REFRESH

Brock Basin, Pine Knoll Shores, NC

OK, if you're an American who is well-informed, you are likely existing under the weight of serious day-to-day stress.  Obvious, right? The stress that comes not from personal crises (though those too), but from newly coping with and trying to defeat an authoritarian regime. I'm ready for the next big NO KINGS DAY, OCTOBER 18.  I'm watching the lower courts hold the line.  I'm listening to AOC and Bernie Sanders and Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson and hoping that the news about a cease-fire in Gaza brings lasting peace.  I admire the governors who protect their citizens. 

So why lead with a picture of canoes?  Because we also need to keep our balance and take breaks.  What more appropriate symbol of balance than a canoe.   Plus, following my own advice, I thought that picking some special photos, posting and writing about them would give all of our minds a refresh.  

So I chose this snap of colorful canoes just waiting to cut through the water with someone's strong strokes.   I love the way their random shelving ends up looking artistically pleasing. My first ever post was about canoes, Feb 2, 2017.

 

Then I located in my library this otherwise regal alpaca whose silly mop-top belies her distinction.  She lives with her family at the Museum of Life and Science here in Durham.  Alpacas are docile animals, but you wouldn't know that from their bray.  They hum too! 

Is there a farm near you?  Do you raise farm animals yourself?  My granddaughter and I have a date for Goat-Pumpkin Carving; can't wait to see how that works out.  

                                   A picture of healthy birch trees shedding their bark in sheets, caught my attention next.  We saw these paper birch on a visit to New Jersey.  So my break includes remembering times of small pleasures. Our woods has beech trees, which also have white bark, but it is smooth.  Their brown leaves stay on all winter until spring buds force them to fall. 

Here's another cute alpaca from the herd.  Can't resist.  The Museum is just 30 minutes or so away; I don't know why I don't run over more. There's a butterfly house there too, and lemurs and rescue bears.  The picture is a reminder to be more child-like once-in-a-while and ooh and aah at these unique species. 

 This snap I just took yesterday.  The fungi are sprouting in the leaf-mold as the air cools and nights lengthen. This tiny red-cap is a beauty.  There's a cluster of them just out my door south of a patch of moss. Here's another view.  

The deer eat them, we've noticed, so they don't last long.  The best break today was of course, searching the woods for what to photo, keeping my literal balance in our rocky terrain and inspecting the mossy trail I've maintained for over twenty years now.  I call it a fitness trail only because it keeps me fit (ha!).

Finally, let's end this refresh with upside-down reflections in pools.  I wrote about this too back in 2017, September, an early post.  We were taking a slow journey from North Carolina to the Eastern Shore and back.  The Dismal Swamp is on the Virginia-North Carolina border, 113,000 acres of wetland forest and coastal plain swamp. Again, so close to where I live, we should visit more.  

The water is only 6 feet deep but brackish, and reflections of tree and cloud make it look much deeper, don't you think?   

 

Last treat:  

I hope you enjoyed your break.  Thank you for being here.  Nina Naomi

 

OUTDOORS IS OUR MINDFUL PLACE

 

"Come to the woods, for here is rest," John Muir

Why did John Muir say this? Because each tree emits phytoncides, necessary to the well-being of the tree but also found in the scents that calm us, that take us past our hurts into healing.  Think cedar, Scots pine, birch, oak and sandalwood, any fresh woody fragrance distilled from tree resins and encountered during every walk in the forest.  Those who have studied trees and forests for many years suggest that without forest bathing, forest immersion, lying on a quilt under a cedar tree, or climbing one and perching there--i.e. without microdoses of phytoncides, we would all suffer far greater bacterial and viral infections. "Forest Pharmacy," BREATHE, June 2025.

I believe this.  Don't you?  Haven't moms and grand moms always told the children to play outside?  And not just to get them out of the way.  They come in calmer.  There has to be a scientific, biological reason that a walk outdoors does us good, even more so amongst the trees.  When we're anxious or depressed, the sight of leaves turning red and yellow, the smell of fresh cedar, the feel of chestnuts underfoot, can trigger an absolute neuronal sigh of relief.  Partly it's "The world goes on.  I'm part of something bigger."  But much is our sensory responses, feeling carpets of moss or shaggy-bark hickories, grass underfoot and, sadly, the smell of oxygenated hydrocarbons that fresh cut grass emits as a distress signal when its cells are cut or damaged.  

Fall is such a time for this.  Where we live, the woods are buggy and chiggery in the hot months, cool and welcoming now.  I am lucky enough to live in the woods, but that was not always so.  As a child I was taken to parks and gardens and zoos (different smells there).  But I did have a tree-house, and we have one now in our woods for the grandchildren. 

