There is a tiny red flower that always grows in the spot each year. Regardless of the weather, the politics, the horrible things that happen, this red flower still grows.
For as long as I have been there this flower grows. And long after I leave here, this flower will carry on doing what it does. It will disappear when winter comes and when spring comes it will reappear. It’s like a bit of magic, nature’s way.
This red flower has been a sign of hope, strength, smiles and curiousity for me. I’ve sat beside it on nice days when it seems the world is not what I remeber or want. This flower has been why I’ve gotten up and gone outside some days. And why I’ve yelled at the four-footed one who soemtimes lets her energy get in the way of seeing things like a delicate red flower growing through the cracks.
I’ve debated cutting it some years, to bring it in the house as soemthing to cherish on my own. I’ve never done it, something always stops me and reminds me that it belongs where it is. To cut it, to take it into the house would be to turn it captive to my whims. It is meant to be where it is, free and wild and simply being what it is.
Today I saw the bud of the red flower, just getting ready to unfurl itself into its marvellous bit of magic. In a day or two it will open up its magic, throwing itself out into the sunlight, the breeze and the curious nose of one small four-footed companion. And in a few days I will read beside this red flower while the four-footed frolics in the fresh grass. Because sometimes all we need is a red flower, growing in the cracks to be reminded that things continue, that magic exists.
There are so many things in life that just sort of happen. Some of them happen without us really noticing and other happen under our watchful gaze. And some of those many things are things we dream of, hope for and wish for. Other times we don’t even recognize these things until long after.
Today th four-footed one tried puppy icecream as it was called. She throughly enjoyed it. Well until she suddenky made an odd noise, flopped on her back and started thrashing about. I picked her up, held her upright and suddenly she coughed up some puppy ice cream. It was just one of those things. A simple thing. A dog enjoying a safe, normal dog treat.
And it was another of those things that just sort of happened. The ordinary became anything but. The Adeline kicks on, the panic following close on the heels. The fear or anxiety that refuses to leave after things go back to being, well one of those ordinary moment to enjoy. That was it.
There are things that, but for the blink of an eye or a minor change, would just be an ordinary thing. And there are things that should be ordinary and straight forward, yet they become anything other than that. My four-footed companion just sort of happened into my life. A joyous thing! Also something that I easily take for granted. Until something like today happenes and then it’s not an ordinary thing or just a thing.
We all need to tilt at windmills sometimes. Now and then some of those windmills are bigger than others. Some of the tilting we do is more wild than other times. It’s just the way things go. We’ve seen it, we’ve learned it and we’ve done it.
Sometimes the tilting we do doesn’t make sense to others, it’s as if we shout into the wind and expect it to carry our pleas to where they need to go. It isn’t always cut and dried or clear. Some days what we do doesn’t make sense to others, but it still provides us with results. Or because it’s magic, up because it’s impossible to know everything or understand everything.
And sometimes, well sometimes none of it makes sense. It just is. Not that this is a justification for oppression, violence, death or hate. There is no justification, none at all, for any of it. And yet sometimes we have these things to deal with. So we do what we think is best, shedding light, gathering strength and awareness. Maybe, just maybe, as we shout into the wind and tilt at a windmill our voices will be carried and a monster tamed. So sometimes we just keep going because you never really know, even when you think you know it’s going to be alright. And sometimes if enough of us do it, at the same time or in the same way we can right the wrong, remove the weight and show the strength of love.
A very good friend of mine was a professional athlete. Was because he got injured and then washed out of his sport. No fault of his own, but sport is something of the strongest making it and the weakest washing out. And now he’s finding his way in a world that makes sense to most people his age. He’s a bit behind on this and says he’s also washing out of life in general.
Deep down he knows he isn’t washing out, but he says it’s an overwhelming sense of complete failure. I understand his feelings, I really do.
Let’s face it we all feel like we are washing out or have washed out at some point in life. The key is ride the waves both of feeling like washing out and riding the wave of success.
It’s easy to forget the waves of success because they are easy to ride. And when things are easy we forget these things. Where as the hard stuff seems to stay imprinted on us. Making us feel like we are struggling to keep our heads above water. Most often these struggles are never as many as the easy waves. However we only fixate on the hard stuff, the negative.
But if I must wash out, I want to wash out on a nice secluded beach. And wash into a nice and easy life.
Beloved walked along the ridge, overlooking the turbulent water swearing this was a place no one ever got to leave. So I took him with me, away from the ridge, the rocks and the water. I took him back from the rain and the dreary atmosphere. To a land of sun, tall grasses and laughter.
He walked along the twisting path, climbing the rocks to over look the valley. I told him he had managed to leave the place he swore no one ever did. He smiled and said “aye lass to be sure I have, and yet it’s still here” as he pointed at his heart. And I realized in that moment, unlike myself, a child of the world and no set place as home, Beloved would always yearn to be back there among the rocks and the water with the rain in his face.
We went back to his place, after a year of being away. It seemed a bit colder, more dreary and yet somehow brighter because of the look on Beloved’s face as he beamed about being home. He ran back to the ridge, the rocks and the water the next day, telling me that no one could ever really leave it and be truly happily. No matter how many different paths a man could take, this place would call him back home time and time again.
And I knew if I were to keep him, I’d have to keep that place as well as my desire to remain rootless in balance. Some how. Because no matter how flexible and strong Beloved may seem to be, the roots and rocks of his land always draw him home in a way I never can.
The four-food one is not a fan of homework. She also isn’t a fan of housework, but that’s a whole other story.
Now the four-footed one does not eat homework. She doesn’t shred it or dig a hole to hide it in. Which is a huge relief because the homework I have is marking students papers and assignments. I’m not sure how well it would go over if I told my students that I wanted to grade their work, but the dog ate it all.
What the four-footed does is try to demand my attention every time she notices I’m reading papers. If m trying to submit marks or comments online, she will happily step between my laptop screen and face. Yes I know, we may have an obedience problem.
So I’ve started to be sneaky about things, getting one of those food puzzle things for her to do. However the only time I dig it out is when I’m marking, grading or commenting on papers, assignments etc. Or I give her a special treat, he that will last her a relatively long time so I can get on with what I was doing.
This may, or may not, be a smart thing to do on my part, but for now it works. And it lets me do my homework without needing to provide a dog of an excuse!
Now and then we just know something well before it is can be proven. Call it intuition, inner wisdom or just knowing. Some how we just know it and when someone provides us with the proof it is just a simple confirmation. Or a validation of things.
Some folks are better or more in touch with their intuition. Some people never can trust themselves and thus are always surprised and taken a back by the news. Even though a part of them suspected what is being told to them.
Sometimes we cannot actually identify what is wrong, just that something isn’t right. When someone is able to pinpoint the exact issue, we may feel relief, or perhaps a sense of knowing it was validated even if we couldn’t describe it.
I’ve had friends insist they had cancer, they just knew it. And then had a doctor verify what they already knew. I get knowing something is wrong, but to know what type of cancer you have? That amazes me. And apparently more than one oncologist.
So when a friend confided in me that she was certain she had cancer, after all she had been having issues for months and doctors couldn’t really pinpoint things. I didn’t dismiss her. When her self diagnosis of cancer was confirmed by an oncologist, I also wasn’t completely surprised. I had hoped she would be wrong, but she is one of those people who is very in touch with her intuition.
Now I wondering, if it would be better to know before its confirmed or to be blissfully ignorant and full of hope, but shocked when diagnosed.