On your right

I spent a wonderful Labor Day weekend with dear friends in Wisconsin. It’s a rare treat to enjoy a long weekend away and an even rarer treat to see these friends. Their son is my godchild. He’s almost four now and refers to me as his grandmother, a title I feel quite privileged to wear. When I pulled up to their house there he was waiting for me out on the front stoop. It’s not very often that someone is so excited to see you that they wait for you all day but when it does happen it’s lovely.

He’s just learned how to ride a two-wheel bike. No kidding: not even four and he’s off tooling down the block on his own! I was in the second grade when my parents told me the training wheels on my bike were coming off and I was going to learn to ride my bike like a big girl, and who didn’t want to be a big girl? (Um, me?) I'm fairly certain there were no other seven year olds still riding their bikes to school with training wheels on. They were looking out for my best interests, wanting me to fit in.

Well, to my practical mind, four wheels were more sensible and much safer than two. I saw no need to remove the training wheels: they were the critical safety gear to keep me from tipping over. Nonetheless, the smaller wheels were removed and I did learn how to ride a bike like a big girl but not before I fell and gashed my right elbow wide open on the curb. It remained the biggest scar on my body until recently.

Bikes offer independence at a speed that cannot be found any other way until you’re old enough to drive. It must be such a sense of freedom he feels as he races his way to each end of the block. With the wind in his hair and a great big grin on his face he is exuberance personified. He loves to slam on his brakes and skid to a quick stop as is evidenced by the numerous tire marks on the sidewalk. As the family dog is well aware of, the finer points of control aren’t quite there yet so if you see him coming at you, step off into the grass, just incase.

I watched him for quite a bit and noticed that the balance he maintained was really an art of knowing where the tipping point was and then avoiding going beyond it. Most of the time spent balancing is spent maintaining balance; it’s not a static event. When balance was lost and he did fall, he’d get right up and shout ‘I’m okay!’ and hop back on his bike to ride some more. He seems unafraid of falling or getting hurt. Maybe he’s so focused on the joy of the activity that he’s unaware of the pain. Maybe it’s a price he’s glad to pay for the opportunity to explore the wider world.

Sometimes it’s the simple lessons that are the strongest. When you fall off, get up and shout ‘I’m okay!’ and get right back on. There’s a great big world out there to explore and investigate. Listen for my bell; you’ll know I’m coming up on your right.

Peace,
Karen

A visible sign of my own

“Every little thing… is gonna be alright” crooned the reggae singer as I drove away from the meeting. My head was swirling with thoughts as turbulent and destructive as a tsunami. When the wave finally broke on the beach and the mental chatter subsided again I heard “Every little thing’s… gonna be alright” on the radio. I could almost see the sandy Jamaican beach, palm trees swaying softly in the breeze. I felt the wave of calm lap up over my toes and encircle my feet with a gentle but firm tug encouraging me to ‘Let go; let it go.’ I smiled. I love it when the universe’s presents are so visible. Sometimes a sign is just what’s needed to bring things back into focus.

“Turbulence is a life force. It is opportunity. Let’s love turbulence and use it for change.” ~ Ramsey Clark

The meeting didn’t go as we’d hoped: the very big project- the biggest project a key client has done in almost a decade- had been awarded to another company. We knew going in that we were not given the same material costs, guessed the price was higher by a substantial margin and it was true. Later my boss said I looked like I was going to cry when we were told we weren’t going to be doing the work. It’s true; that’s how I felt.

In the seven years that I’ve been working with this client their budget for even the most basic of maintenance and upkeep has been nonexistent. How are they now, all-of-a-sudden, able to do a project of this magnitude? Part of me is frustrated and angry that they are doing such a major project now without us. Why in the world couldn’t this work have been spread out over a number of years?

Then there’s another part- a smaller, quieter part- that wants to focus on the positive, wants to appreciate all the business we have done with them over the years. Oh, but the mental wrestling- WWF ‘Friday Night Smack Down’ style- is fierce! I do my best to remain focused on appreciation but the negative keeps breaking through. “And she’s down on the mat! Will she get up? Folks, it’s quite a struggle happening here. The ref is counting and no, she’s lost the fight!” Well, lost for that moment.

Now, weeks later and after much discussion with friends, my bosses and especially with my sister’s guidance, I understand that it’s not our work they don’t like; it’s not anything we have or haven’t done. It’s business. It’s not personal. And while that’s easy enough to say, it feels personal because it’s my work, my client.