I'm not saying anything new.  The world is full of nature lovers.  We may be the largest group around.  We delight in wildlife and rainbow flower gardens.  We strip down in summer and bundle up in winter just to spend one more hour outside. We plant and trim and clear and do it again.  We are present to the environment--a breeze, the temperature, raindrops on our shoulders or sun on our back.  Often, outdoors is our mindful place.  Even storms help us see the bigger picture.  Safely under the eaves, I love to take in the rain.  As a child we had a sleeping porch, second floor with mattresses on the old wood floor.  We would be dragged in when it thundered.  

I read that a study in the UK at the University of Exeter showed that spending just two hours a week in nature led to better health. I know that the October air coming in my wide open sliding door next to my computer, birds settling in for the evening, is affecting my mood.  

Much of what I think and do now is about the maelstrom of strife in America.  I don't have to name any of it now.  But a reminder of our place in the universe and the continuity of nature is sure to help.  It's our medicine.   Let's take it.  

Taking our havens when we find them, Nina Naomi 

 

  

 

  

A PRAYER OF THANKSGIVING

 

Thank you God for my Book Club 

Where we discussed Tom Stoppard's Leopoldstadt 

About Jews who, like frogs in boiling water,

Were sent to gas chambers after years unaware of the tightening noose.

Thank you for my fellow knitters, not one under sixty,

who remember the protests that toppled a President and changed the course of a war.

Thank you for friends and family who demonstrate against and boycott

the totalitarian regime that now rules America. 

Thank you for our church, that ignores the prohibition on DEI,

Recognizing that Diversity, Equity and Inclusion

Is just another name for Civil Rights and Christian love.

Thank you for a Bible class that provides a safe place

For discussions of White Nationalism and brown persecution. 

Thank you for white people who protest when brown people can't. 

Thank you God for your word that helps us walk the line--

the line of resistance, the line of compassion, the line of fearlessness.

Help us protect the weak with our strength, 

Defeat the evil with our greater number, 

And keep us dedicated to your word and the world you want us to preserve.

AMEN 

 

 

 

ETERNAL THOUGHTS COME

 

North Carolina Shore

We have spent so much time at the beach this year that I am not sure how to feel:  lucky or guilty.  Lucky because the autumnal air, now cool, the rhythmic waves and the glistening night skies are restorative. I await tonight's moon, always sparkling across the water. Who can be depressed surrounded by eternity?  We crossed over the causeway, low tide and the Sound dotted with sandbars. We carted our goods upstairs and looked out on, for today, a calm sea.  We threw open the doors and windows.  Does anyone deserve this life? Could we, possibly?  

Maybe you sometimes feel the same about your life however you live it, in town or country, alone or surrounded, cobbled together or smooth sailing. It's your life and you feel lucky.  More:  it's your life and you are lucky. 

Guilty because bad things happen all around.  Gazans are being exterminated. Ukrainians have held off the Soviets for how many years now?  Those poor Israeli hostages haven't a hope. America is rising to the challenge of a fascist government led by billionaires. 

Do you feel like this?  Grateful for your family, your life, your job, but worried about all those who have less?  Or is it your family that has less right now?  Less hope, less promise?  We got a call this morning from friends whose son lost his wife last night to cancer, the mother of his young daughter.  We are meeting a friend this week here at the beach, whose husband died just months ago.    

I don't have any answers, any wisdom. That's for someone else. You could read this and think, "Yes, I know this."   I have written before about the "andness" of life. The almost whiplash between joy and sadness, hope and fear.  I just mention it today because here at the beach with the ocean at my feet and the stars above (it is now night) eternal thoughts come.  

Nina Naomi 

  

A WHITE MAN MURDERED BY ANOTHER WHITE MAN AND, THANK GOD, AUTUMN STILL CAME

 

The problem with writing about falling leaves, multi-hued pansies, heirloom pumpkins and the beauties of the season--those little ordinary things where our hearts can rest--is that here in the United States, Donald Trump et al are making it so much harder for We the People to flourish.  

So let me admit, that is our background.  That is what colors all we do, those millions of us who are not MAGA Republicans, who think and worry and work every day to ensure that our children get vaccinated, that COVID shots remain available, that cancer research grants are restored, that our neighbors are safe from ICE and off-site Gulags, and that voters are heard.  It's no small task since never before have the President and his supporters worked to destroy democracy.   1984 by George Orwell is no longer science fiction.  When you read, or reread, it, you will see the outcome of giving up.  Giving up, as they say, is unforgivable.  Or, in less judgmental language, not an option.  The next national #NoKings rally is October 18--find the one near you!  Nothing is more inspirational that to remember that the 1% is just that.  

