Going Inkless

     In the staff lounge on Thursday, I ate my lunch quickly, scanning my smart phone and reading articles I don't remember.  When I had done with that, I looked at the clock.  With some 20 minutes of break time left, I considered returning to my desk early.  While I usually take a walk, I just didn't feel up to it, and I only wanted to get back to my work and finish out the day.  Such "dedication" is frowned upon for non-exempt employees, so after a bit of waffling, I put on my jacket and headed out after all.  A few steps out, the urge to keep walking took over.  Suddenly, I wanted to go as far and as fast as my feet would carry me, to walk until I couldn't anymore - to nowhere in particular.  A few steps more, and I couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks.  The transformation was abrupt and unexpected.      That morning, my daughter's dog Freya had gone on her last trip to the vet.  She had been ...

     The perfect thing to write about struck me suddenly the other morning.  It was a bolt of inspiration, like opening a door into Springtime.  The subject was one of those new truths that bubbles up from time to time, distilled out of suffering and experience left to simmer quietly over time.  Like many such revelations, it was profound, yet simple, a shift of thought that welcomed peace and happiness into the soul.      All was there in that quiet moment.  This one harmonious chord was accompanied by the phrasing and ideal words to be able to share the secret with any who were open to the idea.  I determined immediately that I would put it all down on paper the minute I woke up. Yes. It came to me in a dream.      Cliché, certainly, but cliché for a reason.  There isn't a culture on this earth that hasn't placed some importance on what goes on behind our eyelids when we go to sleep.  Even bey...

     One of my sisters can juggle.  She may not be the only juggling sister, but she's the only one I've seen doing it.  She does pretty well.  We're not talking about flaming knives level, but she's juggled all the usual less deadly objects.  She performs smoothly on her own or with a partner.  I've only ever been able to manage three items for a very short while, myself.  It's enough to get the idea of it, though.  To be successful at the feat, you have to keep moving.  You have to do what needs to be done when it needs doing, and any break in timing could undo the whole dance.      This same juggling sister once commented that she didn't know how I managed to juggle so many things in my life.  It was long ago when I was a young wife, taking care of a home and a child, working part time and trying to start a business, and at the same time, diving into several creative projects of my own.  It's done just ...

     In the week following my trip to the emergency room, I've been to and from the doctor's office a couple of times.  I've submitted to tests that were inconvenient and unpleasant, all while recovering and trying to maintain something like a normal life at home and work.  It turns out I have a combination of conditions that can be addressed and overcome, or at least endured.  Things will ultimately be OK.  However, my last doctor visit was a bit turbulent.  There was the anxiety of discovering a new ailment, the process of absorbing information and weighing treatment options, considering what path might work with my current insurance.  I was sent off to fetch medicine only to be turned away by the pharmacy because the insurance company would only work directly with the doctor on approving this treatment.  That meant a second trip to the doctor that day, and a long explanation of the circumstances.  I'm still waiting on the arran...

     At times, I take great comfort in my capacity to be wrong.  My daughter regularly counted on that quality when she was growing up.  Often, my first answer to a request for permission on one thing or another was instinctively "no".  Mothers are protective of their little ones and wary of potential dangers in all things "fun".  But my daughter learned that if she kept trying, that "no" might eventually swing around to a reluctant "yes".  All children try this tactic, and many a parent has been worn down by a persistent plea.  If she had gone the usual route, however, I doubt she would have had much success.  Repetition, begging or whining would have broken on an unyielding wall of stubbornness and only strengthened my resolve.  But calm, reasoned arguments would always find a way in, and she could be very good at that.      Often, the fears that prompted a negative response could be eased with logical counterargu...

The standard answer my Grandma would give whenever one of us kids would complain about the cold was one simple question.  "What are you gonna do when winter comes?"  To this day, it replays in my mind every time I notice a chill or hear someone comment on the frosty weather.  "What are you gonna do when winter comes?" It sounds curt, unsympathetic, or maybe a little cold, but the response was always delivered with kindness.  I assure you, she did care about our comfort.  She was concerned about red cheeks and noses when we came in from hours of snowball wars, from tunneling through drifts or climbing the snow covered wood pile in order to reach the low-hanging icicles.  She fed us hot cocoa and gave us warm socks for Christmas like any other grandmother.  The question was more a matter of philosophy - in far fewer words than I might use, but that was part of her Grandma magic, I guess.  She was succinct, often with a touch of humour, and she let...

I think that we handled the recent power outage fairly well, but it held a series of lessons nonetheless. The storm swept through northern Illinois suddenly on Monday morning, knocking down trees and telephone poles, tearing off shingles and scattering anything that wasn't nailed down. It blew through quickly enough and left us with clear skies for most of the day, but the damage had knocked out power in a wide area including my entire town and most of its neighbors. I saw work crews on the streets just minutes after the worst of the storm as I drove cautiously to the library, dodging debris from the size of small branches to whole trees. Still, our power wasn't restored until Wednesday night. LESSON 1: Mother Nature is still The Boss. The library where I work was one of the rare establishments unaffected by the downed power lines. Our piece of the grid was still functioning while houses directly across the street were dark until late Tuesday night, and many businesse...

Whenever we suffer misfortune, the first thing on our minds is WHY. Why me? Why now? Why do bad things happen when I'm trying to do everything right? Don't tell me you've never thought one of these things. I've said them all, continue to say them, and will say them again next time something goes wrong. It's natural to believe there is cause and effect in play or to seek some sort of reason in the mess. We wonder what we did to deserve the misfortune. Or else, we wonder if the Universe, God, or whatever power we believe controls our life, is trying to tell us something. Human though it may be, assuming we have brought bad luck to our door is a dangerous way to think. I firmly believe in a balance, and that what we do affects others and may return to us in time. However, I can't assume that the cause and effect are always so straightforward and easy to see. While we can benefit from examining our actions for clues, our misfortunes aren't always lin...

