CHRISTMAS EVE, AND TWELVE OF THE CLOCK, "NOW THEY ARE ALL ON THEIR KNEES"

Two years ago on December 4, 2017 I posted "THIS IS THE MONTH FOR MUSIC, MAKING, POETRY AND PRAYER."   It's still true.  Ave Maria is playing on my classical holiday channel.  Despite difficulties that don't disappear just because it's Christmas (Post "Healthy Attitudes, Part XIV, Mental Health, 11/7/19), all is well.  I hope for you too.  

This poem is one of my favorites.  It was first published on Christmas Eve 1915 in the London Times, in the midst of WWI.  My grandfather was in that war, stationed in France.  Imagine, soldiers fighting and dying all over Europe.  Not so different from today when many countries are war-torn and refugees are on the move.  Not so different from the time of Mary and Joseph.

The Oxen
by Thomas Hardy (1840-1928)

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
"Now they are all on their knees,"
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
"Come; see the oxen kneel,
"In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know,"
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so. 

A 'barton' is a farm building and a 'coomb' is a small valley.  Hardy seems to be saying that one Christmas Eve as a child he sat by the fire and listened to one of the elders tell of the oxen kneeling before the Christ child.  Now he wonders how many people still believe such a fancy, that the oxen would know to kneel in reverence before the child.  But he hasn't given up hope that it was so.  The manger, the birth, the holy child, the traditions and customs of old.  For myself, I too would "go with him in the gloom, knowing it would be so."   

 

ADVENT

Only five more nights 'till Christmas Eve.  Every year seems to be different than the last.  Last year I was laid up post-surgery.  Missed Advent, concerts, shopping, cooking . . . you name it, I missed it.  This year we decorated our tree early, started our gift selecting on time and I even got the Christmas pages of my collage book up-to-date.  A fire, music, a grandchild and collaging makes for the most relaxing hour.  Homework done, she sketches while I cut and paste.  We share gummies while we work.  That's simple living! I love it.

 

I remember when I was practicing law full-time I'd call my mom, a retired history teacher, and she'd be enjoying an afternoon sit-down, wrapping gifts and baking her famous lace cookies.  I couldn't imagine that kind of leisure.  For awhile I didn't even envy it; it seemed decadent somehow, not a productive use of time. I'd be driving home from the office and she and my dad had eaten already. She'd spent the whole day without an adrenaline surge; I wasn't ready for that. 

I didn't see that she had lived decades without the time for a hobby, that until she retired she had to squeeze in her grandparenting time with my children.  I didn't see her life then as a well-deserved respite from the hundreds of students she had lovingly taught, as time for her to be herself, with only the demands she created.  

My mom died at 82 after a twenty-year retirement.  She learned to quilt and won prizes.  She and my dad moved to a small beach community where she joined book groups, the library board and a out-reach group for newcomers. She read and re-read history non-stop.  My parents had more time then to appreciate the rest of the family and to show love to one another.  They had time to watch the winter sun set over the ocean. My husband and I on the other hand, were meshing our travel schedules.  I was grateful for airports that had some good gift-buying options.  Does that ring a bell?  Are you there now?  I could shop for the Christmas dinner fixings, get the kid's and adult's tables set, scoop the torn wrapping paper into trash bags and fall asleep all on a moment's notice. Is that where you are?  What are your "then and now" Christmases like?  How have they changed?

Actually it's all good, isn't it?  My niece has 4-year-old twins.  During the Christmas pageant one of them had his fingers in his ears.  Her household reminds us why we have children when we are young.  My oldest grandson has never once said he needed or wanted anything.  All his gifts are surprises.  Our younger grandson plans to build a computer.  His list of component parts is quite lengthy. Our granddaughter just asked for anything soft.  I'm pretty much on that wavelength.  

I hope your last week of Advent is going at least somewhat the way you'd like it to.  I'm looking forward to hearing the Angels Sing on High the nearer we get to Christmas.  In Christ, Nina Naomi 

CONTENTMENT BY THE WINTER SEA

Today the sea is loud. I took Mr. Wiggles for his walk.  He's a malti-poo who was in foster care here when I found him.  So he's not afraid of the ocean, little guy that he is.  Off-leash, that's his treat.  

