tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56892431657675571462024-03-28T18:13:57.851-07:00Diary of a Mindful Nature LoverBlog Postings on living simply, loving nature, staying in the present, being mindful of each day, nesting, keeping healthy attitudes, and taking time to live well, all in memory of Nina NaomiNature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.comBlogger412125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-34618964740422386232024-03-28T18:13:00.000-07:002024-03-28T18:13:26.363-07:00BELLA GRACE FIELD GUIDE<p><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCcolvVQl8OxZSsq8DtoskiFjEv1MU4sKAw-zCbaTfqeWD_Op_uSW6PNQeO3YgUeiFn8BmGUUJh5DnL8VBN0OCXjcDrDZMGA_o1G_16MiwGUOu6wn2wXInHrx3InNvpIrNX7IdicLDn8NkSFnS7pWkvXrj-OyeEvEl81eaeMEQ2HRelJWK4VwKgIlz-knY/s2048/IMG_3118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCcolvVQl8OxZSsq8DtoskiFjEv1MU4sKAw-zCbaTfqeWD_Op_uSW6PNQeO3YgUeiFn8BmGUUJh5DnL8VBN0OCXjcDrDZMGA_o1G_16MiwGUOu6wn2wXInHrx3InNvpIrNX7IdicLDn8NkSFnS7pWkvXrj-OyeEvEl81eaeMEQ2HRelJWK4VwKgIlz-knY/s320/IMG_3118.JPG" width="240" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><b></b></span></div><p></p><p><b><span style="font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: medium;">You can buy these just about everywhere. Lovely little Bella Grace journals with beautiful pictures and writing prompts. Just my type thing and maybe yours too. Here are some of the quotes and prompts, if you're in the mood to respond. We can think our responses, we don't have to write them. </span></b></p><p></p><b style="font-family: "Dancing Script";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #674ea7;">Not every day will be perfect, but every day will have a perfect moment. </span><span style="color: #741b47;">This was an easy one today. I napped outdoors in the sun. Oh yes, a perfect 60 minutes. My husband brought my tea in this morning as well, the sign of a day starting out just right. </span></span></b><div><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #674ea7;">During dark or rainy days how can we add some brightness? </span><span style="color: #741b47;">I'm thinking bad-mood days as well. Even days when we've been hit by a trigger. I have a yellow cashmere sweater with short, puffed sleeves that I always feel good in. Also a turquoise bead necklace bought for me on a vacation. But you might add brightness by baking or creating something. Or a prayer of thanksgiving for the rain, or for having survived some bad time of life. What do you think?</span></b></span></div><div><b style="font-family: "Dancing Script";"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b style="font-family: "Dancing Script";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #674ea7;">What makes receiving a hand-written letter special for you? </span><span style="color: #741b47;">I don't get (or send) these often anymore. Cards, yes, but not letters. But the ones I've saved are precious--the letter my husband sent my parents when our first child was born far from home in the UK. Our love letters from pre-email college, full of longing. Sweet notes from a high school boy friend. A letter to my father from his mother; one from my other grandma to me; one from my father to my mother when he was stationed at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. Are you thinking about what's in your stash? </span></span></b></div><div><b style="font-family: "Dancing Script";"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="font-family: "Dancing Script";"><span style="color: #674ea7;">Forgive yourself the way God forgives: late at night and all day long." </span><span style="color: #741b47;"> </span><span style="color: #741b47;">This is a quote by writer Sherihan Gamal. Isn't it the best idea? Forgive others this way too. Who do I (we) need to forgive besides myself (ourselves)? Here are a few more of her quotes that I like: </span></b><br /><b style="font-family: "Dancing Script";"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span> </span><span> </span>It's hard dealing with a heart that knows what it deserves." </span><span style="color: #741b47;"> </span><span style="color: #741b47;">This is a take-care-of-yourself quote. And third, </span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Dancing Script;"><b><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span> </span><span> </span>There's a special place in heaven for the tired ones, those who lived and loved and worked and got hurt a little bit more than others.” </span><span style="color: #741b47;"><span> </span><span>Isn't it nice how so-called inspirational quotes actually are inspirational? How you can pop onto Pinterest and find positive emotions? Not the eternal truths, maybe, but after any day's news cycle a simple aspirational statement cleanses the mind, points it in a new direction. Not everything has to be intense. </span></span></b></span><b style="font-family: "Dancing Script";"><span style="color: #741b47;"> </span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Dancing Script;"><b><br /></b></span><b style="font-family: "Dancing Script";"><span style="color: #674ea7;">What are the things you did when you were younger that made you forget time? "There lies the myth to live by." </span><span style="color: #741b47;"> So says Joseph Campbell (1904-1987), teacher of comparative mythology. One of my escapes/teachers/simple pleasures that made me forget time ("time for dinner," "time for bed," "time to leave . . .") was reading. I read <u>Gone with the Wind</u> the summer before 6th grade, Ayn Rand's <u>The Fountainhead</u> the summer before 8th. Also playing outdoors, of course makes children forget time. So, my myth of a good life might be reading and being in nature. What about you? </span></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span></b></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Dancing Script;"><b><span style="color: #674ea7;">What are your favorite ways to instantly make your day better that cost nothing?</span><span style="color: #741b47;"> Oh, my goodness, there are so many of these. Mine are simple: go outside, go to a bookstore, post on this blog or work on my collage journal, write a devotion for church, wash my hair or take a bath, get dressed nicely, talk to or text a grandchild, talk to my daughter-in-law, watch a movie with my husband, tend to my plants, iron some clothes that need it . . . . And, of course, what if we're at the beach? This afternoon I went out after a storm and gathered shells. Free and exhilarating. Then made shrimp and grits for supper. I'd love to see your list!</span></b></span><b style="font-family: "Dancing Script";"><span style="color: #741b47;"> </span></b></span></div><div><b style="font-family: "Dancing Script";"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="font-family: "Dancing Script";"><span style="color: #741b47;">Nina Naomi </span></b><br /></span><div><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><ul><ul><ul><ul><ul><ul><ul><ul><ul><ul><ul><ul><ul><ul><ul><ul><ul><li><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></li></ul></ul></ul></ul></ul></ul></ul></ul></ul></ul></ul></ul></ul></ul></ul></ul></ul></ul><div><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Dancing Script; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><p></p></div>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-38905595894604910802024-03-21T16:10:00.000-07:002024-03-21T20:04:15.059-07:00A LITTLE MARY OLIVER WITH OUR EASTER<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3InoeLQpnMo895NLaAFyTBdpeMyLng9PDQuJ9Fskd-ldAKX0CDYL2ipZ5ZfsTY0k0kZzsS8njTv83NwBjJo09QKaMlTzxtb5laOOpbPPXacbsgV1DA4vf9CCnpEnHIwtTfIRNQ4ihxrP1PysTExTn4VjU1ZAYVj8tF2gATAyvBWhujQlnpOfjpQrghE8v/s2048/IMG_0486.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3InoeLQpnMo895NLaAFyTBdpeMyLng9PDQuJ9Fskd-ldAKX0CDYL2ipZ5ZfsTY0k0kZzsS8njTv83NwBjJo09QKaMlTzxtb5laOOpbPPXacbsgV1DA4vf9CCnpEnHIwtTfIRNQ4ihxrP1PysTExTn4VjU1ZAYVj8tF2gATAyvBWhujQlnpOfjpQrghE8v/s320/IMG_0486.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><b>Common Bluets on a Rocky Hillside</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">"The Veil"</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">There are moments when the veil seems </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">almost to lift, and we understand what </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">the earth is meant to mean to us -- the </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">trees in their docility, the hills in</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">their patience, the flowers and the </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">vines in their wild, sweet vitality. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">Then the Word is within us, and the </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">Book is put away.</span></p><p><span style="color: #800180; font-family: Courgette;">Mary Oliver is a mystic poet, open and attentive to the presence of God in the world. She calls the earth "God's body." To wit, "It is not hard to understand / where God's body is. / It is everywhere and everything." "The Veil" is a poem that helps us find God. When I am in the woods or Duke Gardens or where the ground is soft with pine needles underfoot or leaf litter, or when I spy those tiny bluets that are waving on their fragile stems amongst the spongy moss right now, I can feel the Word within us. God becomes accessible in our daily rounds. </span></p><p><span style="color: #800180; font-family: Courgette;">Oliver lives by curiosity and her image of death is breath-taking. "When death comes / like an iceberg between the shoulder blades, / I want to step through the door full of curiosity . . . ." Using biblical language, in the same poem she writes:</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">When it's over, I want to say all my life</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">I was a bride married to amazement.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: x-small;">from "When Death Comes"</span></p><p><span style="color: #800180; font-family: Courgette;">"I believe everything has a soul," she says. Not a human soul, I expect she means, but its own soul. The soul of something alive and precious to its Creator. When we love the world, we please God and give God glory. In the world's beauty we see the beauty of God. If we all treated the earth as our sacred home, how healing that would be. If we did that, we couldn't bomb our home into rubble or fail to respond to its needs. </span></p><p><span style="color: #800180; font-family: Courgette;">One more:</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">"In Blackwater Woods"</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">To live in this world</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">you must be able</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">to do three things:</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">to love what is mortal;</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">to hold it </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">against your bones knowing </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">your own life depends on it;</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">and, when the time comes to let it go,</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">to let it go.</span></p><p><span style="color: #800180; font-family: Courgette;">Well, no words are truer than these. We love what is mortal, ourselves and our dear ones, with our minds, hearts and souls. Nothing is more precious than the body of someone we love. We stay alive not only for our own sakes, but so as not to cause pain to those for whom we are the gift of life itself. </span></p><p><span style="color: #800180; font-family: Courgette;">But Christ also taught us to let go. He was able to say, "It is finished" and relinquish himself to God. Our faith helps us do the same. Because what we have learned every Easter is that we move from our fragile mortality to our eternal immortality. In the interim, I am grateful for Mary Oliver and her vision. </span></p><p><span style="color: #800180; font-family: Courgette;">Now, for all of life, let us give thanks. </span></p><p><span style="color: #800180; font-family: Courgette;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> HAPPY EASTER from Nina Naomi</span><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #800180; font-family: Courgette;"> </span></p><p><br /></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-66250237311166683682024-03-19T15:23:00.000-07:002024-03-19T15:26:03.377-07:00EASTER<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiETEDWsUPL6Fni6_wSZKX3yberEdvkgVCT4c97FqtM_Df3A8ceA1vVgPNNlLRVQbxZwMYTsGaU8WeNhmu8g4foOI_ArP8Y7deR7rNMRa5v5DeONcB7uQEWgizlZjIPQLY2HIIDiqpt4A5LWirzaty_rdXNxt227bw5bJka3sp51SLBVCwY2qRGh-VPI6cW/s2048/IMG_0368.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiETEDWsUPL6Fni6_wSZKX3yberEdvkgVCT4c97FqtM_Df3A8ceA1vVgPNNlLRVQbxZwMYTsGaU8WeNhmu8g4foOI_ArP8Y7deR7rNMRa5v5DeONcB7uQEWgizlZjIPQLY2HIIDiqpt4A5LWirzaty_rdXNxt227bw5bJka3sp51SLBVCwY2qRGh-VPI6cW/s320/IMG_0368.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p><b>I'm so glad</b> it's almost Easter. The world is Easter-ready. Today we saw two purple finches courtship-feeding. The male, a rosier shade, delicately passing seed to the female. She, assessing him as a mate for one sitting on the nest and needing a bite now and then. He was proving his worth, I thought. He wasn't letting her out of his sight. He would be a good helpmeet. </p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The dwarf red maple is leafed out. The snap dragons wintered over and are radiant. Forsythia are just shedding their yellow flowers for vibrant leaves. Red bud are lining country roads. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Sundays are marching to Holy Week and ultimately Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter. I haven't been as attuned to Lent as I wished to be. I didn't go to mid-week Lenten services. I have been following politics and nursing my getting-worse back. I didn't go to Friday afternoon Stations of the Cross. I worry about Gazans and Ukranians and Israeli refugees held by Hamas. I worry about our country. When that's too much, I do Wordle and follow college basketball. Preoccupations and distractions. