My second cup of tea has filled me nicely. Breakfast of steamed millet and hard cooked eggs seem to be settling into my system with good effect. I feel nourished. My sewing machine is on the floor, the basket of rope piping I began the other day gets longer. I've found a real set of Sharps for hand-stitching and my mind is stepping through the process of making a padded wall for the back of the vardo. It doesn't look like we are going to be moving from The Kitchenette in less than a week ... our things are still as they have been for months. In fact, just prior to moving things get even more jumbled as we live the between-ness of get to the there, from here.
The cold that caught me last week seems to be wearing through me. The sniffles and drips are minimal, my voice still a half octave lower. In some ways the stuffiness creates temporary relief from the ever-on job of the proboscis with multiple chemical sensitivities. It's at this time when my prayer channels needs to be turned squarely in the tuned in position. Like turning over the keys to the gate, I surrender the job of sniffing to the Invisible Companions and do the best I can. Spontaneous napping happens and multiple re-plays of favorite escape films "A Good Year", "Stardust", "Babette's Feast" "Chocolat", and "Miss Potter" keep me company. I drift in and out of nap-land hear the voices of my film friends.
Pete has been out buying the poplar he'll use to make the bed frame. Through the glass door I watched him haul the two arms filled with wood. He caught the pot of millet steaming on the burner ... I'd hoped he would see ... breakfast was being kept for him. The things we do in a day fill most minutes from dawn to dark. Navigating our way through the choices, being honest and gentle as we discern truth that will be comfortable for us ... it takes a village. We are two old dears with a village of faith we sometimes lose track of. Then, the birds come to eat our millet, the moon lights a dark sky and healing dreams take me to all places and times at night.
I just do my best and that is good enough.
Showing posts with label belief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label belief. Show all posts
Monday, March 30, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Believe in Ke Akua, for this higher power makes all life possible … WE ARE NEVER ALONE
Last night I received an email from a dear friend. She told me of the passing of her brother who died of lung cancer. Her brother was a gentle and appreciative soul who made things with his hands. What I remember most vividly are the beautifully costumed tiny creatures he made with leather dressings and hats, and I believe limbs that moved. He built things, had many fine wood working tools including a family lathe that occupied a revered space in his basement. The gods offered me the company and comfort of "L" and her family at one of the times in my life where answers to my questions were truly muddled. As I write this, I laugh ... I have so many of those muddled times and the universe has always been very generous with solutions, in divine time. I met L three summers ago. Pete and I were separated and I needed a place to live. My chemical sensitivities were real, and yet not quite as aggravated as they have begun. I knew it was a risky venture. L listened and was willing to accommodate. She had, and continues to have, a generous and open heart.
The big old home in Anacortes used to be the home of a medical doctor. The main floor as I recall was divided into two large front rooms, one of them a waiting room the other a living room-entry room. The front door to the house was closely met with a stair way that climed in a sharp curve to the floor above. L offered me the entire upstairs as my living space. I only needed a bedroom and a bathroom I told her. "You need space right now," she told me. "I always thing of the two adjoining bedrooms as one space." The third bedroom remained a shared space, but during the three months I lived with L she left that upper floor to my own use.
Except for one other summer, after I was divorced from my first husband, in my entire adult life I had never lived completely alone. I married at twenty-five, left my parents home, and the Islands for the home of my first husband, and lived as wife for twenty-three years. Pete and I started writing and then got together within months of the divorce. We lived together for more than twelve years before we married in 2004. The element that fit our very independent natures was Pete's work. He often worked off Island, and I enjoyed my independence for days at a time.
My summer in L's Anacortes home was an important time. She worked as a care-giver during the week, so much of the time I was alone in the great house. I kept my own company, maintained an independent schedule, walked to the near-by services and maintained a weekly support network. When Liz was home, we enjoyed wonderful woman-to-woman tea times at her kitchen table, shared stories of experiences in the Islands, and planted a very deep fondness for one another. I watched a woman who truly knew how to be a good neighbor, a rare example in my experience. I saw how respected she was in her community and witnessed the acts of acceptance she allowed in her dealings her neighbors. She in turn was curious about me and the spiritual interests which are my focus. During the months in her home I brought an air purifier and water system to clear the air and filter the flouride. Those things remain there. Separately and together, I cleared and taught L to clear and adjust things in her home to allow the energy to move more effectively; I shared my knowledge of Feng Shui.
