Celebrating the Winter Solstice

My banana tree finally succumbed to the cold weather. Until a couple days ago it held out, still standing tall, large dark leaves stretching skyward, as if in prayer. Overnight the leaves grew limp and drooped down. Now it looks forlorn, but I know, come spring, new leaves will push through and unravel where the old ones have died off.

The rest of the garden lies dormant now too and the days are so short. I got caught walking the dog along a forest trail yesterday, in the dark. It seemed the daylight disappeared suddenly. Light enough to see the trail one minute, pitch dark the next. Thank goodness for all the Christmas lights at this time of year to brighten the long nights. And this week's full moon in the clear, cold skies ~ spectacular!

The shortest day of the year is fast approaching and then, thank goodness, the days will gradually start to grow longer again. In just weeks, in this part of the world, the magic will begin. The crocuses will stir, under the soil, and soon their heads will poke through the earth, followed by daffodils and other early spring flowers. The natural world has needed these long nights and cold days to rest, to rejuvenate, before we are once again blessed with spring, which happens so gradually we hardly notice until it is upon us. Suddenly the cherry blossoms burst into bloom, shiny new leaves will flutter in the breeze and we sigh with relief, enjoying longer daylight hours again.

To mark the solstice one year a group of us hiked out to Quarry Rock to watch the sunrise. Another group did the same thing and then sang songs that had to do with sunshine... Here Comes The Sun, Sunshine on my Shoulders, Morning Has Broken etc. Very fitting, I thought.

In some quiet but significant way, I'll mark the occassion again this year. To me the Solstice feels more significant than Christmas, or birthdays. Without these short days/long nights, we wouldn't appreciate the next season, the bountiful, lush, light one. How grateful I am for that.

Dear Anonymous ~

~ you left a comment for me on my last post, suggesting it was time for a new one.

Thank you for that. It's nice to think someone wants to read anything I have to say.

I've been doing some thinking about this blogging business, Anonymous, and I realize that my motivation for posting has changed since I first began in July 2007. At that time I'd was advised to keep a blog, mainly for self-promotion purposes. It seemed like a good plan as my website is always years out of date so I decided to give it a whirl. I kept it light at first, thinking that it would be read by teen readers who would find it. Not so. It seems that those of us who blog read each other's posts, and occasionally I receive comments from complete strangers, but most of us don't have large readerships. I then began to use this blog as more of a journal, writing only when I had something on my mind. It's been good practise, and cathartic for me to write short pieces that try to make some sense of a subject. I sort things out best when I write about them, and I've really enjoyed it, but lately I've wondered about the point in all this navel-gazing...

Each of the blogs I follow has a different purpose. Some are to keep family members updated about growing children. Others are used by travellers to share their journey as they go. Some have a publishing focus, others are like mine, random thoughts about life and some are mostly self-promotion. I enjoy them all, and especially like the ones with lots of photos. (A picture tells a thousand words.)

I realize that my blog, Anonymous, is mostly navel-gazing. Admittedly, one of the blogs I follow and love is by Jann Arden, who is such a funny lady onstage, but her blog posts are really stream of consciousness navel-gazing too. Yet she is so poetic, so profound at times. She sucks me right into her prose.

I like my posts to have a point, to share something that I've learned on my journey. Problem is, Anonymous, life has been slow this past month. No new insights, or none that I'm ready to articulate yet. Oh, I know they're coming, life always throws new challenges our way, but the latest battles haven't moved into the arena of 'wisdom' yet. They will, and no doubt I'll be moved to write about them, but as far as the point of this post, Anonymous,well, I don't think there is one.

So Anonymous, thank you for checking in occasionally. The time will come when I feel I have something to say and I'll enjoy articulating it here. I hope I don't keep you waiting too long, and that you don't find my musings too self-absorbed. I'll try to keep my eye on that fine line....

Until then, warm hugs, whoever you are ~

(The above photo comes from logotreedesigns.blogspot.com/)

In the fall of our lives....

