Giant

From the “Blessed Shiver” prompt from the Isolation Journals, I am encouraged to write about one of my earliest memories in vivid detail.

There are a few memories from the age of three or four….decades before starting kindergarten! I was the middle child of four siblings: my older brother, and younger twins were the ones who were noticed. My older brother, because of his adeptness at demanding attention good and bad, and the twins because they were twins and cute and adorable. My recollection of that particular was a day when were we preparing to go for a walk. We lived at the time in Fort St. John, in northern BC. It was after the snow had melted in the spring. The sidewalk was dry, but the mud was thick and sticky beside the sidewalk.

Being the perfectly well-behaved child that I was (interpret that as scared silly to do anything that might bring on my mom’s anger) I dressed quickly in my warm clothing and went outside to wait, far away from the chaos of the others. I walked out in the cool, crisp mid-morning air, looking at my boots. My feet were always kept warm with the new boots which were most likely hand-me-downs from my brother. I knew I could only walk out to the sidewalk, then stop and wait for the others. As I approached the sidewalk I looked up and saw gigantic hairy legs. My own legs, frozen with fear, would not move an inch, but eyes kept looking up higher and higher until I could see the face of that hairy creature.

I’m not sure if my fear of large dogs started at that moment, or if I was so petrified because I was already afraid of large dogs and this was the size of an elephant. The St. Bernard also did not move an inch. Did it realize the fear in me? Was he hoping to help me through it? Or was he plotting to eat me up as my imagination ran wild. Fortunately my mom and siblings came out to rescue me and on we walked, and I was once again invisible.

Notes to self….

I joke often that I still feel like I’m 18 years old. At 18 I was very shy, although learning to talk to people one-on-one in normal conversation. Yet, in front of the classroom (I was a substitute band teacher back in the days when all you needed was the skills and not the papers) I was fearless. The students, often around my age or only a year or two younger, listened and followed my direction. I loved that year of using my gifts to make a difference in the lives of the students.

At 18 I had not found a boyfriend and been only on a few very awful dates. But I was young and free. My parents moved away and left me to look after the house. Fortunately, it took a year to sell so I had the house to myself for that year! I could buy the groceries I wanted; I could make some basic decisions on my own — what to eat, when to eat, who to spend time with. It was a happy time for me.

Here is my letter to my 18 year old self:

Dear Sandra,
Enjoy every minute of the freedom that you have found at 18. Keep riding your bike early in the mornings to listen to the birds chirping. Go canoeing in the lake as often as want. Be brave and talk to people — they will like you even if you aren’t as pretty as the other girls. Stop at the viewpoints on the way to your piano lessons, to watch the creek and listen to the wind in the trees. These days won’t last forever.

When you are a bit older you will make decisions that affect you and your family in ways not imagined. Your desire to be free, and on your own will lead you to move to other side of the globe. Don’t be afraid of that. It’s who you are.

And when you are even older you will discover courage and bravery not imaginable until it is required. Don’t ever give up…you are strong, and you will survive even the toughest battles.

dreams starting to come true!

remember to breathe

Last year, before the pandemic shut down our choir rehearsals, another choir director prepared special buttons for each of our singers. We had some leftover, which I happily kept. Children love to receive gifts, no matter how small, and these ones seemed quite special. The button that I kept reads “remember to breathe”. It is a reminder for me to breathe not only to sing, but to breathe when I am hit with troubles and with the need to make important decisions.

Throughout this past year I have reminded myself, my students, my choir kids and my own children to “just breathe”. Just breathe when you can’t get your hands to coordinate; breathe when you are too nervous to start playing; breathe when you need to sustain a long phrase; breathe when trying not to react badly to difficult people.

A few days ago I was hit with some horribly devastating news. It was about someone I had never met, but who is very close to a family member. And I just want to tell him to remember to breathe while he sits in jail waiting to talk to anyone who cares for him (and there are many). To remember to breathe when the police try to break you down. Breathe when you just need that strength to get through every minute of every hour waiting far too many days for the bail hearing.

