LORD, TEACH US TO COPE

  

Someone I read the other day wrote about distancing as a fair way of coping.  Resistance, activism, helping others--but then in our arsenal as well, distancing.

What am I talking about? That no one in America is immune from the current destruction of our society.  SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) runs out now.  It may be reinstated by the courts, but over this regime's opposition, and even though the money is there to fund it.  Hungry people, the old, the young, the disabled used as leverage.   The kind of cruelty you see in war, an evil never justified.

Distancing is a respite from anger, frustration and despair.  It's a regrouping so that we don't give up.  It's a temporary move to reboot and refresh. It's not apathy.  It's self-care.  And it's OK.  

We can call it a refresh.  I've been doing that for a few posts. But whatever we call it, it's healthy.  It's healthy even if we are the hungry one.  It's healthy to go outside, take the kids for a walk, look at the leaves, gather acorns and pine cones, think about something else.  I did that today.  

I admit, I am not hungry.  I am privileged in my old age to be self-sufficient.  Why I have been given this blessing I do not know. But none of us takes it for granted.  None of us can take credit; we all work hard, we all do our best, maybe especially those who worry about each meal.  

Everyday we should try to do something other than worry.  Donating makes us feel good; if we have enough, it's the least we can do. Volunteering if we have time and strength.  This afternoon going outdoors into our woods brought home what we want to preserve. 

We are having friends over tonight.  They have been through some hard times.  Cancer strikes young as well as old.  That is their family tragedy right now.  We know how that feels.  Our young son died of cancer twenty years ago this year. No one forgets.  So I made a tablescape of acorns, nuts and luminous fall leaves.  I added some blossoms from the mums in the yard.  And a candle.  Honestly, so simple but gratifying.  Friends, maybe some music, a prayer before the meal, a supper of fish and rice and greens.  We won't talk politics.  We'll take a respite.  We'll show love to each other.  

My prayer is that I will do more for others; that goodness will prevail; that God will help us defeat evil, the evil that is trying to destroy our democracy and even the White House itself. The rest of the prayer we might leave to God.  Fashion the prayer we need, please Lord.  Teach us to pray as you did with the "Our Father."  Help us never loose our humanity.  Echoing a past Sunday's Prayer of the Day, "Pour out your Holy Spirit on your faithful people. . . protect and comfort them in times of trial [and] defend them against all enemies of the gospel."   AMEN

REFRESH PART III

Pilot Mountain, NC

Part of keeping a balanced life, refreshing ourselves from, at least in America, the unhappiness that the current regime takes pleasure in spreading, is taking care of our bodies, minds and souls. We all do this.  We might grieve the destruction of the East Wing of the White House, where Eleanor Roosevelt, Jackie Kennedy, and Betty Ford held sway.  We might protest the extra-judicial killing of Venezuelans who may or may not be transporting drugs. We make daily acts of resistance.  But we also take care.  

Mr. Airy, NC

  I can't write about our simple trip to a cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains, only 2 hours from home, without first acknowledging that.  We're under stress, but we take care.  All of us.  

This week after the joy of NO KINGS DAY on October 18, with the eloquent Rev. William Barber exhorting us, I chose a mountain overnight to celebrate my birthday.  We drove past Pilot Mountain with its knob on top, to the town of Mt. Airy, which was called Mayberry on the old Andy Griffith show.   Small town North Carolina at its best.  Just about everyone in our region has been here. 

  Then we headed up and down the mountain to the even smaller town of Fancy Gap, year-round population under 300.   We stayed in the cabin pictured below, perfect with a fire pit outdoors and a lovely view of the property.  It was just cold enough. 

Cozy Cabin, Fancy Gap, VA

Of course, Bluegrass is the specialty of the region and we were excited that jam night at the Country Store in Fancy Gap is Thursday, the night we were there.  So barbecue and music was the evening.  Musicians wandered in and joined the circle.  Someone named a song and a key and strummin' and singin' began. 

