Category Archives: Give

Give

February Pep Talk.

I am spreading last summer’s blackberry jam thick and sticky on my morning toast, jam that I cooked down from buckets of berries, my face enveloped in sweet steam on a hot August day at Wren Cottage. The process was made exquisite in a huge copper pot set on an outside stove while the sunflowers swayed behind me. A Bewick’s wren flitted in-an-out of the eaves taking a shortcut to the berry-laden hedges. It was a day for the soul. This morning I screw the top back on the jar and watch a February snowstorm gather forces, ticking ice against the kitchen window. It is 2025: my soul is both joyful and shattered. But there is jam.

Joy has everything to do with a healthy baby joining our family this week. I am riding the happiness, not the shock of US and World events. But I realize that silence — about anything — just capitulates, just allows. So let me talk about another power.

Love of jam. Love of friends. Love of a warm blanket. Love of a good stitch. Love of a nap. Love of family — no matter their politics. Love of a new baby smile. Love of a hot meal. Love of a really good book. Love of encouraging emails. Love of poetry. Love of a fresh espresso in a china cup. Love of a good health report. Love of endless time to read. Love of a walk. Love of a challenging puzzle. Love of a cool find in a consignment shop. Love of a phone call from a daughter. Love of a card in the mail. Love of sitting with strangers and lending a hand. Love of listening. Love of boundaries. Love of random acts of kindness.

Love is not just on my mind because of this month: it is the strongest weapon I have against all the hate and venom and dehumanizing happening on our doorstep; massive suffering put into place very quickly because of prejudice and greed. It costs me nothing to help.

What do you love? How will you find it? How will you give it? It is free from me.

We cannot feel helpless. Find a way.

Winging love to you.

Standard
Afloat, Anger, Give, helpless, New distractions

I am trying.

I am trying to stay afloat. How about you?

The sensible narrative: Take care of myself, limit the news, five minutes of Anderson Cooper and the children, eat more spinach, stay on schedule, hydrate.

The real narrative: forgetting to shower, waking at 4am, scrolling the news apps all day, CNN until I am so heavy on the couch I cannot get up to pee. Not peeing because I forget water.

We are wearing all Ukraine colors this week; canary yellow, sky blue, even a pair of yellow and blue bead earrings contracted from an industrious child on Facebook. Why do I feel like that blown up doll that reels back, finds itself upright, then gets punched back flat? I am helpless against war atrocities happening 5,604 miles away, the distance from Seattle to Kiev. I am angered at the audacity of the Russian leader. On International Women’s Day I weep witnessing the strength of mothers in Ukraine, their fear the worst fears of women throughout the world.

I have new heroes and enemies in 2022. Current events have again reminded me of my privilege. I donated immediately to World Central Kitchen, and then again. I am making safety pin flags to give to friends. But where to put it all when trying to fall asleep?

The daffodils burst out on the island this week despite chilly temperatures. I progress in PT. I have submitted a steady stream of essays, putting one word in front of the other to reconcile and speak beyond the four walls. I bake Irish Soda Bread.

But I find myself standing in the middle of a room sometimes.

We emerged from that stream of quarantine ennui smack into war and atrocity, inflation and more financial worries. Finding a quiet zone takes some work. I got up last night, resigned, and did yoga while the coyote howled. Whatever it takes.

For 2022 my cousins and I are practicing up-cycling, visiting Goodwill and consignment shops throughout the state of Washington. It is kind of a blast, especially for a gal who can sew and alter. We find treasures and take home improbable shirts. I have dialed down into my creative tunnel for distraction: my recent score is a vintage Irish knit sweater with a generous moth hole, requiring hours of YouTube video instructions on Swiss darning.

We walk early and watch Kingfishers and Eagles. Focusing out. Focusing in.

Are you ok?

I hear you.

Island, early morning walk, March 2022

Standard