Touching into The Soul

When I was in my twenties I bought Anis Nin's book "In Favor of the Sensitive Man, and Other Essays", 1976. Her writing introduced me to Rainer Maria Rilke. I went to the library to find his work. This was during the time when I was studying the writings and theories of the pedagogy of Dr Maria Montessori for my teaching certification. My reading and insights gave me an understanding of my souls reality and my responsibility to my soul development. At that time I also was studying the writings of the Bahai Faith, along with an Eastern Yogi philosophy book I found in a thrift store, "Fourteen Lessons in Yogi Philosophy", by Yogi Ramacharaka, 1931. I was taking transcendental meditation classes and in a transformational wilderness of the unconsciousness and on my own, often making poor choices and not fully taking personal responsibility for the consequences. Role models at this level of spiritual development were only in books for me at that time. The reality of transformation, the work of the soul, the development of self.

This morning I came across some writing that brought back these memories of my life as a young woman and my studies that gave insight and purpose to my many confusions of life that I was experiencing at the time. A process that is ever on going from one season of life to the next.

Here I am now, in the season of my elder years and for me, right now, over the last weeks and months, I have been sharing the mystery of life's confusions and gifts with my husband and new found friendships. We have been sharing soulful insights trying to grapple with the tragedy of the wars of humanities creation, along side the joy and beauty of nature during this blossoming spring. Sharing life's gifts, and our individual and collective responsibilities.

Feeling thankful for trusting relationships and the memories of past and current soul work that continues through the seasons of my life. Like a flowing body of water that changes course and rushes in creatng new streams. Streams of soul consciousness.

"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."

Rainer Maria Rilke

God’s Abundant Grace

For the last week we have been cleaning and rebuilding these three small framed garden beds. The surrounding ones are part of the community garden we have joined. In December 2020 we sold our beautiful three story home of 23 years that we purchased in 1999, the year we were married. It was built in 1926 and we were constantly upgrading and doing repairs and creating more beauty to our beautiful garden areas. We loved it! Where for all those years we served hundreds of individuals and families together as licensed mental health counselors, in the business space we created in the lower portion of our home, "Skagit Family Study Center" and our art gallery, "Ullulate Gallery." Where over those years our children and all six of our grandchildren have joyfully visited many, many times and both of our parents joined us together in celebration. In 2020 the pandemic was changing everthing for everyone. We had both turned 72 that year, me in May and Chuck in October. Our health needs were changing.

It was time to retire. We bought a one story condominium. I put us on a waiting list in February of 2021, to be a part of the community garden around the corner from us and along Lake Whatcom. We were 24 on the list. As we settled in it took a couple of years to adjust. Especially during the pandemic. Loosing close friends to covid, and this past June, loosing Chuck's brother to lung cancer, has been daunting for the family. In the last few months Chuck has begun to prioritize his years of poetry writing, preforming and media magic into his own utube site: "Chuck Britt Poems, Into The Neuron Woods". It's wonderful to witness!

To continue the community garden story...I bugged the lead person in charge of the list every so often and after three years we came to the top in January, 2024! We completed all the necessary paper work, agreeing to three pages of rules and paid the minimal annual dues. Since then we have cleaned the three unkept beds we were given, removed the old fallen fencing and completely rebuilt the framing. It's been very difficult work. We are focusing on safety for ourselves as we work. This week we are building fencing and a gate to keep away the critters. This morning I came across a piece of writing by Emerson. It reminded me to notice the blessings of the day as it ends and not let the hard work get in the way of the beauty of the deer wandering around our place and the redwing black birds singing along side of us as we work on our garden space together. Chuck said the sound of their singing is like listening to good jazz. Then there is the sound of the beautiful creek flowing along the community garden into Lake Whatcom. And just today we witnessed two magnificent great blue herons flying into the huge fir tree to greet us as we entered the garden to start our day.

After 25 years of marriage we continue to be filled with the beauty of God's abundant grace!

Here is the writing by Emerson that inspired me.

Finish Every Day

"Finish every day and be done with it. For manners and for wise living it is a vice to remember. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it well and serenely, and with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense. This day for all that is good and fair. It is too dear, with its hopes and invitations, to waste a moment on the rotten yesterdays." Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Letters of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Volume 2, 1836 - 1841

Blocks of Time

Over this past winter I have been creating these quilt block hangings from quilt blocks made by grandmother, Deedee mom, Audrey Mae Bonner. My grandmother was a quilt maker and these blocks were part of her precious belongings passed on to me by my father after she passed away September 6, 1976. She was born on July 17, 1902 in Argos, Indiana. She was 74 years old when she passed away in Santa Clara, California, where she had lived for many years. My last visit with her was in early 1973, before traveling to Anacortes, Washington, where I would live and raise my children for the next 20 plus years. Deedee mom had just returned from the hospital and I and my two young babies, ages nine months and three years, stayed with her for about a month.

Now that I am fully retired and turning 76 next month, I have found creative time to honor her quilt blocks by framing them in various colors of fabrics. Her quilt blocks here are hand stitched. The white muslin fabrics are made from flour sacks she would save. As a child and young adult I learned to sew and quilt from her. These hangings have been gifted to family members.

Calling All Grandmothers

We have to live differently or we will die in the same old ways. Therefore I call on all Grand Mothers everywhere on the planet to rise and take your place in the leadership of the world. Come out of the kitchen out of the fields out of the beauty parlors out of the television. Step forward and assume the role for which you were created: To lead humanity to health, happiness and sanity. I call on all the Grand Mothers of Earth and every person who possesses the Grand Mother spirit of respect for life and protection of the young to rise and lead. The life of our species depends on it. And I call on all men of Earth to gracefully and gratefully stand aside and let them (let us) do so. —Alice Walker Resources NPR Interview with Alice Walker, 2010 A Blade of Grass

By The Scent of Water Alone

By the scent of water alone, the withered vine comes back to life, and thus ... wherever the land is dry and hard, you could be the water; or you could be the iron blade disking the earth open; or you could be the 'acequia', the mother ditch, carrying the water from the river to the fields to grow the flowers for the farmers; or you could be the honest engineer mapping the dams that must be taken down, and those dams which could remain to serve the venerable all, instead of only the very few. You could be the battered vessel for carrying the water by hand; or you could be the one who stores the water. You could be the one who protects the water, or the one who blesses it, or the one who pours it. Or you could be the tired ground that receives it; or you could be the scorched seed that drinks it; or you could be the vine, green-growing overland, in all your wild audacity ...

Untie the Strong Woman Clarissa Pinkola Estes, PhD