This week Charlie Kirk was murdered.  Another victim of gun violence by another young white man discontent for some reason, it doesn't matter what.  But because Charlie was a right-winger who hated blacks and trans people and gay men and women and people from Latin American countries and Mexico, the United States flag was at half-mast.  Shame, that. We have had 100 school shootings thus far, and no flag was ordered half-mast for these innocent children. 

And what happens while all this goes on?  Well, at my house the dogwood have turned red.  At my house the frogs are as loud as they were in Spring.  The humidity has lifted and we open the doors and windows.  No heat or AC.   The meadow is ready for its last cut of the season.  The fire pit will be used soon, maybe this weekend if evenings are chill.  I am so looking forward to long nights and short days.  All the things I posted last, the things I love that are the same every year, are splayed before me.  Before you is splayed the same.   

At my house, like yours, children and grandchildren are the light of our life.  We cook, we pick fresh herbs, we fold laundry, we work, we clean gutters, we take care of family, we love friends.  There is no magic.  There is faith, if we have it.  There is activism if we are so inclined.  And yes, we are not giving up but while we gather and rally and vote, we will enjoy the sweetness of autumn, the "season of mists and mellow fruitfulness."  We will live in this duality of things.  We will resist, we will not despair, we will flourish.  This we will do.

In peace, Nina Naomi 

 

 

EVERY YEAR I LOVE THE SAME THINGS

 

Every year I love the same things

My lover from long ago 'till now

My own self, my body small

My God who keeps me whole

The place I live (and die) and thrive 

All of it, tree and deer, hawk and boulder

 

Every year I love the moon

Giving light in rhythm 

Every year the holy sun 

In my early window peacefully rising 'till I awake

Every year my morning tea, my time with phone or book

Or paper to hold blessings, longings, fears 

 

Those too the same each year

The blessing of long life, long marriage, steadfast God

The blessing of people who love me back

The blessing of my mind not yet confused or shallow

The longing for safety and the thoughts that wound to quickly pass

I tell them, "You I have survived."

 

The fear of future loss I have not felt

The blessings seem firmer

Nearer now I write them down

The movement of a prayer

A telling

                                  Nina Naomi 

  

THINGS THAT MIGHT MAKE YOU FEEL CALM, IN NO ORDER AT ALL

 

Eastern Tiger Swallowtail, Lantana

THINGS THAT MIGHT YOU FEEL CALM RIGHT NOW, IN NO ORDER AT ALL 

Open your door to the morning Fall air, expansive and cool

Go to bed with windows open, covers under chin as the night air deepens

Listen to the bounty of sounds from the morning birds 

In the afternoon, Watch a butterfly (or two) enjoy Early Fall 

Have an easy supper, maybe leftovers or carry-out or sandwiches

Skip the news.  Tell yourself, "I won't miss a thing,  it will be there tomorrow/next week/forever."

Scroll only on something entertaining.

Don't scroll at all

Have lunch or coffee with a friend

Make a plan to keep up with your family 

pay a compliment

Start a brief conversation with a stranger

Cuddle your partner, Mom, child or pet

Feel love, share body warmth

hold someone's hand, give someone a gentle touch

Read, meditate or pray

go outside yourself and your own fears, give them to God or to the universe

don't believe everything you think

Ask for forgiveness and let something go

Be tender with yourself, breathe and let something go 

Do a few chores and enjoy a clean bedroom, house, patio, or porch

Arrange your things in a way that pleases you, admire what you've done

Sit outdoors and look around you, up at a tree, at the homes on your street; at the dogs, who are always excited to be alive

Be present, pay attention

Take a walk, take your time 

Feel a part of whatever is near you--other people, animals, trees and the moving air 

Follow the path of the sun, in your morning windows, across the sky as the shade moves from side-to-side, then as the sky lights up at sunset 

Watch for the rising moon.  Note it's stage.  Admire its steadfastness in being reliably there for us each night as the sun sets.

learn more about the night sky, let the stars open your mind to the vastness above

    This is a list without limit.  Other ways to feel calm?  Baking, exercising, jogging, journaling, creating. When we realize the many things that correct our equilibrium, we wonder, why aren't we more calm?  Calmness is such a wonderful feeling--not anxious, panicked, Topsy-turvy.  We should cultivate it, shouldn't we?  We know what the world is like.  We know the challenges we face.  In America we see or read them every day in the news.  how much easier it is to save ourselves and those around us if we can maintain some calm.  The ole British saying when the world as they knew it was crumbling from German bombs in WWII, is a good one:  "Keep Calm and Carry On."  Carrying on doesn't mean ignore the bombs and hang out the wash.  For us it probably means, "Hang out the wash and save our democracy."  

