Savoring the Moment--Even When the Insights Aren't What One Wishes

                                        Early September 2012 photos on the Glacier Gorge Trailhead, RMNP

Earlier I was writing.  Then the Internet connection died, and I can't find my draft.  That could be a good thing.  I was pouring out my heart, probably not so good--and not much fun for you to read. 

I have friends and acquaintances who have had tragedies and difficulties in their lives this week--dear friends who lost a dog to cancer, who in a bit over a year had become an integral member of their family, a friend who underwent her second surgery for breast cancer, difficult though it appears it hasn't spread, and a church friend/acquaintance who died Monday after suffering a stroke at her home on Friday evening and wasn't found until Sunday night--and she was only a year older than me and hadn't been in bad health.

My recent automobile accident made me realize that we never know what a few minutes, hours or days will bring.  The church friend's death was yet another wake-up, reminding me that the things I plan to do in the future need to begin now.

I did rearrange my writing/office to make it easy to decide to paint.  It gives me hope to see the blank wall covered with plastic on which I have put a small canvas on which to paint. 

I've been using "all the tough insights" that have surfaced since the accident, the painful awakening that I can't count on family here, and that my friends who can really be there for me when times get tough mostly don't live in Boulder or Boulder County, as excuses for not writing or painting or getting my proposed website together. 

This is also about to be fall in Colorado.  Fall and fall colors here are short lived.  The first Boulder snows usually come in mid-October, and while there is hiking time after that, it is usually lower hikes as snow melts and refreezes on higher paths, making shady paths treacherous.  Now is the time to get out and enjoy nature.

I'm off for a walk nearby and hope to hike tomorrow.       

Enjoy the moment!

A Rainy Day - - Outside Quiet; Inside Churning

This photo from my I-phone is from the banks of the Boulder Reservoir on my walk yesterday--one of the first local signs of fall's approach.

As I try to write on a longer piece, I find myself avoiding the blog and now understand why a couple of writer acquaintances say they don't blog.  However, today seems a good time to look at beautiful photographs with flowers and fall colors.  The paintbrush photo below was taken on July 4th at Butler Gulch, which is off Highway 40 heading toward Winter Park ski resort.

The rain is much needed; the humidity feels so good on my skin.  I went to Yoga at the Y and enjoyed letting the light rain sprinkle on my head as I walked from my car to the door. 

Oh yes--Yoga and the big toe that is healing.  Yesterday I walked about an hour around nearby lakes without noticing a twinge in the big toe broken in the automobile accident five plus weeks ago.  I didn't think about the toe flexing that occurs in several Yoga postures until I tried doing one.  I quickly decided that I would need to baby the big toe in some ways a bit longer.  I was able to do many of the position though and enjoyed the practice.

It is quiet in my writing room.  This rain has brought no thunder or lightening.  Most of my neighbors are away at work.  This should make life peaceful, right?!  However, inside I am in turmoil.  Difficulties within an organization as one Executive Director retires and we seek another are disturbing.  My term as president does not begin until October 1st; however, family health problems are keeping the current president busy, and I feel left holding the bag on unfinished business.  I yearn to make decisions and get on with the job.  But is that appropriate?  Those Executive Committee members I have e-mailed do not answer.  Board members who supposedly do not know what's happening do.  I just screamed!!!!  It felt good! 

Other things are churning too--old emotions and feelings.  Watching manipulation up close is disconcerting.  It hearkens to times when I've allowed myself to be manipulated (not childhood since I had little power there)--and when I look at how I've been manipulated, then the next place to look is where I have done the manipulating.  Neither are pretty. 

I think of times when it has seemed for the best that I was using manipulative tactics to achieve my objectives--words that were freighted for example.  "This is a difficult way to approach the problem," could be a simple example as it implies that I have an easier (and hence better solution).  If I can sound kind and helpful in the process, then my chances of getting what I wanted were much better.

My intention is to be more aware--use my objective self to notice--when I am tempted to be manipulative in conversations and decision making--and take another path.  I won't always be successful, especially when I'm feeling my buttons being pushed.  However, when I'm over-reacting, that's when I know there's something I need to learn from the experience. 

Blessings to all,
Maggie/Margaret

Trying New Things and Ways

NOTE:  This post is a mix of how things stood on the date I wrote it, and an update as of today, August 17th.  It bring you up to date with things in my life not mentioned in today's blog.

I hadn't been able to reach the blogs I'd written and not posted--a habit where I often write, then go back and read another day before posting.  I found this one when I posted todays

Okay.  Now I have time.  There are still meetings, and commitments, but not many.  I've had the carpets in my condo cleaned, which resulted in cleaning (and some discarding) a lot of other things too.  A couple of my group duties have been completed and passed on to others.  I have only one church responsibility, and that comes only two or three times a quarter.  For the organization that I had been prepped to take over as president, it appears that since the Executive Director has announced that she will resign at the end of the year, the current president wants to stay on--and that's okay with me.  I'm completing details in the accounting software to finish my work with Michelle in her business. 

