Posts Tagged ‘quiet’

A quiet moment in the coffee garden.

Zephyr awaiting a crumb to drop on his nose.

Latte, all gone. 🙂

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Eariler today I posted this on Twitter:

“The next time you pass a vast, open, grassy field, imagine me laying in it, supine, breathing in god; thanks, d. #quietspace”

Later, I got stuck in Friday gridlock driving back to Sacramento from Davis. I saw this field off the freeway just before the causeway and I quickly pulled off the last exit. It seems my asking the universe reminded myself to find my own vast open field. #smalljoys

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I’ve been spending a lot of my weekends visiting family. We do all those things my mother tried to get us to do as children but hated: family picnics, hikes, leisurely togetherness. It took me many, many years to appreciate these things. Now I do.

The foothills have put on a spectacular show of autumn. This trail is one of my favorites. It curves, winds, climbs, then descends into the darkest woods that make me expectant of a roguish Aragorn on horseback–a girl can dream.

I assumed my mother hauled the family out here, so close to their home, often, but she doesn’t. I was shocked. Maybe,  it’s my turn to round the troops for family outings. No one would have guessed me for this job. Irony can be so illuminating.

I managed to snap a few photos. The family ladies didn’t want to be blogged. So private we tend to be, each in our different ways. Mom shot Zephyr and I next to the foot bridge.  Look at all the leaves. Can you smell them?

The ladies across the bridge. Their sentry, Zephyr prepared to stave of the enemy.

The leaves, water, moss, fallen trees, bark, mulch, rocks, all absorbed any noise. So very quiet. Heavenly.

Up river from the bridge, the stream trickles down from a place only animals can go. No foot falls allowed.  Some places should remain secret, private, mythical. 🙂

It was a nice day, d.

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I hate the conversations that begin with “Does your dog bite?”

Especially when he/she is holding a squirmy, sticky toddler. There is no good out that I have yet figured. If I say no, she will ask “Can Bitsy pet it?”–it’s always “it” like I’m walking a table.

If I say yes, they draw back in horror, though I am 10 feet away and Zephyr, turned askew, is busy grazing the lawn like a cow. Today I said “No, he doesn’t” and the above question ensued. Except, I smiled and said “No, not right now.” She was upset and pulled back her child. I can’t win.

Here’s the thing: I am not your petting zoo. And I am not going to let your sticky little kid grab at Zephyr’s ears, nose, whatever. It’s invasive. I don’t ask to run my fingers thru juniors hair. Sigh.


But, here’s thing,  I DO like the quiet, singular shy kid who is drawn to Zephyr from afar. They creep closer and closer, with very small steps, wanting SO badly to pet him, like they are witnessing this grand being, a mythical lion.

They never, ever ask to pet him. And with their parents permission I almost always let them. i encourage them too. They reach out their hands with such trepidation. Zephyr will reach out his nose and they jump, goosebumps  from head to toe, beaming. Often I have to show them how to pet a dog, like they have never done this before. They are always so gentle.

Beyond Zephyr, it is my own personality that likes a wide arc of comfort space. Come near me slowly, talk softly and don’t be too pushy or demanding about it. Don’t drown me in personal questions. Don’t lecture me or take up debate. Keep it simple, let me reveal myself to you in my own time.

Zephyr is the same way. I guess we are a true pair.

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I want to write a very long reflection on these days but I can’t. I need to stay off the computer, which is the hardest thing for me to do.

I haven’t had a migraine in two lethargic days. My pain went away, but my energy and emotional stamina is zapped. Still, I have come up for air and gotten a glimpse of the big picture again. It’s a start.

I went to the acupuncturist. What I wanted was something as simple as lying my body down on a comfortably warm table and getting plugged from head to toe in needles and sleep. What I did was fill out miles of overly personal biological info, get questioned for eons, then diagnosed into the gutter. Apparently, he tells me, with a frown, I am in bad shape. Well, no kidding. Anemia, hypoglycemia, hormones, thyroid, muscles carved in brick, etc, etc. He thinks I’m allergic to wheat, wants me to live on meat and vegetables ALONE for 3 WEEKS. No coffee, no bread, no nuts, raisins, cereal, yogurt, cheese. . . Can I re-mention the “no coffee” statement. I have little left, that I love, to give up. Finally, he got to the acupuncture and it helped, so much so, that I went out to the co-op, investigated things like “gluten-free” bread, wheat free cereal. I bought Omega-3 vitamins. I bought salmon, decaf, tofu, soy dogs. This isn’t brand new, it’s just brand new, again.

acupuncture by hradcanska, flickr

Life seems to be a series of endless starting-overs. Maybe, it’s just my life. My motivation, determination, memory, ebbs and flows. My only constant, that no one ever has to tell me to do, is walk the dog. I love to walk, really long, long walks, where no one can find me, where I can’t see or hear another soul. That’s hard to do in a city, but I make the effort for sanity.

My migraine is creeping back. I can feel it in the far splinters of my head, just a twitch. I took a long hot, submerged bath. wrapped my neck and head in Tiger Balm, took Advil, drank water, covered my eye, and yet, here I am typing! Writing is also about sanity. I don’t know what migraines are about.

Back to my pillow. I’m going back to the acupuncturist. I will let him talk about wheat, allergies, vitamins, diets, stress and hormones, while he sticks pins in my head, and I drift beneath it all, take a long walk in my mind with Zephyr down a long dirt road where it’s quiet and I can’t hear anything but the birds and the wind.

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The DSL is not installed and I’ll tell you why:

 1. My computer is haunted. It seems to have taken on a life of its own. My mouse won’t follow my hand, at random and my printer will print a perfect test strip but not a page of my work. I’ve troubleshot into the wee hours and nothing. And I, not being a sorcerer, healer, gypsy, priest, exorcist, witch or geek, am not licensed, trained, spiritually, technically or otherwise, to deal with it at this time.

2. My evil neighbor, the Testosterone Tool, has been out playing w/his chain saw since 8a.m. It’s nearing 11:00. He has butchered a once beautiful elm tree in his yard, that shaded a streetlight from my bedroom window. I have no idea why, other than he looks very pleased with himself.

3. Someone a) threw a firecracker near my door late last night or b) shot off a gun near my door last night. Either option is completely plausible here. But I’m not having that Zen feeling I need to proceed with any heavy technical challenge at this time.

So, I’m taking Zephyr, my crocheting, my book and lawn chair and going to the park, via the other cafe where they serve the best blueberry pancakes imaginable, and good coffee. Plus, the owner, Dina, will do that girl chat thing with me until I decompress and return to a small form of calm.

Today’s mantra: step away from the grenade. Tempting, but no. Namaste, d.


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