I'm not sure why, but for some reason I've enjoyed this season more than I ever remember enjoying fall before. Perhaps it's because I have a new waterproof raincoat and I'm out on the mountain trails more regularly, but I have found the colours, the smells and the light to be especially remarkable this year. Today, for example, Winston, my loyal canine companion and I hit the trails late in the afternoon. It had rained most of the day, but now the sun was low in the sky and the way the light slanted through the branches and captured the colours of the remaining leaves on the trees ~ well, it was simply breathtaking. I had to stop dead in my tracks and just stare at the wondrous shimmer and slashes of light. The trail was covered in a thick blanket of leaves, you could not see the ground beneath it, and the musty, earthy smell was intoxicating. As we wandered along I gave a silent thanks to Mother Nature for giving us such a spectacular afternoon. Even on the rainiest of days Winston and I have headed out, and after the first few minutes we stop noticing the wet and simply enjoy the stillness and beauty of the forest.

Many years ago a beloved Unitarian minister helped me discover the beauty in the winter months, too, when the fall colours have long turned to a dull brown and the branches of the trees are stark. He reminded me that Mother Nature is simply resting, gaining strength, preparing for spring when the world will once again be blessed with a burst of new life/energy. The winter forest may look bare, but beneath the surface new life is already stirring, preparing for the longer days and warmth of the new season. Like the forest, the minister said, we too need downtime, to rest and recharge. Our inner seasons may not coincide with the outer seasons, but there is much to learn from the cycle of Mother Nature.

A friend recently suggested that we are in the 'fall' of our lives. This notion didn't sit well with me as I realized the truth of her words, but today's walk was a reminder of what a beautiful season this is. As well, my dear friend Leslie pointed out that there has been a sudden flutter of posts on my blog. Could it be that my biological season is fall, but my internal rhythm is now in early spring, where the writing juices are beginning to flow again, waiting to burst into a flurry of novel chapters? I have two mini-writing retreats planned for the next month so I hope this blogging is simply a warm-up to the bigger work that's waiting.

Jane Goodall or Madonna?

There were 2 shows in town tonight. Jane Goodall at The Centre and Madonna at GM Place. You could not find two women who are more disparate in what they represent.

I went to see Jane Goodall. It was a most inspirational night.

The moment Dr. Goodall walked onto the stage the entire audience stood and gave her a standing ovation. She hadn’t said a word. Goosebumps ran down my spine. I imagine Madonna also received a standing ovation upon her entrance. Hmmm.

When Jane began to speak the entire audience leaned forward, captivated by her stories of living among the chimpanzees in Gombe. In her soft British accent she spoke of the destruction of the habitat in Africa, as well as around the world. She said, “We have lost our wisdom… there has been a disconnect between the head and the heart.”

A disconnect. How profoundly true.

Perhaps there has been a disconnect in the values of society. When a glitzy yet ultimately shallow ‘superstar’ like Madonna draws a much larger crowd (and hence, personal riches) than an inspirational speaker whose work and love for the planet and the creatures on it are tireless, and the money she earns goes back to the planet and creatures on it … well, yes, we have lost our wisdom. There has been a disconnect.

Jane’s presentation was serious but not gloomy. She feels that when humans have their back up against the wall, as we do right now where the health of Mother Earth is concerned, we will be forced to think creatively, and we will find the means to implement those creative solutions needed to restore the planet. She says the environment is ultimately forgiving, and although it will never be the pristine planet it once was, it can be restored to a healthy place. She feels that each and every one of us can make a difference by making informed choices…ie. the food that we purchase… could we have made a better choice for the environment? She believes that if each of us continues to make more and more choices in the planet’s favour, we will turn things around. All the small things add up to make a big difference.

As she spoke I wondered what was happening at the Madonna concert. I thought about how Madonna represents nothing of value to me and how Jane Goodall represents so much. I thought about the media attention that Madonna received compared to what Jane’s visit received. Yet what will each of these women ultimately contribute to the future of mankind?

Disconnect. I couldn’t have said it better.