I know if I watch the moon tonight, cuddle with my husband, and wake up to the sun in my east-facing window and the birds welcoming the day, I will be calm enough to do what needs to be done.  So will you. 

We can do this.  Nina Naomi  

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"THE LIMITS OF YOUR LONGING," Rainer Maria Rilke

 

GO TO THE LIMITS OF YOUR LONGING

                                    by Rainer Maria Rilke

God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing.  Embody me.  

Flare up like a flame and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you:  beauty and terror.  Just keep going.  No feeling is final.

Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.  You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

                                                                            published 1905 

 

Not many poets take on the persona of God, but Rilke does.  German poet Rainer Maria Rilke assumes the divine voice of God as he imagines what is said to each of us when God launches us into being.  The poem is written in the imperative.  Do this, do that.  "Go to the limits of your longing."  "Flare up like a flame." "Let everything happen to you."  "[K]eep going."

Since God is speaking to us, we are invited to be listeners.  As readers, we are invited to wonder, is this the message I received as I moved into this world?  Is this the message my descendants will receive?  What does it mean?

We can see that this poem is not tricky.   Profound, hopeful, conversational, but not tricky.  Each reader of a poem makes their own picture.  What you receive from this poem is as valid as what I or anyone else receives.  

The picture I see is God sending someone--me or you, our child or grandchild, or someone years' hence, one of our descendants--out of the void and into the world.  Maybe the void is our mothers' wombs.  Maybe long before that, somewhere in the universe of galaxies.  God walks with us to where life begins (the country nearby "they call life") and tells we will know it by its seriousness.  Interesting, no? The poet's God sees Life as Serious and we can't go back.

But seriousness is not a bad thing.  Surely life is not frivolous.  All our thoughts, emotions, the love we give and receive, the losses we face.  Yes, life is serious.  Yes there is both beauty and terror and no feeling is final.  God tells us, "Embody me."  Not a casual thing at all.  To embody God is profound.  

At the same time, there is great feeling in life.  We soar sometimes, we reach heights we didn't envision.  God tells us to go to the limits of our longing, flare up like a flame.  This might sound exciting, or it might sound fearful.  How will we find the limits or our longing?  Might that take a lifetime?  Surely with God's help we can find what we long for.  We are told to keep God close, "Don't let yourself lose me."  If this frightens us, God offers to take our hand.  The last words we hear, dimly, are "Give me your hand." 

What I have written is the explication of a poem. There is no magic in that.  Many can explicate poems.  The magic, or miracle, is that Rilke said all of this in 10 lines.  He spoke as the Divine, giving us hope about the terrors we might encounter, reminding us that God walks with us walk hand-in-hand from the moment He sends us into the world.  No need to read this explication ever again.  But the poem?  It's worth rereading, perhaps learning by heart.  That way we will remember to make big shadows for God to move in.  

Nina Naomi 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE SIMPLEST JOYS

 

The simplest joys are often our surroundings.   Our homes filled with things we love, our gardens, the views out our windows, the walks we take. If we can share with someone we love, we are even happier. This week I got to do some of that: share a beach week with a grandson)  Favorite people, favorite places.  

After he left, not to return till semester break, I sat on the deck telling the sky how I felt. It's said that we all have inner dialogues.  About a quarter of us also talk out loud to ourselves. How many talk to the sky or a tree I have no idea.  Certainly we talk to our pets. But this was a week to be drawn to the sky, the ever-present, ever-changing sky.  

As always, the big sky was telling the ocean what to do, "Change to blue now, now gray. . . . Waves, watch the moon."   Yesterday on the top deck listening to the waves, I saw the clouds on my left striated in long horizontal lines; on my right they were puckered.  Straight ahead they puffed up in irregular shapes along the horizon.  There can't be anything finer to look at.  And this is every day out of each of our back doors.  We can be anywhere and find the sky.

Unlike a museum or city, the sea or the mountains or a lake, we don't have to travel, plan ahead, or spend a cent.  We can always find a patch of blue. From a rooftop, on a plane trip, at the ocean, or just out the window between our curtains. It's one of those things we too often take for granted I suspect, the magnificent undulating dome above our heads as far as we can see or imagine. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be an astronomer or atmospheric scientist and give daily attention to the sky?

I know I often mention gratitude, or thankfulness, but even curiosity is enough.  All we need do is give ourselves to moments of observation.  Then more moments.  Then more.  The simplest of joys.  

                            In peace, Nina Naomi    

 

 

 

GRATITUDE FOR A GOOD WEEK

  The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song, I give thanks to him.  Psalm 28:7

 

Someone explained the difference between gratitude and thankfulness.  Gratitude is what you feel when you are sick and a friend brings you soup and straightens your house.  Thankfulness is a way of looking at the world and consciously noticing things that make you feel thankful, even in dark times.  The concepts are interlinked. 

