Reflections

Breathing after Fiona

“All good!” was the message from my daughter early this morning. With tears starting to form after hearing this welcome news, I took a deep breath. It felt like it been hours since I had taken a deep breath.

She and her fiancé have survived post-hurricane Fiona only a few weeks after moving to the east coast. The storm isn’t over yet, but they made it through the night. They have avoided telling me about the damage outside. The scenarios playing through my mind all night are hopefully not true. In my mind all the trees had toppled because of all the rain and strong winds. I’ll wait to hear the details when the storm has passed through later today.

Neighbours brought over a care package of hot coffee and treats; others checked in via text message. This is the way people used to be in the old days—taking care of each other, and welcoming practical strangers into their homes and lives. I am thankful that my baby chose to live in that small community where people are so kind.

That should be enough to stop the high level of anxiety and worry that a mother feels. Maybe someday I’ll learn to trust that my children will be okay even when they move so far away. And I’ll be able to breathe even while waiting for the news.

Dad’s roses

After years of working long hours 12 months each year, my father retired at a relatively young age. He was 55 when my brother was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and decided to retire in order to spend more time with my brother, and with mom.

My mother struggled so much after losing her son to cancer at the young age of 27. She basically stopped living, and never recovered the energy that she once had. Dad then took over the responsibility of everything that mom could no longer do — gardening, Christmas celebration, birthday celebrations, engaging with the rest of us. For over 30 years he lovingly took care of mom, worked full-time volunteering, and continued to learn.

One of dad’s new passions was growing roses. He wanted to do it right, and knew that he didn’t have any expertise in gardening, so he signed up for a workshop on growing roses.

Dad’s last visit 2 months before he died. We spent some time in the rose gardens at the Legislature buildings.

A few days ago I arrived at my mom’s house to give my sister a week break from caring for mom. Tending the garden is a way I can get outside while still allowing mom to see that she is not alone. I try to remember the instructions that my father had passed on to me about how and where to cut the stems to stop the rose bushes from growing wild and I definitely would benefit from a refresher course!

These two roses pictured above were hiding behind others already in full bloom, but somehow they jumped out at me. They are another way to remind mom of the care and love of dad.

10 minutes of gratitude

Spend 10 minutes writing down things you are grateful for.

(suggestion from Inner Pathways Counselling)

Sunsets
Clouds
Children
My family
Friends
Gardens
a friendly smile from a stranger
music to help me through the difficult days
good food
coffee in the morning
life’s experiences
memories
Mountains
Birds singing

curiousity
family video calls
safety
freedom
health
ability to learn
fresh, clean air
clean, running water
warm showers
electricity
mobility
intelligence

Connection

The day after I took this photo I walked past the mother orca and her baby again and watched two men carefully trimming the plants to give them a neat and tidy, smooth look.

Each May long weekend the mother orca with her baby, riding on the crest of a wave, magically appears. It is gone sometime in October. A little sign nearby explains that this work of art is made up of about 10,000 plants.

Between May and October thousands of tourists (and locals like me) take photos of these two figures. I see four different kinds of plants. Each plant individually is probably nice to look at, but fairly insignificant as a plant—just grasses and leaves. But 10,000 of them together become a major tourist draw. In fact, so many people are fascinated with this that unless I walk past it early in the morning, there is not much chance of getting a shot without people in it.

Each individual has a part to play in the formation of a beautiful creation.

“In nature we never see anything isolated, but everything in connection with something else which is before it, beside it, under it and over it.”
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Golden hour

The period of time before sunset is called “golden hour”. I didn’t know that until 5 minutes ago when I did a google search looking for the word to describe it.

What did we do before internet? I remember the day when I was a pre-teen and the large set of World Book Encyclopedias arrived at our house. My father was an educator. At the time he was the high school principal in our small town. He knew how excited we would be to have so much knowledge at our fingertips. And we were excited!! My siblings and I spent hours those first few days looking up information on many random subjects. Those encyclopedias were very useful when writing essays, working on projects and doing our homework.

It was my father who first told me how to do internet searches, when at first we had to put a plus sign between words: time+before+sunset. He kept that last set up encyclopedias for many years after they became redundant. I think that was partly for sentimental reasons, and partly because he didn’t know what to do with something that was once so valuable.

When my husband was struggling with the effects of a brain tumour we would watch TV together. He could remember seeing actors in different movies, and wanted me to try to fill in the blanks for him so having a laptop handy it was quick and easy to look up the information that was always on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach of his memory.