There’s a beautifully apropos song called “Everything Must Change” that I’ve come to know through a local vocal treasure named Debbie Duncan. It’s a favorite of mine both because she is such a talented artist and because its message is so true it almost hurts. There’s no clip of her singing- at least that I could find on-line- so here it is by Mister Quincy Jones:

everything must change quincy jones - Google Search

(OMG. I can hardly believe I finally figured out how to get that clip in the body of this post! One giant step that most of mankind made years ago; one small leap for me!)

Years ago I watched a program about a young woman who was taking a ferry between two foreign lands. The boat started to take on water and quickly began to sink (talk about your harsh ferries…). As the passengers clamored to keep a hold of what remained of the boat, fights broke out. The strong fought to keep their place on top as others less agile or weak were forced away. The young woman knew if she was going to survive she’d have to go out on her own.

She swam away from the boat and floated alone in the wide open water for days. Sun burnt, exhausted, dehydrated and hungry she thought she couldn’t go on. Then, out there in the middle of that ocean with no land in sight, an apple floated toward her: a perfect red apple which she plucked from the water and ate. It was a sign of good things to come as not long after that she was rescued by a passing ship.

In the interview I remember her speaking of abundance and goodness. After almost sinking on a ship, after being beaten away from the only refuge by her fellow passengers, after floating alone in the open sea not knowing if she’d ever be found, after all that she spoke with compassion of the other passengers and the tragic situation in which they all found themselves and of her determination to survive.

Throughout my unexpected journey I have visualized myself floating in a wide expanse of water and reaching out for that apple. It’s what I see when I say ‘I live in an abundant world. Everything I need will be there for me when I need it.’ Much as the young woman experienced, there were times where I felt I’d reached my limit and couldn’t go on and then, frequently, there it would be waiting for me: a visible sign of my own.

There continue to be many gifts that reaffirm that I am not alone, I am loved, and I am connected to a well-spring of abundant beauty. So in this current economic climate of change I choose to trust that there will be enough work. I choose to believe that new connections will be forged. Life is an ongoing opportunity to see what you believe. If you believe there is enough, there is. Keep your eye peeled for that apple: it’s yours when you need it…

I know every little thing’s gonna be alright,
Karen

The long light of autumn

After a summer of unabated movie viewing we now return to our regularly scheduled programming…


So here we are at the change of seasons. The sun, who has spent the summer shining brightly overhead, has become a little more relaxed and now reclines gently back in these shorter days of autumn. It’s tiring being on your feet day (and night) so now you’ll find it leaning back under a big oak tree propped up on an elbow restfully surveying the scene of leaves just beginning their change from the bright greens of summer to the mottled yellows and vivid red flame of fall.

With this relaxed posture comes a change in the color of the sunlight itself. It’s a very specific look in autumn- more golden and hazy in comparison to the high, bright light of summer. Now, even at midday, the sun’s rays hang lower in the sky and each evening its painterly palette of pinks and purples get laid out on the canvas earlier and earlier.

I myself thought autumn came around rather quickly this year. It seems like such a long trip to get to the summer equinox (are we there yet?!). From the depths of winter's darkness we inch our way with much excitement to longer days and more warmth. In reality, it’s just a single day of the year that gets the distinction of being the longest day and then, before Mister Sandman has even punched out from his shift, the earth begins its tilt back and we’re headed toward the shortest day of the year. That’s not unlike many trips: it seems to take forEVer to get there and then, before you’ve even had a chance to see all the sights, it’s time to go home.

This time of year conjures up thoughts of school and, though it has been decades since I’ve been there myself (OMG, it is decades! When did that happen?), the smell of fresh construction paper and Elmer’s Glue mixed with the fragrance of tater tots wafting from the cafeteria are just as present now as they were when I was eight. When it comes to school, autumn is all about new beginnings. There are new pencils and folders, new classes and teachers: a whole new routine.

For Nature the new routine includes preparations for the long sleep of winter. Animals are either packing up and heading south to Boca or filling their larder and hunkering down for the impending cold and ice here. For most plants it’s the time to shed what is no longer useful and to turn their energy inward.

While death is as much a part of this world as birth it’s not often seen as a beginning. And yet, this part of the cycle is as much a beginning as are the buds of spring and the blooms of summer; it’s just a different part that makes up the whole. The moon waxes and wanes in its cycles. Tides come in and go out with the moon’s influence. Each end is the beginning of something new.

“The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning.” ~ Ivy Baker Priest

So here we are together at the beginning of something new. Let's get out our construction paper and safety scissors and see what we can create together.

Wishing you the start of a wonderful autumn,
Karen