EVERYDAY SAYINGS AND THOUGHTS

An Everyday Wonder

 Just a Few Everyday Sayings, Ideas and Thoughts

Taking care of yourself doesn't mean me first, it means me too.

There's a sunrise and a sunset every single day.  They're absolutely free.  Don't miss so many of them. 

A quiet nook and a book--good for the mind, body, heart and spirit.

Fire warms us, feeds us, illuminates us and bewitches us.  Fire doesn't just set the mood.  Fire is the mood. 

Let your children see you slow down, because when they grow up, they'll know how to slow down too. 

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.  

A key to slow living is not to think about what has to be done next.  Ahh . . . 

Care of the soul never ends.

We don't need to find meaning in everything. 

Don't mistake knowledge for wisdom.  One helps you make a living.  The other helps you make a life. 

The ordinary acts we practice at home every day are more important to the soul than their simplicity might suggest. 

To have real conversations with people, to be open in speaking and hearing, involves courage and risk. 

Dawn is a good time to remember who you are. 

The Sacred Space, Summerland, CA

THE BREATHINGS OF YOUR HEART

 "Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart."

William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

Wordsworth was Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom during the reign of Queen Victoria.  So long ago.  There is not a single poem he wrote that is not worth our attention. 

We all keep our heart's treasures somewhere.  In tangible mementos of course: your grandfather's war diary, your mother's wedding ring, family baptismal gowns, most of what we keep has meaning.  Artists put the breathings of their heart on canvas.  Look at the faces Rembrandt left us. Or Andrea del Sarto.  I keep a print we bought many years ago in our bedroom.  It's called simply "Study of the Head of a Young Woman," done in red chalk. I feel like it holds the breathings of two hearts, the artist's and the woman's.  Because I look at it every day with appreciation and wonder, it holds some of the breathings of my heart too.

by Andrea del Sarto, 1486-1531

Too few can put life on paper like the Romantic poets or Renaissance painters. But even absent Wordsworth's admonition, many of us have put the breathings of our hearts on paper.  Queen Victoria filled over 122 handwritten diaries, now kept in the Royal Archives in London.  

Some writers (and psychologists) believe that the more we write the more we develop our humanity.  Surely this is true of reading as well, which brings us into worlds other than our own.  Reading is the wellspring of empathy. Writing is closer to home; through our writing we can confront difficult personal issues, traumas and emotions.  We write to understand.  In troublesome times, I have literally written volumes. 

Robert Frost (1874-1963) said that "Writing a poem is discovering."  But not just poems, we reply. Creative writing, prayer journaling, diary writing, writing to heal--it's all discovery. When we read the work of great writers, we know that.  They give us their discoveries.  Think of any book you have not been able to forget and what you discovered in it, most likely about yourself.  The breathings of the writer's heart, the breathings of yours. 

Maya Angelou (1928-2014) wrote," There is no greater agony that bearing an untold story inside you."  As we begin to know someone, we often share the worst that has happened to us.  "I have cancer" or "My husband died recently" has to be told before a friendship can even begin. We may tell our story to a pastor, friend or therapist but when we write it, we take even greater care.  How can I explain what I'm feeling?  How will I face tomorrow?  Writing--whether for ourselves or for a wider world--is more deliberate than talking.  As we move from one written word to another, we find connections we couldn't see before. 

We each need ways to give time and space to our thoughts, our feelings, and our emotions, even if I just repeat in my notebook what I did today.   Writing helps regulate our emotions.  Through writing we come to understand ourselves better, and when we do, we have more choices. 

The young woman who sat for Andrea del Sarto in 1523 was the model for the repentant Mary Magdalene lamenting the dead Christ, whose body she looks upon in the Pieta de Luco, an altarpiece commissioned by the abbess of the monastery where Andrea and his family fled during a plague.  The breathings of our hearts are treasures in themselves, whether we write them, draw them, find them in a sketch from long ago, share them or keep them private like gold.  Each breath is a beat, a movement from now to now. A way of consolation.  

Pieta del Luco by Andrea del Sarto

 

THIS NAKED MIND

Eggs, Toast and Tea for Supper

I've been watching videos by a writer named Annie Grace about approaching with curiosity the idea of being alcohol free. It's something I decided to investigate when I realized that I had never intended to be a daily wine drinker--one glass while cooking and a refill while eating.  Or one while dressing to go out and another socially.  Or one to help my back pain (never worked). I pretty much wasn't skipping a day and wondered why.  The books and videos by Annie Grace told me. I've been loving the learning process, being enrolled in a free science course, a subject I was never good at.  

I'm finding her programs educational and rewarding and thought I would share some of the benefits, especially the one that took me most by surprise.  Weight loss (though modest) I expected; that gets a ✔.  Extra evening hours when I'm less tired gets a ✔.  The absence of a mild heartburn that I was feeling once in a while.  I put a ✔ there too.  And a ✔ by a sound sleep every night until the sun is up with lots of healthy REM sleep.  

The most surprising benefit took me a few days to notice.  Then I questioned my observation and started paying closer attention to see if this benefit were true.  Here it is:  I've stopped having intrusive thoughts.  You know, those meanie thoughts that are often about something past that we drag around with us?  Basically, those unwanted thoughts that can blindside us.  Maybe a memory, maybe a projection, maybe a fear warranted or not, maybe just a sadness, something we wish had never happened.  Often middle-of-the-night or early morning surprises.  The disappearance of these unhelpful invasions of my peace gets a triple ✔.