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">With all the suffering in the world you would think it would be easy to focus on Christ's suffering and death, but that's not necessarily true. However,</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> that's what our faith requires of us. From Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, we move in step with Christ's triumphant entry into Jerusalem to the Last Supper, the crucifixion and the Resurrection. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">This is what we do. We will be ready as we are every year. We will recognize that the suffering Christ understands our own suffering. We will know that we are not alone. We will wait at the tomb and see it empty. We will share an Easter breakfast with our church friends and hide eggs for the children. We will pray for peace on earth. We will align our own renewal with the renewal of the earth. We will face all that threatens our world with the peace that passes all understanding. That is what we will do. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In peace let us pray to the Lord. Lord have mercy. AMEN </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><br /></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-82963896996079286902024-03-06T14:48:00.000-08:002024-03-06T14:54:30.661-08:00THAT SOMETHING WILD <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbHAnli_BE7u487xmi12gIdepQgitqeOR8ujlCX04uLuVx270gWDgyJgW0LV2Bn2KHTJ0vuNDDxgLziHQnwn0MqJxcO24ai895ipiAMdIle9m-WORrR1U_l6_vyxU6Boyj0q0QfXGE3iB76nFLeDzUCIucVOgr6FRup1JG7aZ3JjlQoGeIoSgsq5S6aUbK/s2048/IMG_0600.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbHAnli_BE7u487xmi12gIdepQgitqeOR8ujlCX04uLuVx270gWDgyJgW0LV2Bn2KHTJ0vuNDDxgLziHQnwn0MqJxcO24ai895ipiAMdIle9m-WORrR1U_l6_vyxU6Boyj0q0QfXGE3iB76nFLeDzUCIucVOgr6FRup1JG7aZ3JjlQoGeIoSgsq5S6aUbK/s320/IMG_0600.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /> <span style="color: #990000; font-family: "Permanent Marker";">Coyotes don't surprise me, their howling far away,</span></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">Or closer but not visible.</span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">And yet the dog's alert, my maltipoo.</span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">He turns and waits for me before he leaves the step,</span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">When clocks strike ten and dark it is.</span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">My torch the only light unless the moon is full.</span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">But last night straight across our path a red fox sauntered by.</span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "Permanent Marker"; font-size: medium;">From whence he came I could not tell </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "Permanent Marker";">'Till Wiggles sniffed his trail </span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "Permanent Marker";">down to the boardwalk.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "Permanent Marker"; font-size: medium;">It had lain where I had walked that day.</span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">I do not want a fox so close although it carried awe.</span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">A small intake, a taint of joy </span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">That something wild should freely go</span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">And pass me by without a glance.</span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">And I should live where fox and deer, </span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">Fat badger, possum, Hawk and owl </span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">and who-knows-what reside.</span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">All calling home where I call home, </span></p><p><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">And none surprised by me. </span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0eIyhN40x2IlyQewV1qhyphenhyphena-pns7kt0-2sMvoLO8_6aslo8gRLNuTzUOVEQk5Tp6Y8w6TKNwfchW0jgXADs_i5rGn9kKefl1l79Hncf5IJO_oLL8fnXV9dva4eeK1ekogrFIt3DE8zJm0paZ_y6Q1OCDv5nunXvOcHH2XG1hEaqzBnD6r-rZF7HKDcAUyV/s2048/IMG_2127.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0eIyhN40x2IlyQewV1qhyphenhyphena-pns7kt0-2sMvoLO8_6aslo8gRLNuTzUOVEQk5Tp6Y8w6TKNwfchW0jgXADs_i5rGn9kKefl1l79Hncf5IJO_oLL8fnXV9dva4eeK1ekogrFIt3DE8zJm0paZ_y6Q1OCDv5nunXvOcHH2XG1hEaqzBnD6r-rZF7HKDcAUyV/s320/IMG_2127.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Home</span></i></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-11929472442090043262024-03-06T13:47:00.000-08:002024-03-06T14:58:42.077-08:00GO GENTLY<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZRqaOK0aE-aRu1tRcbuFsRT7oKT3OicBRUenOPAA_79c1XQqeA4smejqh79c-CqsEOCyLamg_FXy7x-uZM6EvDZf-oImcKUnCGN4HI5qFNXWqQXY7-_GZuWXaSY67V5nznkb3HyHWmCCSaUjJ__V_7cCldVI6HJPFYuZuWBDHc_IYbBSsWWi8dOzAUKU/s2048/IMG_2883.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZRqaOK0aE-aRu1tRcbuFsRT7oKT3OicBRUenOPAA_79c1XQqeA4smejqh79c-CqsEOCyLamg_FXy7x-uZM6EvDZf-oImcKUnCGN4HI5qFNXWqQXY7-_GZuWXaSY67V5nznkb3HyHWmCCSaUjJ__V_7cCldVI6HJPFYuZuWBDHc_IYbBSsWWi8dOzAUKU/s320/IMG_2883.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Go gently when your morning comes and thoughts are waiting prey.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Go gently when the evening falls if thoughts still trembling there.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Go gently if your mind's awry remembering every wound,</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">From words that drop like nerves gone bad, </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Your shelter out of reach. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">And then you write and say it straight or say it slant</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Or don't say it at all. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">The thoughts recede; they have before.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">It was so long ago. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9AVV21RaOHJtG8QuJ_0Fp8QLPw4dX1luok6AlUUQhKtFA0VJwwkLlb2BnqLygoXjckze0pBR3jAiZubfUMlpfSNtLbcItHkR3DlyYZeeY4vC1Q0JiqamoCpOcRCE_dHkTnotfxlOCQLH8z2UZtxpq40bhawH8tMVD7Vv-nsjM_SG3P_V0l1vpIzzQj6A/s1150/IMG_5854%20(Edited).PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1150" data-original-width="647" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9AVV21RaOHJtG8QuJ_0Fp8QLPw4dX1luok6AlUUQhKtFA0VJwwkLlb2BnqLygoXjckze0pBR3jAiZubfUMlpfSNtLbcItHkR3DlyYZeeY4vC1Q0JiqamoCpOcRCE_dHkTnotfxlOCQLH8z2UZtxpq40bhawH8tMVD7Vv-nsjM_SG3P_V0l1vpIzzQj6A/w225-h400/IMG_5854%20(Edited).PNG" width="225" /></a></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-17111122651142521922024-02-28T10:56:00.000-08:002024-02-28T10:56:39.834-08:00IN A CREATIVE WAY<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbc1b2ueojj0iw00-5p1I5wxQv66arohGOsL4359LUMmUgEBSnNbMiVym4ON4ZjQt0qCMqAEPiC1zaof-digDRqCwgw3KF-U2rdJBBrdIsA_gkZ1dkyKRGpT3AhJVcP50en9mWboYrK5Z4FZuJcs6qR6NX1ua5ls9cm0mALyros9g3uI4nHfJl3zF_XmBB/s2048/IMG_0077.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbc1b2ueojj0iw00-5p1I5wxQv66arohGOsL4359LUMmUgEBSnNbMiVym4ON4ZjQt0qCMqAEPiC1zaof-digDRqCwgw3KF-U2rdJBBrdIsA_gkZ1dkyKRGpT3AhJVcP50en9mWboYrK5Z4FZuJcs6qR6NX1ua5ls9cm0mALyros9g3uI4nHfJl3zF_XmBB/s320/IMG_0077.jpg" width="240" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmwbVmpMfxxNltqVyYPXvq_XJ6ZuVlf-bR_E8xWlRqF-8cBZrNatuV2IOKnqZEk9uMjoeVuIpN3xf2_8LVuV9EbeMDqL03XO_as-AodqoO7GeTnXo2s3yFA92U40xLXj5MQBLRprrWwSDBlPZlLvlzBBtF63xF-uMdBHEFUcC_m6BIvoUcIooTo5nhhS0/s2048/IMG_2884.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmwbVmpMfxxNltqVyYPXvq_XJ6ZuVlf-bR_E8xWlRqF-8cBZrNatuV2IOKnqZEk9uMjoeVuIpN3xf2_8LVuV9EbeMDqL03XO_as-AodqoO7GeTnXo2s3yFA92U40xLXj5MQBLRprrWwSDBlPZlLvlzBBtF63xF-uMdBHEFUcC_m6BIvoUcIooTo5nhhS0/s320/IMG_2884.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><b>Each year</b> I do a collage journal. I've read, "Do more of what you liked as a child." Well, I liked cutting and pasting. And glitter and warm words and inspirational quotes and writing and coloring and lace and creating. It all comes together in my collage journal. So easy. So calming. Definitely a flow-state. We all have these, flow states, where we are satisfyingly present and engaged. Here are some of the special words I've included in the past months, from all kinds of sources including my own heart. I hope they resonate. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Learning to do and think less is an important skill.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">What dark did you conquer in your story?</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"I had the sense that the deeper meaning of the story was in the gaps." Edith Wharton</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Enjoy being alone.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Getting lost in a good book is one of life's great pleasures. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Love stretches your heart and makes you big inside. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">"It's no use going back to yesterday because I was a different person then." Alice, Lewis Carroll </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Go outside. It always helps.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">The sun and moon rise and set every day. Don't miss so many of them.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">When nobody's home but you, that's your time</span><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">"I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day." Vincent Van Gogh</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">You'll find many beautiful wintry sights at dawn, dusk and dark.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Always protect yourself from despair or indifference. Help others do the same. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">"Hope is a thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all." Emily Dickinson</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">A wounded heart can still sing. Mine does.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Spend time close to home with the simple pleasures that make up your life.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">One thing we can hope for is that the Lord will enter our minds and hearts and help us bear the sinful world in which we live. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">"Do anything but let it produce joy." Walt Whitman</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Just keep on going; look ahead to see the blessing around the bend. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">"No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself." Virginia Woolf</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">There are decisions I may not have made if I hadn't taken sadness as a warning. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">The act of documenting my life in a creative way has improved my life. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-18153101489194578862024-02-23T14:54:00.000-08:002024-02-23T14:54:56.211-08:00DO LESS, THINK BETTER<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWy6UP6wnFQhyphenhyphenbvKE0oxmMf7pJPrpD6gw6QAaK6Fi6jk9GmkzXvEKjC7zvIuYG9h7lksokdLYcOVq-9CdVZATLslervireLMAqYSGVwz32ls_cFNPF0SJgoKMNsqpKq-a4KES1no06TbvvhxugAgiCwaqoD83k5ywieLItRRfcAz1hxD2fFZpaAkHRORFW/s2048/home%20and%20garden,%20PKS%20and%20Cornwallis%20Rd%20026%5B752%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWy6UP6wnFQhyphenhyphenbvKE0oxmMf7pJPrpD6gw6QAaK6Fi6jk9GmkzXvEKjC7zvIuYG9h7lksokdLYcOVq-9CdVZATLslervireLMAqYSGVwz32ls_cFNPF0SJgoKMNsqpKq-a4KES1no06TbvvhxugAgiCwaqoD83k5ywieLItRRfcAz1hxD2fFZpaAkHRORFW/s320/home%20and%20garden,%20PKS%20and%20Cornwallis%20Rd%20026%5B752%5D.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">A Coming Storm, North Carolina Coast </span></td></tr></tbody></table></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><b>There's a lot</b> going on in the world that isn't good. I don't need to name it. Follow the news, open your inbox, talk to your children, read your own heart. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>So, we look for ways to foster our wellbeing. I used to think that sounded too new age, or impractical. With kids and parents and work, who has the time? And many don't. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>But remember as a child lying on the floor looking at the ceiling? Or on the ground looking at the clouds? When my schoolwork was done, I used to put on a record, stretch out and daydream until I was called for the next chore (lay the table, sweep up the dog hair, feed the bird). In those days busy held no status; we didn't feel guilty for--if we could--letting our minds wander. That's when we got our ideas. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Many experts say that's still true: do less and think better (note: better not more). They make pausing and contemplation a path to wellbeing. There seem to be lots of ways to turn down the noise and give our minds a chance to wander. We know that moving our bodies helps to clear our minds, especially activities we do outside in nature. I gather brush. That's about as nothing as you can get. My dad asked me, "What do you think about when you're clearing brush?" "I think about clearing brush," I answered. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Noticing ordinary things, rather than those that arouse strong emotions, helps to focus an overthinking mind. Noticing little things can deepen our perception and clear our head. So can enjoying pockets of silence. Our minds respond to stimuli, and while we might be uncomfortable in silent spaces, think about how hard it is to have a fruitful conversation with a friend in a noisy place. We must find silent places to hear our friends' serious news or share our own. We cannot thrive without silence. