The Art of Sitting Still

The sun is out,

The air is hot,

Some like that,

Some do not,

Either way you’ve

Got to deal,

Keep it cool,

Keep it real.

There are people who simply cannot sit still.  They don't just fidget, they must be on the move and get up to do something they forgot about, or just to walk to the door and look outside; sometimes they go outside and walk around the yard or prune the plants.  They feel ill at ease with simply being still, as if it is a waste of time and they are unproductive in life. They never mastered the fine art of sitting still.

You might be wondering what is so special about sitting still. Well, it is something that I do and enjoy it. I like sitting still and contemplating whatever comes to mind. My favorite place to sit is outside. Outdoors I can notice the way the dappled sunlight highlights different parts of the landscape, objects on the ground, and potted plants, for instance. I can watch leaves flutter in the breeze, and watch clouds sail across the sky and birds flit tree to tree or soar on air currents high above that I can't feel on the ground. I can hear birds singing, the slap of someone’s shoes walking down the street, and the tinkling of wind chimes. Sitting still also allows my mind to wander, and give me a break from current worries and things that puzzle me. Quiet contemplation frees my mind to wander memory lane, or make plans for the future. It allows for daydreaming and writing poems in my head that never make it to paper, as fleeting as a wisp of smoke. This summer, being that we are still in our months long quarantine,  I have taken to spending time on lazy afternoons on either the shady patio or sun dappled deck blowing bubbles for Hillary's amusement. I highly recommend this activity even if you don't have someone to amuse for a while. Blowing bubbles causes you to take deep breaths and empty your lungs slowly. Watching the translucent orbs, with their rainbow on one edge, float away or be carried off on the breeze is a relaxing way to spend some time.  You can even imagine the delicate spheres are carrying away your troubled thoughts, or carrying messages to your loved ones in Heaven. That's a lovely thought, isn't it?  It's hard to blow bubbles when you're on the move; it's only possible when you're still.

I recommend trying sitting quietly for a bit some lazy afternoon under the shade of a big tree, sipping iced tea and perhaps blowing bubbles. Then contemplate the clouds sailing across the sky for a bit and listen to the sounds around you.  It can be very refreshing for both your body and mind.

Father's Day Again

Dads

A dad will tell a joke that’s lame,
You will laugh just the same,
He will say that you must hurry,
Then will tell you not to worry,
Sometimes he might curse and grumble,
But when praised will seem humble,
He will watch his children grow,
With love and pride he may not show.

Well here we are at Father's Day again. The years go by so quickly that it feels like we just celebrated this day not too long ago, but, obviously it's been a whole year.  This year, as in most previous years, we spent the day quietly and just with the four of us. Not just because of the pandemic, but that's who we are. We are low key and content to spend a lazy afternoon in our air conditioning since it was a hot & humid day. It was at least sunny so I could use the grill to cook dinner. It was requested that I cook a T-bone steak and some foil pouch potatoes on the grill. I added shrimp cocktail, asparagus and sautéed mushrooms to the menu, with mixed berries and whipped cream for dessert.  It was all delicious!

While I was out cooking on the deck I could hear what some of the neighbors were doing to celebrate. It was so nice to hear kids laughing and squealing with delight, and some were splashing & playing in a pool with their dads. One neighbor, who has no small children and is divorced was talking on the phone while watering new grass in her yard. Perhaps she was talking to her father, I like to think so but I don't know.  Still another began mowing his lawn after dinner while his children played together, the little girl dancing around in a princess dress. It was a really pleasant day, and quite relaxing.

Fathers. They're all different, yet some things are the same--lame "Dad" jokes, reassuring, sometimes cranky, awkward and humble when praised, and loving under a somewhat gruff exterior. Those of us blessed with good fathers are grateful beyond measure.

Comfort

Hello June!

               

Farewell, May!

You were weird,

We are halfway

Through this year,

We’ve been challenged,

Things are rough,

To get through it all,

We must be tough.

     As I folded some laundry today I thought about how my mother used to come to my house and fold the laundry when my girls were babies. It was such a big help to me, and I still am thankful when either my daughter or husband fold whatever's in the basket waiting to be dealt with. It's always the little things that bring to mind a loved one who is no longer here.

     Little, mundane, seemingly unimportant things are what jogs my memory of my parents. They are present always in my everyday life. Using a certain paring knife in the kitchen, the sound of a lawnmower, or the smell of coffee brewing are common occurrences that start me thinking of my parents. I think I remember those things more than any big events like birthdays or graduations. It was the stability of those common objects, sounds, and smells that made for a happy, safe childhood. My parents were there, every day, no matter what else was happening in life. It's what makes home such a haven for most people. If you're having a bad day, you know that when at last you step across the threshold there will be a place for you that are familiar, welcoming, and comfortable. You will be calmed by the familiar sound of the refrigerator's hum mixed with the radio playing, perhaps the lingering smell of the morning's coffee intertwined with the scent of soap and a favorite candle, or the sight of the sun slanting through the window highlighting your favorite seat and cozy throw. The things we don't really think much about are the background of our lives; subconsciously keeping us centered and able to cope with things life throws our way in an average day. It's one of the greatest gifts we get from our past, if we have had any sort of stability in our childhood and youth. It helps us meet challenges head on and have some resilience and toughness when things start to wear us down.