The “golden hour” in reference to stroke victims is that first hour following a stroke where intervention can often make a difference. Unfortunately my father’s stroke was the more rare kind of hemorrhagic stroke. Even if he hadn’t already suffered in silence for most of the day before being discovered, quicker intervention might not have improved the outcome.

Golden hour also refers to the period of time immediately following an accident, illness or injury where medication or surgery can mean the difference between life and death.

With my iPad, iPhone and computer I can look up current and thorough and often accurate information without having two bookshelves full of encyclopedias that are out-of-date shortly after purchase.

…..one more item for my gratitude journal.

Water

What is it about active water that I find so fascinating?

I could sit in front of a water fountain or waterfall for hours, listening and watching. The way water interacts with itself, constantly changing paths and streams; the sound of waves hitting the shore near the ocean.

Not long ago I watch my young granddaughter scream with glee as she played with the water spouting from a frog at the gardens. She is only 2 years old and is discovering many new things every day.

I am much older than that, yet I seem to be discovering new things each day as well. Every second in the presence of moving water is new — it is never a repeat.

Misty morning

The sun is rising behind me as I walk toward the ocean. Today my new routine continues—for the fourth day in a row I have gone for an early morning walk. This morning I walked to the cruise ship terminal to investigate parking options for when my aunt and two cousins arrive for a few hours’ visit on the weekend.

Early mornings are quiet here. Along the way I came across crows scavenging, picking through what was left behind by partying crowds overnight. Two squirrels chattering away in what appeared to be either a heated discussion, or some sort of mating ritual. Seagulls are always numerous along the shoreline, interrupting the patter of running shoes along the concrete path.

Later this morning I will have to walk downtown for a meeting, maneuvering through the crowds of tourists. If only they knew how special the mornings are before they all get up and explore my neighbourhood!

Routine

How long should it take to establish a new routine? Now that I am attempting to semi-retire, I need to find ways to structure my day with positive activities.

Normally my work schedule has kept me very occupied. As a musician this schedule changes day-to-day and week-to-week. Some of the regular lessons and gigs stay the same, but all the extra rehearsals, short-term contracts and performances have made routine nearly impossible.

But that’s okay because all my life I have silently rebelled against routine. Michael came into my life with an ultra routine-oriented lifestyle. I found out later that his breakfast schedule (porridge Monday, Wednesday, Friday; cereal Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday) was established originally by his mother. His brain tumour and other conditions required serious routine. My approach to breakfast is “what do I feel like eating this morning?”

Yesterday I decided to start to a daily routine of a morning walk. Lots of people do that. It shouldn’t be that difficult, and it will be good for my physical health. This morning I went for a walk a for the 2nd day in a row, and am hoping that this new routine is established. We’ll see…..

Bandits

The familiar sound of paws scraping tree trunks startled me as I went to check my mailbox that evening. Raccoons are frequent visitors to our strata, crawling beneath the cedars in my backyard, sipping from the dish of water that I leave out for the stray cats and starting wars high in the trees.

Yes, there was a war! Many of the neighbours came out to observe the two males fighting over a female high in the pine tree. It looked like one of them chickened out and let the other guy win.

Many years ago when I lived in a different town, two young boys came to my door selling prints of paintings that their father had painted. For a very low price I bought one of two raccoons peaking out from a tree, titled “BANDITS”. At the time I had no idea how often I would be visited by these terribly cute bandits.

The water dish which I leave out on my patio day and night sometimes ends up on its side, or full of dirty water. Those are the nights that the raccoons find themselves thirsty. Cats are much cleaner, and don’t lift up the ceramic dish and play with it!

Even though I live downtown in a city, I love how almost daily I am witness to wildlife in my yard.

Coast to Coast

For three weeks we drove across the country, then spent time at my daughter’s new home. For those three weeks I was amazed at the beauty of the new scenery that we passed through and experienced daily. Everything seemed so beautiful and new.

When I returned home and started looking at my own surroundings through eyes that had been refreshed by such a fantastic vacation and “reset”. I began to notice the little things that tourists notice and realize how much I have missed.

For the past several years my head has been buried in my work. When I go for walks or drives there is always a reason, and usually I am in such a hurry to get where I am going that I don’t see anything along the way.

We also have uniquely shaped cloud patterns that reflect colourful sunrises and sunsets. We have a bright moon that lights up the night sky and continues to shine during the day. We have trees and flowers lining the roads that wind through the hills and mountains. And we have an ocean — not the same ocean, but it is still an ocean.

This summer I have travelled from the west coast to the east coast of Canada, and back again. We drove 6000 km east and flew west. I experienced many times of reflection, good conversation, generosity and the kindness of strangers.

There is no BEST place to live. There might be a best place to live right now, but I think I could get used to living almost anywhere.