The morning sky at 4:45 is awesome this time of year – the grayish tones – the half moon, and the birds that are proclaiming their existence at the top of their lungs – I’ve noticed the bird sounds several mornings now and I’m not remembering how vocal they are ever before – it’s funny how we forget – or don’t know, or that it was never in our mind that that particular sound is associated with early morning.

I don’t recall that I’ve ever associated bird sounds with anything – or anywhere – however the chirping of the birds is distinct and glaring at this early hour and though I can not see them there seems to be a multitude of birds around our house – glorious and awakening and wonderful – I am grateful and blessed for my ability to hear – what a gift!

Thank You Lord!

Walking along my regular route of gravel country road the other day I noticed two ducks had taken up residence in the pasture pond a quarter of a mile down on the left. The ducks were swimming in this small, algae and scruff brush filled water body contentedly.

Wood Ducks, Kellogg Creek, Milwaukie, OR; Copyright: Steve Berliner

One duck was beautiful, with all the colors and markings you see in the pictures and decoys at a sporting goods store and the other duck was an ordinary, nothing special brown.

I’ve read somewhere that the male birds are the beautiful ones however I can’t recall why. The two of them looked like a couple and I imagined that they were on their honeymoon, or that they wanted to get away and be together, were there chicks in the near future? After all it’s spring and the countryside is going to be filled with new life in the next months.

As I pondered these ducks I began to wonder what they must see when they look at each other – since so many times what we see in others, both of pleasure and disdain, we are mirrored to ourselves. Does the beautiful bird look out at the plain bird and think, “What a warm and inviting bird? How soft the brown feathers, how easy to the eye and heart to be around and feel love and attraction?” What about the plain bird? Does she look out at the beautiful bird and think, “Wow! This bird is so spectacular – I must be spectacular too – or I can’t believe he’s interested in me?”

Do each of them see themselves in the other? Since ducks don’t have mirrors and animals in general aren’t known to be egomaniacal – it got my brain to thinking which is why, besides the health benefit, I walk. These two birds, with the ability to fly, settled in this out of the way, nothing grand about it pasture pond seem so happy – what a gift to see them, to imagine things about them – mostly to enjoy that they are together regardless of appearances giving pleasure to whomever happens to be wandering by.

Riches confront my eyes and delight my senses – how blessed is that?

At 4:00 o’clock in the morning the sky is black and beautiful – at least this morning it was – sometimes it’s hidden in cloud or something is falling from it which makes it hard to see or the lingering sleep fogging my mind keeps me from looking up or more correctly, noticing. The real key to seeing the sky, or anything is in the looking – and then being able to recognize that what you are seeing is a miracle, or amazing, or unique.

Yesterday through email I received another one of those incredible motivational slide shows that people send to all their friends – it showed breathtaking scenes from nature with thought provoking statements to help you pause and enjoy and feel gratitude. It’s wonderful we live in times where we can be given these small gifts with a click of a mouse. The real question for me though is how often do I seek, notice, realize and appreciate the beauty right above my head, right in front of my face, right out side my windows and as I drive in my car through the world.

I know I could do a better job of it – however that puts the thought into what I’m not doing which is a less stellar place to go – instead I will be thrilled and satisfied with my morning marvelling at the immensely gratifying early morning sky which is changing as I type, which is being painted all the time and is ever evolving which is also a gift of highest value and worth.

I am suddenly overcome with the reality of wonder – and I like this feeling, this being, this realizing – what’s outside your window, over your head or through your door? Something of wonder I bet – if you take the time to look and appreciate.

This morning I will write and throw a stuffed bear – to begin with and then other toys, or a ball. Even though it is almost 5 AM a puppy only knows the lights are on and there are toys to tug and fetch and keep away – it makes it hard to write however it makes it joyous to be alive. Without the dogs in my life, of all ages – the toy terror happens to be going on 8 months, I may forget to play as much as I do.