I don’t know how this will play out…nobody knows at this point. When we are faced with so much uncertainty, sometimes remembering to breathe is about all we can do.

What? How?

The Isolation Journals prompt that I am using today is from poet Victoria Redel. She challenges us to write poem or prose using words with only one syllable. How much can I write in 10 minutes with that limitation? We’ll see:

This morn we woke up
stars and moon still high in the sky
my dog and I

I think of my son
thank God he is not sick
screw this pan dem ick

Each day is new
with all kinds of fears
and lots of tears

But, this day
this day my kids choir will sing
and our hearts will ring

Blessings

Eleven years ago my children decided that a puppy would help improve my life. My late husband’s best friend was probably the one who encouraged that thought, knowing that I was lonely and lost. When Toffee came into my life, he was 3 months old, and so very cute. I was told that I could send him back with no problems since there was a long list of people who wanted him.

He has been a real blessing to me, and I have learned a lot from watching him and raising him. For example, the rituals in life which I have so long rebelled against, are quite necessary for dogs. His morning consists of getting me out of bed as early as possible — preferably before 5:00 — quick check out in the back yard, gobble down breakfast in 10 seconds or less, beg for that inch of banana, go out again for big jobs, come back in to make sure I get my own breakfast. Once Toffee is successful in that full routine, he can relax and sleep.

The pandemic has been a challenge, of course, for all of us. One of the biggest changes in Toffee’s life is the loneliness. He used to get visited daily by several of my students. Now he only gets to hear their voices and see them on the screen.

I could write for days on blessings in my life. The stories about my children and now my grand-children; about my friends; about my adventures; my interesting and varied opportunities. That is one reason I started this blog. I want to write some of these things down, and I find that as I write, I realize that there are so many good things in my life. During the year of covid I often dwell on the negative and what I am missing and the fear and uncertainty. Each day when I spend 10 minutes writing, I am reminded of the blessings, the funny events, the good thoughts that I experience every day.

A year ago I became obsessed with Desiree Dawson’s song, “Just Fine”. I listened to it over and over, as a way to remind myself that things will be just fine. ….there is a part in me that knows that I’ll be just fine….

Toffee at 3 months…I’ll be just fine

Ten Images

Here are just 10 images from the past 24 hours. Thank you to Ash Parsons, via the Isolation Journals.

  • the drip coffee waking me up enough to answer messages from my brother
  • the Canada goose pretending to be a swan decoy in the pool
  • the crisp, cool air at 6 a.m.
  • the delicious aroma escaping from the open back of Portofino bread delivery truck
  • the chives, sage and parsley surviving the first cold night planted in the garden box
  • the birds, so many birds, chirping happily in the hedges around the backyard
  • the joy I feel when sit down to play the piano, learning new pieces and preparing for live-streaming
  • entering quietly into the empty church to fill it with the flute, trumpet and other sounds of the pipe organ, entering into my special zone when I feel powerful for two hours
  • enjoying a leisurely stroll in the park with a friend, exploring the gardens to find new flowers for her photo record — 365 days of flowers project
  • looking out my windows to see green everywhere — plants, trees, shrubs, hedges
Canada goose pretending to be a swan decoy

Rituals…

I’m not much good at creating or following rituals. In the past I have rebelled against them. I could not have gone along with Sheldon Cooper’s life-style of expecting a specific meal on each night of the week.

When I first met my late husband, Michael, I soon realize that he had certain “rituals” that helped him feel secure in some way. Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning he had cereal for breakfast; Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday it was hot oatmeal. Sunday was special….eggs with garlic and basil on toast. When I got to know his mum better I knew that he came by that rigid schedule quite naturally. We moved in together after his 5 month stay in rehab. (I might explain all that later). Unfortunately my natural tendency to move away from ritual caused some anxiety, although Michael was so sweet that he never was upset with me.

Finding a way to create a ritual for keeping consistent with the blogging will not be easy for me. My schedule changes daily and even weekly. Toffee helps out by getting me up long before the crack of dawn, so I have plenty of time for 2 cups of coffee every morning.