The noise comes from every direction.  The crashing right in front of me with the gray waves curling up and over, but then different sounds, deeper and steadier to the left and right, up and down the beach. Synchronized.  The air is damp and cool and close.  I didn't need my scarf or gloves.  I hope you're someplace today that you like, where you can have a short (or long) walk or run. Or something to listen to or watch that takes your attention and holds it. Something in nature.  Winter is good for that.  

Mary Oliver (1935-2019) says,

The sea is the most beautiful face in the universe.

She wrote, 

The sea can do craziness, it can do smooth, it can lie down like silk breathing or toss havoc shoreward; it can give gifts or withhold all; it can rise, ebb, froth like an incoming frenzy of fountains, or it can sweet-talk entirely.  As I can too, and so, no doubt, can you, and you. 

So I'm content again and hope you are too.  Contentment is richer than joy, that comes in spurts, surprising us.  Contentment I think builds and is more likely to last. It's part of our relationship with ourselves. I'm thinking we can even be content, so to speak, if we're not happy.  There are times, events that we don't expect to be happy about but may still be content knowing that we are doing the best we can, or that someone else is. Or that the unhappiness is a natural part of life. 

When I saw those dolphin leaping, tail and all (Post,"Happening All at Once," 12/8/19), I felt an instant response, a reaction to the moment--happiness.  A kind of giddiness almost.  Today is more serene.  Does the distinction matter?  Both are good.  One enfolds, one lifts.  Both are blessings, all are blessings--joy, happiness, satisfaction, contentment.  And at least this weekend all have been here at the sea, overlapping like the waves themselves.  I didn't have to do anything, just walk the dog and look and listen.  I bet looking and listening is the key.  As we learn in mindfulness training, keeping an open heart.  




 

"DO MORE OF THAT"

"YOU KNOW HOW EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE

YOU DO SOMETHING AND THE LITTLE

VOICE INSIDE SAYS, 'THERE. THAT'S

IT.  THAT'S WHY YOU'RE HERE' ... AND

YOU GET A WARM GLOW IN YOUR HEART

BECAUSE YOU KNOW IT'S TRUE?

DO MORE OF THAT."

Jacob Nordby

Now that's a Christmas gift!  Let's give it to ourselves right now! 

LIFE AT A DEEPER LEVEL

I 💝 personal growth.  I bet you do too.  We want to grow personally, professionally, spiritually, every which way.  It's why we read, take classes, work hard, practice meditation, do so many things.  Lately I've been learning about post-traumatic growth.  I came to the topic by way of Mindful.org. and an article by American journalist and science writer Sharon Begley (b. 1956) about the science of "bouncing back" after trauma. Apparently some 60% of us will experience adversity, stress or suffering that rises to the level of trauma.  Many of us will report some form of personal growth afterwards.  A good thing, yes?

A traumatic event used to be described as one that fell outside the normal scope of experience.  But the uncommon has became more common.  Another school shooting, this one in Santa Clarita, California. Opioid deaths. More #MeToo survivors.   So trauma is now more specifically defined by experts as something that challenges our bedrock assumptions about life.  The challenge may come from health issues or marriage crises, violence or disability--make your own list.  It's often something that shatters our image of ourselves, of our world or of someone we love. Anything that causes severe emotional distress can disrupt our life as we believed it to be.

Post-traumatic growth, I'm discovering, is different from resilience. Resilience allows us to return to our previous level of functioning.  Post-traumatic growth is a positive change that happens in the context of crisis.  It doesn't replace stress; it may even occur with it.  The term was coined in 1996 by psychologists Lawrence Calhoun and Richard Tedeschi; I'm enjoying their research.

Post-traumatic growth occurs as we struggle with our crises.  We may make writing or journalling a part of our struggle.  We may disclose to trusted friends or a therapist.  We may take direct action.  And not least, we accept that the past can't be changed.  These good ways to cope are buffers against mental illness, the research shows.  My husband, for example, wrote a difficult book about a tragedy in our family. 

Post-traumatic growth takes forms we all recognize, perhaps in ourselves:  a renewed appreciation for life; a changed sense of priorities; warmer more intimate relationships; greater sense of personal strength; new possibilities.  All positive things.  So apparently adversity isn't the end. There can be more.  I like that.