This little guy, I think he may be up to 8 pounds now and full size, will put his toy down long enough to give me a little verbal encouragement – it’s not a growl and it’s not a wine, it’s like he’s clearing his throat at me in an incessant way – though it’s hard to describe I’m having it performed for me as I type these words. It says, “I’m here, I’m ready, come on!” My middle dog, Elly, who is going on 6 years and over 80 pounds doesn’t communicate that way. She wanders in my office with a ball in her mouth and then standing fairly close to me simply drops it. The sound of a dropped tennis ball is distinct. A pop then smaller pops as it bounces a few more times and rolls away. She then catches it up and does it again. If I ignore her long enough she will pick up the ball and put it in my lap – if I continue to ignore her she picks it up and spits it at me. This is effective for her because by the time she spits it at me I’m distracted enough I laugh and grab the ball and go outside to throw it a few times which makes her so happy it penetrates to me and I come back into my work feeling really quite wonderful.

The old dog just laid his head in my lap and this is a time when I wish I knew how to type with one hand so I could stoke his gentle grey head as I work. So I stop and stroke and love and be, then I go back to typing. If he is feeling needy he bumps my elbow to get more attention which takes me away from work a moment more which is a moment well spent. He is 13 now and slowing down a little however his heart is still in the game. Putting up with the puppy is taking all of his patience since the little one likes to bite onto his tail and ride him around.

Three dogs may seem like a lot of canines – and I will admit there is more dog hair floating around than I’d like, however each of these living wonders of love are giving me more life, more fun, more play and more opportunity to communicate – mostly silently. I’m so thankful for dogs – and I’m especially thankful that I allow the interruptions, the love, the play, the stroking – I know they need it and I know I do too – Every day there is a little play in my life – so when do you play? Do you have canines to take you outside or is it a child, a hobby or a sport? Playing is inherent in a dog – regardless of age – what a great lesson for humans – when we play it keeps us healthy, happy and energized, how great it that? Oh my, the throat clearing is getting intense… excuse me now, I have to throw a bear through the air.

Today my husband and I celebrate twenty years of marriage together – which on one hand seems like not that long and on the other it seems like it’s been awhile – I don’t feel that different about things – or I guess I now know more about things so can have feelings towards them. I know I am no longer the person who says, “I would NEVER allow that to happen!” or “If my husband did this or that I would simply leave!”.

I’m smarter now, or maybe wiser is the better word. You know how you think something will be a certain way? And not because of anything you know, just visions you may have from other people’s stories, or seeing something in a film or reading about it in a book. You really only have a snapshot idea of a romanticized section of life and so when the real thing is happening, in it’s continuum and rhythm, it looks quite different. Even when you do experience those amazing moments you thought the journey would hold, you are so embroiled in them you sometimes forget to marvel or enjoy the moment – at least at first. Usually because you’re caught up in the fact it isn’t exactly like you thought it would be.

We’ve had a wonderful wild ride these past twenty years and the places we’ve been, the challenges we’ve overcome, the laughter and the tears, the humanness and greatness have all been much better than any novel, film, story or chronicle. Life has been often times messy, a lot of times mundane, however there are magical moments every day and now that we are older and more respectful and trusting of each other the magical moments are more poignant and breathtaking. We’re in this life together, we’ve chosen that twenty years ago and every day since, by staying the course, protecting each other and knowing that this adventure is ongoing.

Something I’ve shared with my audiences I now want to share with you – in hopes it will help you – it certainly has me. When we were first married and going through the struggles of figuring out how to live together, love each other and forgive, it was easy to run to a friend or a parent and complain, lament about how awful the other one was and bare our hearts on our sleeves. However this is a mistake and we caught it early I’m blessed to say. Because once you’ve put your spouse down to others you’ve done damage to your relationship and to the relationship your spouse has with your friends and family. You may go back and forgive your spouse however they may not.

So one time after we had some sort of an upset – I don’t remember what or why (which is always the case with arguments it seems) we decided not to share with anyone else when we were unhappy with each other – or at least not put the other person down to others. We agreed we would take our complaints to each other and work them out some way. I wish I could say we were always perfect at this. I will say that the time or two we did not stick to this plan were the times we almost didn’t make it. More and more as we go we realize that this agreement, not to belittle each other publicly, not to say negative things about the other to anyone has been the best plan of all.