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Finally, apparently, everyone has intrusive thoughts (not just me). A way to calm these is to notice and label them: "this is my thought about when I felt alone and not valued. That time is over. I survived it." I can vouch for this: after they are labelled, intrusive thoughts start to disappear. Isn't that nice? </i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg90j2SMNZcLVEcpsUhj4vhfLj40eLJ6M2cm3jMTjFCklTr_ua3bTmcJBvQ_6_C0wHN77kAzD7gQQQjEkS5Dx75BumZiipUMmxGFzRIdWI0CTtgohh7Pt8TfLyuqg9HJgDYc1kG1q4r7RyipWYhX0lHm836whUSnHzSt_qB5cB3JsDOXlZD4b1jkrZtx3uU/s2048/IMG_0913.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg90j2SMNZcLVEcpsUhj4vhfLj40eLJ6M2cm3jMTjFCklTr_ua3bTmcJBvQ_6_C0wHN77kAzD7gQQQjEkS5Dx75BumZiipUMmxGFzRIdWI0CTtgohh7Pt8TfLyuqg9HJgDYc1kG1q4r7RyipWYhX0lHm836whUSnHzSt_qB5cB3JsDOXlZD4b1jkrZtx3uU/s320/IMG_0913.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Calm Waters, Kenai Peninsula, Alaska</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-92073968785714618492024-02-23T13:30:00.000-08:002024-02-28T11:01:35.829-08:00IT'S ALL GOOD<div class="separator"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgno3pUPO_EGb9Npm9x9jUD7jVfxJBIZDIoW49EWeG4Vw5dkN4CVlyRR0ePg-vk28-FKBzre7CUvmux79AgHLQvxBfsoFHlxlKGHC3Uo6u-G4YAVhE0TkY4sK6psDPBW_8i34nhkoMeJWo9rt6b_jNcse7q8EZt3yilb_g76XjMbDVgK_5rzFcKQtf7xqV3/s2048/IMG_3588.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgno3pUPO_EGb9Npm9x9jUD7jVfxJBIZDIoW49EWeG4Vw5dkN4CVlyRR0ePg-vk28-FKBzre7CUvmux79AgHLQvxBfsoFHlxlKGHC3Uo6u-G4YAVhE0TkY4sK6psDPBW_8i34nhkoMeJWo9rt6b_jNcse7q8EZt3yilb_g76XjMbDVgK_5rzFcKQtf7xqV3/s320/IMG_3588.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div><p></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans;"><i><span style="color: #2b00fe;">There's nothing to eat. </span><span style="color: #741b47;">But wait. I'm good at creating meals from tidbits. I have a potato and some left-over chicken. With a spoonful of raisins and nuts and a bit of veg, I can make a curry sauce. Or eggs. There's always eggs. Or pancakes, even better. </span></i></span></span><p></p><p><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: "Josefin Sans";">The whole house is dirty.</span><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: "Josefin Sans";"> </span><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans;">But I love this house. It's bright and open. A swiffer, Endust, Windex, a mop and vacuum won't take long at all. The clean floors will feel smooth under my bare feet. The glass will shine. Everything will smell lemony. I'll get some bending in, and it won't cost me a dime. I'll put on music--good idea. </span></span></span></i></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: "Josefin Sans";">My dog needs a bath. </i><i><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans;">Mr. Wiggles can't help being stinky sometimes. And he's such a sweet boy. A bath only takes 10 minutes, and he knows I do it with love. Then he'll be soft and fragrant and nicer to pet. </span></span></i></span></p><p><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Josefin Sans;">What happened to the laughter that filled the house? </span><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Josefin Sans;">It's true, most days are the two of us. Well, three if you count you-know-who. But calm has replaced hectic. Low stress has replaced rushed. And let's tell the truth: freedom has replaced responsibility. All stages of life are precious, this one no less than the parenting stage. Two can also fill a home with love, quite nicely. It's not routine, it's practiced. And honestly, there's still a lot of laughter. </span></span></i></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><i style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: "Josefin Sans";">I'm growing old. </i><i><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans;">Yet my days are longer not shorter. With less to do, they lengthen; more time to savor. I must remember that. The years might fly, but not the days. Plus, I am so lucky to have earned and saved enough to retire. My losses have not overwhelmed me. God is with me <u>every</u> day; when I sit still and write this, I can feel God's presence. As we grow older other things diminish, but not our faith. Prayers are more intentional. No more "Now I lay me . . . " * without a thought that in fact I <u>might </u>die before I </span></span></i><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Josefin Sans;"><i>wake. There's no greater gift than long life. </i></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Josefin Sans; font-size: medium;"><i> Nina Naomi</i></span></p><p><i style="font-family: "Josefin Sans";"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;">*"Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take." </span></i></p><p><i style="font-family: "Josefin Sans";"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><br />Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-43878074338152571472024-02-10T15:26:00.000-08:002024-02-10T15:26:56.885-08:00KNOW THE EARTH AS POETRY<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjMBDLYXAlUfWm4admpcNGmHZvGR4whAdYjFGmMk47FsSbeEti_5HwMpKEOIioJ1fDo9ZCiNo-q-TeBo6DTtGx3Td2lGbysDfuUk5FVJ5nlbrjxkuKe1A-KTcTPZzr1peM26Fuf5JRDMkJIlAAwe7Pk4Kx6kwIfZvbq2M7xmUh74z25cjFVh_u2fZQPa2d/s4032/IMG_2799.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjMBDLYXAlUfWm4admpcNGmHZvGR4whAdYjFGmMk47FsSbeEti_5HwMpKEOIioJ1fDo9ZCiNo-q-TeBo6DTtGx3Td2lGbysDfuUk5FVJ5nlbrjxkuKe1A-KTcTPZzr1peM26Fuf5JRDMkJIlAAwe7Pk4Kx6kwIfZvbq2M7xmUh74z25cjFVh_u2fZQPa2d/s320/IMG_2799.HEIC" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Reflections, Bok Tower, Florida</span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p><span><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><b>The other day </b>my granddaughter said, "I think being a follower is underrated." "So is being an introvert," I replied. So, two generations apart, something we could agree on. Although we agree on many things, actually. If you have a granddaughter you know, treasures beyond compare. </span></span></p><p><span><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Some of us don't want to be tough alpha leaders. I read this somewhere: "Some of us just want to write and wander the garden and breathe in the sky and nourish and nurture and quietly create new pathways and live our lives as our art. To know the earth as poetry." I know women like this, a few; well, more women than men. </span></span></p><p><span><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">This would have been a pipedream for me when I was practicing law. You don't win a case for someone wandering the garden. (Although quietly creating new pathways is a fearsome legal strategy.) But now, now it suits me. Maybe you too. Maybe on your free days you write or wander your garden and live a creative life. Maybe you even make a living that way. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Paulo Coehlo (b. 1947, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil), author of <u>The Alchemist,</u> wrote, "Don't allow your mind to tell your heart what to do." I would add as well, listen to your body over your mind. So many times, our bodies know what is best. When to forgive, when to move on, when to accept, how to love. . . these are all body-driven, aren't they? </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">"So, what if, instead of thinking about solving your whole life, you just think about adding additional good things. One at a time. Just let your pile of good things grow." Again, I don't know who said this. But we were traveling recently, and I felt like my pile of good things was growing. We were in Florida. One day we saw a lighthouse. </span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qKCl6wJxvFWpTLX9a4m2H0hwBLnMAtkZb7tryxntQCMZpDUIjXcIi5_jGFCvArkirehVCFKX_2CHVH8nea77mIHmyaCFQpKL6YAc-W040keObW3SoXeBU69IW4U3S27FSS1zI6Gm9VeUPNijzdzvUR-jwD2-mteBzI5Ui0BCZ7By8jvCxWjjjxvmwp72/s4032/IMG_2843.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qKCl6wJxvFWpTLX9a4m2H0hwBLnMAtkZb7tryxntQCMZpDUIjXcIi5_jGFCvArkirehVCFKX_2CHVH8nea77mIHmyaCFQpKL6YAc-W040keObW3SoXeBU69IW4U3S27FSS1zI6Gm9VeUPNijzdzvUR-jwD2-mteBzI5Ui0BCZ7By8jvCxWjjjxvmwp72/s320/IMG_2843.HEIC" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fernandina Beach, Florida</span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Do you also feel like a lighthouse is something special? There are so few remaining. The job of a lighthouse was to warn and protect. They were sentinels. Doers of good. Seafarers trusted them. Now they are symbols. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Another day, breathing in the sky, we saw hundreds of manatees sheltering in the 72° central Florida springs from the colder Gulf and ocean waters. </span></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3rrnk2OqE-DnavMbEX4WO-r_zVt7dHGXzazwoyldHFaIaAkPiFTwCEoDzTXYrScjR6D7F0ZfjQm-_r1PvgCM_A5APDhSDqmWnRftMRFVI34jcaRPJI6SlBic_AVy6qJ0Tnr7AIE5P7rngtl3DFOvFmnMn3TBviiNm0Bs2JypBQRe-mllZf__mcOmWlb9/s4032/IMG_1196.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3rrnk2OqE-DnavMbEX4WO-r_zVt7dHGXzazwoyldHFaIaAkPiFTwCEoDzTXYrScjR6D7F0ZfjQm-_r1PvgCM_A5APDhSDqmWnRftMRFVI34jcaRPJI6SlBic_AVy6qJ0Tnr7AIE5P7rngtl3DFOvFmnMn3TBviiNm0Bs2JypBQRe-mllZf__mcOmWlb9/w240-h320/IMG_1196.heic" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Blue Spring State Park, Florida</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">Yet another day, we saw the sun set over the lake at Mount Dora. A quotation from Paulo Coehlo came to me again: "the </span><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">secret to immortality is this: let yourself be reborn every day, every moment, even." </span></span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHGUS2rEKSH3QMPorB_mZW1i_Yc_fwD_70MrCwvs410Hw1rIL1Ctwu3BpdqEbZ8IhdWAY8SjyxyVKWvkZAqiu6OCAkdKv2LBSdbjjpksxe8haT-Xyu_0zlLhA98zylZ2QXc45L_vK6xYZRC2a2HTm5z073hkYpPzn88bSbwI5bKIuyqlN1OCNkk5k3E486/s4032/IMG_2806.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHGUS2rEKSH3QMPorB_mZW1i_Yc_fwD_70MrCwvs410Hw1rIL1Ctwu3BpdqEbZ8IhdWAY8SjyxyVKWvkZAqiu6OCAkdKv2LBSdbjjpksxe8haT-Xyu_0zlLhA98zylZ2QXc45L_vK6xYZRC2a2HTm5z073hkYpPzn88bSbwI5bKIuyqlN1OCNkk5k3E486/s320/IMG_2806.HEIC" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sunset at Mt. Dora, Florida</span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So, yes, let's "wander the garden and breathe in the sky and nourish and nurture and quietly create new pathways and live our lives as our art." Let's "know the earth as poetry." Let's be introverts if we want, or followers and creators, travelers and seekers, reborning each day to each day's beauty. Alive to sunsets and sunrises, manatees and moons, stars and snowflakes . . . .</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Adding additional good things one at a time. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"> <br /><br /></span></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-26258950266415936102024-02-07T15:56:00.000-08:002024-02-07T15:56:31.282-08:00THE DAY SUPRISING MILD<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQrTelGTZmfAa_S6sjNNNQ27D29gS7AqZyQc5CAZzmjkqxujlZ74FRLjEi-HePWmUFJV6O-jXM8MEsp3xa5DQdjsyYtsvOVCwatYs6ygTzNGNnIJxK0tPfmZtoF7eYXa7hwRfqyWQ3WkioVPQsV5yWPsEqvw5uACLvNZpxpo38Nyhen0p5aSw5_NxHj0Sc/s3607/IMG_2846.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3607" data-original-width="2705" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQrTelGTZmfAa_S6sjNNNQ27D29gS7AqZyQc5CAZzmjkqxujlZ74FRLjEi-HePWmUFJV6O-jXM8MEsp3xa5DQdjsyYtsvOVCwatYs6ygTzNGNnIJxK0tPfmZtoF7eYXa7hwRfqyWQ3WkioVPQsV5yWPsEqvw5uACLvNZpxpo38Nyhen0p5aSw5_NxHj0Sc/s320/IMG_2846.HEIC" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #800180; font-size: medium;"><b>Hellebores, the Lenten Rose</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table></blockquote><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Window cracked, sky a shadow, </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Moon just out not dark enough to glow.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I'll shut the window soon,</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The day surprising mild.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">I see jonquils, pushing through and crocus, a few, confused in purple bloom. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">My heavy Lenten roses bending pink, pale green and white, </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">More clustered this year than last, next year than this. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Their fingers spread beneath the soil.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">"We know it isn't Spring," they say, </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">"But hope is ours to share like broadcast news. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Come, forsythia. Let's fling our spectrum wide." </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The leaves are legion, ground still covered, deepening mid-winter damp.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">The sky grows darker as I write.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">That's always true at 79, which gratefully I am.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">The sky grows darker as I write. </span></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-57492562623111172182024-01-20T13:51:00.000-08:002024-01-20T13:51:31.515-08:00DAILY BITS OF HEAVEN<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkt2ZrRrK3mFJU6aMq5UYBbyUQAXhpnlGi3Da6ngDu0Egp0h-ASD5Qd_KxPy0e6I0VwAMPdE8kJxPvXRZisgrz0zqngyfYCnjqtQCn9qSN9llOW-wW4N72__Fi_ZqCfCiohfe8k0muaeZIzTbWeHTFcJ6nNXG-ja3vxQfmr7OJSczXUKULETeBbyGQ7Lo3/s2048/IMG_1238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Permanent Marker;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkt2ZrRrK3mFJU6aMq5UYBbyUQAXhpnlGi3Da6ngDu0Egp0h-ASD5Qd_KxPy0e6I0VwAMPdE8kJxPvXRZisgrz0zqngyfYCnjqtQCn9qSN9llOW-wW4N72__Fi_ZqCfCiohfe8k0muaeZIzTbWeHTFcJ6nNXG-ja3vxQfmr7OJSczXUKULETeBbyGQ7Lo3/s320/IMG_1238.