It's a funny thing to be interested in I expect.  But most religions recognize the transformative power of suffering. We don't seek suffering.  Nor is it supplanted by growth.  But as we become the new person we need to be after trauma, we may end up living life at a deeper level and that is not to be scorned. I believe it is to be welcomed.  With my beliefs I would take this deeper level as a gift from God. 

I just attended my third Day of Mindfulness, a lovely silent retreat with guided and unguided meditations.  Another way people cope.  My take-aways from reading about post-traumatic growth are all helpful.  Under stress or not, it's good to have people to talk to; it's healthy to pray and to journal.  Losses may be unavoidable or not, but they likely won't ruin our lives. I bet you've found that to be true. And we can embrace any meaningful changes that follow our struggles.  

                                                    Nina Naomi

"A Lovely Silent Retreat" (Central Park, NYC)

 

  

SMALL THINGS, RICH LIFE

Winter comes slowly in North Carolina.  Leaves shrivel early from drought, before the temperatures drop.  September was a dry month, but we finally had late-October rain.  The first quarter of the school year has ended and it's apple cider season.  Last week the high was 55⁰ with a light drizzle.  I bought mums.  This week the rain stopped and we could use the fire-pit when the sun went down.  No more daylight savings.  Change of season is when we take stock, isn't it? Because I know I'll be staying in more soon, I've been thinking about the small things that make our lives richer. 
Here's one:  

"We would be together and have our books

and at night be warm in bed together 

with the windows open and the stars bright."  

Ernest Hemingway wrote this sentence in his inimitable style.  Mostly one-syllable words, simple sentence structure, nothing complicated.  Just "books," "night," "warm," "stars" and a word-picture emerges of two happy people in bed.  Content with each other.  Stars out the open window. Hemingway draws the scene as clearly as a painter would.  

So there are two things here that make our life richer.  One is being with our other half in bed as we reach for sleep wrapped in the warmth of our bodies.  The other is the reading itself, maybe Hemingway again or another of the American classics, or something newer.  At our house we start bedtimes with me propped up by pillows and my husband in the easy chair.  Reading is a perfect indoors winter pastime. I have a small stack of treasures waiting.  

Here's another small thing:  

"I DAYDREAM A LOT - THAT'S HOW I GET MY IDEAS.

IF I'M SITTING IN A 

CAFE, I'M NOT ON MY PHONE BECAUSE I WANT TO HEAR 

MY MIND.  I THINK THAT

THOSE PERIODS OF SMALL

SOLITUDE THAT WE ARE REALLY

LOSING ARE SO IMPORTANT."   

Poet singer-songwriter Patti Smith (b. 1946) said this.  She won the National Book Award for her first memoir, Just Kids (2010).  The small thing is the idea of just sitting so we can hear our mind.  We used to do this more often.  For a 70's punk rock singer, poet and  winner of the prestigious National Book Award to just sit with her own thoughts in a public place is inspirational to me.  If Patti Smith can do it so can I.  I can be myself without self-consciousness, sans phone.  

The third is my "Could-Do" list for November-December.  It's filled with small things.  Maybe some of these are on your list too:

Try one new Holiday recipe
Walk in the woods on the new golden pine straw
Gather fat pine cones for kindling, small ones to decorate
Share real (not edited) pictures
Spend at least one night away from home; make it romantic
Skip Amazon, shop local

Friendly Market, Morehead City, NC

Watch a movie-for-grownups
Go to a performance--the Messiah, the high school band concert, The Nutcracker . . .
Decorate with live greens, holly, pine, cedar, spruce and fir
And candy canes
And homemade paper snowflakes

Nothing hard on my could-do list.  I think as I do one I'll add one.  Just the things that nourish and uplift.  A list of treats. 

