Subtle Change

Have not much to say today, except how things seem to change, yet also seem to stay the same, all very subtle.  An hour ago I was wailing out loud, not caring who might hear me, listening to a rehashing of the past on National Public Radio, as this is the anniversary of the oil spill in the northwest.  It just keeps happening, the abuse and lack of awareness; yet it seems like more are waking up.  Who knows what is to come.  We are so small in our reality.  Some seem to know how to manifest their potential, while some of us are stymied by our reaction to whatever is around us.

As winter came in and put all of us on high alert, I wondered if I would make it through.  However, a part of me knew to just keep doing whatever needed doing:  wood stacked on the porch, along with a trash barrel full of kindling, the water lines drained, once the gallon jugs on my tiny kitchen floor were filled,  plenty of dog and cat food on hand,  enough peanut butter, sardines, and eggs to get through ten days, and kerosene and gasoline to keep me from sitting in the dark at dusk.  Anything else was, and is, icing on the cake.  The best thing was not succumbing to depression, being able to pick up the phone to call a friend, simply in order to hear another voice, waking up with the dawn knowing the flue did not catch fire, and hearing the dogs, eager to go outside.  As the weeks passed, with record snows and frigid temperatures, pulling on my warm boots and housecoat each morning, I gave thanks (and still do) for all the blessings in my little life.  My faith that all would be well, renewed with the sunlight streaming through my East-facing paned-glass window, I felt spring closer with each new day.

Spring is here at last, although some “old timers” predict we will have another hard frost come May.  It snowed here in May, years back.  This morning I still need to get to the garden and remove the cloth covering my recently planted lettuces, bok choy, spinach, and broccoli so the sun may help them grow.  Last night was a light freeze, so I covered the plants, as per the advice of my gardening mentor/guru, Herb.  He has a very large green house down the way from my place and he welcomed my visit last week; he let me do a small job in trade for some plants and more.  I hope to stay in touch with him this year because he keeps me inspired to do the best I can when it comes to gardening.

The dogs bark.  It is time to step away from this desk and go on with my day.  The Jehovah’s Witnesses are out in my drive and I am glad they do not want to confront the dogs in order to come knock on my door.  I go out to their SUV and accept their mass-produced invitation to “celebrate the death of Christ,” on April 15th.  We know I will not attend, but I do not mind acknowledging their presence here.  Everyone of us is trying to do the best we can, even if we are sometimes robotic-like.  I am glad to be here, primitive, and unenlightened as I may be.  Life seems so much the same, yet there is subtle change.  It is a moment to moment thing in this life of illusory time and space.

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