For the Birds

As I was putting the groceries in the car today, I saw a gaggle (or gaggles, there were lots of formations and some independent souls) of geese. I quickly got in the car so I wouldn't catch any doo-doo on my head. I am thankful (and a bit surprised) I was able to look up, and open my window, so I could enjoy the beauty of the sight and sound. I was in the moment, something I rarely am! After the hundreds of geese were past (going north - is that normal?) one geese came up from way behind, trying to catch up. I could relate.

Then, while I was unloading the groceries I heard loud caws from the stand of pine trees. There were many crows yucking it up. The sound would peter off and then there would be one that didn't stop or would start again and all would follow. I watched and listened. I was fascinated and fearful. I always think of the crow that was in my house after Sam died. I fear their Native American symbolism.

I feel hopeful that I can be present for a simple moment of life.

The Morning After

I am tired, resigned – don’t know if that is good or bad. My thinking is – Go through the motions at work, trying to stay calm and methodical. Let the people and conversations that disturb me wash over me. Come home, and do what is nurturing to me. Take care of myself. Use my energy, not to try to change others, but to take care of myself. I am going to look in to taking a class, joining a group – something that gets me out and enjoying active, fun people.

Where am I going?

I am thinking... something I do too much of I am told. I want to do this right. There's a good chance no one will read this, but I must do it right. Maybe I should just do it. Writing has always been a wonderful outlet for me. I wrote a diary every night for five years as a young girl (I threw them away, unfortunately). I haven't written in several years, after doing some writing while raising my children, during a divorce and during reconstruction. I find myself in a transitional time, or what feels like one, at 51 years old. I feel unrest and the best way to deal with it - for me - is to write. My thumb hurts when I write long hand, which I prefer, and I must save my handwriting for work (teaching). I sure wish I had stayed after during high school to learn to type, but it was hard enough to stay all day. I guess this is a good format to collect my thoughts. And if I touch a nerve with someone that would be OK, too.

Enough for now - a start. I have to look at the keys, so my neck gets tired! God, am I getting old or what!?