 









 

"SMALL KINDNESSES" BY DANUSHA LAMERIS

                                      Small Kindnesses

              I've been thinking about the way, when you walk
              down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
              to let you by.  Or how strangers still say "bless you"
              when someone sneezes, a leftover
              from the Bubonic plague.  "Don't die," we are saying.
              And sometimes when you spill lemons 
              from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
              pick them up.  Mostly we don't want to harm each other.
              We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
              and to say thank you to the person handing it.  To smile
              at them and for them to smile back.  For the waitress
              to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
              and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
              We have so little of each other, now.  So far from tribe and fire.
              Only these brief moments of exchange.
              What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, 
              these fleeting temples we make together when we say, "Here,
              have my seat," "Go ahead - you first," "I like your hat." 
                                                       by Danusha Lameris

What do you think?  Do you like this?  The author is poet laureate of Santa Cruz County, California.  It's wonderful to me that Santa Cruz County has its own poet laureate. I know that the US has a poet laureate and that North Carolina does, as other states do.  And about a dozen national governments, including Great Britain.  I even knew that the poet Petrarch was crowned Poet Laureate in Rome (in 1341 but I didn't know the date), hence the term "laureate."  My own little corner of the world has its Piedmont Laureate (www.piedmontlaureate.org), not necessarily a poet, but someone who promotes the literary arts in the schools and community.  For a US county or city or Borough (Fresno, CA and the Borough of Brooklyn for example) to want poetry as part of its identity is encouraging I think.

After all, look at Lameris' poem.  I read an analysis by another poet, Naomi Nye, in the NYT magazine (Sept. 19, 2019).  She says that the poem breezes compliments and simple care, is a catalogue of small encouragements and celebrates graciousness within the community.  One reader's comments caught what I bet many of us feel.  She wrote, "When I read this poem everything around me softened for a moment."  Yes, me too.  

The poem makes me especially think about interactions between women, how we chat with strangers and affirm each other. I feel like I can say that without fear of contradiction.  How many times haven't I received a compliment on my mustard-yellow hobo bag? Or my little peep-toe flats that tie with a grosgrain ribbon?  If your tag shows someone just might tuck it in for you.  Or pick-up something you've dropped but not noticed.  I like it that when you hear a "Bless You" from a neighboring carrel it means "Don't die."  We're not saying that literally of course, but the history of the courtesy shows how long we have been caring for one another.   

Small kindnesses always stand for something more, something unspoken:  our needs, our gifts, how we navigate the rigors of life.  As an English teacher once, someone who can find solace in John Donne or Emily Dickinson or Mary Oliver, I am glad to now be acquainted with the Poet Laureate of Santa Cruz County, CA.  I'll start with The Moons of August (2013) and go from there.  

     What's gone
     Is not quite gone, but lingers, 
     Not the language, but the bones
     of the language.  Not the beloved,
     but the dark bed the beloved makes
     inside our bodies. 

I can't wait to read more of this poet.  "The the dark bed the beloved makes inside our bodies."  Wow.  Can language get better than that?  Such an unexpected blessing found today.  
                                                    Nina Naomi
 




 

YOUR CALMER SIDE

Illustration by Lori Roberts, Quote by Eckhart Tolle

You know I'm a newcomer to mindfulness, just two and a half years.  But ever since I started the practice I've looked for helps.  They're abundant.  One of the helps I found got me thinking about our calmer sides.  We all have one.  I guess it's the accessibility that differs, from person-to-person, from day-to-day.  We know when we're calm we feel differently.  Our breath, our heart rate, our minds are all sending signals of patience and kindness, with ourselves and with others.  

As part of this month's culmination in Thanksgiving I've decided to make gratitude and thankfulness an intention.  The science on this tells me my calmer side will rejoice.  With a little help from the pros, here's the plan:  First, let go of the desire for my life to be different than it is.  Sure it would be nice to feel younger, to have all the family closer, to have all my prayers answered. If wishes were horses . . . .  But that's not real, is it? The idea is to accept today, as it is.  And when I weigh everything, today just as it is, is good.  I can be thankful for that.


Second, let go of expectations. I can tell just by writing this, that leaving expectations behind brings peace.  My breath has deepened.  We can still believe in ourselves, work hard, change anything toxic that we can.  But be more flexible in accepting the results.  

Third, to let go of expectations and limitations means also to let go of the illusion of perfection.  Ah, something easy for me. I couldn't enjoy my life at all if it were tied to perfection.  My yoga poses, my pottery class, the sweater I'm knitting, the poetry I write, the meals I cook, this blog, my body, my whole personality, all are so far from perfect . . . .  And yet, I still trust myself first, my intuitions and my decisions. Where are you on this path?  At a good place I hope. 


