Archives for category: Spring

I’m in love. Have I mentioned that? It’s true.  Strangely, it hasn’t been a long-term state of affairs for me, but very little has. I’ve been in love for a couple of years, and I have partners who are beyond worthy of that affection.  Funny it has been such a short time in my life.  Consider this rose:

IMAG0341

Nozomi, (Onodera, Japan, 1968)

Not a great picture of her, but it’s early in the spring and there isn’t much going on with roses just yet.  This is Nozomi, a pale pink bud that opens white on a rambling, low ground-cover miniature type bush. She’s quite lovely in bloom, covered with pink buds, then white single blooms of 5 petals. She is also one of my longest ‘relationships’. lol. No kidding – I’ve had this rose since 1993. I purchased her as a young rooted cutting from Ralph Moore‘s Sequoia Nursery in Visalia, California at a very different time and place in my life. 20 years. I have no relationships with lovers, partners, or spouses with that kind of longevity, so far. I have very few friends who have been part of my experience for that long, and even family members with whom I am close have experienced vast stretches of lifetime without hearing from me at all.  Connecting is sometimes difficult for me, and I suspect I have not done justice to the efforts of those who have tried to love me…but somehow I have managed to drag this rose through 7 moves, 2, states, 4 career changes, 3 long-term relationships, 3 in-ground locations, 5 different pots, 3 balcony gardens, a community garden and 20 years…there’s a lesson or a metaphor there, I’m just sure of it. lol.

Yesterday was a festival of pain until quite late in the evening.  This morning feels like a different world.  I watched the spring closely as I walked in to the office this morning. I listened to birds singing. I smelled the fragrances of early blossoms opening along well manicured, landscaped walkways. I contemplated the impermanence of things, the passage of time, and what has remained of all the things that have been and wondered why so much of what I have clung to for so long has been all those things that hurt the most, instead of so many wonderful things that seem, instead, so fleeting.  I thought about spaces and moments I have loved most deeply, both for the relationships, and for the settings.  Some of my happiest moments have been in shared conversation with people dear to me, or interesting strangers. Connections. Words.

At home, I am creating a space for sharing conversations, and folding into it the understanding that being in a serene space often opens our hearts to being more vulnerable in our relationships, more candid in our conversations.  There are roses, and a ton of flowers, and a small bistro table and chairs for two, and every day I bring my loving heart to this space to consider what is next. I am eager to be there, sitting with a friend or lover, sharing a latte and a moment of quiet conversation, building my history out of happier building blocks; mindful, serene, and compassionate.

A quiet spot for conversation

A quiet spot for conversation

I’m more than a little embarrassed to realize that ‘the way I feel’ in the garden, that ‘different something’ that I’ve noticed all along…is mindfulness. Damn. How did I not understand to take it out of the garden and into my life? Well, no reason to be annoyed with myself about it now, it’s beyond me to alter what already exists in my history.  I am, however, eager to feel spring warm to summer and find myself with an iced coffee on the table, and next to me someone I love, sharing thoughts, and words, and continuing our history together.

As I said, I’m in love – and this morning, in my now, that feeling entirely includes how I feel about myself, my own heart, my own experience. I am an imperfect fragile vessel, and you will find my loving heart in the spring garden.

In the spring garden

In the spring garden

Did you miss me? Ran out of internet while I was gone? Printed word long forgotten in the wake of local political scandals, fear-mongering news-media, and the impending zombie apocalypse? It is possible, perhaps, that someone out there in the wide world rolled out of bed, flipped on their technological connections to the world, and felt bereft of this fleeting handful of words we share between us so regularly… I might have doubted it, but for two things that were delightful reminders that we do indeed make our presence felt in the world, however small our piece of that puzzle happens to be; an email, and a conversation.

Saturday, as I rode the train home from a visit to a lovely big local farmer’s market, I had a casual meeting with a young man who, as it turned out, reads my blog. That was a little odd, and very serendipitous – what a privilege and an honor to see and connect with someone unknown who reads my words, and gets his own value from them…a stranger on a train…a moment of connection. I felt so open to the world, to my experience, to all the potential that exists for each of us as we move through the connected spaces in our lives.  It was profound and moving. [And hey, please thank your Mom for me for sharing my blog with you – and good luck with life and tough choices!]

