evidence to back it up. The individual had a witness able to testify that he was somewhere else and the individual had passed his lie detector evaluation with flying colors. Twenty years lost even after the initial investigating detective had cleared him as a suspect. Two years later however a new investigating detective took over the cold case and decided to go after this man.   The previous official departmental findings (or lack of) were never shared with the defense team and the detective hung the entire case on a witness picking the gentleman’s picture out of a picture line up two years after the fact.

I don’t want to think the shutter that goes through those that have studied brain research and the field of perception and memory.  Besides these were really bad photographs and only one showed a suspect with a larger head and with a total different background than all the others.   I bet I don’t have to tell you which one picture the witnesses pointed at.   And which picture was the suspect.

During the initial trial at some point the individual was offered a plea bargain to plead guilty and accept a sentence of 30 days. He refused because he said he could not plead guilty to something he had not done. He sat in prison and watched other inmates with actual torturous crimes to their credit go before the patrol board and get cut loose early because they would fess up and agree to demonstrate remorse for their crimes. But when he continued to be steadfast and unremorseful for a crime that he did not commit he never was considered for parole.   He has been twenty years of being somewhere and engaged with a life that he had never imagined would have been his. Now he gets a chance to take control back for his life.

The individual’s most emotional moments of the interview were focused on appreciating the soldiers that are fighting for freedom.   I think those words may have covered both those individual "soldiers" that fought for him through the justice system and those that fought for our way of life in the greater world such that our justice system could work.   Even if it takes twenty years…

I am now thinking of the recent bill before the US Congress that would take away those basic rights granted in our system to hear evidence against any of us as American citizens. Those that read the fine print tell us it is “only” in special cases involved with suspected terrorist activities by American citizens.   Does make you ponder the wisdom of and the checks and balances that might need to exist on those powerful enough to get to make those decisions.

And the stars come out even when we forget to watch and even when we are not patient enough to be present.

But I will go back to the wonders of individual freedom and the opportunity to take control of one’s life and back to the idea of responsibility for the outcome of personal choice.  I am thinking that I am not going to complain to myself about the weightiness of responsibilities in my own life.    Again perspective and the changed “vision” of the world around us keep us in awe. I hope I have been worthy of my last twenty years and look forward to exploring what can be achieved and experienced in the next twenty.

We already appreciated contemplating our universe but now we will remember that the stars are not available to every one all the time. Enjoy all moments of wonder. 

Cold Morning Memories

First thing this morning I was reminded to smile and send a blessing on for making it to this retirement from my previous life.   I woke up and let a couple of the dogs out at 7:00 am. I looked out into the still, dark, chilly morning and remembered that not that years ago I would be even now walking from my car towards the school building gathering my thoughts together to face another day of the expected and unexpected.  I even remember that last year when I would look out over the dark and still empty parking lot and remind myself that, “This too will pass….” And it did. Now it is only a memory and the dogs and I quietly slip back under the warm covers and close our eyes for another hour or so of dreams and sleep. It is amazing what getting 8 and 9 hours of sleep can do.  Among other things I do not miss sleep deprivation. 

I have just finished an interesting book by David Eagleman, Incognito.  

In discussing an experiment on the workings of the left and right hemispheres of the brain he states that, “When one part of the brain makes a choice, other parts can quickly invent a story to explain why.”

Mornings can look different after retirement.

Our brain is always working on incomplete perceptions of our world but our brain in its love for order and reason will fill in the blanks so seamlessly that we don’t even know what we know and what we have made up to instantly fill in the blanks.

Listen for the Bells

The gift cards are officially on their way and I made my way through Target earlier yesterday to pick up some items there.  I stimulated the economy in my own small way.  The dogs even have their 2012 dog licenses. So they are covered for another year. Merry Christmas! They have a warm home, a comfortable couch/bed, enough to eat. In these economic times, that is a lot. Now I will step back and try to avoid as much of the holidays as I can.