Fourth, let go of comparisons.  We've all seen this maxim in one form or another.

"Comparison is the Thief of Joy"

            Theodore Roosevelt

That's what's wrong with social media isn't it?  For all the fun and good it does and the connections it builds, no one ever says "When I'm on Facebook I feel so fulfilled" or "What I like best about my life is the time I spend on Facebook."  Instead it makes us feel itchy, vaguely dissatisfied, morose even--like when we've watched too much TV or sat at the computer or been indoors too long.  I am working to be content with what I have.  That means no comparisons. No comparing houses, cars, jobs, children, spouses, vacations, abilities, achievements . . . no comparing lives!  Experts say letting go of comparisons creates space to appreciate where we are today and how far we've come. 

Fifth, let go of the past.  Not the good things.  Not the memory of my mother's love or how our babies felt when they were little, not the house I grew up in with my brother or the first date with my husband.  But the past that breeds resentment.  The traumatic past, the tough and terrible past that is triggered so unexpectedly.  The past of which we would be rid. This is a hard one; it may require professional help.  Sometimes when I am going somewhere I say, "I'm not going to take __X__ with me."  Some baggage, some thought, some memory.  I can't change the past but maybe, just maybe, I can leave it where it belongs. 

Lastly, let go of "someday."  I know I'm too old to put things off.  But perhaps we all are.  If it's important find a way.  Don't wait until we're out of school or married or the kids are older or we have more money or we're retired.  The expiration date of life is uncertain.  Less uncertain as we age, but still . . . .  If we've let go of expectations and comparisons and limitations then there's no reason to put off what is important to us.  After all, it doesn't have to be perfect!  We've let go of that!

So with help from others this is my November's recipe for calm.  A new season, a new month, a new plan.  And if it goes awry, not as I expect, or not as well as someone else's plan, I'll take it calmly and be grateful for what is.  Trusting myself. 

THE GOODNESS OF MEMORY

Leaves burning remind me of Fall
The kids playing on the swing set while I rake
Matching green sweaters with hoods, pumping, out and back 
Sarah with her little bones, happy; Adam in boondockers, whirling  
We're feeling the chill, our hands and cheeks as the sun sets 
Damp earth, smokey air
Dinner at McDonald's, baths, soft pajamas, little feet, wet hair
Fragrant life
There's nothing wrong with my memories, nothing at all 


Sometimes it feels calm, the movement of life, the blessing of the surrender to time. 

Nina Naomi

ABOUT AWE, PART 3

Site Plan of Butler Wash Ruins, Prehistoric Anasazi Cliff Dwelling

Written on October 12, 2019

Another day in AWE Country.  Not everything goes well of course.  Away from home, hauling travel gear, covered in dust.  One lodging is more than you expect, another far worse.  Making changes is not easy.  I'm less flexible than I'd like, grumpy, and ashamed of myself.  My husband's grumpy too.  We've gotten a slow start today.  Ever happen to you? Then we get out of the car and start our hike. 

The goal is to reach the cliff dwellings of the Ancient Puebloans (Anasazi), who lived here in alcoves from about AD 900-1350.  We're in Bears Ears National Monument in southeastern Utah.  The cave ruins are nestled on Comb Ridge, a dramatic geologic fold about a mile wide and 80 miles long.  These and the prehistoric rock carvings are what I now want to see most on this trip.  Even though they won't be as spectacular as the hoodoos ("About Awe," posted 10/18/19), there's something about being with the remnants of ancient civilizations.  

Marked Trail to Cliff Overlook

The walk isn't long but the temperature's dropped to 50⁰.  We're in the desert and the walking changes everything.  All I feel is the sun on my back and shoulders.  All I see is scrub land, Prickly Pear Cacti, yellow Rubber Rabbitbrush, Desert Sage and Mormon Tea.  The desert sand gives way to slickrock--large and flat and easy walking. We're on a plateau headed toward a small canyon.  More sun and then the cliffs and dwellings come in to view.  