 

Country Store, Fancy Gab, VA

The next day because it was my birthday I got to browse pottery and arts and crafts at my leisure.  I felt completely lucky the whole time, with such a fun experience and change from our ordinary day only 2 hours away.  It felt like a big trip, just the one overnight, and left me totally refreshed.  These kinds of good things, all good things in fact, are reminders of what we are holding the line for, why we resist, and why we won't give up and let our country become Turkey or China or Russia or any place with a billionaire tin-horn dictator. 

 

In peace, Nina Naomi 

 

  

 

PEOPLE AND PLANTS--A POWER COUPLE

 

Plants sustain all life on earth.  They provide the oxygen we breathe, the food we eat and the trees we use for shelter.  We devour them with relish, berry, flower, fruit, leaf, stem and root. Red Raspberries, crisp radishes, fragrant plums and peaches.  Plants feed the sheep whose wool warms us, the cattle whose milk sustains us, and the goats whose Goat-milk soap washes our bodies.  Our barns and beds are of wood, our bodies clothed in cotton and flax. 

Plants regulate the climate, prevent erosion and store carbon. They connect us to the land and to each other. They shelter the birds and mammals that wait near our bird feeder.  They inspire artists, from Vincent Van Gogh's SUNFLOWERS to Monet's WATERLILIES  to Georgia O'Keeffe's Poppies, lilacs, and petunias.  Each month is represented by its own flower, carnations for January, violets for February, daffodils for March and so on.  Flowers speak our hearts.  Nothing says "I'm sorry" or "I love you" or "Get well soon" like a bouquet of fresh flowers. 

Flowers feed the insects who in turn pollinate the flowers.  Walking and sitting among, or even just looking at plants and trees, soothes our souls and lifts our spirits.  Nature mends us.  Aloe vera relieves our skin. Trailing ivy absorbs formaldehyde and other toxins.  Bamboo Palms humidify a dry room. The forest is a pharmacy of phytoncides that reduce inflammation and protect our neurons just by breathing.  Like a human kidney, sea grasses filter and clean water and feed and protect manatees.  It's hard to be depressed outdoors on a beautiful day. Or to stand beneath a giant sequoia, 3,000 years old, and not feel the breadth of the Universe. 

I am glad we have this daily gift.  Nina Naomi

 

 

REFRESH PART II

 This is a different kind of refresh.  Over the years I've written about museum days, those days when you can join any century mid-stream and hang out with Dutch Masters, French Impressionists, whomever you want.  What about today taking a break with Georgia O'Keeffe (1887-1986).

Earlier this spring we were in Santa Fe, New Mexico and visited the O'Keeffe museum and sights.  On assignment for LOOK magazine (anyone remember LOOK?), photographer Tony Vaccaro took this picture of O'Keeffe in 1960 in her Abiquiú house.

Most of us think of O'Keeffe as the person who painted large flowers.  The artist disputed male critics who saw the blooms as depictions of female genitalia. They're flowers, she said.  I make them large so you can see them.  We must agree.  What great female artist wants Freud as her muse?  An interpretation that is gendered and outdated.  Although for me as a woman, the idea of our bodies flowering can also be quite lovely. No contradiction, I think. 

Red Canna, 1919

Untitled Abstraction, 1970s

But her range is much wider.  This abstraction was painted when O'Keeffe was in her 90s and apparently reveals small hand tremors in the movement of the brush.  Then, years before, Geranium Leaves in a Pink Dish, 1938, so clear and round where the other shapes in Abstraction add curves and verticality.  

Oil on Wood Panel

Today we went to the North Carolina Museum of Art in Raleigh and found another O'Keeffe.  Art, poetry, music, the wind in the trees, orange and yellow leaves covering my back patio, chili in the crock pot, family coming to dinner--so many ways to refresh ourselves.  

 

Yesterday was NO KINGS and 7,000,000 people across America protested the authoritarian policies of Donald Trump.  Our demonstration in Durham was a wonder.  We were 7,000 marchers--one out of every 1000 demonstrators was right here in my city.

 

Thank you world.  I am refreshed.       Nina Naomi 

 

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