The real, the reasonable and the ridiculous ramblings

In one of the first blogs I had promised to sometimes share the ridiculous and to invite you along as I laugh at myself.  Lord knows, when you are an awkward nerd like me there is no shortage of material.  And perhaps we all need a good laugh right about now. 

In a nice pairing with a recent dilemma in which we pondered whether red or white wine goes best with PB no J on toast, I present the mystery of the little Black Box.  I had recently gone to a gas station/convenience store for a few staples.   You know, the one with the great bathrooms and Karuba coffee.  Nice people, adequately stocked with the basics (although I did not check out the toilet paper so can’t help you there), and well set up to get in and out quickly with not a lot of other people getting in your airspace.

By basics, I mean milk, bread, a few pieces of fruit, a Lindt chocolate and a little Black Box of Cabernet Sauvignon. For those unaware of this little jewel, it is a 500 ml pouch-like container of wine.  When I opened it later that evening getting ready for a Zoom writing group, I did not see an inner white seal I thought it would have.  I hadn’t paid attention when opening to whether it had made the distinct click of a sealed container.   Had it been opened already?  Did somebody mess with the inventory or did someone pull a malicious prank?  In light of our current health crisis, my first thought was that somebody might have slipped something in there and I would NOT be safer at home!  Darn, my writing group soon and no red wine.  Life is hard.

The next challenge was how to rectify this problem.  Do I take my little Black Box up to the counter and say, “Somebody opened my wine”?  To which they would answer in their head, “You did, you crazy old lady.”  Uh.  No thank you.  I bought another little Black Box and paid careful attention to the opening and packaging.  I am happy to report it does not have that little white seal and it pairs well with crazy cat ladies and Zoom video chats.

I had also previously written about this week in spring when God falls head over heels in love with His creation.  Not that He (or She) isn’t always, but this display of new life all around us is especially magnificent.  A tree in fully bloom, heavy with fat white flowers.  Another laden with delicate fuchsia colored blossoms.  Pinks, purples, whites and yellows of daffodils and hyacinth.  Precious gifts, each one.

Yes, life is hard right now.  And not because of wonky little boxes of wine.  That is the ridiculous.  But the real and reasonable thing is that there is beauty and joy all around us.  Sometimes we have to search for it, sometimes it is right in front of us if we open our eyes to it.  Sometimes it offers only a fleeting moment of release from the challenges of life, but sometimes it can brighten the whole rest of the day.  

Seek and you will find, I promise.

The River

                                                          The River

Eternal, yet fleeting,

unchanged and ever-changing. 

The waters bounce and bumble over rocks

and stumble and tumble over waterfalls. 

But mostly it serenely flows by over the depths. 

But the thing is,

from one instant to the next,

the river is continually evolving. 

The H₂O particles going by this instant

are not the ones I will see in the

next nano-second,

or the next

or the next. 

The river will never be the same.

This riverbed was created eons ago

(epochs ago?  I’m a bit fuzzy on my geological time). 

Created by glaciers or floods or God’s great design.

At least the riverbed,

or the path if you will,

is unchanging. 

Look at any map from a hundred years ago. 

It’s right there! 

My river is right there on the map

and right here at my feet. 

Right where it has always been. 

Ah, but naysayers will say,

Look at the oxbow of some rivers.

That’s where some river either

got pissy at having to drive the same commute every day,

or perhaps the water wanted to frolic and play in the field like 

Ferdinand the Bull.  But, I digress. 

I’m kind of fuzzy, too,

on why the river didn’t just

pull itself together and get back on track. 

But apparently sometimes it just can’t,

and thus we have oxbows. 

Personally, I think the fish are kinda

jazzed about them, the oxbows, I mean.

They don’t have to just swim

up or down the river…

they can swim a racetrack if they want to. 

What kid did not love crawling around in

crazy circles if they were lucky enough

to grow up in a house with connecting rooms? 

We had such a house when my girls were babies. 

We called it the Circus Maximus, and it was stupid fun. 

Even our dog, Callie, would romp along the C.M.

as we crawled and chased each other. 

Sometimes he, being a Great Dane and all,

would knock over the littlest one, but still. . . 

crazy fun. 

Back to the fish, see why I think they are kinda jazzed about it? 

And just think, Dory

(you know, from Finding Nemo)

 would get back home with every completed swim

around the Circus Maximus. 

Just outside my door, the river is serene,

then tumbling,

then bouncing

and bumbling

all within a very short distance. 

The water flows by constantly,

but it is not a constant. 