NOTE:  Change of plans for the current Voices For Children CASA board president means that I will become president in October.  While that will be in the middle of the search for a new ED, we are both on the committee, the only new officer will be the vice president, and I believe the board transition will be smooth.  Hopefully the ED transition will be too.  Also my work with Michelle ended in July.  She has chosen to distance as she works on her relationship with her husband.  Hard, painful though it is, I am adjusting more each day.  Though I have crawled into that hole, I'm grateful that I don't hang out there.

My endings are all appropriate though it's a lot at one time.  My ushering responsibilities at the summer Colorado Music Festival have made this month's evenings busy.  Hiking continues weekly.  Writing has moved to the front burner; however, I have heard nothing from the small press editor.  I heard through my friend who works at the corporate office here that the editor had returned and had or was going to read my material this week--but nothing to me from her.  I still have prayers out there--that the story will stay with her over the next few days, and she'll feel compelled to publish it.  I've edited the adult voice pieces and am through working on the memoir.  If I hear nothing, I might--just might send out a flurry of queries to agents.  Again, I might just let it go.  I have decided absolutely not to self-publish it.  Other stories perhaps, the spiritual journey/hiking proposal I'm working on or something else--not the memoir.

UPDATE:  I didn't hear from the Seal editor.  I did send out one more query--and might do two or three this afternoon--without any expectations. 
I have an early spring date to give a Quiet Day program for my friend's church in Florida, combining it with a visit.  That's one way forward.  I'll check out that as a possibility--some version--with another priest friend tomorrow.  I still feel a call to get in front of a more diverse audience, but there's never a way to know who is in the audience anywhere.

It's strange, thinking that I'm to do one thing for certain, leaving time and feeling in a vacuum.

August 17th --
I'm less in a vacuum each day, more settled with working on the spiritual journey hiking book, which means more since I can't hike right now--and gearing up to do the website.  Suggestions for good titles for the website anyone???   Blogs posted there will be more like earlier spiritual posts.

Gratitude for Miracles Big and Small

                                                                                Moss in the trees behind me--like Ala. or Fla.!

 

                  Nearing Odessa Lake, RMNP, July                                      Near Finch Lake, RMNP July

                                                                                                                                           

This morning I walked to the development kiosk to pick up Friday's paper (I only take the local Sunday) with my sandals on both feet.  Then I walked to the street, down to the corner and back--probably a block and one-half all together--with no foot pain!  How's gratitude for that from a long-time hiker cut off from the trails for a month after a pickup raced across on-going traffic in front of me almost two weeks ago?

I've been grateful that it was only my car that was totaled that Monday afternoon.  But gratitude slips as I search for another car and as I automatically think, "I'll just take a walk" when something frustrates or I feel restless.  Not being able to do my usual morning walks has left me realizing how much being able to take half hour to one and one-half hour walks here in Boulder means to me.  I know how lucky I am to be able to do mountain hikes, but haven't so much appreciated just being able to walk around the nearby park or the Celestial Seasonings trails across from our complex.  And that's not counting driving to other great trails here in Boulder.  So my short foray out this morning felt like a minor miracle! 

The ortho doc said I'd be back on the trails (perhaps not the steepest at first) by Aspen changing season.  That feels a lot closer this morning with the temperature at about 52 when I was out.  Shades of fall for sure.  I have golden Aspen photos from as early as mid-September, and last year I took photos up above Eldora (up Boulder canyon) as late as October 4th.  While I look forward to that time, I'm grateful for each pain-free step I take and for many friends who have commiserated and urged me to be patient. 

The car---oh yes a car.  My biggest decision has been to give up driving a Subaru.  For those of you living where winter snows are infrequent (and that included Boulder last winter), Subarus, all-wheel drives, are by far the vehicle of choice in Boulder.  They drive through snow without a hickup.  However, here in Boulder where there aren't many steep hills, front-wheel drives work well too.  Subarus sell at a premium for cars with over 100,000 miles, an even greater premium for lower mileage.  I have bagged having another one. 

Another reason for gratitude:  a Boulder centering prayer group leader's husband is an automobile wholesaler in Denver.  I made this connection through a newer friend who attends that centering group.  He is searching for just the right cars for me to drive and check out either tomorrow or Monday--two or three years newer than any Subaru or that I could buy without the wholesale discount. 

At next writing I hope to report progress on my "hiking as a spiritual journey tool" book--perahps on a website too. 

I am deeply grateful for each of you too!  Blessings from Boulder.

PS:  I haven't been able to "fix" the big photo and am not trying today. 

Stepping Out -- Writing and Hiking

Today I e-mailed a query letter, a synopsis, and 35 pages of the memoir (now called The Light in the Darkness) to an editor of a small CA press.  It was scary so I took my journal and a book and retreated to the pool.  There I listed more hikes for my newest book proposal--hikes as a spiritual journey tool.  Then I decided that I need to plot out the journey and see what hikes fit in those spaces rather than listing hikes as there are too many.  Doing that, and hanging out in the pool for a while (a lovely mid-80s day) calmed my fear.  It will no doubt be back in a couple of weeks when I know that the editor is back at her post (she's vacationing right now).