Butler Wash Ruin as seen from Overlook

Think of it--people just like us, living in cliffs, farming and hunting, building, cooking everyday, tending their toddlers, loving each other, giving birth and growing old.  And all at the cliff's edge.  What agility they must have had!  What spiritual lives, feeling at one with nature. The same instincts to feed and protect their families, to shelter them.  To be tender or angry, happy or sad.  I'm in AWE of them!  

I want to carry these feelings home with me, so that we connect with our neighbors not just horizontally, but also vertically through time. So that we preserve their treasures. Somehow these people have managed to connect with me.  So nature and civilization lift my mood, set things right. I'm learning so much, and through all my senses: climbing, touching, seeing, hearing. . . . There are layers of goodness everywhere. 
 

Petroglyphs near Bluff, Utah

 


 

ABOUT AWE, PART 2

Zion National Park, Utah

Written October 9, 2019

We are still in AWE Country.  Last Christmas (Post, "Merry Christmas To All," 12/23/18) I wrote about my back surgery and the confinement it caused.  Not all bad by any means, punctuated by friends and lovely caretakers.  Well, the surgery must have succeeded because here we are following trails into canyons and up rivers and having more of those unbelievable feelings of awe.  At nature, at geological time, at God.  Not one of those tiny pleasures that I'm so grateful for every day.  But something huge! 
 

Mitten Butte, Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park

Have you ever visited a place and thought, "What if I had been born here?  What if my family lived here and I came here all the time?"  I remember being quite young and thinking "What if this Swiss village were my home?"  Instead, I've never returned.  It was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.  This place is like that.  You want more.  More days, more nights. . . last evening in the Navajo Tribal Park it was so quiet.  We and the other visitors fell silent as the sun set.  People seemed to whisper out of respect for the landscape. 

Sunset, Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park

In my hometown of Durham, North Carolina, one of the experiences that brings awe is listening to the Duke University Chapel organist play Widor's Toccata (1879) on the Chapel's great organ.  If you can't recall the piece, or just want to listen right now, it's easy to call up.  It's a favorite at royal weddings.  Mentioning it, I am hearing it in my head.  Sitting here in Utah writing what I'll want to post when I get home I have two blessings:  the music in my head and the canyons all around.  

Funny how awe works.  It can be there to see or hear or feel, or even just recall and recreate.  So much to be grateful for.  And right now, Number 1 on my list is my back surgeon!                           
                              With thanksgiving, Nina Naomi





 

ABOUT AWE

Hoodoos, Bryce National Park, Utah (Inspiration Point)

Written October 5, 2019

Do you live in Utah in the US?  I know readers are all over, some in places I've been and many not.  I haven't been to Portugal or Australia or Ukraine or Malaysia.  But this week we're in Utah and I am filled with awe. 

I don't especially like the term "bucket list."  Probably because it comes from "kick the bucket," slang for "drop dead."  Not a happy thought.  But the famous National Parks in Utah were on mine, let's say . . . on my Longing List.  Doesn't it feel great to reach a life-time goal? It's taken an effort to get from North Carolina to this remote place of Nature's wonders 2,188 miles from my home. 

Awe is not a feeling that happens often, but it's been happening here so frequently that I'm becoming well-acquainted with it.  It's almost like anxiety:  the stopping of breath, the opening of the chest, the widening of the heart, the flood of emotion.  The deep pulls of air.  The pureness of it.

What a change this is from my everyday.  As beautiful as the woods are where I live and the ocean's variety where I visit, this place is MORE.  It enfolds and lifts at once.  I felt this at the Grand Canyon and in seeing Old Faithful erupt. Certainly in the Alps.  And I have sometimes sat spellbound in the great cathedrals of Europe and England.  Closer to home with my babies and grand-babies.  You too?  
 

Natural Bridge, Bryce Canyon, Utah

You know the famous scene in the movie Titanic where Jack and Rose stand at the prow of the great ship, arms stretched out as if flying? The music swelling as they lean into the wind soaring with the waves?  Out here I keep seeing things that feel like that.  Walking the rim of Bryce Canyon on this windy day with all the hoodoos below, carved out of the rock like statues.  Then hiking down and and looking up at them.

Tonight at 9 pm when the darkness is absolute except for the quarter moon, there's a ranger with a telescope at Sunset Point.  Whoever shows up gets to look.  We'll be there.  Tomorrow, Zion National Park, a mere 90 minute drive, for hiking to the Narrows where the canyon walls rise a thousand feet a mere twenty feet apart.  I'm excited!