Each drop of water is very fleeting,

never to pass this way again. 

Ok, I know the loop thing of

evaporation and clouds and then rain-- 

Nature’s Circus Maximus. 

So maybe that raindrop has been here, after all.

It is both ancient and new. 

A dear friend has a saying, “both-and.”  

It took me years to get it. 

“Both-and” instead of

win-lose,

either-or,

us-them. 

A way of looking at life with all of its contradictions.

Straight ahead or swim the racetrack awhile.

My kids tease me sometimes,

Ok, land the plane. 

Like, get to the point. 

I don’t know the point except

that these words needed to

bumble

and

stumble

their way out. 

Walking along the river, I feel a great need

to express my joy from having

this beautiful river for a

neighbor. 

I feel a tug to ponder it as both

fleeting and timeless. 

To ponder my love for the water as a

constant, but ever-changing. 

Same as the object of my affection.                                                  

Both-and. 

Eternal and fleeting. 

Contradictions and constants. 

The River.                   Life.                 Me.

An Ode to Fear

An Ode to Fear

There are so many of you. 

So, so many of you.

We fear for

our parents, our children, our elders, our vulnerable

our livelihoods, our homes, our daily bread

our sobriety, our minds

our very lives.

You, sir, you are a bastard.

A gut-wrenching,

insidious,

all-consuming 

bastard.

We run from your flame

only to jump into the fire.

We turn from our better selves

only to embrace the self-centered.

We shake off the cloak of fear

only to tempt more deadly snares.

We hear what we want to hear

only to disregard the rest.

I don’t know much, but I do know-

giving in to Fear will give away our future.

the whisper of reason is more powerful than the shrill shouts of fear.

the Israelites would’ve been better off staying in their tents instead of 

clamoring for more, melting their wealth to make a Golden Calf.

that the protesters clamoring for “freedom,” are trying to mold their fears 

into an Illusion of the Golden Days.  

I also know that 

a laugh,

a phone call, 

a video chat 

turns away the darkness for a moment.

And one moment leads to the next

and the next

and the next

until 

we can breath again

we can see the sun shine again

can feel the feathery brush of hope again. 

Thy enemy has a name, and it is Fear.

Kitchen Ramblings

Today’s ramble mostly takes place in my kitchen.  A nice triangular path from the fridge to the pantry to the snack cupboard.  Lots of looking, some naughty nibbling, but a meal of nutritional merit? Not so much.  As if this virus thing is not kicking my ass a hundred different ways, it’s especially hitting me in a place of great vulnerability. 

I am forcing myself to walk or bike ride everyday if it’s not raining or miserable out in an attempt to curb my stress eating which has gotten out of control these days.  In full disclosure though, I am currently listening to the thunder and suffering a belly ache from a handful of milk chocolate almonds, a bowl of pita chips, and a few spoons of peanut butter, which got stuck in the back of my throat!

I’ve fought the “Battle of the Bulge” my whole life.  Back when I was in grade school, we would get measured for height and weight every fall and the numbers were put up for everyone to see.  Of course, the guys were hoping to see their names as the tallest kids. But let’s be real, everyone was looking to see who the fat kids were, and my name was right towards the top. This set up how I have viewed myself for most of my whole life: overweight and unattractive.

However, about 7 years ago, I was determined to lose weight and become more fit in preparation for a trip to the Holy Land.  I didn’t want to miss a single thing because I was too out of shape to climb the steps or hike the hills. I did lose a fair amount of weight, had a great trip, and enjoyed healthier living. 

Over the past few years, 10 or 15 pounds of it has crept back on.  Crept, as if the pounds are lurking around the corner and waiting to jump back on my rump. Not!  No, it was a willful sliding back into bad habits. Stress eating ramped up what had already begun.  It roared with a vengeance at the dawn of the Coronavirus outbreak. 

So, while I’m out on good behavior, I appreciate whatever sights or stories the Outside provides for me.  The neighborhood white squirrel, the pairs of ducks cruising the shoreline, the first daffodils of the season have never held such delight for me as they do this year. 

I’ve also made a promise to myself to get serious with my writing, and out of that promise the blog ‘River Ramblings’ came into being.  I am hoping to share a few laughs and a few insights that perhaps resonate with others. I’m a firm believer in sharing our absurdities. And, in laughing at our stories, we laugh at ourselves, which is a very good thing. Especially now.  

