What Keeps Me Awake At Night (Part I)

What Keeps Me Awake At Night

~That the written word will be lost as we sit and type all our deepest thoughts on our blogs and emails.(I am just as guilty)

~That the beauty of secret journals and little girls with diaries adorned with heart shaped locks, will disappear.

~That dusty books,  the smell of an old book, the discovery of a forgotten tome of paper with broken spine and four leaf clovers pressed deep inside will become a thing of the past.

~That my son, and the sons of the world, will not realize he is capable of anything he could possibly accomplish, and will choose, instead, a less than savory path in life, influenced by all that this immediate-gratification world will thrust at him repeatedly.

~That my daughter, and all the daughters of the world, will sell herself short for the sake of airbrushed techno-pop fads that leave her self-esteem bankrupt.

 ~That tradition, family meals, recipes written by hand, tea parties, music played on old fiddles (including ancient instruments with funny names such as hurdy gurdy and lyre), and storytelling around the fire will vanish.

~That my children's children will not know the sweet taste of honey on their toast, and oatmeal, and in their cups of tea because we have addicted ourselves to digital satellite signals and bushels of high fructose corn syrup that are clogging the bodies and minds of these ultimately important pollinators.

~That simple folk medicine and the remedy of proliferate herbal wilds will be lost in exchange for a physician's prescription supporting mega-pharmaceuticals.

~That annual trips to cut Christmas trees and drink in the sharp pine air of north-wind winter will vanish with the ease of early artificial trees from Walmart.

~That the art of Christmas card writing will go the way of the dinosaur because of the internet.

Please help me to keep these things alive.

Tell the stories, take the time, do things the long, slow, and difficult way to preserve them.

Keep the ways of old flickering bright, so that they may be something new, exciting, beautiful, and useful for the generations to come.

Tradition, storytelling, handwork, care, time...keep them going.

Light a candle and do something the old way, the beautiful way.

The Hands of the Clock (Winged Like Cupid)

It seems the hands on all my clocks have acquired wings...like Cupid. They fly faster than I can run. Ah, but Happy Valentine's Day!

Things I am loving about today:

That the wind has been blowing for days and making all the wind chimes at the back door sing day and night!

That there are patches of blue sky in between fast moving cold clouds.

That we are above freezing temperature for this first time in MONTHS.

That there is (still) a stack of delicious books waiting for me to delve into next to my favorite reading corner in the cozy living room.

That I am inspired.

More soon. Hugs and Valentines to you!

Stripping Away The Layers

This afternoon it was cold and rainy, and I went upstairs to clean and organize the 'library', a huge middle room in the house that holds ALL our books...and there are a lot of them. I love books. As I was organizing, I realized that the center bookcase, which always houses my favorite of favorite books, no longer was up-to-date. It no longer held books that were in line with who I am today.

So, I gathered all the books from around the room that were who I am today, including my father's collection of Kahlil Gibran books,

Colette Barron-Reid's Remembering The Future http://www.hayhouse.com/details.php?id=2815 and,Butash's Bless This Food http://spiritualitybooks.suite101.com/article.cfm/bless_this_food_by_adrian_butash.

I then proceeded to place my father's picture and his Mason books in this special spot. It was then that I became aware, all at once, that we spend our entire lives layering and covering up who we are when we are born into this world. When we are born, we come as an already programmed, complete package. And, anyone who has more than one child can tell you this is true. This little person comes out into the world, ready to go, and already making facial expressions and gestures that will be their's for life. We are who we are...there is no changing it. Why we spend the majority of our days layering, searching, building, buying, seeking and pretending...when we already have everything we need to be who we are, is beyond my comprehension. However, I am content to be who I came into this world to be. I am stripping away the layers, and it feels wonderful and light.

A 'Bed-Jacket' Kind of Night

There are nights when I realize, too late, that I have done too much with the day. I get an inside-out sort of chilly feeling, as though my body temperature has actually lowered. It is nights like these, that I call a Bed Jacket Kind of Night. I don't know how many women of my generation even wear bed-jackets, or know what they are for that matter. But I have several. One beautiful lacy one, that was reserved for the birth of each of my babies, and one that is soft and worn pink and white and flannel. When I am feeling curly-uppy and in need of stacks of books and shut draperies, I slip on my Bed Jacket and everyone knows it is Mom's quiet night.

Oh the stack of books that I have added to my winter reading pile. If...if I dared to show you the picture I took of them the other day, you my dear readers, would gasp in horror. They are sliding hither and yon...little quaint quote books splat on top of Big Fat Early English dictionaries. Herbal cookbooks mixed in with Biblical scripture. Brambley Hedge stacked next to 5, yes count them, 5 wonderfully hardbound and promising Victoria Holt novels. (Those were to be my sincere attempt at a winter's rest).

This sliding, tipping, sloping, frequently kitty-cat-toppled pile of books is WHY I wish January and February would start all over again. There is no physically possible way, short of doctor's order bed rest, that I will ever get through all these juicy tomes. Ah well, there's always next winter.

Grab your favorite wool blanket and a book and do a little reading for me, if you'd be so kind?