Sunday a simple email from a cherished friend; a playful inquiry and a loving reminder that there really are people out there, reading my words, hearing me, and preserving our connection through this space.  I felt, for a moment, a tad neglectful of friends and loved ones, and let that go quickly; it was a wonderful weekend of connecting with people and experiencing moments.  It was a weekend rich with love, Love, fun, humor, and a very good slow roast of beef, and I can’t find fault with myself for enjoying that with my whole heart. 😀

Now, Monday arrived rather gently, and I woke slowly to a later alarm and enjoyed a solitary coffee as the dawn broke. I took time to meditate, and it seemed only moments had passed when the rest of the household woke, too, and we shared a few minutes of smiles and harmony before I headed to work. Even the walk in seemed gilded with love itself, and the birds enjoyed it with me, sharing their songs of morning, losing my attention only now and then – I am sometimes distracted by the sparkle of frosty dew on blades of grass.

I am finding today to be a very good day indeed.

Welcome to Spring!

Spring Flowers

Spring Flowers

The rain fell more aggressively this morning than I expected from the gentle patter on the skylights before dawn.  I enjoyed the life lesson as I walked to work; a lesson about raincoats, freewill, and adulthood.   It was delivered wrapped in a memory, a delightful enough gift, on a spring morning.

I walked in the rain, frustratedly fussing with the hood of my raincoat, and irritably noting with some amusement that somehow the designer had failed to understand that a hood might be more effective if it were to stay up over my head when a breeze comes up.  Each time I tugged it back up, something nagged my consciousness until a wee crystal clear memory of actual childhood reached my awareness – to my great delight (I don’t have many).  I recalled a rainy morning, leaving home – specifically the glass vestibule of an apartment building – to walk to the bus stop to go to school.  My hood fell down, I pulled it up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Then the clear recollection of my thought in the moment; a sort of ‘When I’m a grown up, I will not wear a hood at all!’ kind of thought.  I grinned to myself at the recollection of petulant childhood frustration with a world that seemed then to seriously favor ‘grown ups’.  Being ‘a grown up’ myself now, more or less, I understand that the reality of it has often failed to live up to my childhood expectations…and I walked on considering that.

When I was younger than adult, I lived with a fantasy that someday, when I was ‘a grown up’, I would live my life based on my own will alone. I would choose my apartment, my job, my friends, my life style – I would live entirely based on my own values, my own desires, and my free will to choose.  It sounded beyond exciting – it also sounded like the only possible outcome.  Adulthood and I did reach some sort of wary meeting place, at about 18 years for me, and my ‘menu’ of choices seemed immediately to be unexpectedly limited by my resources, my opportunities, choices I had already made, and a whole assortment of ‘have to’ ‘supposed to’ and ‘need to’ things that I didn’t anticipate being obstacles.  The whole mess was frustrating and vaguely disappointing.  This morning, though, it flooded back to me with the Spring rain – the promise inherent in becoming adult, the potential in the very real opportunities of choice, itself, and of free will.  I laughed out loud, and let the breeze blow back my hood. I grinned into the dawn through rain spattered glasses, and my stride relaxed and became natural and free; and I gave myself the further gift – and respect – of choosing to live up to my own values and pleasures, and disregarded the rain, the hood, and any sense of propriety or decorum regarding ‘keeping my clothes nice’.  My walk to work stopped being an internal list of reminders about work, life,  or concern about damp socks, damp hair, or rain drops tickling the back of my neck, and became the pure joy of experiencing a beautiful, rainy, spring morning – and here I am.  For the moment, whole and happy and content to be human, content to be female, and content to be ‘a grown up’, all of which seems quite simple and natural having remembered that now that I’m an adult, I do get to live my life based on my own values, on my own choices, and that those choices are only limited by the limits I acknowledge and accept for myself.  A nice reminder – some internal spring cleaning, of a sort, and a welcome re-assessment of small frustrations in life.

So, here I am on a Wednesday, on the Vernal Equinox; damp socks, damp hair, and for the time being an unbeatably buoyant feeling of contentment with this fragile vessel, and it’s precious contents.

Welcome to Spring, indeed.