Took two long walks with friends yesterday when we had a morning and afternoon not only without wind and rain but with heartening clear blue skies with wispy white clouds and sunshine. On the first walk, my friend said, "Look," and pointed up at an owl with its eyes closed. As we looked up at the owl, it opened its eyes and looked directly at us.
It's dark and cloudy today and yet hummingbirds and Steller's Jays brighten up my porch.
When I got up just before 4:30 this morning and went out on my porch to see what I could see, I noticed something on the ground just below my porch, something difficult to see in the darkness. After going back inside to get my binoculars, I realized that what I was seeing was a small solitary rabbit. Again I went back inside, this time to get my camera. The rabbit obliged me by remaining still, and I was able to get two photos, the first without a flash and the second with a flash.
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Better photo of Mandala #65, taken with my cell phone. This mandala is unlike all the rest. Very little detail but with elements of other mandalas from 2021. I think of it as a family story.
There were a number of things I needed to go out and do during the heavy wind and rain yesterday. Astonishingly, none of my errands were in these parts of Bellingham, although I was within a few blocks of these severely flooded areas without realizing it.
I'm grateful to have been moved to take a single series of yoga classes in 1970 while R was in Vietnam. When I was 27, I began taking weekly classes at the first yoga school in Bellingham and continued classes along with a home practice until I was in my late 30s and physical limitations became a deterrent to taking classes but did not keep me from continuing my own home practice and refraining from poses that weren't appropriate for my body. When I was in my 40s, I took classes from different yoga schools that had opened in Bellingham, including classes in restorative yoga, continuing my early morning home practice.
During the early years of my blog, I continued a vigorous home yoga practice, finding myself able to do poses that I had not been able to do as a younger woman. The years of yoga practice had strengthened my upper body and given me a sense of confidence in my body that had been missing from my years prior to discovering yoga. In my 60s, I began letting go of poses that had the potential for causing injuries and those which clearly put stress on my strong but aging body.
Now that I am in my early 70s, I have had to let go of more and more poses due to a low back that has been susceptible to injury since I was in my 30s. I've lost some of my height and can no longer do backbends without causing a flare of low back pain. And yet, I am able to do a fairly vigorous yoga practice that combines a basic series of sitting, standing, balancing, stretching, bending, inverted and reclining poses that I have done since I was in my 20s along with restorative yoga poses.
Here's a pose I can no longer do because it hurts my knees. I was unable to do this pose at all until I was in my 50s.
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There's something to be said for letting go to make space for something new.
Working on a photo showing this mandala in true colors. No such luck so far. For now, here is how it looks in black and white. Three more mandalas and then I will have met my goal of 12 for the year.
This year, as Veteran's Day approached, something moved me to let go of most of the things I have carried with me since I met R in my senior year of high school when we were just 17 years old. I realized that those things had finally made their way to my heart and that I didn't need their physical presence anymore, taking up an entire shelf in my hall closet. Notice that I said "most of the things." I did keep a few things but made an open space in my shelves and in my life, 20 years after R wrote me a letter saying, "Please take all my love and go on with your life" and 13 years after I was able to say goodbye to him before he died in a VA hospital.
During 1970, when R served in the U.S. Army in Vietnam as a helicopter mechanic, he and his friends listening to music on a daily basis and especially liked Chicago's "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?"
As we went through the time change this year, I remembered that song amidst the confusion in Zoom rooms where support groups comprised of people from time zones all over the world meet in a timeless and timely space.
To everything (turn, turn, turn) There is a season (turn, turn, turn) And a time to every purpose, under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die A time to plant, a time to reap A time to kill, a time to heal A time to laugh, a time to weep
To everything (turn, turn, turn) There is a season (turn, turn, turn) And a time to every purpose, under heaven
A time to build up, a time to break down A time to dance, a time to mourn A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together
To everything (turn, turn, turn) There is a season (turn, turn, turn) And a time to every purpose, under heaven
A time of love, a time of hate A time of war, a time of peace A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing
To everything (turn, turn, turn) There is a season (turn, turn, turn) And a time to every purpose, under heaven
A time to gain, a time to lose A time to rend, a time to sew A time for love, a time for hate A time for peace, I swear it's not too late
Remembering that R found Veteran's Day to be one of the most difficult days of the year. What he wanted, above all, and found so elusive was peace of mind and heart and soul.
How can I be useful, of what service can I be? There is something inside me, what can it be? -- Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890)
Welcome to "37TH DREAM (RUMORS OF PEACE)".
The photograph currently at the top of my blog was taken from my porch before sunrise on October 29, 2023.
"OLD GIRL OF THE NORTH COUNTRY" (the earliest name for my blog -- http://oldgirlfromthenorthcountry.blogspot.com
) came to life in early December of 2006 so that I could post a 42-year retrospective of my paintings and drawings and through that action, create a new relationship with the day the man I loved returned from Vietnam in December 1970. For a while (sometime after spring of 2008, which is when he died) my blog was "TALKING 37TH DREAM WITH RAINBOW (RUMORS OF PEACE)". For a number of years, it's been "TALKING 37TH DREAM (RUMORS OF PEACE)." As of April 12, 2017 my blog was titled "37TH DREAM / TALKING 37TH DREAM (RUMORS OF PEACE/LOOKING UP)". Somewhere along the way it became 37TH DREAM (RUMORS OF PEACE).
To begin viewing the retrospective with narrative, scroll down to December 8, 2006, on this page:
I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right temporarily defeated is stronger than evil triumphant. -- Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929-1968)
All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware. -- Martin Buber (1878-1965)
It is only a little planet, but how beautiful it is.
-- Robinson Jeffers
The true end of a war is the rebirth of life; the right to die peacefully in your own bed. The true end of war is the end of fear; the true end of war is the return of laughter.
-- Alfred Molano
Enjoy every sandwich -- Warren Zevon (1947-2003)
Not in God's wilds will you ever hear the sad moan, "All is vanity." No, we are paid a thousand times for all our toil, and after a single day spent outdoors in their atmosphere of strength and beauty, one could still say, should death come — even without any hope of another life — "Thank you for this most glorious gift!" and pass on.
-- John Muir (1838-1914)
Philip Henslowe: Mr. Fennyman, allow me to explain about the theatre business. The natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster. Hugh Fennyman: So what do we do? Philip Henslowe: Nothing. Strangely enough, it all turns out well. Hugh Fennyman: How? Philip Henslowe: I don't know. It's a mystery.