March 18 ... Chaos

Many, many (+20) years ago, chaos was a regular part of my life. Decisions were made that were based on fear, addiction, anxiety, plain old ignorance, and on and on it went. We moved constantly, never had money, never settled. I know this was a carry-over from the family I came from, as well as the family my ex-husband came from, neither of us having a model for healthy living.

Today, I look around and sometimes see the vestiges of that chaos, and I wish in my heart of hearts I had the power to do something about that. But I don't. I am in part responsible for that chaos, having sent it down the generational line, but I don't have the power to change it once it's been taken out of my hands and integrated into the life of someone else. What I get to do now is say it's possible to live without this, look, learn. And my hope and prayer is that in as much as someone has been able to learn the chaotic stuff, they can now watch and listen, and learn the healthy stuff too.

So my gratitude today is for the space in my life, that I created and I work diligently to maintain, that does not contain chaos, that does not invite it in, that withstands it's seduction. I am grateful for the calm, the serenity, the stability. I am grateful for the strength that has had a chance to grow and for the peace the flourishes because of it.

March 2 .... Mother Earth..

It is a glorious day today. Warm even by winter's standards. Sunny. Brilliant. I walked alot today, first with Honey, then to work. Birds singing, which by the way they do all winter long, it just seems on a fine Spring-like day you really hear them. And then as I walked... there is was.. that smell, the earth melting, a tulip's bulb somewhere, tingling, the ground thawing, that smell of Mother Earth.

When we moved into this lovely home of ours, I cried a little every day because the smell (I would learn later that is the smell of trees) reminded me of my dear cottage, what used to be my dear cottage. It's been eight years since we lost the cottage, since my father sold it in a dementia-stricken moment. I still mourn it's loss. But through my relationship with that place, those grounds, the air, trees, and water of that space ... I developed a deep connection to the earth. Something real and tangible. And while I mourn the loss of that cottage more than the loss of my mother, I am ever so grateful for having had that relationship for the time that I did. I am grateful that I had a place and space that was reliable, solid, never really changing, encompassing and embracing, real. I can call up the memory - sensory memory - without trying very hard at all. Whether someone else owns that piece of land or not, I will forever be a child of Winnetou Lake. I will forever be grateful for what that land gave to me.

And so on the first Spring days, when Mother Earth loosens up a little, basks in the warmth of the sun, shifts and changes and gives of herself after a long winter, I am grateful. I am grateful for the sense of peace she shares with me.