I’m looking forward to spending the next twenty years married to this man, having adventures, taking risks, depending on each other, questioning our purposes and giving of ourselves. Knowing someone is by your side, that you have a safe place to speak your mind, that there are arms to hold you when you feel bad, sick or blue is a nice way to journey in life – I recommend it.

Lazy days or days off are supposed to be good for you. To take time away and not be focused, or not be pressured, or not have an agenda or a deadline or appointments. This is easier said than done I’ve found.

Maybe the title lazy day or off day is the challenge since my definition of lazy is tied into my parents accusations of their children’s laziness. Which had more to do with not doing chores, or their required tasks, than how we felt or taking a little down time. Mostly as kids we weren’t taking any time to not do – we were fully engaged and participating in doing our own stuff, and lots of it, however none of it fell under the “chores” category or helping around the farm category which was deemed laziness by my parents and seemed to be a huge sin or at least something to get punished for and to be contrite about.

So when I go to take a lazy day or day off I find it hard not to feel bad, or feel wasteful – another word my mother was fond of saying -”You’re being wasteful with that water” or “Don’t waste perfectly good food, paper bags, scrap paper, whatever” – so being wasteful was another big no, no.

All of this to justify to myself that a day down or a day off (now isn’t that an interesting word use) a day off – I don’t want off days, I want days not doing and pursuing – not lazy days, not off days, not down days – I want dream days, reflection days, relaxation days – so that’s what I took – with no justification – except right now – but I’m over it.

I looked up in the sky yesterday and in the middle of a very dark cloud was a tunnel right through the middle and it struck me that there is always a path through darkness and I felt so much better, even though I wasn’t feeling bad before that moment. I looked longer thinking about going through tunnels, how sometimes scary they are if you don’t know what’s on the other side or if they are really dark, when it occurred to me that what I was seeing in the sky wasn’t a tunnel at all but a bright white cloud sitting in front of the dark cloud which only appeared to be a tunnel – it was variegated enough to make it look dimensional – huh.

Clouds

Have you ever seen those pictures where it could be a person’s face or a word depending on how you looked? I have always enjoyed those and this sky suddenly became fascinating as I went back and forth on wether what I was seeing was a tunnel through the dark clouds or a defiant white cloud preventing the dark cloud from completely ruining my day.

Isn’t it funny how it’s suddenly all about me? God made this day amazing for me – which of course He did – and for you as well however if we don’t take it personal we don’t get quite as much enjoyment I don’t think. So I went back and forth about the clouds and determined something even more wonderful – if it was indeed a tunnel I took the message to mean that there is always a way through darkness and isn’t that a comforting thought. If it was a small white cloud in front of the dark I figured it showed me that I can make a difference even against bigger and darker forces -

Afterwards when I was puffing up the hill to home and my eyes were focused on the steep grade of gravel before me I forgot all about the clouds and wondered why we chose to live on such a steep hill – which just goes to show that I have a mind that will not stop working especially while walking – what a blessing?

In reading a wonderful book of stories on meditation – called “Why Meditate?” edited by Clint Willis, there is a Vietnamese story that affected me in a deep way – the story is about a young couple who suffered deeply because of pride.

The husband had to go off to war, and he left his pregnant wife behind. Three years later when he was released from the army, his wife came to the village gate to welcome him, and she brought along their little boy. When the young couple saw each other, they could not hold back the tears of joy. They were thankful to their ancestors for protecting them, and the young man asked his wife to go to the marketplace to buy some fruit, flowers and other offerings to place on the ancestors’ altar.

While she was shopping, the young father asked his son to call him Daddy, but the little boy refused. “Sir, you are not my daddy! My daddy used to come every night, and my mother would talk to him and cry. When mother sat down, daddy also sat down. When mother lay down, my daddy lay down.” Hearing these words, the young father’s heart turned to stone.

When his wife returned, he could not even look at her. The young man offered fruit, flowers, and incense to the ancestors, made prostrations, and then rolled up the bowing mat and did not allow her to do the same. He believed that she was not worthy to present herself in front of the ancestors. Then he walked out of the house and spent his days drinking and walking about the village. His wife could not understand why he was acting like that. Finally, after three days, she could bear it no longer, and she jumped into the river and drowned herself.