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Permanent Marker;">"Still Falling"</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Permanent Marker;"></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Permanent Marker;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Go outside</b></span> every day even if just for a few minutes. Cold and sunny, warm and drizzly, hot and prickly, it doesn't matter. Feel the air on your skin, your face, your palms. This is your day. Meet it, greet it, tell it good morning or good night. Walk out, hobble out, wheel yourself out or ask for help. Open a window if you must and stick out your head, all the way, your neck and shoulders and arms. Feel nothing else but the day. Savor the air that sits on your tongue, presses your forehead, licks your cheeks. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyA_OiyTriJbFbqy4cuzvuGL__kBI0lQMDai4AypMZTbu0G-jDsCj-LcGOdQHcPwReJerYCUf3twz3yX-Bw28Or4AO6V4K9GmRtbagJz1zANYeHM93cMz-mNoJZoHPrR82Mqz_d8rKXjaw0Z5BsBPfwaDerBIhqD1V8KmBdEcPpvJ20-v91ATu1-Hfioa8/s4032/IMG_2586.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyA_OiyTriJbFbqy4cuzvuGL__kBI0lQMDai4AypMZTbu0G-jDsCj-LcGOdQHcPwReJerYCUf3twz3yX-Bw28Or4AO6V4K9GmRtbagJz1zANYeHM93cMz-mNoJZoHPrR82Mqz_d8rKXjaw0Z5BsBPfwaDerBIhqD1V8KmBdEcPpvJ20-v91ATu1-Hfioa8/s320/IMG_2586.HEIC" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Facing West"</td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Permanent Marker;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Watch the sun</span></b> set. It falls behind trees, behind houses, behind oceans and mountains. Right where you are, it is dropping every single evening, lower and lower in the sky it slides, millimeters at a time but just turn your head and its gone. You don't have to be at the ocean. I saw it dip behind an old Kroger once and see it now in my mind dripping red and orange down the sides of the building, painting it in watercolor, then spreading out until nothing is left but a rim of light.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9xamDFMH5FmQwtL28kTHKkTxy6IleGsHegXRxVu5-K6NJd3vgjx643N0yWMypmBbRtSEhKaMnX8q9FNqudvoDhh3E_3jD5jA5QoOM9cS3dcbb4dyA2ClS9ZbduQ6wWcyKp6rBq5mEVRkTbWDtpovX_PHUm7jQ4CZAxBo5PUtwY2ToGM56naQZG2fw_iZG/s2048/IMG_3476.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9xamDFMH5FmQwtL28kTHKkTxy6IleGsHegXRxVu5-K6NJd3vgjx643N0yWMypmBbRtSEhKaMnX8q9FNqudvoDhh3E_3jD5jA5QoOM9cS3dcbb4dyA2ClS9ZbduQ6wWcyKp6rBq5mEVRkTbWDtpovX_PHUm7jQ4CZAxBo5PUtwY2ToGM56naQZG2fw_iZG/s320/IMG_3476.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Gift of Gold"</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Permanent Marker;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNYvIQzCByGQuTzOCbmi0uOCfQcLD_buNvOB7qDK7b7o7o24vIc4dnRX68zmT6EwENpQL3V8VrRoYST2yD-0TGMaxpqHZ16dHvT5p-m_da6_66pDYyO9rNhwWxVmFwMRjJe66mW54sIxZEhenVl3Qx3FOP_ifE0NSbRDd1l5h2rHM8Uu606fWD0iDOABT/s2048/IMG_5554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNYvIQzCByGQuTzOCbmi0uOCfQcLD_buNvOB7qDK7b7o7o24vIc4dnRX68zmT6EwENpQL3V8VrRoYST2yD-0TGMaxpqHZ16dHvT5p-m_da6_66pDYyO9rNhwWxVmFwMRjJe66mW54sIxZEhenVl3Qx3FOP_ifE0NSbRDd1l5h2rHM8Uu606fWD0iDOABT/s320/IMG_5554.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Out of the Night"</td></tr></tbody></table><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Look at the sky. </span></b> It's there every night for you to applaud. Dark gray and cloudy or black and deep or clear and starlit. The moon, when you spot it, head lifted this way and that, is always new, always different from the night last and the night tomorrow. Just a sliver maybe or behind a cloud luminous or full and rich as heaven making shadows like noonday. Put your bed or chair by a window or under a skylight or outdoors and lie awake until you feel your senses up high where they live with the moon.</p></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Permanent Marker;">These joys are not small. They're big like your heart, sweet like your body, eternal like your soul.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Permanent Marker;">Thanks be to God. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Permanent Marker;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Permanent Marker;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Permanent Marker;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Permanent Marker;"> </span></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-77374509707403971372024-01-17T15:16:00.000-08:002024-01-20T14:33:45.370-08:00LIFELONG LEARNING<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTzi9wf90qncvbkltRGO1ANjer87W7rzuUWSlCy1bDOL2ocBLDo_I2LNylYmUXhyhtlF4uYQ7nBgaDrv_RioqdVnKDZ_BdIuNCpJvxv6rPDBFiV0VYBp0eUK_VXwvFW2sO3OaUCd7-42gWWqloUCXPaOL1nI06xwcov5oeX2-fFCrMvoeRXqiwzj-lsFyp/s4032/IMG_2344.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTzi9wf90qncvbkltRGO1ANjer87W7rzuUWSlCy1bDOL2ocBLDo_I2LNylYmUXhyhtlF4uYQ7nBgaDrv_RioqdVnKDZ_BdIuNCpJvxv6rPDBFiV0VYBp0eUK_VXwvFW2sO3OaUCd7-42gWWqloUCXPaOL1nI06xwcov5oeX2-fFCrMvoeRXqiwzj-lsFyp/s320/IMG_2344.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p><b>Lifelong learning, </b>including about ourselves, is just that. Here's what I learned this year. It may not be too much different from what you learned or knew already. I learned that almost every day, every week now, passes too quickly. Even as I work to live slowly and in the present, my week jumps from beginning to end. </p><p>I learned that even with sadnesses and disappointments, time can be almost idyllic, almost just exactly what anyone would want. Because over the years, we learn to cope with sadness and disappointment. They become less devastating. We integrate missing someone, or worrying about someone, or even forgetting someone, into our lives. Somehow no matter what personal trauma is in the background of my heart, I can still have a perfectly wonderful day. I expect it is the same for you. We recognize that our life is imperfect because everyone's is. Imperfection is human. So is yearning and so, thankfully, is accepting. So is finding goodness in the smallest of things. </p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I learned that good and evil, pain and joy, love and death can exist simultaneously, in the same moment, the same heart. In 1859 in <u>The Tale of Two Cities, </u>Charles Dickens wrote, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. . . . " Now is not 1794 and the invasions of Ukraine and Gaza are not the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror. But sometimes it feels like we live in the worst of times. You know the litany: too many school shootings, too many guns, too many invasions, too many hostages, too many terrorists, too many dead Gazans who did not declare war on or invade anyone. And then outside the political realm, too many deaths from drugs and addiction; too much hunger and poverty; too much cancer. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">But Christmas and New Year's were good. Even after someone dies, the first Holy Day brings us back to our faith. These first weeks in January have been just right. Many people do more than I, many less and as we age, we lean toward less. Some year I may be a person living in a retirement community with a new pet to claim Mr. Wiggles' spot. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We adjust. We never lose hope. Politics, injustice, poor health--we never give up and we never stop trying. We know that we are in this together. With our friends, we are in it to the end, side by side, facing the unknown. If we're the one on chemo, someone brings food or sits with us. If we're not, we try to practice a ministry of presence. We pray. It's the least we can do. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So, it is not the worst of times. Neither is it the best. It is simply our time. The suffragettes marched for the vote. The civil rights workers marched for justice. Tyranny and dictators and would-be dictators and insurrectionists have been defeated before. Trump lost in 2016 and, God willing, will be thwarted again. And as we work for good in whatever ways we can, we enjoy our days whether brief or long, we learn to know ourselves better, grow stronger in our faith, and take time for simple pleasures. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Here's one: tonight look at the stars. Then say a prayer and have a quiet rest. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> In peace, Nina Naomi </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-89578439446822352382024-01-14T15:14:00.000-08:002024-02-10T14:02:03.133-08:00LEANN FORD'S "FEEL FREE MAGAZINE" (WONDERFUL!)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9ktp1z1eGdcS0wtalL3oatChIVK3-ub7feUmz35N8qORIJ6JTT9x1blurRXN00f8eBNsZmoY84B8jKt0hhDx8us8gXramJhQfqY88UJxkUWzFsYImlT05zJ6dQkYANKMBCG_Gqt4hI1VFjCK10J9ftwT1xCQ5bkFiCRLchFxHUc7lPC3Q6dFoaxDL7HR/s3662/IMG_2733.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3662" data-original-width="2746" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9ktp1z1eGdcS0wtalL3oatChIVK3-ub7feUmz35N8qORIJ6JTT9x1blurRXN00f8eBNsZmoY84B8jKt0hhDx8us8gXramJhQfqY88UJxkUWzFsYImlT05zJ6dQkYANKMBCG_Gqt4hI1VFjCK10J9ftwT1xCQ5bkFiCRLchFxHUc7lPC3Q6dFoaxDL7HR/s320/IMG_2733.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="color: #800180; font-family: Courgette; text-align: left;">In my stash</b><span style="color: #800180; font-family: Courgette; text-align: left;"> of collage journaling stuff, this morning I found Vol. 3 of "Feel Free Magazine" by Leanne Ford. It was in a stack with "The Simple Things" from the UK, "Daphne's Diary" from the Netherlands, and a pile of Stampington back issues filled with collage paper. On a rainy January day, being inspired to find creativity in nature is just what I need. So, I'm going to share some of the words and ideas that seem so true. I wish I could share all the lovely photos too. </span></div></div></div><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">Aiming for perfection is fruitless. And ruthless really. It's a waste of freedom. </span><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Courgette;">Time and freedom we might say. Ruthless is the perfect word: hard on ourselves, never-ending. Thank you "Feel Free" for this reminder. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">The garden is a perfect analogy to life and its messes--always imperfect, but always some beauty in it. The more it is loved, the more vibrant it becomes and the more it spreads that light. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">When we create, it's our job to know that what we create is good. We just know in our hearts that we our happy creating and happy with what we created. That feeling, that confidence, that kindness to ourselves, the lack of judgment to ourselves, that is contagious to those around us. </span><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Courgette;">Yes, happiness is contagious. And if we're not bound to perfect we can be very happy with what we create. Creating <u>is</u> freedom. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">Love what you do and let people see you loving what you do. You will inspire others to find the same joy. </span></p><p><span><b style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">Create freely. </b><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Trust yourself to make a home and life that looks and feels like it belongs to just you. </span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Don't you feel like your exact home could never belong to someone else? In the whole world, it doesn't have a double. Your vision, your touches, large or small. Your books or music or paintings. Your favorite textiles. What you've saved and treasure. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">The unpredictable brings excitement and intrigue. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;"><b>Look to Nature. </b>It's a free and wonderfully rich source of inspiration.</span></p><p><span><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">Sometimes we find a place where life is pure, raw beauty. </span><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Courgette;">[Mostly in Iceland I say to myself. Or the Scottish Hebrides. Or when a whale breaches. Or one morning when every bud on the camellia by my door is in bloom.]</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">Pull inspiration from everywhere. It's not copying. You'll create something new. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">"The universe is real, but you can't see it. You have to imagine it." --American artist Alexander Calder (1898-1976). </span><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Courgette;">Well, I don't know what this means. It sounds like something an astronomer would say. But Calder was an engineer-trained artist. Many things are real but we can't see them, maybe the things that mean most to us. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">Every day do some of what you love. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">A Garden is literally a Dream come true. </span><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Courgette;">We always see it before it happens, don't we, gardeners? </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">Thank your plants for keeping your space green. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;">Be brave and follow your heart. Just believe wholeheartedly in your ability to create. </span><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Courgette;">With words, with chalk or pencil or paint, with fiber, with trowel, with mixing bowl, with herbs and spices, with hammer and nail, with AutoCAD, with heavy equipment . . . . </span></p><p><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Courgette;">With love, Nina Naomi</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;"><br /></span></div><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Courgette;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Courgette;"><br /></span></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-29698223632374028832024-01-06T09:58:00.000-08:002024-01-06T09:58:45.586-08:00A PLACE TO STOP, THINK AND WONDER, PART IV<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjALh2bgWDWG_6R_nXRIMrD4agQkprSIORiKhB5ZarnLiDzl9w4qJkTvPUF8u9g1blh-sfajGh4fa2xVA0snwmpTXOpQk90Z6DkjkiFyfKS1dZhhhTVdAKu2fGP4nItWdERFzCUwSPzlypyZd5CEht9nVVrvi6zuRAXd7arQjtk4RAirQ2Q1fJvSOsklfLx/s1950/IMG_2499.