Times are dark in America.  Our democracy, science, health and economy are all under threat.   For most of us, our eyes are wide open to this.  We spend time learning to navigate the darkness.  We wrestle with whether we're doing enough.  We decide how much time to give to activism, how much to the suffering of others, how much to our own well-being and families. And yet, I haven't met anyone who is broken, and not because they are ignoring the challenge we face.  

People keep rising up.  They, we, continue with an attitude of thankfulness; we are consistently grateful, sometimes for what others are doing, sometimes for small pluses in our own lives.  Speaking only for myself, the peace of God that I feel at this scary time in our country, really does pass all understanding.  It is beyond rhyme or reason that while knowing the risks to medical research, fairness, minorities, refugees and beyond from this administration, hope and trust don't falter and wonderful things happen everyday. 

Maybe the Lord is my strength and shield and maybe yours too.  Maybe there is only one God with different names and different traditions, giving us the strength to endure and fight injustice.  Maybe God is there for those who don't believe as well as those who do, because the love of God is there for all.  

Sometimes you have a really good week and this was one for me.  Nothing that special except that a grandson came to the beach where we are to spend some time with us before he heads off, back to university.  He will be far from North Carolina, in Scotland.  Like the rest of the family, we will miss him.  We're one of  millions of families who may not see their college-age kids 'till Thanksgiving or Christmas.  With all that's going on in the world, this is not a big thing, a first-world problem that doesn't involve starvation or deportation or any physical hardship at all.

Or, one might say, with all that's going on in the world, this is a big thing--to have a good week.  To have time with family anywhere, but especially this past week with Hurricane Erin offshore causing resoundingly loud waves and spray that settles in your hair and on your body. 

And if we were to guess, I bet all of us had some good happen this week.  Not that we ignore the plight of many in our country, but that we carry an attitude of thankfulness and look for and recognize for what we can be grateful.  I was grateful for a wild and majestic ocean and a hurricane that went back out to sea without touching down anywhere.   We were grateful to walk down to the sittum and join locals gathered to watch the waves, sharing their memories of other storms and hurricanes.  In this mostly red corner of our state there lives a beach community that is less divided than connected.  All are drawn to the sea, that very sea created on the Third Day according to Genesis. 

A red flag warns of danger and not just at sea.  We can be grateful for warnings, whether they prompt us to care for our democracy or for our safety on shore.  May the Lord be our strength and our shield, and that forever.  AMEN     

 Nina Naomi

 

 

THE TENDERNESS OF LISTENING

  

Are you sometimes doing too many things you don't want to do?  Too much time with the news, managing the household, doing errands, sitting in traffic?  Today I spent an hour sorting through a financial issue and I'm lucky it didn't take longer.  We've never been masters of our time.  And that doesn't even count work.  Or, to whine a bit more, it doesn't count the state of American politics or, even bigger, the health of our family and friends.  I wonder if you need help as often as I do.   

One way to face hard times is to rely on our faith.  I mention that first because sometimes we may only remember to let God enfold us when all else has failed.  We forget that faith is not just for when one of us is at the hospice door.  I usually remember to give my fears to God somewhere later along the worry continuum than first.  To ask God to help, save, comfort and defend whoever I am worried about, including me. 

 I also have a book that teaches mindfulness-based compassionate living.  Its called A Book That Takes Its Time, An Unhurried Adventure in Creative Mindfulness (flowmagazine.com; Workman.com), but there are many.  Mine is the kind of mindfulness workbook you can dip into and it seems to respond to whatever mood you bring to it.  If you happen to be sad, as I have been from time to time lately, it tends to help.  Knowing why you're sad or anxious or whatever emotion needs your attention, can mitigate those feelings, let them pass as feelings always do.  

The last chapter in this thoughtful book is called "Time to be Kind."  Most of my marginalia is in this chapter, jottings and underlines.  Who can't learn more about when and how to be kinder?  One person who needs kindness is ourself.  Experts say that more compassion, both for self and others, makes us worry less and makes us happier.  Compassion isn't judgment; maybe it's the opposite.  But for sure it's listening.  If we're not sleeping well or can't concentrate, we might need an emotional rebalance.  We might need to make our world smaller (stay home, garden and cook, be tender . . . ) or larger (spend more time with others who also need help, tell a friend how we're feeling, be tender . . . ).  Only listening to our bodies will let us know which.  Most of us are strong enough not only to listen to ourselves, but also give this gift to someone else.

We know that life is a balance of highs and lows, joys and griefs.  We have ourselves and each-other.  We  have today.  We have a body to temporarily house our soul which is ever-lasting. We have God and our faith.  This isn't scarcity, this is abundance. 