By the end of the summer my MCS symptoms had changed. I might have been exposed to too many gas fumes from the Anacortes refineries ... or something else. I had a tooth extracted and got very sick from the procedure. I think my system just got over-burdened, and my mind sought the familiar. I asked Pete to come back. Wow, what a recollection this is ... By this time, I had read about Tumbleweed Tiny Homes, and a workshop that was scheduled in last August. Pete returned from Michigan where he had recently moved to do some work he loved, and we were off for California to explore building a tiny home.
The rest is a history that I have recorded on VARDOFORTWO and Sam and Sally. Today, I began with a thought to embrace a dear friend at a time of loss. She and I began sharing the experiences of Makua O`o at her kitchen table a few short summers ago. What an incredible journey is life. Like that climbing stair case in L's home, the climb sometimes takes a sharp right on the way to the top.
Much aloha L. Believe in Ke Akua, for this higher power makes all things possible. WE ARE NEVER ALONE.
Thank you. Mokihana
The big old home in Anacortes used to be the home of a medical doctor. The main floor as I recall was divided into two large front rooms, one of them a waiting room the other a living room-entry room. The front door to the house was closely met with a stair way that climed in a sharp curve to the floor above. L offered me the entire upstairs as my living space. I only needed a bedroom and a bathroom I told her. "You need space right now," she told me. "I always thing of the two adjoining bedrooms as one space." The third bedroom remained a shared space, but during the three months I lived with L she left that upper floor to my own use.
Except for one other summer, after I was divorced from my first husband, in my entire adult life I had never lived completely alone. I married at twenty-five, left my parents home, and the Islands for the home of my first husband, and lived as wife for twenty-three years. Pete and I started writing and then got together within months of the divorce. We lived together for more than twelve years before we married in 2004. The element that fit our very independent natures was Pete's work. He often worked off Island, and I enjoyed my independence for days at a time.
My summer in L's Anacortes home was an important time. She worked as a care-giver during the week, so much of the time I was alone in the great house. I kept my own company, maintained an independent schedule, walked to the near-by services and maintained a weekly support network. When Liz was home, we enjoyed wonderful woman-to-woman tea times at her kitchen table, shared stories of experiences in the Islands, and planted a very deep fondness for one another. I watched a woman who truly knew how to be a good neighbor, a rare example in my experience. I saw how respected she was in her community and witnessed the acts of acceptance she allowed in her dealings her neighbors. She in turn was curious about me and the spiritual interests which are my focus. During the months in her home I brought an air purifier and water system to clear the air and filter the flouride. Those things remain there. Separately and together, I cleared and taught L to clear and adjust things in her home to allow the energy to move more effectively; I shared my knowledge of Feng Shui.
By the end of the summer my MCS symptoms had changed. I might have been exposed to too many gas fumes from the Anacortes refineries ... or something else. I had a tooth extracted and got very sick from the procedure. I think my system just got over-burdened, and my mind sought the familiar. I asked Pete to come back. Wow, what a recollection this is ... By this time, I had read about Tumbleweed Tiny Homes, and a workshop that was scheduled in last August. Pete returned from Michigan where he had recently moved to do some work he loved, and we were off for California to explore building a tiny home.
The rest is a history that I have recorded on VARDOFORTWO and Sam and Sally. Today, I began with a thought to embrace a dear friend at a time of loss. She and I began sharing the experiences of Makua O`o at her kitchen table a few short summers ago. What an incredible journey is life. Like that climbing stair case in L's home, the climb sometimes takes a sharp right on the way to the top.
Much aloha L. Believe in Ke Akua, for this higher power makes all things possible. WE ARE NEVER ALONE.
Thank you. Mokihana
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