There was once a house rule that the Christmas music had to wait until after Thanksgiving.  It then played and played and filled the rooms with memories of childhood.  The tree actually got set up and it would entertain children with its lights, cats with its tinsel and the dogs with its build in round balls to fetch.  The children are gone. Tinsel isn’t good for cats and these particular dogs have never had a tree or ornaments to chase across the floor.

The sense of the season began to fall apart even before our own young children grew up to know that they would rather have “Santa” give them a gift card so that they could pursue their distinctive sense of style or needs.   Back when I was still in college one of the last of those old traditions got pulled.  I got home for the holidays to find there was no official, “Trip to find the perfect tree.” My step mother didn’t find it necessary or relevant for my father and I to find the special tree. My father’s wife kept chipping away at our childhood traditions because…well because, they were not hers.  I realized that Christmas could exist in a vacuum unattached. It might look pretty but have no real heart. She always lacked the ability to appreciate what is important to others.

In college I remember the warmth of friendships and caroling and rush of small gift giving (we were all “college” poor) that carried us through those last days of the term. There was magic in the air. Even final exams didn’t seem to dent the spirit much but then we were sort of geeks.  Then I had to return to Ohio and home and holidays just were not so warm and fuzzy there but everything sure looked pretty! 

Now every December I watch all the car commercials and jewelry stores filled with sparkly things.  I have to say that I travel in the wrong circles because I don’t know anyone who has gotten a new car for Christmas. I suppose it could happen but I don’t think that the big gift giving experience is what is missing.  I don’t want to hear one more commercial reminding me what I could buy…or where I could go to buy it. 

Maybe a quiet snowstorm and a purring cat in my lap with some Christmas music in the background will help.  I know that the dogs will want to go visit their friends at the health care facility later today.  The closest I get to remembering the feeling the miracle magic of Christmas is when the dogs walk through the room with their bells tinkling and I see heads come up trying to find what “lost reindeer” made that sound and there are smiles. 

For some the miracle of Christmas is the birth of a small baby and not so much about buying new cars.  But regardless of one’s personal beliefs Christmas does remind many of us that there was a time that we still believed in the magic of childhood and dreams of possibilities. Before we drowned in a history of dysfunctional family gatherings there was joy and wonder. In our hearts some Christmas still exists in most of us.  

They believe in the power and magic of dog bones.

"Bird by Bird"

"Bird by Bird," comes from the writings of Anne Lamott and is also a title of one of her books.   Her words refer to a scene from her childhood where her brother is complaining about the impossibility of completing a long put off school project in time to meet the now looming deadline of the next day.   He asks his father how he will ever complete his grand report on birds.   His father's response is very simple, "Bird by bird."    And so I begin another part of my own journey.   Creating a blog has been a possibility for a long time but has been avoided just as long.   The impossibility of doing it right, whatever that means, and the ever present insecurities of thinking, "No one will care?" or worst, "Someone else might care!" do weigh heavily in favor of the procrastinator.    But thanks to brave heroes out there who have previously jumped into these new worlds of words I will begin with the first step.   I realize that I am the one who needs to care. 

Apparently I have now survived the first steps of blogging, choosing the platform and the template, and canvas lies blank in front of me.

Before I retired a number of years ago as an administrator I placed, "Bird by Bird," up on my screen saver to remind me that my current position and situation at that time may have been impossible but that many things could be accomplished as long as I didn't give up, as long as I continued making decisions, prioritizing tasks and taking care of what I could.  I did survive.  I always felt that I was leaving some of the birds out. Later as a member of an woman's RV group I took on the name, "Bird by Bird" on their forum because it represented my slow but stead journey as part of my retirement to discover what comes next.  It has included the process of acquiring an RV, and exploring the new possibilities of traveling.  Those "birds" have included travel accomplishments met, friendships made, mistakes survived and dreams begun.   

So now I continue to explore what comes next.  

"As we hold words in our hands, like stones, sensing the ways in which each is connected to the others, looking at them sometimes from very close, caressing them with our fingers and the tips of our pens, weighing them, moving them around...words create new worlds."   - Orham Panuk