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1950" data-original-width="1443" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjALh2bgWDWG_6R_nXRIMrD4agQkprSIORiKhB5ZarnLiDzl9w4qJkTvPUF8u9g1blh-sfajGh4fa2xVA0snwmpTXOpQk90Z6DkjkiFyfKS1dZhhhTVdAKu2fGP4nItWdERFzCUwSPzlypyZd5CEht9nVVrvi6zuRAXd7arQjtk4RAirQ2Q1fJvSOsklfLx/s320/IMG_2499.HEIC" width="237" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gerrit Dou, Dog at Rest, Dutch, 1650</td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><b>Do you</b> live near a museum? We met up recently with someone who loves to travel. I do too. Seeing something new or revisited far from home, enriches us. For me, museums are places to marvel. Maybe I'm not as awestruck as when we saw a breaching humpback whale, but standing in front of a Van Gogh is close. Or a Picasso. I wanted to know what museums this lunchmate had visited. After all, she was in Paris. "I don't go to museums," she said. "I saw the Mona Lisa thirty years ago and it hasn't changed." </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Well, we can't all be alike, can we? Among my favorite days are museum days. Like many museum goers, I never tire of the Impressionists. Another Renoir? Yes, please. One of Monet's "Rouen Cathedral Series?" Paul Cezanne? Mary Cassatt? Lucky me! </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqPW7Ez0JETaPx407SqaRnB2jAzkEui_BigUHElERz7uYlsxHzWCgLYHfQVeSotNmd0TELczTcxEzte09fR6J9tEt0gEzNDJKy7KPgXZNCYvXGNlqOz1p6W9hY4QgggJSKmUd9bwudzhdtYx77XalbKsSIFVucU8-auw8E61-lHQxT26cVwR3MpJilgG5q/s3182/IMG_2191.HEIC" style="clear: right; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3182" data-original-width="2386" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqPW7Ez0JETaPx407SqaRnB2jAzkEui_BigUHElERz7uYlsxHzWCgLYHfQVeSotNmd0TELczTcxEzte09fR6J9tEt0gEzNDJKy7KPgXZNCYvXGNlqOz1p6W9hY4QgggJSKmUd9bwudzhdtYx77XalbKsSIFVucU8-auw8E61-lHQxT26cVwR3MpJilgG5q/s320/IMG_2191.HEIC" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Summertime, 1894, Mary Cassatt</td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Famous museum, local museum, traveling exhibit, the Courtauld Gallery in London, the Louvre (of course) or the Musee d'Orsay in Paris, the Uffizi in Florence . . . . These are places to dream of for me. If I'm fortunate enough to have been, or to go again, I never forget the visit. No, the Mona Lisa hasn't changed, it's eternal. But I have. The world has. When we look at great art, we often see things we missed before. We look with deeper eyes, wiser souls. Their beauty strikes anew.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Our North Carolina Museum of Art hosted a traveling exhibit of Dutch masters from the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. That gently sleeping dog above is, not surprisingly, known as the most adorable dog in Dutch art. It lies curled upon a shelf, half-awake with eyes slightly open, master perhaps nearby, perhaps not. The fur is soft, the nose wet and the paws leathery. We could scratch it behind the ears and nuzzle it contentedly. Knowing little about art history, I had not heard of Garrit Dou or this small (6"x8") exquisite masterpiece. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I don't know if I'll ever see this painting again. It caused many to stop, think and wonder. Viewers kept coming back to it. Maybe people with dogs, like me, struck by the tender realism of the work. Or awed by the individual brush strokes of the pup's finely delineated fur. Or admiring how most of the oil-on-wood painting covers the bottom half and right side of the composition, balanced perfectly by only light on the top left. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">How wonderful that the Dog at Rest won't change. That for all who see it, it will continue to work its magic. Our friendly get-together and this local exhibit on an early January weekend brought these thoughts together. A good beginning to the year. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"> Nina Naomi</span></p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-12755323900641738772024-01-05T16:27:00.000-08:002024-01-15T13:46:53.636-08:00"AND NOW LET US BELIEVE IN A LONG YEAR THAT IS GIVEN TO US," RAINER MARIA RILKE <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ1-93tATr6yu1zxiYGbb64QK98x-XSMsnC-ZNsntuSvcG8iqM2wXLkso8lDtI-M5k77eMHdiLICrjJ3baJCU8U9E1am_dywCRQwBvbGHDDtHDhv2pJsLsOviBPG1akVG50d9IzZqFJAKGKt5xC-aPoz39AMitfgvgSnpgvYeQXGxTVGyxVapPjCjDJMgT/s4032/IMG_2561.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ1-93tATr6yu1zxiYGbb64QK98x-XSMsnC-ZNsntuSvcG8iqM2wXLkso8lDtI-M5k77eMHdiLICrjJ3baJCU8U9E1am_dywCRQwBvbGHDDtHDhv2pJsLsOviBPG1akVG50d9IzZqFJAKGKt5xC-aPoz39AMitfgvgSnpgvYeQXGxTVGyxVapPjCjDJMgT/s320/IMG_2561.HEIC" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span>North Carolina Midwinter Sunset</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><br />"AND NOW LET US BELIEVE </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courgette;">IN A LONG YEAR THAT IS GIVEN TO US,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courgette;">NEW, UNTOUCHED,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courgette;">FULL OF THINGS THAT HAVE NEVER BEEN"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courgette;">Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;">So many reasons to like January. Here where we spend New Years, the sun sets over the sea. Soon that will end until next December. It's a beautiful, long, cold month. Much longer than December, that crowded month that moves like a speeding train after Thanksgiving up till Christmas. As early as we put our decorations up, it's already Epiphany and time to take them down. When you name who you've seen or heard from over the holiday, or baked or bought gifts for, or even just remembered, the list is longer than the rest of the year combined. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span>January doesn't rush, it lingers. Dusk still comes in the afternoon, and our evenings are long. We sleep more when days are short. We put the kids to bed early and they seem not to mind. Dark signals a tuck-in and blankets. Like the rest of nature, we kind of hibernate. If it's not a workday, we wake more slowly, stretching to greet not only the day, but the beginning of our year. Warming food, indoor games and maybe some snow-time. Skiing and sledding and snow angels. We don't have snow in the North Carolina Piedmont yet, but we can hope. Today was, after all, our coldest morning so far this season at 26⁰ and a frozen birdbath. The meadow sparkled with frost. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;">We need days like this. We need to make the most of what this month has to offer. We need a year filled not just with "things that have never been," but with good things that have never been. Or good things that return each year in a new way. This Christmas and Hanukah were blessed, as always. Even after great losses. The first Holy Day after a great loss, as hard as it is, seems to bring us back to the consolation and joy of our faith. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span>I found joy watching the sun set over the ocean this week. I even enjoyed undecorating the tree today. The ornaments are precious, packed now and ready for next year. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;">We want to be content, at peace, safe in our hearts. We're all tired of pain and sorrow and the ever-disheartening news. Yesterday, yet again dear Lord, a six-grader was killed in an Iowa school shooting by a 17-year-old who took his own life. I've had children both ages. The horror is no longer unimaginable, nowhere near unimaginable. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span>There is much we dare not ignore. We live in a disconnected time. But we must also give ourselves permission to believe that we are strong, protected, not from death--not that at all--but from despair or indifference. The year 2024 <u>is</u> new, untouched, filled with hours and days for us to embrace. It is given to us to make the most of in whatever way we can for however long we can. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span>If we watch the news tonight, it is with certainty that new crimes will have been committed against humanity. I don't say this casually. But we can also take permission from this long midwinter night to cherish our lives and make plans with someone we care about for the unknown days ahead. Nothing lasts. That's why the year will be filled with things that have never been. And we know with equal certainty that some of them will be very, very good. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span>Maybe we'll even have snow. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span>In peace, Nina Naomi </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-64801732619212030892023-12-25T14:28:00.000-08:002024-01-14T13:19:28.180-08:00CHRISTMAS 2023<p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNdyOYPPqdkKodI8vQJ-Yco7XHSesJhDM2GXlQaGi6XegfEkAXvQ4_cXuokEY9aM2D7ujXvlr5QpwNBP1g7KmIxyfwxlcHwyu-nfninX9d0_UjrhO795QMJc-wqix1esDWBdj3coOZ3yJ14F7THRfYmn0m869Beb59Tmy4xUm8BAqY4aUnkXpaqwKyGciL/s4032/IMG_2650.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNdyOYPPqdkKodI8vQJ-Yco7XHSesJhDM2GXlQaGi6XegfEkAXvQ4_cXuokEY9aM2D7ujXvlr5QpwNBP1g7KmIxyfwxlcHwyu-nfninX9d0_UjrhO795QMJc-wqix1esDWBdj3coOZ3yJ14F7THRfYmn0m869Beb59Tmy4xUm8BAqY4aUnkXpaqwKyGciL/s320/IMG_2650.HEIC" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">Christmas 2023</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">This is the day a Savior was born.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">This is the day God came to earth.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">This is the day that the churches in Bethlehem</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">Silenced the bells that ring out Jesus' birth.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">For darkness covers Jerusalem,</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The memory of horror as fresh as the blood</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">That seeps from the rubble in Gaza.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">"Where is the justice when vengeance is all?"</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">Says the newborn awake in the hay.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">"Did my Father not say that vengeance is His?"</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">Says the newborn awake in the hay. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">"Who will help me bring peace to this earth? </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">If I will sacrifice all, will </span><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">that be enough?" </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Says the newborn awake in the hay. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">Today the angels are raising their voices as they try to be heard on high.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">Try to be heard above wailing and bombing and the noisy demise of hunter and prey. </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">Eyes open, breath still as souls leave the bodies not ready to die.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">This is not new we are sorry to say--</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">Lives lost on the battlefield, refugees pawns </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">In a game of hunger and thirst that they didn't start, </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">Well, I believe in original sin, don't you? </span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;">The sin that the baby awake in the hay,</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On a Friday that isn't that far away</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Gives His life to atone for, rampant today. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Today is the day that we say Merry Christmas and hold onto the ones that we love.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We say, "I forgive you. Do you forgive me?"</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We say, "Let's start over. Let's work harder. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Let's do more, be more, give more. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Let's pray without ceasing for peace on this earth, in my heart and yours. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Everywhere we go let us listen for the angels no matter how tired their voices, how tired our own.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Maybe not Merry, maybe not Bright, but Christmas is here.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Let us Rejoice.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: large;">Nina Naomi, Christmas Day 2023</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Lobster; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-53463165233958336752023-12-18T15:51:00.000-08:002023-12-21T15:12:34.630-08:00 THIS WAS ANOTHER DIFFICULT WEEK<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBdwQHkDMYAW7BPoy1zxkj6sCniBk6dAPZcHKdCmItsg9-1cspbkS09eiuTh42snUf104Y_jBgXm56YnB-zd_ZZaGz5uLlDY8aE8iAnTq9PLt3Wv-PH5LYQ9Z2EjPYo2apxado0RHxlT39MCZnOXzX44wzVB92VMXmoSApwGHTHhlsv0JIJoaVgfRwmgR6/s4032/IMG_2586.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBdwQHkDMYAW7BPoy1zxkj6sCniBk6dAPZcHKdCmItsg9-1cspbkS09eiuTh42snUf104Y_jBgXm56YnB-zd_ZZaGz5uLlDY8aE8iAnTq9PLt3Wv-PH5LYQ9Z2EjPYo2apxado0RHxlT39MCZnOXzX44wzVB92VMXmoSApwGHTHhlsv0JIJoaVgfRwmgR6/s320/IMG_2586.