“Fine”

Almost a year ago I subscribed to Suleika Jaouad’s “The Isolation Journals”. Over the year I have received many writing prompts, which included short essays about the author, as well as background on the prompt. My life became very busy again so unfortunately many of those email remain unopened. But, during the spring break last month I had some free time and began writing.

Then, April started and I needed to prepare for a live-streaming church service for Easter morning. The closer that got, the more I found out that I needed to do for the service, and once again my daily life became consumed with that preparation and the stress of not being sure what was going to happen. To my surprise, it all turned out fine, and I felt better after playing the service than I had in a long, long time. And now, I can write again.

I intend to follow through with Suleika’s most recent challenge of writing every day for 30 days. To catch up I’ll have to write twice each day.

The first prompt to write about is to tell when we answered “fine” to a question, just because we didn’t want to be honest, and why. So, over the years, that has been a standard answer of mine when people asked how I was doing. Often “fine” was the only way I could answer without breaking into tears. After my husband died from a brain tumour, when I was very obviously grieving, people would ask “how are you?”?? How was I supposed to answer that?

When I was in high school, the mother of one of my classmates and friends from church would answer honestly when greeted with “how are you today?” I remember my own mom thinking that was quite odd, and socially not really acceptable in our culture. What would happen if we all answered honestly?

Today I am fine, so that would be an honest answer. Two days ago I was so stressed about that upcoming church gig that my skin broke out in rashes from stressed related eczema. My answer then should have “paralyzed with fear”, or “crappy”, or “wishing I had said “no” to the request.

Most likely I will continue to let people know that I am fine, at least until I meet a friend who really wants to know the honest answer.

Obstacles or Opportunities?

Yesterday the BC health authorities announced more restrictions; today people are complaining and criticizing the inconsiderate shut-downs, saying they were blind-sided. How can anyone be blind-sided? We could see the numbers rising, and anyone who pays attention to the news should have expected this, or at least similar guidelines and restrictions.

I can’t criticize business owners who are severely affected, nor can I put down religious leaders who “wasted” several hours planning in-person Easter services, only to have that freedom lifted again. My livelihood is no longer seriously affected by any of these restrictions. But, my life did change a year ago when suddenly 75% of my income was canceled. After a week of reflecting, I took up the challenge to move to online teaching. Performing wasn’t in the cards at that point, but over the year I have increased my number of students, learn a lot about engaging students and singers online, and now have a weekly chance to perform via Zoom.

We have heard over and over throughout ours lives “when God closes a door, he opens a window”. So, now I just spent several minutes looking up quotes. Here is one from Alexander Graham Bell:

When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.

quotes.yourdictionary.com

I have had many doors close in my life, and often the closing of the doors was sped up by me slamming them behind me as I stormed on through! Sometimes the closed doors are subtle and hidden from sight until I look back and see how much the direction of my life has changed.

This post took over two days to write, mostly because of the busyness of life getting in the way. Tomorrow we will be doing a Zoom call with mom and dad, and all of my kids. That is something to look forward to!

Moon

A few minutes ago I was looking at photos taken of the full moon overnight in Bangkok, Thailand. This was posted by someone who sang in a choir that I directed many years ago when I lived there. She was very young, just in university, and we reconnected via Facebook earlier this month. It is fantastic to see people after so many years, and catch with their lives.

This person posted a few photos of the full moon, and as I responded to her posted, I started thinking about how “close” we really, when in just 14 hours I can look up at the sky and watch the same moon that my friends and family have just seen it. Some day I will return to Bangkok when travel is safe again, and visit with family, former students and many friends. Our lives will always be connected in some way.

This photo was taken very early this past Saturday morning. We love walking along the shoreline, watching birds, listening to waves, and smelling the ocean air.

When I first moved to Victoria I would walk daily to this area, soaking in the experiences of living by the ocean. Each day I picked up a small stone (there is no sand on the beach, only smooth, rounded stones) and add to my collection. After several months the basket on my kitchen counter was quite full, and my life became too busy for the daily walks.