Stain-glass Eyes

The process of moving into an apartment is full of interesting learning experiences.  I just returned from the recycle place on Ellsworth Rd. in Ann Arbor and it was an experience.   I was expecting I'd have to wait in line because I didn't get there until about 5 p.m.  I thought I'd have competition from other recyclers that were dropping their things off after work.  That theory was wrong.  (they probably go on Saturday) I didn't have to wait.  I did have to drive through mud and slush up to my bumper.  I was surprised at the rugged entry to this huge place.  You pay $3 to enter at a little booth.  I told the woman with the mint-green hat, that I had never been here before.  She said, "Just go through door #4 and they'll help you, just tell them, what you told me." Door #4.  It looked dark and mysterious inside that huge warehouse.  I drove in, having to decide which tracks to follow, since I didn't want to get stuck in the mud.  On

I've moved in!  That's not to say I have everything unpacked.  You can tell by the pictures.  You can see how I tried very hard NOT to get my junk in the pictures.  Kitchen With View of Snowy Branches Yesterday, as I was unpacking, I noticed I had a surprise visitor.  Gaylord Weather.  It followed me here.  It just packed up its "snow-belt", heavy, white stuff and decided to pack some cold winds in the small pockets, too.  It continued snowing and snowing.  At times, it was an inch an hour.    This morning, the weight of snow is covering everything.  I can hear the sound of snowplows, apartment dwellers spinning their tires.  They're trying to get out of the snow without shoveling around the encased wheels.  Encased car, actually.  I cleaned my car off just to be outside in the fresh air.  I have a trick I use with the brush side of my scraper.  If the snow is wet and snowball-worthy, I wash my car with the brush.  The snow sticks

A Visual for the Temptation-Goddess (Hanging from the top of a storage door in my brother, Jim's, basement)  Yesterday's blog post was fun for me to write.  I wrote the poem, "I'm Not Coming", to the temptation-goddess named "Stress".  First, I felt I was being drawn to a place I've been so very many times.  A place that's so alluring it's hard not take the complete ride it takes you on.  I even bought the ticket and boarded the train!  As soon as I thought it through, I felt the freedom of stepping off and skipping away. Trains by Rapid River, Upper Peninsula I felt the old thinking patterns calling to me.  It's so much easier in the short term to stress everything.  But, it's so much more satisfying to not.  I've done it.  I recognize the patterns.  The game of double-guessing each and every step. What are you going to do when...     What if.... Don't you think it would be nice...      

Ghost Town in Upper Peninsula, Michigan You're here, again. Boxed in cardboard.  Looking like you couldn't threaten me if you tried. But I see your disguise.  You hide behind labels. Fragile. Kitchen Supplies. Bedroom. Old books. But, you have an agenda. You want to infiltrate my calm. Disrupt my peace of mind. I want nothing to do with you. I've already felt your pain. Too many times you've pushed me down, expecting an answer. I'm tired of your demands. Take your death-like hands off me. This is my space. I won't have you obscuring my life with your dark fog. You stand like the Grim Reaper waiting for a train. Take a look at your watch and set down your scythe. Keep sighing as you listen for me to arrive.  I'm not coming. Your passenger left the old baggage in the seat and stepped off. Off, with a rag tied to the end of a stick, flung over my shoulder. Skipping smoothly toward the

Isabelle's Feet- "Priceless" I wrote last about how I've struggled and won countless battles over the value of things.  I included a picture of my great-niece, Isabelle's foot and labeled it "Priceless".  I couldn't write about value, without including choices we make every day concerning our spirituality, family, friendship, community and time.  So, when I included my list of questions, I was thinking about those things, too.  Not only which piece of furniture to hang on to, which hundreds of pieces of clothing to donate to charity, or which tools to send to auction.  But, more importantly, where I'll live, which community will I become a part of, what purpose will I fill... I'm not saying material choices aren't trying.  Leaving my piano behind was a huge decision.  I even felt ill.  It was painful.  Those types of choices are hard.  But, they aren't the most meaningful, life-transforming choices I have to make.  Eac

I've gone through an extensive internship the past year or so.  My training has been thorough.  But, I have to say, the personal struggle with learning, repetition and practice have made the difference in being more of a master. The craft I refer to, is the skill of being able to distinguish between solid gold and false gold.  The value in the two isn't that difficult to find.  Sinking my teeth into it, looking at it closely or just holding it in my hands, seems to work.  The broad spectrum of value in-between the two, becomes wide.  It's not an easy footbridge to cross when it's suspended between the two shores and it's swinging back and forth.  Important judgment decisions become harder to make. Ukrainian Orthodox Church, Kiev Patriarchate Describing this skill, I picture the footbridge at the mouth of the Two-Hearted River in the Upper Peninsula that crosses to the beautiful Lake Superior shore.  It's not very long.  It has wooden

Being on the road, traveling, quite a bit, I listen for many hours.  To CDs, radio, and lately, a story on CD, Elizabeth gave me for Christmas.  Naturally, I listen to silence the most.  When my head is popping like mom's old radiators when the heat comes on, it's not exactly silent.  But, there are thoughts and messages needing to be processed.  Silent-time seems to be an important event to block out on my calendar in order to process the deep-down, embedded junk I'd rather leave covered up with a thick layer of ice. Not the "I have to remember" stuff.  Those things I can write on Stickie notes or my Google Calendar.  The things taking the longest to uncover are the most important thoughts in my life.  They don't always come up clean and ready to view, either.  Sometimes, they're crusted over, distorted and I have to pick through the thoughts to get to the genuine, transparent form, before I can process them clearly.  Even when I take the me

Traveling across the Upper Peninsula yesterday, in the sunshine, made me feel like a mover.  A traveler.  A free spirit.  Part of it was relief knowing only lower Michigan got dumped on with enough snow to keep them off the roads.  Heading north was a plus.  The forecast predictions of Friday, being a day with sunshine, became a reality.   I made this trip across the U.P. to visit with my sister, Mary, in Iron Mountain.  It's not easy planning a trip using W-US 2 as the main road.  It can be really asking for trouble with problems that can appear at any time with the weather, 2-way traffic, roaming deer, crossing snowmobiles and small town speed limits appearing out of nowhere.  I promised myself, on this trip, I would stop more, get out of the car more and take my time getting to Mary's.  Sitting in a car driving for more than two hours at a time makes my legs forget what their purpose is.  So, when I get out of the car I have to pretend I'm stretching by the

Life's surprises keep me moving forward.  Not knowing when or where or who will appear.  These elements keep me less vigil, less sure of my role in this big world.  So, in being less vigil and less sure, I use my senses or "Heart camera" to point, zoom in or out, and snap as many pictures as I can, in order to sort through what is important in my life.  I tell myself, "Take as many pictures as you like, you can file them and take them out when you need to edit them."  I believe it's the moments that capture masterpieces.  We all have this "Heart camera".  We need to trust it more, take it with us more and aim it once in awhile, so we can muddle through the lousy obstacles that keep us from getting a clear picture. When my day or week slows down, or I'm consciously reflecting on what I've taken in, I delete what doesn't work for me.  Or I can crop to pull in the areas I want to view again and again. Was I natura