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><i style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: verdana;">"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18</i></p><p><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: verdana;"><i>These words were read in my church for the Third Sunday in Advent. </i></span><i><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: verdana;">Sitting in the pew, I wondered how we could possibly give thanks for the past week, for any of the recent weeks really. </span></i></p><p><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: verdana;"><i>This was the week the Israeli soldiers killed three men held hostage by Hamas; they came out shirtless, defenseless, waving a white flag. The soldiers--trigger happy and disregarding the rules of war--shot them dead. Unbelievable anguish is an Israeli response. Questioning the devaluing of unarmed civilian life is an additional world response. </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: verdana;"><i>This was the week that we learned further details of the bestiality of Hamas' rape of Jewish women. This was the week that the deaths of Gazans reached 20,000, 70% of whom are women and children. This was the week that President Zelenskyy of Ukraine went home empty-handed after meeting with Congress seeking aid to repel Russian aggressors. This was the week . . . well, I could go on and so could you. </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: verdana;"><i>And this doesn't touch our personal griefs and challenges. Worries about children, parents, jobs, health. Some of us are up against the wall and overwhelmed. Some of us are in hospice. For some, bad news follows bad news. Rejoice always. Really? </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: verdana;"><i>But looking closer, yes, I can pray without ceasing. These are the times we <u>do</u> pray without ceasing. The more need, the more prayer. The more grief, the more prayer. The more helplessness, the more prayer. </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: verdana;"><i>And looking again more closely, we are told to give thanks in all circumstances. Not for the evil in the world, no, never for that. But in the face of evil, we are thankful that we are not alone. That the Lord is with us. That His is the power and the glory. That God will always help, save, comfort and defend us. </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: verdana;"><i>God's plan is not for us to suffer, to die untimely, to be taken hostage. We give thanks <u>in spite of</u> evil. </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: verdana;"><i>What comes to mind is the hymn "When peace like a river." Horatio Spafford wrote it in 1873 after his four daughters drowned crossing the Atlantic. The first stanza ends, "Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to know / It is well, it is well, with my soul." If the will of God in Christ Jesus for us is </i></span><i><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: verdana;">to "r</span></i><span style="color: #a64d79;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">ejoice always</span></i><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">,</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances,</span></i><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">" this path is not so unrealistic as it first seems. If we follow it, with God's help, I believe that </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">with the hymnist we will say, "It is well, it is well, with my soul." Thanks be to God. AMEN</span></i><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: verdana;"><i> </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-17003640519841468162023-12-17T10:21:00.000-08:002023-12-18T12:53:16.646-08:00FINDING GRACE AT ANY AGE--HAPPY HOLIDAYS!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEivXlzdCQeXm5a_Ea5a6v92eFGFRNqzmcazGHSzVWK15IT1Fl1cXS-1K3IxMPNKd_KYAFvAisouQYNeapzf2fZZfSXGAOYpjkHGed9jD6cQ2siAxOCDCYD8vQ8-l_TovPYkyAJhMgC-IIUClJ3rn34JyzmyUMEEqQsvBDmfXx68ghw9SjX7sUzuMHtnaI--" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEivXlzdCQeXm5a_Ea5a6v92eFGFRNqzmcazGHSzVWK15IT1Fl1cXS-1K3IxMPNKd_KYAFvAisouQYNeapzf2fZZfSXGAOYpjkHGed9jD6cQ2siAxOCDCYD8vQ8-l_TovPYkyAJhMgC-IIUClJ3rn34JyzmyUMEEqQsvBDmfXx68ghw9SjX7sUzuMHtnaI--" width="180" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>bella </i>GRACE</td></tr></tbody></table><i><br /></i><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A place of inspiration: </span><i style="font-family: verdana; text-decoration-line: underline;">bella </i><u style="font-family: verdana;">GRACE</u><span style="font-family: verdana;"> magazine has an article this issue where readers tell what they like about their age. Uplifting and insightful, something good for all of us. What could be a better holiday present than to find contentment in our own skin, to cherish our age and see its benefits? I hope you like this sampling.</span></div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-cg3dvqCPsD47djpn68xOInon6Wa9paaTO2YQ2UkbvQsPBZB9cEub3B-WpqhzPrFY3rvYHMEAsZ2ez6U9IuuJx5tdN9NcbMaR6Nj-JIl9pGVhAt-zAK3Rchnzdnx1PzFp9Rx7egJ6pdFrC0w-g7RGCO7MeN2uA7WrzpUNQMaggUfwdLLPdnppweq-NJ4/s4032/IMG_0099.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-cg3dvqCPsD47djpn68xOInon6Wa9paaTO2YQ2UkbvQsPBZB9cEub3B-WpqhzPrFY3rvYHMEAsZ2ez6U9IuuJx5tdN9NcbMaR6Nj-JIl9pGVhAt-zAK3Rchnzdnx1PzFp9Rx7egJ6pdFrC0w-g7RGCO7MeN2uA7WrzpUNQMaggUfwdLLPdnppweq-NJ4/w240-h320/IMG_0099.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Franz Kafka</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Almost every reader looks at age as a blessing, a gift denied to many. One says, "I truly believe with each year I learn more about myself and love myself even more than the last."</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">The fear-of-missing-out has shifted. We don't fear missing out on late-night adventures. We want to catch each moment that unfolds during the day: "The tomatoes on the vine in the sunlight; that feeling just before the sun sets. It's a different type of noticing than when [we were] younger."</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">About to be 25, one reader says that it's a great time to make mistakes, to mess up and learn from it.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">We care more about the quality of friendships. We love deeper and with more maturity. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">A 29-year-old used to try to like what her friends did. Now she takes pride in being "the girl who likes gardening, slow living, and being surrounded by nature."</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">On the cusp of 70, a woman begins to study cloud formations, moon phases, and the night sky; to identify birds; to notice the changing light of the seasons. She says, "It's never too late to find your place in this magical world." </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">One reader sheds her multitasking lifestyle. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Another writes, "Most of my wants are gone. I no longer walk into a store and desire more stuff." </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">We treat our bodies with more respect. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">As the decades add up, we don't see them as ominous, as the dark clouds of old age. We see them as opportunities to lean into our passions. We are not afraid of the future, however long or brief. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Most find that with age comes reflection and insight. We understand ourselves and our choices better. We don't take blessings for granted. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">One woman says, "I am pro-age. . . . Growing older is a privilege I intend to enjoy." </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Over and over: "What's not to like about being 38?" "about being 55?" "about being 73?" We feel content with our age and serene. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">A few say, "I feel blessed to get older each year. My parents never got to be this age." </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Someone with depression and anxiety says, "I am pushing myself to do better without hurting myself." She is 24 and strong. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Someone over 80 says, "I'm ready to go but not homesick for heaven." </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Someone who wanted to be like her grandmother, now is. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Everyone who is standing on the far side of cancer finds wonder each morning, every day a gift to unwrap, gentleness and kindness toward self and others. One says, "Cancer taught me courage." </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Another, "Now my alone time is my favorite time." </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Or "My Baba lived with contentment, peace and deep faith. Now I am Baba."</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Or "The world is your oyster during that little window between raising one generation and awaiting the next." </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Many like the freedom of having more money that age brings, when it does. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Giving oneself permission to slow down is a theme. So is making or leaving the world a better place. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">"I'm very happy at 70." "I'm a fabulous 50." "I love being 61." " I feel like my awkward stage is behind me." "I'm in my 30s right now and feel and act braver than ever before." "I turned 70 and my life has never been richer." "At 45 I feel like I am just getting started." </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">"Age gives me the opportunity to pursue life." "I'm embracing every life lesson." </span></li></ul><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Each of these resonates with me. Each is its own Christmas gift, to feel whole or fabulous or happy or content or brave. Each of these persons sees who they are and is thankful. May you and I be thankful too. In peace, Nina Naomi</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip_4AB-dYss0ASOHAyvCMzMWnEsQZcjjTIVGaW2I3ABkcLhoBfbgZmly82-TCQzyTulwVv9NcvGWPqsUBaE1xLRE-GS7YWtNao3wkB4oPZDM3aoc7XMI3Xs7ZMgEwkBlodsR1pIPUJHcGqrFxjKCQIFVw-jPizLCPtIzbhuSP2hrTcutgBQAykiGSacPEl/s4032/IMG_1221.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip_4AB-dYss0ASOHAyvCMzMWnEsQZcjjTIVGaW2I3ABkcLhoBfbgZmly82-TCQzyTulwVv9NcvGWPqsUBaE1xLRE-GS7YWtNao3wkB4oPZDM3aoc7XMI3Xs7ZMgEwkBlodsR1pIPUJHcGqrFxjKCQIFVw-jPizLCPtIzbhuSP2hrTcutgBQAykiGSacPEl/s320/IMG_1221.HEIC" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duke Chapel</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li> </li></ul><p></p></div></div>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-62994813266421691672023-12-14T15:26:00.000-08:002023-12-14T15:26:13.727-08:00THE NIGHT IS MORE ALIVE<p style="text-align: center;"><b style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courgette;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">"I often think that the night is more alive</span></i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><b><i>And more richly colored than the day."</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><b><i>--Vincent Van Gogh</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Right now, we have more night than day and I love it. Maybe you do too. Even the darker mornings are good. I plug in the fairy lights near the entry way and up the stairs, then the tree, then my tea kettle, then the dog wants tending and the sun is still lying low between the trees. Maybe I even light the fire that I laid the day before, and a cinnamon candle, or pine or vanilla. I'm in a wool cardigan over favorite pajamas. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguffujWYlmbEnWO9lsBaHudsVaz9d1qaqcASJ4wSFI8LnWgw-TknxNN9A0ln6_b3vfrPi0ECKSrGpEC87lW-sfhUcYs2FjgTMM3sdwpHMsYzwddqjmOuNYr_4mw5GZGeslr16ctKBKJEte60PdhL8MVQ1UuC1bR0bqjrYXor226rTj2IXSdeM71K41kl26/s2811/IMG_6115.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2811" data-original-width="2107" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguffujWYlmbEnWO9lsBaHudsVaz9d1qaqcASJ4wSFI8LnWgw-TknxNN9A0ln6_b3vfrPi0ECKSrGpEC87lW-sfhUcYs2FjgTMM3sdwpHMsYzwddqjmOuNYr_4mw5GZGeslr16ctKBKJEte60PdhL8MVQ1UuC1bR0bqjrYXor226rTj2IXSdeM71K41kl26/s320/IMG_6115.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div><p></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Maybe your December morning is more hectic than mine with a workday ahead, children tumbling around or an excitable pet rather than a peacefully graying Maltipoo. When I worked full time, my paralegal and I might leave for a day of travel in the dark. We'd finish our work in a strange city and come outside to lights, busy sidewalks and, at this time of year, Christmas shoppers and window decorations. The early evening was welcoming no matter where we were. I hope you feel like this. For many of us long nights, colder weather and Christmas go hand-in-hand. We can tell just by looking around our neighborhoods, how creative people become with holiday lights, wreaths and sleighbells. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitP1h7dNah1axkMFoycXDRhAvQtwAq9v1Euv1x2y6HXH0JMftL4hKj6-MGuLYYeVJz7v1_iFDYBfgTJZqbzmx2sSjBYPXaFl6LBdGWkBLcmDJp_JHfzzkvY-9NSbIoeQjGPOcjibuJd4-uG7d7H1mQmBrc3cMukk5OVmZvX9ah6jjztIF2OY8q8swEV2S2/s4032/IMG_2579.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitP1h7dNah1axkMFoycXDRhAvQtwAq9v1Euv1x2y6HXH0JMftL4hKj6-MGuLYYeVJz7v1_iFDYBfgTJZqbzmx2sSjBYPXaFl6LBdGWkBLcmDJp_JHfzzkvY-9NSbIoeQjGPOcjibuJd4-uG7d7H1mQmBrc3cMukk5OVmZvX9ah6jjztIF2OY8q8swEV2S2/s320/IMG_2579.HEIC" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My own mantle is as nice as I can make it, with greens foraged from the yard. The stars are crystalline when Mr. Wiggles goes out for his last break, the moon brighter, the sounds sharper. Even the train trundling beyond the woods seems nearer. With the house lights out that late, our eyes accustom to the dark and even the shadows look inviting. I've added one of my mother's handmade quilts to our bed. We've begun leaving our socks on under the covers for that extra warmth. </span></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">There's a lot going on in the world that isn't good, a lot to shake our confidence in our fellow humans, a lot of needs for our energy and time. But day-to-day, minute-to-minute, here in this very same world, we also prepare for Christmas by accepting the little gifts of red berries on holly trees, blue cedar cones, translucent mistletoe clusters and the winter sky. We bake and ice and simmer and roast. We plan and wrap and accept and issue invitations. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">It's a wonderful time of year.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;">Thank you, Lord, for another December when we celebrate your birth. Give us hearts of compassion, strength of spirit, resilience and understanding. Provide respite from politics in our country and war in others. Help those who struggle for their very lives and those who grieve for lives now over. Be with us in sorrow and joy and lift us with your blessings, whether they be sparse or abounding. In Jesus' name we pray. AMEN </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courgette; font-size: medium;"> </span></div><p></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-83366527440968875462023-11-30T11:57:00.000-08:002023-11-30T11:57:09.867-08:00"THANKS" BY W. S. MERWIN<p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KRF4ZJblj1c/XGyCXfwkvkI/AAAAAAAAB1g/7eIcK9Mq1lcD81DRvcT9IFbp9E6oE36ygCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3913.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KRF4ZJblj1c/XGyCXfwkvkI/AAAAAAAAB1g/7eIcK9Mq1lcD81DRvcT9IFbp9E6oE36ygCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_3913.JPG" width="320" /></span></a><b style="font-family: "Josefin Sans"; font-size: large;">Today is Sunday. </b><span style="font-family: "Josefin Sans"; font-size: large;"> I usually go to church, but today we did not. My back kept me home. The idea of hopping in the car in the cold, getting to early service on time, then up and down, sitting, standing and kneeling, wasn't a happy thought. Staying in has been good. </span></p><div><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans; font-size: medium;"><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i> </i></span></span></span></span><br /><span>Sitting by the fire with a heating pad and cups of tea, I reread a poem that, although written nearly forty years ago, is timeless. Well, good poetry is, isn't it. "Thanks," by W. W. Merwin (1927-2019) is amazingly prescient of today, a day in which the Ukranians, the Israelis and Palestinians, we ourselves, and many others across the globe are suffering. Suffering, yet want to give thanks and prepare for the Holy Days of whatever faith is ours. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans; font-size: medium;">"Thanks" was published in 1988, but it could have been written yesterday. Merwin's depiction of gratitude goes far beyond the usual, but I suspect that we can identify with the need to broaden our thankfulness in in the midst of tragedy, violence and chaos. We almost have to, if we're going to be thankful at all.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans; font-size: medium;">The poem begins with a word any speaker might say: "Listen . . . ." The first stanza isn't too surprising. As night falls and we look at the water, we give thanks (S1). But after that, the details change, and thankfulness becomes more challenging. The reality of our weaknesses and strengths are parsed. </span><div><div><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans; font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div><b><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans; font-size: medium;"><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><u><span style="color: purple;"><i>Thanks</i></span></u></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>Listen</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>with the night falling we are saying thank you</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>we are stopping on the bridge to bow from the railings</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>we are running out of the glass rooms</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>with our mouths full of food to look at the sky</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>and say thank you</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>we are standing by the water looking out</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>in different directions</i></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>after funerals we are saying thank you</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>after the news of the dead</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>in a culture up to its chin in shame</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank you</i></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>over telephones we are saying thank you</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>remembering wars and the police at the back door</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>in the banks that use us we are saying thank you</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>with the crooks in office with the rich and fashionable</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you</i></span></span></span></span><br /><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>with the animals dying around us</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>our lost feelings we are saying thank you</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>with the forests falling faster than the minutes</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>of our lives we are saying thank you</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>with the words going out like cells of a brain</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>with the cities growing over us like the earth</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>we are saying thank you faster and faster</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>with nobody listening we are saying thank you</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>we are saying thank you and waving</i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>dark though it is </i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>(1988) </i></span></span></span></span></span></b><div><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: purple;"><i><br /></i></span><span><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span>The poem overlays realistic detail with the generosity of unconditional thanks, an old-fashioned praise poem of tribute or gratitude. But here we are grateful not only when running out to look at the sky with mouths full of food(S1), but also after funerals and hospital visits and muggings (S2). </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span>One of the most powerful lines is "</span></span></span></span></span><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>in a culture up to its chin in shame / </i></span></span></span></span></span></b><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank </i></span></span></span></span></span></b><span style="font-size: medium;"><i style="color: purple; font-weight: bold;">you.</i>" <span>(S2) How did the poet foresee our dysfunctional government, the violence against Jews and Muslims both, the necessity for #Me Too and #Black Lives Matter, the war against trans children? </span></span></span></div></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans; font-size: medium;"><span><span>In S3 he says that we remember beatings on stairs, the police at the door, and wars and say "thank you." He writes, "</span></span><b><span><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i>[W] ith the crooks in office with the rich and fashionable / </i></span></span></span></span></span></b><i><span style="color: purple;"><b>unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you.</b></span>" </i><span> With the forests being stripped and the earth covered in asphalt (S4) we say thank you. </span></span></div><div><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Josefin Sans;"><i><br /></i></span></span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans; font-size: medium;">I don't think we are meant to feel foolish for saying thank you midst injustice--illness, muggings, political shame, environmental destruction. Rather, it is in our nature to find the good and praise it. Didn't we all just find gratitude in our hearts this Thanksgiving? And will again during Advent and on Christmas. We are thankful for those who heal us and for teachers, for surviving natural and human-caused catastrophes, for our soldiers, for those who visit us in our valleys, for hostages returned and prisoners freed, and finally for the burial of the very bodies we love. That we find something for which to be thankful in these situations, I think is what the poem means. </span></div><div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans; font-size: medium;"><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><span><span style="color: black;">So, this Sunday was good. Poetry, serious thoughts, a worthwhile way to spend a day. I hope you have days that feel that way too. Best wishes, Nina Naomi</span><br /></span><i></i></span></span></span></span><br /><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span><span><span face=""verdana" , sans-serif"><span><span style="color: purple;"><i> </i></span></span></span></span></span></div></div></div></div>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-8312670706847371982023-11-26T14:23:00.000-08:002024-01-06T07:53:29.859-08:00IT'S CHRISTMAS, LET IT GO<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyRUrFjAOSOPkbx0DqZiF_yjmG51LK7hW0z3h-VCkdBxACc6jylgvPdGwV8NjrjW1S9kFBBrgMBkc6iRrXPdwRBns6rzdl4plF3Ur5-RKsTCn0Ksy0IIDeS-X-THcx6u0ILRvRF6-Msj_yBV0J88ecwvxsru-nVVkOfk3xNaBj2quFwrWK-CWfssdRDgKZ/s1951/IMG_2515.PNG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1951" data-original-width="901" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyRUrFjAOSOPkbx0DqZiF_yjmG51LK7hW0z3h-VCkdBxACc6jylgvPdGwV8NjrjW1S9kFBBrgMBkc6iRrXPdwRBns6rzdl4plF3Ur5-RKsTCn0Ksy0IIDeS-X-THcx6u0ILRvRF6-Msj_yBV0J88ecwvxsru-nVVkOfk3xNaBj2quFwrWK-CWfssdRDgKZ/w296-h640/IMG_2515.PNG" width="296" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">It's never too late to let something go, is it? As we shop online and in stores and ponder all the complexities of the holidays, I'm thinking we'll have more lightness in our hearts if we let go of a few things. Jettisoning some things is crucial to our well-being; some we ought to let go of are serious or self-defeating; some are plain useless and some just inconvenient. But each takes a commitment to let go. Here's my quick list of what I'd like to leave behind. I bet our lists aren't that much different:</span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Fearing what the future holds</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Spending excessive time looking at my phone</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Desiring more things</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Dwelling on the past</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Rushing through life</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Complaining</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Ignoring my inner voice</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Feeling entitled</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Expecting the worst</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Needing to control</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Needing to be right</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Being uncomfortable with not knowing</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Believing I am too old</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Not liking my body</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Getting involved in gossip</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Helplessness</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;">Judging others</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;">If I can get rid of just a few of these, it will be a </span><i style="color: red; font-family: Merriweather;">HAPPY HOLIDAY </i><span style="font-family: Merriweather;">for sure. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Merriweather;"><br /></span><br /> </span></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-43036947735723188422023-11-20T08:20:00.000-08:002023-11-29T08:23:24.185-08:00GENTLE THINGS<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p> </p></blockquote></blockquote><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DYUrmDhdC_q_aC1u0hz1C1MUc8XEc-FZZuZ-W1c6tyrQA9mD0t3KqFqWSxk0-Lrc5udoog_EqHVvEKI666oI7Cb0n0FMmblehkuBlN-KTzuykj7I9ZuHAN7-JxyjHxvl0ls-jmE06EqzO7KRvpWLFCqbZfgSjVbJwYL5Iz6r_cIukgcuz-lxYrVUAr3e/s4032/IMG_2199.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DYUrmDhdC_q_aC1u0hz1C1MUc8XEc-FZZuZ-W1c6tyrQA9mD0t3KqFqWSxk0-Lrc5udoog_EqHVvEKI666oI7Cb0n0FMmblehkuBlN-KTzuykj7I9ZuHAN7-JxyjHxvl0ls-jmE06EqzO7KRvpWLFCqbZfgSjVbJwYL5Iz6r_cIukgcuz-lxYrVUAr3e/s320/IMG_2199.