Hyacinths to feed thy soul

I have only been in my home for a month or so, and each day I received validation that I made a good decision to move here. My little street only holds a dozen or so homes and dead ends at the river. A tiny park stands at the end; chainlink fencing surrounds it, broken in some places and with gateless openings at the end. But it is open land for Fae and her new Golden Retriever friend, Jack. When my neighbor and I coordinate walks to the park, Jack and Fae race around in big circles, herding imaginary sheep and chasing invisible buffaloes. I love seeing Fae’s happy face when she plays with Jack.

Last week, my neighbors jumped in to trim the trees in my yard and cut down one that was dead. It benefited several of us – the trees shaded a garden spot on my neighbor’s property; he can now plant sun-hungry pole beans there. The wood went to another neighbor’s son to be used in his wood-burning furnace. I got a cleaner yard and I’m hoping the moss stops growing on the porch roof!

Yesterday, Jo knocked on the door. “Happy Easter” she smiled. She held a beautiful hyacinth in her hands. “I knew you liked flowers as much as I do, and I thought you’d like this!” She also brought a geranium that she grew from a cutting. I gave her a hug and breathed deep of the aroma, and I was reminded of the poem (was it by Sadi?):

If of thy mortal goods thou art bereft,
And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left,
Sell one, and with the dole
Buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.

I put it in the little window next to the stairs, next to a heart shaped stone given to me by a friend, and a paint color chip I am still contemplating. This morning I woke up to the fragrance as well as the sounds of neighborhood kids finding Easter eggs in yards, and it made me smile. Neighborhoods like this are not part of the price of a house – they are priceless.

Looking inside the box

Winter is finally loosening its grip on Vermont. My yard is still packed high with snow, now grubby and worn. But the sun is out and promises that soon green will begin to peek out from the bare spots.

I made a move to my very own home a few weeks ago with the help of my exchange group. I was fortunate to have the support of several individuals as well as more than a half dozen strong young men from a local alternative educational facility. The move from my apartment to my home a mile away was a whirlwind – and when it was all done the little house bulged with boxes and furniture.

Between work commitments, I’ve been emptying boxes. In the days before the move I made sure to carefully pack the things I would need right away. Important papers, bill yet to be paid, telephone and address books, etc – all went into boxes that I thought I would open first and be able to access whatever I needed until I could reorganize things.

Ok, you can laugh now. We’ve all done it. We put something away in a special place, thinking we’ll remember exactly where it is when we need it. But when that day comes, we can’t find it. It isn’t where our brains say it is. We say “I know I put that here so I could find it again.” Or “Where did I put that?” And each minute that goes by without finding it, we go from room to room, stepping a little bit faster, frantically digging through piles and boxes, and finally looking in those places that we are sure we didn’t put “that”.

Sometimes we find it in one of those unlikely places. Other times, it shows up unexpectedly a week or a month or even a year from then. We may have replaced it with another “that” – and promptly found the original “that.”

I have put things down on a table, wandered off to do something, and come back to find that particular object had disappeared. I live alone, so I can’t call out “Who took my ‘that’?” or “Help me find ‘that’!” Nope – it’s all on me. I just have to wander and dig and ponder where “that” could be.

In this move, I lost my basket of tea bags. And my garlic heads. And my kitchen magnets. I’m grateful I didn’t lose something that had a shorter shelf life, like shrimp. I’m also grateful that the little box that held my bills and checkbook didn’t fall into that black hole of “thats”. So I decided to let it go. I could live without garlic for a while, keep my refrigerator clean of notes and photos, and pick up another box of tea from the grocery. I knew they would show up somewhere, someday.

Now of course, this thought doesn’t work in every circumstance. Sometimes it is important to continue to search for “that”. Our passions, for instance. Sometimes in the daily chaos, we forget where we put our hopes and dreams. They were right there in front of us, and then they were gone. We can choose to let it go and say to ourselves “It will turn up eventually.” Or we can work hard to find it again – all by ourselves. And you never know – it might be in the next place you look.

What passions have you put aside, or forgotten about because life’s routines got in the way?