There's a mantra that to me goes well with my faith (or yours or none).  I don't know if I read it or thought of it myself, but it seems to complement our quest to live with kindness and compassion.   Just words to bring us back from the anxiety that floats in, under and around us these days.  The mantra is Seek, Believe, Trust, Hope.  It's a reminder to do just that:  seek (breathe), believe (breathe), trust(breathe), hope (breathe). 

Thank you for listening.  

Nina Naomi 

 

 

 

 

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE? WHERE IS YOUR JOY?

   

Pine Knoll Shores, NC

    We are at the beach again, which having been born and raised in the land-locked Midwest, might be our favorite place.  How does that work for you?  Is your favorite place where you were born and raised, or someplace else?  Maybe you live in your favorite place now.  How nice is that?  In a way I do too.  My home in the woods with the hawks and geese, lizards and frogs, deer and coyote, certainly could be the best place for me to wake up.  

    I read the most interesting article in my favorite magazine, The Simple Things, a UK publication.  In a feature called Rare and Magical Sights, the writer noted her joy in spying a lizard.  I love lizards too, and box turtles, but  especially this time of year lizards are almost as common as pairs of Cardinals, nothing rare about them.  On any deck, patio or rock lizards lie in any spot of sunshine, necks outstretched toward the warmth.  If they show up indoors, we gently catch them to relocate outside.  Blue-tailed lizards, anole lizards that change from vibrant green to brown, male broadhead skinks with orange-red heads.  We see these sunning or skittering every day as soon as the weather grows warm.  

    That so interests me about the UK:  I had no idea that lizards were rare there.  But then, our friends from Santa Barbara, California, were taken with our squirrels.  That's not a thing with us; there are far too many squirrels where we live.  Yes they're playful and fun, but they also dig up my pot plants looking for the hickory nut they just buried yesterday.  

Home

     

Still, I love it all, don't you?  Never ever would I have a complaint about living in a woods.  Trees fall, creeks flood and the morning sun in the bedroom windows is still a gift.  But here too, here at the coast.  

    The North Carolina beaches are not crowded.  Some days  in July the sand is hot as coals, but yet the water buoys and lifts, literally, with waves to ride and hollows to float in.  May through October, volunteers walk the early morning sand looking for sea turtle crawls that indicate a nest has been laid.  The nests are then marked with yellow tape to protect these endangered reptiles.  We are careful to turn off lights at dark so as not to confuse them.  Volunteers continue to keep watch over the nests in case the hatchlings need help to make their way to the water.  Most of our hatchlings are loggerheads.  

    This is what we must all do, isn't it--find joy.  Here in America there is all kinds of hell going on.  In response, my blue-collar town holds demonstrations, occupies bridges, cares for our immigrant community members, supports public television and National Public Radio.  Duke University is our biggest employer and we support free speech on campus and medical research.   And elsewhere in the world.  Maybe like me, you are grieved each day when Palestinians in Gaza are killed as they wait for their food donations to arrive.  Children there are starving, grown-ups too.  We've almost forgotten about Ukraine, which I do not want to do.  People suffering at least deserve to be seen.  The Ukrainians are fighting for all  of western civilization.  

    All of this makes finding joy in our day-to-day more important.  We know the terms lifespan and time-span, but joy-span is a concept too, the concept of living your life, however long or short, with joy.  It's not something to put on your To-Do list, but it is something to recognize and accept when it comes our way.  City parks, forest-bathing, vacations at the beach or in the mountains, staycations, reading a book or taking a trip, calling a friend, rescuing a turtle or lizard or friend-in-need or stranger-at-risk . . . .   

    It's all God-pleasing I think.  To take care of endangered loggerhead turtles, to help our fellow humans who are without homes or even country.   I'd like to be able to answer the question "What are you doing?" with, "I'm doing the best that I can." 

                                     In peace and joy, Nina Naomi

 

 

 

MORE ORDINARY DAYS PLEASE

    Just when I was thinking about glimmers and planning a swim, Tropical Storm Chantal hit North Carolina.  With no warning, the afternoon sky turned black and rain poured down in sheets, all evening, all night and all the next day.  Power went out and we could barely see the creek in our side yard turning into a river as it does when it floods.  Since we live in the woods, trees began tossing their dead branches here and there.  One live branch cracked just over our boardwalk and now (still) blocks access to the front door and, more importantly for the birds, their feeder. No tragedies at our house, just darkness, close air and mud rolling down the hill onto every surface.  Water sloshed against the patio doors and the old '70s pool overflowed its coping and turned brown from debris.  