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">GENTLE THINGS </b><br /></blockquote><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">the first and last light of the day</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">the last turning leaves of the season</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">a bone china teacup and saucer from an antique shop</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">the safe and cozy energy of gathered friends</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">waking gradually</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">a clear sign that you're on the right path</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">wonderful kitchen smells of food cooking</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">shadows, on the wall, under the trees; deep rich shadows</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">sunlight streaming, its warmth felt in your bones</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">your lightly snoring (or purring) pet</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">that special look from the one you love</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">the beginning of your favorite season</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">cozy clean sheets after a warm shower</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">a tender clean body to hold</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">entering a friend's home for a visit</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">open windows, fresh air</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">your favorite clothes for around the house, soft from washing</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">cashmere sweaters and gloves</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">looking at your past with a sympathetic eye</b></li><li><b style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: large;">[add more, and more . . . ]</b></li></ul><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Satisfy; font-size: medium;"><b>Nina Naomi</b></span></blockquote><p></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-36807927141210742782023-11-19T14:53:00.000-08:002023-11-20T08:21:31.575-08:00WHERE BETHLEHEM LIES<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> <span style="color: #0b5394;"><i><b>Have mercy on us Lord,</b></i></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;"><i><b>And hear our solemn prayer.</b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;"><i><b>We come to hear your living word;</b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: medium;"><i><b>It saves us from despair. </b></i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">These are the words of the hymn we sang this Sunday. As we sang, I hoped that God's Word would save us from despair. There is much to despair of these days. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">For so long we've been thinking of the Ukranians. We have no trouble sorting good from evil in that war. Now we have something more complex. People switch from anger to grief and back again. There are no simple answers, maybe no realistic answers at all. As we await Advent and the countdown to Christ's birth, we cannot help but grieve. Not only for the Israelis killed wantonly on Oct 7, but also for Gazan children killed randomly today. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Bethlehem lies less than 10 miles south of the city of Jerusalem. Jerusalem is only 62 miles from Gaza. We will be singing carols about the little town of Bethlehem but the disconnect between Christ's birth there and the advanced warfare of today sickens the heart. Tensions between the Palestinians and Israel date back decades, but tensions is not the word to use anymore. On October 7th over 1,200 Jews of all ages were butchered. Over 240 were taken hostage. Since that date over 11,000 Palestinians have been killed, most of them women and children. The number grows daily. Some premature babies who need medical care are surviving evacuation, some are not. What is left behind is rubble. Pictures from Ukraine and from Gaza look the same. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am not an ethicist or a historian, but I expect they have no more or better answers than the rest of us. "Thoughts and prayers" has become a platitude. Politicians use it after mass shootings as the rest of us wait for the next one. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">With the Holy Land a war zone, I wonder if anyone else feels like it will take extra effort this year to picture a baby born on a silent night in Bethlehem. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">One thing that we can hope for is that as the days march on to Christmas, the Lord will enter our minds and hearts and help us bear the sinful world in which we live. That has happened before. We've had wars before. We can ask the Almighty to be with the innocents--in their death shrouds, in hiding or held hostage, or digging through the wreckage--whether they pray to God, Jehovah or Allah. Mired in the world, we have often been lifted up to find gratitude and praise. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I don't know what to expect. But let us hope together for God's mercy and his Word to save us from despair. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaA26yRc07t31YEHVqMsJsq8Etf30ZwBAkjRajHdYVtwol5aIG1E27w4oyt1SMBdjamx9FdqLmWG3UFbAhyphenhyphenHBQ-btfMFEeTqjBI-K54S45xi_-1DNJceQBE6lUhdtEG7G_ulWrxUm17O2YBXiAux43jl_W2HHg2kaLXVeohjjRyOCG4J3ric167sqW8WnP/s4032/IMG_2241.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaA26yRc07t31YEHVqMsJsq8Etf30ZwBAkjRajHdYVtwol5aIG1E27w4oyt1SMBdjamx9FdqLmWG3UFbAhyphenhyphenHBQ-btfMFEeTqjBI-K54S45xi_-1DNJceQBE6lUhdtEG7G_ulWrxUm17O2YBXiAux43jl_W2HHg2kaLXVeohjjRyOCG4J3ric167sqW8WnP/s320/IMG_2241.HEIC" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Old Mission Santa Ines, CA 1804<br />A Place to Pray</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-73666532664159282472023-11-18T15:37:00.000-08:002023-11-20T08:25:04.484-08:00WHAT IS THE PAST FOR YOU?<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwi20Ve07_VE7VZmzHGouYwQDxsWDpkU2ZqgzDb8Hv0XvAhcsuTFfwb4feDVFaJtXnV8d45D55JdvNTwgKKU25ffg5PZ2fEOccPUYppyieenAYhOc6aKAwSjo0JS_HXVXiW-QdheF7eHaoyKCDJkWZRbrj17sMi7LDs1uJHerpzf1Zs-qL56vL_Luwj5hH/s4032/IMG_2404.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwi20Ve07_VE7VZmzHGouYwQDxsWDpkU2ZqgzDb8Hv0XvAhcsuTFfwb4feDVFaJtXnV8d45D55JdvNTwgKKU25ffg5PZ2fEOccPUYppyieenAYhOc6aKAwSjo0JS_HXVXiW-QdheF7eHaoyKCDJkWZRbrj17sMi7LDs1uJHerpzf1Zs-qL56vL_Luwj5hH/s320/IMG_2404.HEIC" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i><p><i>Here is a question I came across: </i></p></i></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i><b>Is the past an asset or a liability for you?</b></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>This definitely got me thinking. Why? Because our past never leaves us. It informs our present more than anything else. How we were raised, whether we felt loved, what experiences we survived, of what we are proud and of what ashamed. A long list. Our past lasts all the way up to this morning. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>And another reason: we are part of the past of others. Is our contribution to their life an asset or liability? I've never exactly thought of it that way before. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>In general, I'd say my childhood is a plus. We were truly last-century middle class. Went to public schools, owned a falling-down-well-loved house, lived payday to payday--all the cliches. My dad started college the year I did; he worked all day and went to class at night. My mom taught school. They both loved me till the day they died.</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>I could have begun differently, however. I could admit that for a time my dad drank too much and all that entails; that as a newlywed with two babies, not realizing what my mom was dealing with, I was too hard on her. A different picture, including my own insensitivity. But I seldom think of it that way. It's all in how we construe things, isn't it? </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>A colleague was mistreated as a child. Then she became a professor and a feminist and a help to many. Would she have achieved so much without the drive to overcome her past? If someone grew up without enough to eat and became an advocate for the poor because of that, was their impoverished past an asset? Someone else I know was raised in a loving home with nothing lacking. This person has now overcome an addiction that began early on. Might a life of privilege have fostered a sense of entitlement that contributed to these failures? Or are they unrelated? Is the past asset or liability? I think this person would say asset, that the past provided the character to overcome the addiction. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Or perhaps most of us would say both, times that lead to despair and times that produce strength. </i></span><i style="font-family: arial;">We know that traumatic pasts can give rise to post-traumatic growth--positive psychological changes that result from highly challenging situations. The most dreaded losses, for example, can inform an appreciation for life. Personal growth is in fact common after overcoming hard situations. People who have been tested are wonderful people. </i></span></p><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>An asset is something valuable, not necessarily a synonym for good. A liability is a disadvantage, not necessarily a synonym for something bad. A moneyed past, for instance, can be an asset or a liability. </i></span><i style="font-family: arial;">Combine these thoughts with the gift of forgiveness for great wrongs as a path toward peace. Not condonation, but a decision to forego revenge. There's no eye-for-an-eye in forgiveness. Certainly, my mother forgave my father the years he drank. He lived to 94 and was sober the last 45 years of his life. We should forgive sins (even our own). I have, and I hope to have been forgiven in return. </i></span></div><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>Each of us is a part of many people's pasts. Children, neighbors, friends, even strangers. I would like to bring value to each life that I touch, although I am certain that I have not. A smile or kind world or compliment, simple eye contact, can make a morning better. A harsh word or ignoring someone can affect their mood and even self-esteem. In a parking lot incident, an angry driver called me a name. It took a deep breath to remind myself that the driver had the problem, not me. But for that moment I felt diminished. This ugly event is now part of my past. Can I make it an asset somehow? </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>These are observations. I don't have a moral or conclusion or advice. Often our thoughts, like life, cannot be tied into a bow. Nothing wrong with that. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i> Nina Naomi</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i> </i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p><br /></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5689243165767557146.post-54553210969063637212023-11-13T15:24:00.000-08:002023-11-13T15:24:18.721-08:00EVERYDAY SAYINGS AND THOUGHTS<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVuDO_yGERWtKWjxFEFLGn9KOm1inp49FhySNqqLY59rkoVEemsfWAau3W5wlbeXQ2PZA_8EK2EOUZ9A0Nj65XKAByZfQD_J60AFxlFNJOpA1FYXpM10raEsrjWnliVPGH5lNaNgJ3lU-a8uvbXI_vCBriDZt6340ACaHoIoos1dr7Q-uDgbFEGaLR3nh_/s4032/IMG_2441.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; font-family: "Yanone Kaffeesatz"; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVuDO_yGERWtKWjxFEFLGn9KOm1inp49FhySNqqLY59rkoVEemsfWAau3W5wlbeXQ2PZA_8EK2EOUZ9A0Nj65XKAByZfQD_J60AFxlFNJOpA1FYXpM10raEsrjWnliVPGH5lNaNgJ3lU-a8uvbXI_vCBriDZt6340ACaHoIoos1dr7Q-uDgbFEGaLR3nh_/s320/IMG_2441.HEIC" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz;">An Everyday Wonder</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p> <span style="font-family: "Yanone Kaffeesatz"; font-size: large;"><u>Just a Few Everyday Sayings, Ideas and Thoughts</u></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;">Taking care of yourself doesn't mean me first, it means me too.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;">There's a sunrise and a sunset every single day. They're absolutely free. Don't miss so many of them. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;">A quiet nook and a book--good for the mind, body, heart and spirit.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;">Fire warms us, feeds us, illuminates us and bewitches us. Fire doesn't just set the mood. Fire <i>is</i> the mood. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;">Let your children see you slow down, because when they grow up, they'll know how to slow down too. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;">A tiny red-capped mushroom spent all night pushing its way up through the leaf litter to surprise me this morning. I bet the blue berry-like seed cones on the red cedar tree are meant to please me too. Finding joy in little things is not crazy. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;">A key to slow living is not to think about what has to be done next. Ahh . . . </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;">Care of the soul never ends.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;">We don't need to find meaning in everything. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;">Don't mistake knowledge for wisdom. One helps you make a living. The other helps you make a life. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;">The ordinary acts we practice at home every day are more important to the soul than their simplicity might suggest. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;">To have real conversations with people, to be open in speaking and hearing, involves courage and risk. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;">Dawn is a good time to remember who you are. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHf0vFUojftdQNbvuOxeG1lFySjvUJ9xVlydkJ8JttI0yJ2JXM1Z7r9SzEIDnbnUBHp9OW_v4tIH_UFpIFv14EPVX-MTCJdCF_e1mxwcI2A833qQb2E25TtVrjanVgKUTgaKAdzDSTS_TxDYhCvRRQXfu6rEuT1BkNV1RUsQoE5fwf9xJaKcM2b1dwmT1f/s4032/IMG_2391.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHf0vFUojftdQNbvuOxeG1lFySjvUJ9xVlydkJ8JttI0yJ2JXM1Z7r9SzEIDnbnUBHp9OW_v4tIH_UFpIFv14EPVX-MTCJdCF_e1mxwcI2A833qQb2E25TtVrjanVgKUTgaKAdzDSTS_TxDYhCvRRQXfu6rEuT1BkNV1RUsQoE5fwf9xJaKcM2b1dwmT1f/s320/IMG_2391.HEIC" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sacred Space, Summerland, CA</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Nature Lover Nina Naomi http://www.blogger.com/profile/11253318347235339574noreply@blogger.com0