Yearly Archives: 2016

If you see me

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reflection

If you see my reflection,

 if my eyes look at you from ethereal places,

know that I am by your side.

I don’t have to be near you

to be with you.

You see me,

at the moment you are in my thoughts,

in the precious seconds

I get to be closer to you.

 Your reflection is in my heart.

It is in the air around me

and in the divine breath that lets me stay in this place.

If you see me,

it is because I never let go of you.

~~

(image credit)

Just like an elephant

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“Love is space and time measured by the heart.” ~ Marcel Proust

heart tree

(image credit)

The heart has a long memory.  It can quickly recall moments that have gradually faded into the past or people who have been taken away from us far too early.  It stores all of the things that our brains have long since forgotten, either by chance or by choice, and always makes room for more.  It lets us remember the things that mean the most to us and it creates more space every time we meet another soul who deserves a place there.

The heart can reach back into those abandoned stages in our lives when we least expect that trip down memory lane.  It can pull the emotion from the happiest times in our lives but it also never forgets the pain.  It uses that dull ache as a canvas, a backdrop to remind us of where we have been as we begin to paint the new picture of where we are going.

A heart that truly loves almost always forgives but it never forgets.  The scars of emotion are deeply etched in its tissue.  Time marches on but the heart will always carry the burden of every emotion that has brought it to the present.  It will be gracious.  It will be accepting.  And it will remember how it felt to be broken so it doesn’t willingly pass on that pain to another heart.

The heart does have a long memory.  And on the days that the images are still able to escape the brain, the heart will always be there with a gentle nudge to keep those sacred thoughts close.

(Thanks Lyn!)

Seventeen thousand, five hundred and forty four hours

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Butterflyinthesky1

You left us in the early hours,

so peacefully your spirit would roam.

Through a gentle wind and the rising sun,

He called to take you home.

A ladder was built for your journey to light,

each rung meant to make you content.

While bathed in the glowing light of rebirth,

you gracefully began your ascent.

Loving arms awaited  you there,

curling you into their embrace.

Heaven welcomed an angel back home,

 rejoicing her love and her grace.

You leave behind your spirit and joy,

in those who loved you each day.

While our days will be saddened by the emptiness we feel,

we know we will see you again someday.

~

Jane Eleanore Nairn – May 21, 1940 – March 7, 2014

The day the spaghetti broke

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I do not consider myself to be a “food snob” but there are certain things that are either right or wrong when it comes to the kitchen and food preparation.  Sure, bastardized versions of many dishes have been made popular over the years to appease the increasing number of dietary restrictions, but there is one thing that I find offensive if it is messed with and that is spaghetti.

One of my dear friends shared a story with me (mainly because he knew I would lose sleep over it) about “the incident” that may haunt me for the rest of my days.

We are both twirlers.  We take great pride in reaching into that steaming bowl of pasta with a fork and twirling that spaghetti, either on a spoon or in the bowl, until a pleasing mound of pasta is gathered in a beautiful spiral pattern.  There is something very fulfilling about the twirling process and the effort to twirl makes the reward of the first bite that much better.

It was a day like any other.  He had been out working in his shop and could almost smell the pungent aromas of tomatoes and spices wafting through the air.  As he neared the house, the scent of the sauce was accompanied by the fragrance of a fresh baguette, lathered in garlic butter, toasting in the oven.

She was there to greet him with a glass of wine and, as he got cleaned up from his day, she then busied herself getting the table ready for dinner.  He was eager to sit down to a heaping bowl of what he thought was going to be a fantastic meal.  Once he had seated himself at the table, she presented a bowl that looked very similar to this:

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What promised to be a meal fit for a King turned into a meal fit for a toddler.  I can only imagine the amount of time that elapsed while he gaped at the bowl in front of him, trying to be appreciative of her efforts but not commenting aloud about the egregious choice she had made.  She had sacrificed everything that is good about spaghetti and had broken the noodles into bite-size pieces.

He felt the harness tightening, encasing him in the invisible high chair in which he now felt trapped.  He repressed the urge to turn into that toddler and throw the bowl to the floor while he struggled to come to terms with the embarrassment those noodles must have felt.  He suffered in silence along with them as he spooned the unrecognizable pasta into his mouth.

Years later, I now suffer, not so much in silence, with him.  A law of nature was twisted that day – the day the spaghetti broke.

(image credit)

 

 

 

Smile and the world smiles with you

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I have the benefit of generally waking up “on the right side of the bed”, as my mother used to say.  It is a rare day that I wake up in anything other than a good mood.

The sun usually shines in through my curtainless window.  I am greeted by the face of my loving dog and the world feels like it is waiting to greet me with the same happy mood.

When I looked across my front lawn yesterday morning, I was greeted by these two smiling faces.  Randomly created by the snowfall, these faces adorned the back of the Muskoka chair that sits on the edge of my lawn anxiously awaiting the appearance of Spring.

How can you not smile back when the world smiles at you first?

 

Him

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two hearts2

He put his arm around my waist,

pulled me close,

and whispered the word ‘mine’.

I didn’t feel like an object,

I felt protected, loved.

Locked in his embrace,

I felt I was where I should be.

Unlike who I had been,

I let myself feel vulnerable.

I let him take control.

I let the strength of his embrace

assuage any fear I felt.

I just let him love me on his terms.

I curled into him,

and let everything else go.

Because, in that moment,

nothing else mattered.

They usually mean well…..

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People do strange things when they are under stress.  In the worst case scenario, their judgement is clouded and their choices are made without the benefit of having time to weigh the pros and cons to be able to formulate an informed decision.

On the odd occasion, people have very good intentions but they have terrible execution.  Although they may have a reasonable amount of time to assess a situation, their emotions cloud their abilities to think clearly and they make bad choices.  Their objective becomes distorted and they lose sight of the most important part of the predicament with which they are faced.  It is a simple human error and one that could be so easily avoided.

Conversation is the backbone of any relationship and honesty is the tissue that protects that backbone.  With neither of those things, human affinities will never have the strength to stand on their own.  There is much to be said for direct communication.  And, even if the exchange of information is uncomfortable, it is a necessary tool to build a strong foundation of trust and understanding.

breathe

For the most part, people do mean well.  There are moments when they lose themselves in trying desperately to find a solution without first understanding the entirety of the situation.  Their concern impairs their objectivity and they believe that they are acting in the best way possible.  But sometimes, they just need to take a moment to breathe – to step back and think to themselves “how would I want  someone to react if I were in that situation?”.   And just maybe that one small step backwards will take them leaps and bounds ahead of where they were.