    We sweltered for two days, which given what has happened elsewhere, is nothing to complain about.  As our well runs by an electric pump we had not a drop of water to flush or brush.  Just two hot sweaty days worrying about what was spoiling in our refrigerator.  It made me think about people with less and what it's like to summer without air-conditioning or fresh water.  

    I remember as a child in the Midwest relying on fans and sprinklers.  My mom would pull the shades against the afternoon sun and make cold suppers.  We didn't use the stove or oven for weeks on end.  We had a below-ground basement that must have been 10 degrees cooler and we would move games and chores down there with the skimpiest of clothes on.  The unforgiving concrete floor left bruises, but we played away.  My father hung a swing from the floor joists and made me a foldable walk-in playhouse with real glass windows.  He set up a plywood table on a couple of sawhorses for our Lincoln Logs and toy cars.  My mother would hose down the floor which made it slippery as well as hard, but never mind.  Anything to cool off.

    Now the power is back and yard cleanup has begun.  Collections are being taken at church for the parishioners whose houses flooded and cars floated away down the Eno River.  A lot of Durham is low-lying.  The sun is out and my outdoor plants seem happy.  Yesterday a deer came right up on the back patio not 2 feet from the glass and I couldn't figure out why; there's plenty to eat in the forest and meadow.  Just now a lizard was pumping and peeking in, but that's no problem.  Someone took advantage of the chaos and robbed a neighbor's car, she just called and told me.  They had forgotten to lock it.  But otherwise, back to normal.

    I love ordinary days, don't you?   Just days when you do what needs to be done without working in the shadow of tragedy.   That may be setting the bar low, but I think not.  In Texas the flooding killed hundreds, including girls at a riverside camp.  Everywhere someone is at death's door waiting for news.  If it's not us this time, that's a blessing to be counted.  

So this sunny afternoon with power and nothing on my schedule counts as good news and a day to be savored.   I hope you have one of these, if not today, in your near future.  A time to reminisce--as I've been doing about those sweltering St. Louis childhood summers--to read or write or play, a time for one of those glimmers I wrote about the other day.            

From me to you in peace, Nina Naomi

 

 

 

 

    

     

 

   

A VERY GOOD DAY

  

Farmers' Market Bounty

I wish everyone who reads this would tell me about their good summer day.  This week my stats show readers in Brazil, Argentina, Vietnam, the US and Ecuador.   I have no idea what a summer day in Brazil is like.  My only experience is that my niece and her mom went to Rio for a Taylor Swift concert.  Two New Jersey residents of Chinese-American-Hawaiian heritage had the time of their lives. Now my niece begins her sophomore year at NC State.  She will be only 20 minutes down the road.  How wonderful life is.  She and my North Carolina granddaughter are besties.  

    Argentina I know because one of my good friends is from there; some years ago she decided that I would be her "auntie."  I've been loving that role.  It means, she says, that I am always glad to see her.  Well, how easy is that?  I love her.  Vietnam is another story.  I lived through the Vietnam war.  My daughter's best friend, a Vietnamese refugee, was Miss Teen South Carolina.  It's a small world.  

     So if you are reading this and are from the US, where most readers are, please tell us about your summer day.  If from somewhere else, please tell us too.  My day was both ordinary and extraordinary.  Ordinary because we went to the Farmer's Market and got beautiful tomatoes for gazpacho.  Then went swimming.  Extraordinary because how good everything felt.  I've been so worried about our country.  But I've also decided that the felon at it's helm will not ruin my year.  I will do what I can, contribute, march, recruit.  But my mind remains my own.  It is free to roam and enjoy all there that makes life good.  A summer promise to myself.  

    Sending everyone good wishes.  Nina Naomi  

 

 

GLIMMER TIME

   

     I wrote about glimmers before, back in November of 2023.  But the thought came back today, when I was swimming laps.  Glimmers are those wonderful things that are the opposite of triggers.  Triggers bring up bad thoughts, glimmers bring up good thoughts. Swimming on these hot July days does that for me, floating on my back looking at the treetops and clouds, oh my, I'm thinking how good this day is.  I'm feeling both energized and calm, the best combination ever.  Another glimmer for me is a bike ride, smooth sailing on level streets at our North Carolina beach, sea level, no hills for miles.  Not all beaches are like that, but ours is.  I can coast and peddle a bit and think about how much I am enjoying a lovely warm day.  These are my go-to summer glimmers.