Celebrating Life

At my father's memorial service (about 17 years ago) I remember being jarred when the minister commenced the service by saying that we were gathered to celebrate the life of Robert Frampton. I'm sure my head snapped up in horror. I wasn't there to celebrate anything! I was there to grieve my father's death.

Since then I've discovered that many memorial services start the same way and now I better understand the spirit of a memorial. Often the people gathered are asked to share memories or stories of our deceased friend/relative. As I listen to the reflections, I often wish that the person who has passed away could hear these stories. I feel that somehow we are sharing them too late.

I've heard of terminally ill people who help plan their own service, requesting certain pieces of music, deciding who should speak, even what kind of flowers they'd like there. They may even leave a letter that they wish read to their gathered friends. This really appeals to me. Just recently I heard of a women who is very ill with cancer. She decided to throw herself a big birthday bash, and her friends and family were determined to make it an especially meaningful event. One of her daughters performed a dance for her mother. Another read a poem she'd written for and about her. Many of the guests told stories of special times they'd had together. In the end, it was like a memorial service but the woman was actually able to hear the wonderful things people had to say about her. What a beautiful way to take your leave.

Another friend recently shared with me a letter she'd written to her daughter who was celebrating a significant birthday. In the letter the mother outlined the many lessons she'd gleaned from her own life, and wanted to pass on. It was almost like a personal philosophy. I was allowed to read the letter, and was very touched by the gift that it was. How many of us get to know our parents that way? And how often do we, as parents, sit down and write out what we feel are the most important values to live by, and give them to our children and yet, what better gift could we give them? They don't have to agree with the values, but at least they would know what they are, and who we are.

Once, when I was going through a difficult time with one of my own daughters, I told a friend that I was going to give up lecturing, and that I was simply going to live the best life that I could, and hope that my children would learn through example. I've discovered that that's a tough pedestal to balance on. Now I think it's more important to let our children know, clearly, what we value in life. When we're gone, they won't be able to ask us. As well, I'm going to engage them in sharing family stories, swapping memories of things we've experienced together, and possibly what we learned from those occassions. I've discovered that often our memories of the same occassion can be quite different. What I take away from an event is often very different from what they take away from it. Discovering what the other remembers can be very revealing.

I am setting myself the task of telling all the wonderful people in my life that I love them and why they are special to me. They might as well know now. It may take awhile to get to them all, but better late than never. I'd rather celebrate life and the people in mine while they are living.

The picture is of my mother and my daughters who are all very much alive!

Working on the Cruise Ship

After 2 1/2 months we've finally received some pictures of daughter #2's adventures on the cruise ship where she is working for 8 months as an entertainer.

It looks like fun!

Celebrating!

Sister Wife is officially out! Not officially launched, that will take place in November, but it is now available. I received my copies last week and I'm very pleased with the way it looks.

The most heartwarming part of this publishing process was the reaction to the book by my friend, Sue Gordon. I've 'blogged' about Sue previously, and how she's 'true-blue'. Although we rarely get together or even talk on the phone, it's like no time has passed when we do finally connect. She has stuck with me through thick and thin, always celebrating my new books in a meaningful way, and because her friendship is so special to me, I dedicated Sister Wife to her. In true Sue fashion, she was over-joyed with the gesture, which made me feel good all over again. I had hoped that Sue would see the dedication for what it is, a testimony to her friendship, but she totally surpassed my expectation! Thank you Sue!

Dave Jenkinson, editor of Canadian Materials Magazine read a review copy of Sister Wife and wrote to to me to say he thought it was a "wonderful read!" It's always nice when the first review is a good one, especially coming from someone as well respected in the field as him.Thank you, Dave!

And more about celebrations ~ at the end of August Rebecca Wigod of the Vancouver Sun wrote a fabulous column about my writing group as we celebrated our group's 20+ published books. http://www.canada.com/vancouversun/news/arts/story.html?id=93e6a443-815c-41bf-aa8b-3eecd42f5224 Thank you, Rebecca! As well, BC Bookworld featured the above picture with a brief note about our success as a group. Thank you, Alan Twigg.

It has been a good fall. I feel blessed.