Spaces Between Sounds

I have allowed a long silence to live between posts. January is a time for rejuvenation – a month of newness, and clearing of clutter. I’m sure many of you have found yourselves attacking those piles of papers, catalogs or other nuisance flutterings with zeal; organizing them (or at least corralling them), labeling and storing, then stepping back to look at your accomplishment, with, well, a sense of accomplishment. Or, like me, you are organizing the money – beans, moolah, black line, gold, cash, income – and plotting your path for 2011. And although we all might complain about tightening the belt, it still feels good to do so. Buckling into another barely worn belt-hole and declaring an end to the pudge, whether in our spending or in our waistlines, is somehow satisfying in itself.

So the silence at Chez Universe has not meant that I have been sitting in a corner. In fact, I have been very busy! I am in the process of buying a house – my first on my own as a single woman! I am excited about this little “start-over house.” It is a project house (aren’t we all, in the grand scheme of things?) and will need lots of repairs. Just how many it will need will be answered when I have a home inspection next week. But it is a new adventure that I will share with you, dear readers!

And because I have broken the January silence with type, I want to share this link that was sent to me by a fellow wordsmith. Enjoy!

Smells Like Childlike Spirit!

Last night’s soup swap was a great success. I marveled at the way the same basic ingredients could be presented in such unique ways. Fall and winter vegetables teamed up with lentils and beans in many dishes, but each had its own flavor and texture. A “golden” ladle was given to the soup voted as overall favorite. The winner was a cherry dumpling soup! We tend to think of soup as an appetizer; a beginning to dining or a hearty stew-like main course for lunches. So this soup (along with the others – over a dozen in all) surprised and delighted everyone. We went away with recipes and new ways to combine basic pantry items that we get tired of, or use over and over in the same way. Grandma’s acorn squash and lentil soup tastes great, but we tire of the routine.

So let’s look at something that is also always there, and can get stale no matter how much we love it – our occupations. Do you remember when you were a child, dreaming of the careers you would have as an adult? As 5-year-olds, there were no boundaries – we planned futures as firemen, mommies and daddies, doctors and pilots. I decided to ask other writers this question: What would you be if you were not a writer?

At first my colleagues insisted that they would want to do nothing else except what they were doing at present. So I asked, if skill/talent/money/whatever was not in the way, what would they choose to be? Reality should play no part in their answer – there should be no logic attached. I wanted to hear what they would do if there were absolutely no boundaries –in this imaginary world, only their spirits were in charge!

The answers were amazing –given the chance to throw aside the hackles of reality, a few stated they would be farmers, dancers, artists and singers. Without the requirements of formal education, others said they would be veterinarians, paleontologists, and physicists. The answers were exciting and eclectic – pipe organ player, rabbi, metalsmith, kitten photographer, ranch owner (where children could ride horses for free), Radio City Rockette, Indiana Jones, and many more. In the imaginary world, it didn’t matter whether we had long legs, beautiful voices, had degrees or owned acres of land – not even the sky was the limit!

So, as adults, how can we unlock the doors that hold in these dreamy wishes, and make them a little part of our reality? If we gave our spirits control of our lives, instead of allowing logic and all the other things to handcuff us to a specific daily grind, how would it change us? Of course, I am not suggesting we all live completely in a dream world of our making – we all have to pay bills and taxes, raise children and do laundry. But if we did something to fulfill a part of that inner desire, wouldn’t it only serve to make our lives better?

Instead of planning a vacation, what if you spun the globe, closed your eyes and pointed to a destination – and took off on your own Indian Jones adventure? What if you bartered for lessons in something you had interest in doing – dancing, acting, baking, or religious instruction? What if there were no boxes to define you? Dig deep – and uncover your passions!

Snow Mountains and Soup Swaps

Snow has arrived in Central Vermont! I spent Sunday with my two friends, Otis and Ben, and we enjoyed the snow together. We tried out the hill at their country home – fabulous! Otis, who is 6 years old, discovered that if we all piled into the wood sled together, the trip down the hill was much faster! Later that afternoon, Otis, Ben (who is 4) and I went to Hubbard Park to do some more sledding, participate in a scavenger hunt, and have hot cocoa and cookies.

At home, the snow plows rumble into the parking lots behind my apartment and push the accumulation into miniature mountains of white and grey. Last night Fae and I played “Queen of the Hill” on the pile nearest the door. Fae loves snow – but like me, when her feet get cold, she’s done playing!