There's a tone of harvest's richness and abundance that ripens in late summer, growing fat and gold until one day you realize you've slipped into autumn. I think it's always been my favourite season. This is the breathing space between the summer's frenzied activity and the hectic winter holidays. The air is cooling and filled with the scents of ripe apples and dying leaves. Where green ruled the view, now all is flame and gold, and a papery rustle accompanies each crisp gust of wind. It's time to dig out the sweaters, to see the new patterns and promise in another school year, to plan costumes and fun for Halloween. But autumn, for all its joys, cannot be separated from the principles of death and loss. We recognize that the world around us is dying, drying out, moving from summer's blush to winter's shroud. Through all the celebrations of the season, we feel that ancient wheel turn. Autumn is a time to contemplate the darkness. In the world ...

This week has been a harrowing whirlpool of worries and obligations. My first week back at work after a few days vacation is always high stress. I steel myself for the pressure and pace of trying to catch up and untangle the knots that inevitably occur in my absence. Nothing attracts a complicated problem or a string of phone messages and e-mails like stepping away from your desk for a while. At the start of this first week back, I experienced a car accident that left me without a vehicle, scrambling to arrange transportation, to report the accident to the state and make the insurance claim. There have been calls to and from several insurance offices and the body shop, appointments rescheduled, and all of the other accident fallout. Concurrently, there were worries over my mother-in-law's heart surgery, my husband's health problems that required two doctor visits in one week, and impending computer "upgrades" at work that promised to be increasingly complicated...

As Christmas approaches, here in the USA, we can expect to hear a number of familiar sounds. There are carols we know by heart, the ones we've sung since we were old enough to copy the phrases. Instantly, they carry us back to grade school performances, standing up in our stiff and scratchy finery before a sea of parents' proud faces. We hear new renditions of old favourites and songs we may not know that carry the unmistakable tone of Christmas just the same. Add to this the sound of bells. The full and resonant clangs of the charity collector's bell accompanied by seasonal greetings and thanks are a signal that the holiday is near. If you're lucky, a bell choir or the bright jingle of sleigh bells will tickle your ears and put you in a holiday mood. Crunching footfalls in the snow, children's laughter, and cheery "Merry Christmas" wishes will conjure Christmas in nearly any American's heart. Unfortunately, grumbling has been added to the l...

I don't go into haunted houses anymore, not the commercial kind at least. It's unfortunate in one sense because I love to see the special effects, the makeup and the creativity. Spooky stuff is fun. When it comes to movies, I've always liked the classic monsters and have a particular fondness for werewolves. Though I've never cared for the simple blood-and-gore slasher sort, a suspenseful, truly creepy horror film is a delight that can prompt spontaneous shivers for weeks. I'll even take a little gore if the context is worth it, as in the case of the comedic horror movies that spoof our traditional fare. So, why avoid the seasonal treat of a trip through a haunted house? We'll start the explanation with a story. I guess I might have been about ten years old, sitting on a bench swing in the yard with my older sister. It was a late summer night and as dark and quiet as a secluded community with only a handful of street lights gets. The moon was full...

There is a certain amount of security and comfort in doing things the hard way. That may seem counter intuitive , but it's true. Nobody likes trouble, and humankind is known for going to great lengths to make their lives easier. The easy way has its obvious attractions: less work, fewer problems, quicker rewards. Still, troubles will come your way unbidden from time to time, regardless of your choosing the easy road. Every person must deal with hardships at some point. Occasionally choosing to rough it prepares you for the unexpected and gives you peace of mind knowing that you are capable of handling those troubles. There is often satisfaction in taking on a difficult goal and working to the solution. People do puzzles and read mysteries for just that reason. Human beings need to be challenged to be happy. Yet, I'm still faced with quizzical looks when I choose a tougher path. Several years ago, I spent a week of vacation building a large terraced planter in the f...

Recently, I confessed to a pen pal that I had been struggling with a little depression a few letters back. I described to her the steps I had taken to shake it off and apologized if my mood had filtered into the letter. We correspond through audiotape, so I was particularly concerned about the infectious nature of vocal tone, and I also didn't want her worrying about me. The recording is just a point in time and not representative of the whole roundness of things as I've described in earlier posts. My friend responded with astonishment. "Your voice is always so cheerful and positive," she explained, "I didn't think you got depressed about many things." The truth is, everyone gets depressed. There is some comfort in that. We are all united in the experience. We can let go of any self-defeating feelings of inadequacy at our lack of perfect happiness because they're all based on illusion. Everyone feels sad or lonely or small. Everyone gets frustrated a...

My Grandmother's house was near a lake. In the early years of my childhood, we would swim when we visited, and when I was about nine years old, we moved in with Grandma. So, huge portions of each summer were spent in that lake, splashing and gliding. My sisters and I knew every inch of the lake bed that stretched out in front of the house, knew where it might dip suddenly, where you were likely to cut your foot on a clam shell, or where you could dig up the dark grey clay hiding just beneath the sand. Rain or cold wouldn't stop us from swimming, and when Mom said it was time to get out of the water, it was always too early- no matter how pruny our fingers or how terribly our teeth chattered. The deep green scent and gentle lapping of the waves were a constant presence in my life and continue to invigorate my dreams. To this day, the proximity of a large body of water is like spending time with an old friend, a quiet happiness and comfort that needs no words. I never learned to ...