I will part with just such a story.  Ever have those days you are too tired or too overwhelmed to cook and decide to just have a bowl of cereal or toast?  Just the other day, I had one of those. And the big dilemma was choosing which wine, white or red, goes best with toast and peanut butter.  After a brief moment, a nice Cabernet was the winner. And, really, neither answer would have been wrong, right!!

A Rambling Lenten Journey

This year we are all on a Lenten journey none of us could have imagined.  Connecting to the suffering of Christ is no longer an abstract theology, but a daily reality.  We have heartbreaking stories of loss coming at us from all directions, but the stories of incredible perseverance, courage, and love are all around us as well.  

My memory rambles back to a trip to the Holy Land six years ago.  “Bethlehem” is a poem I wrote about the site where it is believed Jesus was born.  Though it echoes the season of Christmas more than Easter, I share this now because it tells us about the entrance to the church.  One enters the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem through an opening only about four feet high. It is called the Door of Humility, deliberate in design so all who enter are reminded to come into the presence of the Holy Family and newborn Jesus in humbleness.  It is the only entrance, but once inside there is a Byzantine Orthodox sanctuary, a Roman Catholic sanctuary, and the stairways that lead to a cave system below where it is believed Jesus was born. It is a place of great beauty and holiness. 

This Easter, we can not enter any sized door or house of worship, and many of us grieve this loss.  But, we can humbly proclaim our creator God is bigger than any house of prayer, and God beacons us to come and worship in our hearts and homes. While this reflection is from my Christian faith perspective, I stand in solidarity with people of all faiths who are grieving the same loss.  Our hope is that all of us can be in our places of prayer and worship soon. 

Bethlehem

Bowing before you in our hearts and posture,

entering the door of humility into your grace.

Orthodox and Roman, 

side by side

                 Dark wood altars, with simpler lines of 

                icons, and luminaries a crucifix, statues 

               share their splendor        and candles.

      

Pilgrims enter the same door to worship our God.

The presence of Jesus in the prayer

and the presence of Jesus in the caves just below us,

The newborn Jesus placed in a hewn rock feeding trough 

leads us to the adult Jesus at the Rock of Golgotha, 

who becomes the Bread of Life.

O come let us adore Him, 

Christ the Lord.

Setting Out on This Journey

River Ramblings

I saw a pair of swans about a week ago. I’ve not seen them on my river before. I had thought swans were nasty bullies, but these two were just enjoying the water as were the ducks, geese, and gulls nearby. I have not seen them since, so maybe we were just a rest stop for them, or maybe the neighborhood association voted them out. I hear ducks and geese are foul like that sometimes.

Each day a few more trees have buds on them. This fills me with so much joy. The evidence of change little by little carries a promise from Mother Nature. I love that week every spring when the landscape literally unfolds in dozens of shades of green hour by hour. Until finally the trees fully adorned seem to say, “Ok, all the trees of the field have clapped their hands,*  now go enjoy watching the flowers for a while.”

Not all people enjoy flowers or budding trees.  Some people are enjoying . . . other things. I had wondered if the liquor store next to my apartment complex would be considered an essential entity. And indeed, there are people coming and going. Whew! Wisconsin and no booze could get real ugly real fast. It is a public service to keep us from suffering Delirium Tremens (DTs). However, I’m not sure the few kegs I’ve seen come rolling out are essential items or how that fits into the governor’s plan of being safer at home. Just sayin’.

On the other hand, I noticed that the folks that likely do not have a home to be safer in are often still in groups. I’m thinking when you literally have nothing but each other, it must be hard to give that up. I just smile and say hello as I pass by from my six feet distance. These folks usually return my greeting with a warm smile and greeting of their own.

A few days ago, there was a small group of people by the river and a police officer talking to them. As I walked by on the other side of the river, one of the men collapsed and was being held up by two of the other gentlemen. Two weeks ago, I would have run across the nearby bridge and offered help. As a nurse for many years, I have helped people that have had heart attacks in their yard, passed out in church, collapsed in an airport, or broken their ankle playing softball. This time, though, I stood still. I reasoned that there was a policeman on site giving needed assistance, and I should keep my f-ing social distance. I am so damn mad at this virus and how helpless I feel from my inaction.

 It seems to me, though, this is our new reality. We strive to find beauty and meaning, which indeed are all around us in the midst of uncertainty and fear. The thing is, we need to keep holding on and wait for the buds to unfurl their leaves, for ducklings and goslings to swim on the river, and maybe even for the swans to return. And, the glorious day we can once again hold our family and friends and give a hand to a stranger.

*Isaiah 55