     The idea with glimmers is that once we recognize them, we need to cultivate them, to seek them out.  We can't avoid our triggers, our intrusive thoughts that come without our bidding.  I had one today when I saw a photo.  It took me in a spiral that I must admit, is hanging on even now.  But the glimmers--they are a wonder.  What are yours?  What always makes you feel good?  What's your therapy?  Reading, cooking, kayaking, goat yoga, snapping nature photos?  Many people's glimmers happen outdoors.  Most of mine do.  Forest bathing, a term somewhat new to me.  But lesser things--a phone call with a friend always lifts my spirits.  My collage journal the same.  Anything creative.  

    Here's my advice, not special, but sincere:  look for your glimmers.  They could be anything, anywhere.  Keep them sacred.  Do them over and again.  Be attuned to what might buoy you.  Pile them up.  And if there aren't enough, create some.  Take a pottery class, listen to music or play an instrument, check on the moon before retiring, be kind to yourself.  

    My glimmer for tonight is good food and a movie.  A movie is too sedentary to be a regular glimmer, but I think it will do for tonight; I do like film noirs.  But tomorrow another swim.  

    Wishing us all a wonderful 4th of July with a glimmer or two.  Thinking of you, Nina Naomi 

 

 

TIDBITS TO HELP US THROUGH HARD TIMES

 

Storm Clouds over Derwenter Lake, UK

SOME TIDBITS TO HELP US THROUGH HARD TIMES

"There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm."  Willa Cather, Pulitzer Prize winning American writer (1873-1947)  Cather wrote about pioneers who were often European immigrants traveling west in this new land under hardship.  We can each do our own extrapolation from this quotation.  But it speaks to me of these days when we're learning how much we love our country and our democracy as it is under threat. We've had threats before but never has our president been against us, against We the People.  Never before has the congressional majority robbed this much and this blatantly from the poor to give to the rich.  We are in a storm and learning, learning what to value, what to fight for and how to protest peacefully.  Voting rights mean more to us than ever before.  We are learning not to normalize cruelty or sane-wash irrationality, and we are learning not to give up.  We are learning in a storm.  

Trust your relationship with the natural world.  Summer heat or not, these are go-outside days, stand in the rain, sit in the shade, mow the grass and water the flowers days.  Hit some golf balls, go to the pool, putter in the garden, pick a tomato or two days.  Tall trees, deep lakes, sand dunes, rocky shores all take us out of ourselves and our problems and give us perspective.  We are learning too how much we value the planet during the storm of climate change.  With us as its stewards, the world abides.

To unite and speak up is the only choice we have now.  If hate is rising, then love must rise higher.  Love is stronger than hate, it lasts longer, carries more power and is not self-destructive.  Love has the strength of God behind it; hate does not. Instead of acting out of hate for the opposition, we can act out of love for our country, or love for the refugee, or love for creation.  We do not need to hate anyone or anything.  Think about how constricted hate makes us feel, how open love.

In my life, and maybe yours, many people are in danger, danger of having to live an experience to the end.  Friends, even young ones, spend time with their oncologists.  Couples, especially old ones, walk side-by-side in fear for the other.  There are times when one can go no further, times of divorce or death or loss or betrayal.  No forward available, only a backward trek to begin anew.  

Funny how we get do-overs every day.  You felt hate but stopped it with love. Repentance intervened, and forgiveness, mine or theirs.  You forgot to do good yesterday, but remembered today. We shared our food with someone, had guests for dinner, worked in the food pantry, donated our coins and dollars. I dreaded the nursing home but went anyway.  Daily we are forgiven, and Sunday forgiven formally.  

July is the month we celebrate our freedom and Independence.  NO KINGS the protestors said.  I worry everyday about our country.  I didn't used to.  But we are learning in this storm, loving in this storm, trusting God and nature in this storm, uniting and speaking up in this storm, surviving and not giving up in this storm.  Thanks be to God.  

Nina Naomi 

WE THE PEOPLE

Lady Liberty

All night I watch the rain,

 I Wake and still it's falling.

Too wet for me but not the cardinals,

A pair of lovers search the ground beneath the feeder.

There must be something left.

All day we see our love unspool,

for country, future, freedom.

We fear but do not tremble.

Do not appease, Remember that, 

Appeasement feeds the PIG. 

 

There's so much danger in our land and all from one benighted man

power without stature, words without soul. 

Others, vacant from unknown causes,

Shorn of  bravery, confidence and heart,

They lie and preen and call it truth--

If truth be subterfuge with hollows where its eyes should be.

 

There are enough of us. you know

Who clearly see and won't appease.  

remember how it feeds the PIG? 

We are the lovers who search the ground for country, future, freedom

Who search the sky, the by-roads, towns and squares  

Who protest peacefully

 

More of us than anyone has counted yet, five million? Ten? One-hundred? 

So don't succumb, there's more than something left. 

It's all there, our country, future, freedom,

In our hands, no one else's. 

WE THE PEOPLE 

God bless the fight