If you have a longing list you may want to put Utah on it.  It would be a trek from Portugal or Australia, that's sure.  But there are AWE SPOTS everywhere over the whole earth aren't there?  What are yours so far? Such blessings, 
                                                                       Nina Naomi

"YOU MUSTN'T WISH FOR ANOTHER LIFE."

Illustration by Maria Galybina

On Life. . .

You mustn't wish for another life.

You mustn't want to be somebody else.

What you must do is this:

"Rejoice evermore.  Pray without ceasing.

In everything give thanks."

I am not all the way capable of so much,

but those are the right instructions. 

Wendell Berry, from Hannah Coulter, 2004

 On Love. . .

"But I knew too that he was thinking of me. My steadfast comfort for fifty years and more had been to know that I was on his mind. Whatever was happening between us, I knew I was on his mind, and that was where I wanted to be."   Wendell Berry, from Hannah Coulter

How oh how have I not yet read Hannah Coulter?  I am promising myself the pleasure of this novel.  Eight hundred pages of George Eliot's Middlemarch (1871) to read for my December book club.  But then on to this wonderful book.  What a lovely few months I have in front of me.  What are you reading? 

IMPEACHMENT--SAME SADNESS, DIFFERENT CAUSE

It's one of those mass-shooting days in America--same sadness, different cause.  The beginning of an impeachment inquiry into our President is like a funeral march, not a parade.  It's hard to be an American and not feel the tragedy unfolding. 

I know the readers of this blog are from across the world.   This week alone audience stats show readers outside the US living in Australia, India, Malaysia, Portugal and Sweden. Last month's readers included people living in Ukraine, Canada, France, Turkey and the United Arab Emirates.  So understandably some readers may not care all that much that the United States House of Representatives has begun its impeachment inquiry into President Donald Trump. After all, you logged on perhaps for some respite from the world's problems, and your own.  That's one reason I do. So . . . spoiler alert:  like "Another Week of Shootings" Post 8/4/19, some things are too much to ignore. 

I was alive when President Richard Nixon resigned before facing the House impeachment vote.  He had betrayed the country by his coverup of the break-in into the Democratic National Committee's headquarters at the Watergate complex in Washington, DC.  Both Republicans and Democrats were prepared to impeach him.  I was already a lawyer when President Bill Clinton faced impeachment for a lie under oath about his affair with Monica Lewinsky.  But yesterday when I read just the redacted transcript of the phone call between Trump and President of the Ukraine I actually cried.  Maybe because I studied Constitutional Law I saw the treason so clearly and it made me sad. 

Now I've read the whole intelligence officer whistle-blower complaint and listened to the live testimony of the Director of National Security.  President Trump blocked delivery of aid to Ukraine.  Then he phoned President Zelensky and asked him for "a favor":  to investigate  former Vice President Biden-- American citizen, member of the United States Senate and a rival presidential candidate.  He asked Zelensky to work with Trump's personal attorney and with our country's Attorney General in the investigation.  He is actively seeking foreign interference into the upcoming 2020 election.  Then, when the phone call was over, recognizing its implications, his White House attempted to "lock down" all records of the call. These facts have been admitted and confirmed.  Although the last few years have paved the way for this revelation, this reaches new levels.  As a country we are in for it. 


This is not a political blog.   Politically I am an Independent.  So was my mother, Nina Naomi--a US history teacher and an Independent voter.  Living simply, loving nature, staying in the present, being mindful of each day, nesting, keeping healthy attitudes, taking the time to live well--that is what this blog commits to.  But these few days are watersheds.  There will be more.  All of us will need to stand up and be counted.

As I wrote in the post about a recent week of mass shootings,  when we need a break from news or worry, daily chores or work, or our own activism,  then nature, mindfulness and other tools that restore us are still there.  There's much work to be done.  But for the next hour I'm going back to my own lovely scrapbooking and collage-making.  It's filled with sayings and quotations that hopefully will give me some perspective.  Here's one that helps when things are very very difficult:

The Best Thing to Hold Onto in Life is Each-other.

                                                                                            Nina Naomi

Illustration by Mia Charro