I also went on Facebook and friended our new St. John's priest, a 54-year-old woman who graduated from Sewanee School of Theology and is a rector in Utah right now.  She looks fun and likes to hike.

Friends Judith and Mary Ann and I hiked to Blue Lake on July 2nd to celebrate my 74th birthday.  In about two and one-half miles we reached the lake, which sets just above treeline.  It's one of the shortest and easiest ways to reach space where trees are left behind.  It is a rocky trail, which we had forgotten when encouraging Mary Ann, who will turn eighty later this month, to join us.  The lake is pictured here.

Look at my new hiking boots!

After a gourmet lunch prepared by Judith (including champagne), we returned to a high meadow and enjoyed seeing the bull moose we saw last year in the same place.  My camera had died at the lake (it's really dead), and I hadn't yet uploaded an app to improve my I-phone camera so no new photos of the moose.

On July 4th, I drove to a flower hiking trail that's become a favorite, even though I've only been there three times.  Butler Gulch is about ten miles beyond Empire, a village that looks as if it hasn't changed in 50 years, off Interstate 70 on highway 40 that leads to Berthoud Pass and Winter Park Resort.  While it seems like a long drive (1.25 hours), it's shorter than going back to the Bear Lake Trails in RMNP.  I didn't leave early so was between the early throng and the afternoon hikers.  It looked as if it would rain in the afternoon.

I remembered that it was a thirty-minute hike to the first flower areas so I wasn't anxious.  Soon columbines lined the path, dotted the first meadows and hugged stream banks, red and bright pink paintbrush mixed in.  Chiming bells climbed hills and covered valleys.  I was early for the monks hood, though I found a few blossoms on my way down.  After fording a couple of creeks (and being thankful that my new boots are water proof), the rocky trail rises steeply.  I met and chatted with a three-generation family on a 4th of July picnic, but lost them when I wanted down to the creek to take photos (with my new I-phone camera app).  Again I stopped at the waterfall and took pictures.  Making myself comfortable on a boulder, I realized that the clouds were closing in.  I couldn't miss the flowered meadows that were up and around the next steep climb. 

As I crested the hill, my efforts were rewarded.  Red paintbrush filled the high meadows. 

 I could have stopped then, but then I would have missed more flowered meadows and the flower-lined stream near the trail's end.  A line of morning hikers were heading down.  I ignored the thunder.  It wasn't loud.  Chatting with a couple whose dogs were determined to go up rather than down, I wondered if they were the last to leave.  I would follow them down (though I wasn't ready to go).  Then they hollered back that a couple was coming up the trail--and another and another came, ignoring the probability that rain might set in. 

I hiked on to the stream where a friend and I had eaten lunch when I was there on a fall trek, took a long look, some photos, pulled out one-half a sandwich and took a few bites, and turned around to head back down as I felt a few large raindrops.  Reaching trees, I sat on a boulder and pulled my poncho out of my backpack.  I did take off my hat.  Later I would realize that my sun glasses were on my head and must have fallen onto the ground as I squeezed the poncho over my head.  I hurried down the steepest part of the trail, then realized that the sky was getting lighter.  I sat by a stream and ate the rest of my lunch.  As I exited the trail and headed to the parking lot, a few raindrops reached the ground.  A couple joined me at the outside table where I enjoyed ice cream in Empire before starting the drive home.  It had been a delightful day.

Flower Garden Above the Fray (and fires)

After writing a post that I saved but didn't publish and discovering that I couldn't find it, this will be short.  I couldn't wait until I had more time to share these photos, particularly with those of you who live back in the southeast. 

The flowers found in the Indian Peaks Forest, along and above the Isabelle Lake Trail were so refreshing during the fray in my spiritual journey and the wild fires burning not that far away.

I am reminded of how the daisies on our farm took me away from the chaos in our farm house when I was on an errand to the country store at the end of our north field. 

My personal spiritual healing journey fray is cluttered with too many endings and connections.  A couple of conversations recently reminded me of how little I considered my personal needs for satisfaction during most of my life.  Now these hikes and wildflowers fill a deep personal need--and I am gratiful--for the health and strength and time to see and enjoy them, especially with a dear friend.  I won't say no money is involved for gasoline and car repairs are expensive.  However the lifting and joy these hikes and flowers provide are far more than the cost of getting to the mountains where they thrive.  I am deeply grateful.

Gratitude for light and dark

Splashy water--falls and streams--fill the mountains.  Darkness too--in spaces large and small.  Light and dark, up and down, in and out, around and about--paths go up, up and around.  And always we must come down.  Down can be dark, as a journey deep inside.  Bringing that darkness up allows the light to shine through, light to invade and change the view, release allows for freedom, even joy.

Gratitude covers all--light, dark, up and down.  Waking each day is cause for gratitude.  Walking a path is joyous, even with a stumble.  New life meets with decaying wood and leaves.  Skies blue dotted with frothy white clouds above.  Watching the path--one step at a time--presence.

Enjoy your day!