The evening after the funeral, when the young father lit the kerosene lamp, his little boy shouted, “There is my daddy!” He pointed to his father’s shadow projected on the wall and said, “My daddy used to come every night just like that, and my mother would talk to him and cry a lot. When my mother sat down, he sat down. When my mother lay down, he lay down.” “Darling, you have been away for too long. How can I raise our child alone?” she cried to her shadow. One night the child asked her who and where his father was. She pointed to her shadow on the wall and said, “This is your father.” She missed him so much.

Suddenly the young father understood, but it was too late.

How often do we do that to ourselves? We immediately think the worst? We wonder why someone is angry or upset yet we don’t ask for clarification or when we do and get rebuffed we don’t continue to seek understanding?

I am thankful for this story – what a lesson – as I move into my day – as I work, live, love and be with other people, how can I be more open, loving, giving and understanding?

Another good lesson is how are we listening to children – sometimes they say things we take one way and they have no reference, no idea how the words affect us – I can think of several times this has happened to me. Next time I pray that I will smile – and ask more questions – because there is always more ways to look at something than we first realize.

Boy I’m thankful I can read and choose such great books! Make it a magnificent day!

Driving home late last night in a steady rain I decided to take the short cut over the hill. Living in Western Oregon our hills to some would be closer to mini mountains – it’s a climb up and an excellent view in the daytime. As I roared up the two lane road making better time I entered a cloud which had settled itself down on this hill and found myself in the deepest fog I’ve ever experienced. The visibility was so poor I stopped the car to refocus and inch forward safely.

There were no other vehicles on the road – no additional set of lights to help guide me – the rain was now a heavy think mist so the windshield wipers were flapping fast and the dense creamy colored fog made it hard to see the faded white guide lines on the side of the road. I did not panic – I did not curse however I crawled along that country road seeking signposts, driveways and other points to keep me moving forward and hoping the stop sign that signaled the turn into the decent was close.

I started praying – for guidance and help – however at the same time I kept inching forward – taking action towards home – I was very thankful for the fact I was making progress – I was thankful that there were lines (faded or not) along the side of the road to guide me and when the stop sign finally did appear I was thankful for stop signs – the windy road down was the most treacherous and yet held the most hope, only two more tight turns and the fog was lifting – I was coming out of the cloud and when I looked to the right I saw the sparkling city lights off in the distance and knew the worst was over.

Isn’t life a lot like that? We get caught in a dense fog and it’s extremely hard to see or know where we are? Sometimes we get paralyzed and don’t know how to move forward or feel like any step we take will end us up in a ditch or worse trouble? Inching forward is the only way to get out of the fog – to get home – to help ourself and even though inching seems so difficult and seems to take so long – you still get where you’re going.

So I’m thankful for inching – I’m also thankful for the lessons found in dense fog – mostly I’m thankful that fog of any kind is a temporary condition.

This morning I reaped the reward for some time in the office yesterday and I am grateful – even before I turned the light on in my office this morning I smiled, knowing that when the switch was flipped it would reveal a cleared desk, a dozen roses from my husband and my work load and list ready to be tackled or what is a better word? – Worked on, given attention – completed? Of course that’s the goal – and because my mind is clear and I am facing an open space I even have the feeling I will complete more than usual which is a lot really – my output is high or at least the results seem to be appropriate – I’ve often wondered what the criteria is on productivity – and unless you are doing the same tasks how can you judge? Can creativity be judged as productive?

I know other writers that give themselves guides – a certain number of pages written or re-written in a set amount of time – even I time my writing and do on my journal too – I can always write more however I set a minimum time to write just so I get past the part of not feeling creative. There are other things each of us can do to help with our work which I’ve already mentioned – an organized work space is good – a clear desk so that your mind also is clear is a true help and the most important thing I’ve found is an attitude of gratitude – because when we are thankful – something wonderful happens – we notice – things like the petals of a rose, the patterns of wood on a desk or how wonderful soft light is to work under.