Each morning I discover that a kind spirit has shoveled my little walkway from the parking lot to the steps of my apartment, and cleared a path to the dumpsters as well! This person must come before dawn, as I am usually up early and have yet to find out who it is. So I am giving a shout out and a thank you to the Snow Fairy, whoever you are!

If you remember my blog of last winter, Glove is All You Need, I discovered the singles gathering of gloves in Montpelier. My goal this year is to collect those errant gloves and mittens and find a place to donate them. But this month, shoppers won’t have to expose their hands to put money in Montpelier’s meters. The city has covered all its meters with festive red baggies – everyone parks free. A good thing for shoppers and a good thing for the shops!

I am preparing beef barley soup to take to a soup swap hosted by the REACH exchange in Montpelier. This swap is a bit different than the one I wrote about last year in Soup for You. We all partake of the soup of others instead of going home with freezer-ready portions. I am considering hosting a soup swap of my own in the late winter months – it would be a fun way to spend a cold evening!

Hide Away Moon – See the Light of the Stars!

Tonight is the new moon of the last month of 2010! To me, new moons point to rebirth and intention. Often in this holiday season we get wrapped up in the busy atmosphere of holiday preparation. It becomes a focus on a single future event, and the moment of “now” gets washed out in the anticipation of what is to come. But what if we practiced living in the now – now? Each moment can be fun. A game of Chinese Checkers with a senior citizen whom I now call “friend,” and a conversation over coffee with another newfound friend that lasted so long we closed the shop at the end of day – both are examples of the gifts that come in daily packages. Intend that you pay attention to moments like these – and enjoy them!

The sky is darkened on the night of New Moon, and on a clear night one can see more stars than usual. So I want to tell you about a man who is so passionate about the stars he felt compelled to share them with others.

In 1996, Frank Kovac wanted to show the night sky to a group of Boy Scouts, but cloud cover rolled in and the view was obscured. Kovac decided to build his own planetarium – a tall order for one man. But he had a vision and a clear intent – and he trusted that it would become a reality! Bit by bit, he built it – even hand-painting approximately 5000 stars in their correct locations in the 22-foot diameter globe. Now Kovac Planetarium is open for business in Monico, Wisconsin. Frank looked to the stars – and trusted the universe!

So tonight, look up into that darkened sky, be grateful for the “now” – and intend the future!

Lend me your ears!

Today is National Day of Listening. What an interesting concept! Do we all listen in the same way – or even interpret this unique and obscure holiday in a similar fashion?

For the past year I have experienced a ringing in my ears – a probable side effect from treatments. The ringing is called tinnitus – and after a year I still haven’t figured out how to pronounce it. If I say TIN-it-tus, it sounds like a Latin philosopher, spouting profound comments while wearing a toga and peeling grapes. If I say tin-I-tus, I conjure up visions of an aging hobo, playing harmonica and stewing rabbits in coffee cans. Neither fits what I am hearing. The sound is like a tuning fork without the initial clang; just the constant, smooth vibration of sound afterward. And it kind of plays into the old “if a tree falls in the woods” question, because the sound is something that no one else can hear.

So on this Day of Listening, I am going to tell you about the other sounds I hear that allow me to embrace this particular one and accept it as part of my senses. I hear the sounds of Main St. just steps from my porch; police and ambulance sirens; the almost clownish squawks and squeaks of car security systems; and the chatter of people as they go back and forth to work or to do day to day tasks. Tuesday is garbage pickup day, and my 7:00 alarm. These aren’t obnoxious sounds to me, but reminders of the energy around me. The sounds of honking are minimal here – in Vermont, the general thought is to be patient and allow others a bit of courtesy while driving. Instead, I hear conversations sprinkled with laughter, and many wishes of “good morning” when passing strangers on the street.

At night my dog howls out every now and then – for moments in her dreams she is decidedly a sleek wolf calling out to Dog Star in the light of a full moon. I hear the ring of my cell phone; the voices of friends and the gifts of their deep or funny or informative, but always loving conversations. Even the sudden beep of the breadmaker is a happy sound, sending soft puffs of yeast breath into the kitchen.

So you see, hearing the philosopher hobo in my head is a small trade for all of that, and there is so much more I haven’t listed. But I am going to hand it over to you. What happiness do you hear?