      Of course, in our current tumultuous world, any bit of comfort and stability are even more important. To be able to look forward to the familiar at the end of a long day is one of the greatest sources of comfort I know. Comfort and stability will continue to be important in the months, and years to come.

Holiday?

            This is a holiday weekend.  I know this because they were talking about it on the news and offering suggestions for things to do.  It doesn’t “feel” like a holiday to me, but then the last few haven’t felt like they were holidays either.  Holidays should feel special, with different food, fun activities, and visiting with people we don’t see often.  Warm weather holidays generally lend themselves to larger pot luck gatherings with extended family. 

            When I was growing up, and even when my kids were small, the summer holidays were spent usually at my parents’ house with my siblings and their spouses (I was the first to have children), and usually at least one of my aunts.  Mom’s potato and macaroni salads were always on the menu, as well as ‘burgers and dogs’ on the grill, an assortment of vegetable sticks, cheese and crackers, potato chips, and watermelon.  Sometimes sweet corn and cookies or cake were served as well. She always made her own lemonade and iced tea served out of large thermos jugs, too. When we had the big picnic on Labor Day, there were one aunt’s ‘famous’ baked beans, another ones cucumber salad, still another ones fresh garden tomatoes (which she sliced in her hand while talking to her sisters, without ever once cutting her hand), and someone always brought deviled eggs.  They were special days filled with the conversations and laughs you hear whenever relatives who enjoy each other’s company gather after being separated for months. I love those memories, and the pictures we used to take to remember the day by.  Now we don’t have so many relatives, and usually it’s just the 4 of us hanging out, having a day off of work.  I try to make the food special, but the day just doesn’t hold much of anything different from any other weekend day.  It’s a little sad but we’re all so tired from the hectic pace of our weekdays that we just want to spend the day relaxing.  Sometimes we do get together with our siblings, but definitely not this year what with the pandemic and all the restrictions on group gatherings.  Maybe next year we can try to make things a little more special.

            I hope that for you, the holiday is as special as you want it to be.  If what you really want is just a day to relax, I hope you get that; if you want to do something special, I hope you get to do that, too.  As for me, I’ll be hanging out in the back yard, possibly playing “Yahtzee!” or “Scrabble”, eating snacks and feasting on burgers and dogs.  Maybe I’ll make some of that potato salad and macaroni salad too.   

Sundays And Books

Sleepy Sunday morning,

Rain drips from the trees,

Lazy thoughts are mingled,

With gossamer threads of dreams,

Wisps of steam rise, curling,

From hot brew in a cup,

Cozy feelings all around,

On Sunday morning waking up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Sunday mornings of my youth were not relaxing. We were all (my brothers and I) up early, breakfasted, dressed, and dropped off at the church for 9:30 Sunday school. Dad dropped us off, while Mom got ready and then drove to the church in time for choir warm up. Dad didn't attend church; I'm not sure what he did while we were all out of the house besides listen to country music. He was alone in his love of that genre, and it was his chance to listen to it outside of the basement where he spent much time tinkering with radios and old TVs, and probably reading paperbacks. His favorites were mysteries and westerns, Agatha Christie, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and Louie L’Amour are authors names I recall seeing at our house. I think that his choices influenced both my love of reading, and my tendency to read mysteries and stories set in the Midwest with horses and cowboy characters. I don't think he got his books from the library, as I don't recall him ever going inside ours. Rather, there always seemed to be a paper bag of paperback books around the house. Maybe he got them from a friend, or one of my aunts. I never questioned it; it's just something that always was. It’s funny how we often don’t question things that were in our growing up houses.  They were just there, part of who we all were and would become later in life, influencing us by their mere presence.

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Library

I really miss the library,

Meandering through the stacks

Of books, each one enticing,

With covers both colorful and black,

Promising to dazzle me

With words and clever phrases,

To teach and entertain me,

As I read through story mazes,

Alas! They are all closed,

Due to this ugly virus,

One day they will reopen,

To teach and entertain us.

          I have been missing the library.  It is one of my favorite places to spend a little time.  The smell of the books, the rows of colorful covers creating a mosaic of temptation; I want to touch them, run my fingertips along them as I meander through the stacks.  It’s so enjoyable to read the titles, pick which ones to check out, and sample a little of the first page before deciding.  I usually limit myself to 3 at a time because under normal circumstances I don’t have a lot of time to read. 

          On the last day I worked before things started closing due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I stopped at the library on the way home and checked out a stack of books, as many as I could carry.  I should have taken a bag with me, but it was a decision I made at work so wasn’t prepared.  My thinking was that since the schools were closed, the library would likely also have to close and I didn’t want to end up with time to read but nothing new to dive into.  Initially it was to be a 2 week closing of the schools, but as it turns out, it’s to be 5 ½ months. I don’t think the library will be opening any time soon, so far it’s been 2 months and there doesn’t seem to be an end date in sight.  I do spend quite a bit of time reading as I find it a wonderful way to escape the grim and crazy news reports on all media.  It took about 3 weeks for me to read through my initial stack, and I was going to start rereading the books I have around the house, but my daughter started bringing me stacks of books from her bookcase that she got at one of the library’s book sales.  How wonderful!  I should be good with books for a while.  I know I could have read e-books, but I don’t enjoy them as much as the “old fashioned” paper kind.  The look, the smell, the feel of a book is intoxicating to me; it’s all part of experiencing a story.

          If you are a reader, and find yourself not working during this life changing time of life, I wish you many books.