I don't know but perhaps the reason is related to the depressive effects of alcohol.  Or perhaps to the cycle the body goes through to rid itself of the alcohol we drink since the body recognizes alcohol as a poison.  As an addictive substance, alcohol creates a need for itself that a drink then satisfies.  The satisfaction lasts about 20 minutes before adrenaline and cortisol kick in to balance the numbing effects of the alcohol.  The adrenaline and cortisol create anxiety, which is then calmed when the anesthetic effect of another drink changes the balance.  This creates a cycle where our body repeatedly seeks homeostasis.  Simple science that I'm sure many knew but not me. 

This new knowledge is changing my feelings about that glass of white wine. And having been alcohol-free since early March, the needs of my body have changed too.  I got hooked on Annie Grace's no-pressure/no-judgment class one other time, after my 2019 back surgery, a pause from alcohol that lasted 2 1/2 years.  Not sure why I forgot how much I liked that.   

So far, I haven't encountered a downside to being alcohol free.  I'm sure non-drinkers knew this, but I didn't. Anyway, if a pause is something you're curious about, I do recommend Annie Grace's Naked Mind series of books.  Or if you just want to learn something new.  From Nina Naomi

Fresh Veg for Supper

 

                                              

SOME DAYS ARE STORMY (IN VERSE)

Verse #1 for Today

What do you need? God asked.

To be understood, valued and loved.

Yes, God said, anything else?

Not just by You (a plea).

That too, God replied.

But how? she wondered.

Trust yourself?

Trust your intuitions?

Protect yourself?

"Yes those, but more:  Keep Me beside you."

Verse #2 for Today

If there is a time for everything 

Then there is a time for letting go.

Thoughts into memories, memories into thoughts.

Some are treasures that turn the tide

Rushing to cut off my heart, my breath. 

Things I let go return to have their say, 

And deep without warning I need to write.

Not all, just this, these words.

Verse #3 for Today

She never needed perfect,

She only needed love. 

Verse #4 for Today

Immutable is the Word

Knowing what I cannot know.

Acting when I cannot act.

Giving when I cannot give.

 
 

HAPPY ENDINGS

 

 The rain has slowed and birds sing their pleasure,

Though it's dusk and rest is near.  

Nesting where I know not.  

They awake before I, already in song.

All day we hoped for the sweetness of moisture to plump us.

We, the flowers and moss, 

The gardeners and walkers and outdoor watchers. 

We longed for fresh greenness and now it is here.

Thunder faint as the train rumbles slowly

Though the train is not far, just past the tall pines.

Rolling, calling, beckoning: sounds that embrace.

They teach us how to gleam with the rain.

The sash pushed high I remember from youth,

Tilting my head for the spray,

Eyes shut and happy.

A bit of cool on a newly warm day, just May.

My notebook is open, my candle now lit to welcome the night.

It comes early on evenings like this.

(Or the clouds might part for the late-day sun.

--But not today.)  The earth faces into the mist.

My pots of geranium:  apricot, violet.

Begonias so pale after winter indoors,

Brighten and flush their leaves to colors 

Unseen since the frost long ago.

 

Windows wide as I write--

As I sit and dream, really,

The writing an after-thought, reason to pause.

Enjoying the damp on my arm near the casement.

My candle is Balsam Fir; seasons combine.

Can I make life a poem?

Can I wash grief and fear, thought and memory

Tender as rain this day does the leaves?

 

I almost can.  I almost keep the old (or new) at bay. 

The inexplicable human (needless) failings.

I almost look around and see no sign of any single thing unkind. 

The only reason there aren't happy endings is that nothing ever ends. 

by nina naomi

 

 

 

 

 

 

BE TENDER WITH YOUR DARK SIDE

Be tender with your dark side now

Lest it mistake your needs.  

Your soul in cashmere takes a vow

To keep you safe from deeds

Like words unkind that one might feel.

"Remember when you said. . . ?"

We think that only light can heal.

Dark too can banish dread.

 

"Tell all the truth but tell it slant," 

She told us, that we know.  

No facts, no details to recant,

Just focused breath to slow.

 

One wakes with thoughts that do not hold.

They dissipate so fast.

So from now on obliquely write.

Be grateful they don't last.

It was on impulse; no, forethought,

Or foresight, better yet.

 "And if thou wilt, remember."

"And if thou wilt, forget." 

                                     by nina naomi

 

 

 

THOUGHTS COME LIKE RAIN

Thoughts come like rain on a day you were looking for sun.

Sun to warm your ragged mind, to sear your old familiar pain with warmth.

But rain instead, who knows why? 

Harsh, pummeling rain that causes banks to overrun and hauntings freely flow.

In they rush, they lie in wait.

A word, a memory, the least thing. 

A day you were gifted when all was well,

Or so you thought.

Some hours, who knows why, the thoughts gouge until you almost bleed.

You can't prepare.  

The thoughts punish you for having them.   

 by Nina Naomi (a sort of a poem) 

LIVING IN REVERSE

 

As you get older you start living in reverse, at least I have.  What else is the rage for de-cluttering if not living in reverse? 

When I young and registered for wedding gifts, clutter was not on my mind.  All that stuff I wanted.  A special dish for deviled eggs!  Now I'm giving away my mother's cow collection:  cows that pour milk, cows that dance, cows that play music.  Too many cows.  Linens, sheets and tablecloths pile up for the thrift shop.  Sheets for beds in sizes we don't even have anymore; tablecloths for dinner parties from a different era.  Business suits land in Nearly New.  Furniture, bake-ware, bits and bobs all wait for charity.  Too many toys, blankets and purses.  Was I really the one who bought all this, or kept it? 

The gift list gets smaller; the gifts more carefully chosen.  No more bulk-buys for networking.  How many this-or-that with some company's logo haven't I tossed?  And promotional tote bags? They sprout and multiply.

The pandemic has brought clarity, hasn't it?  Relationships that don't serve us can be let go as well.  Someone who's too competitive, or negative, or more frenemy than friend is not in our best interests. We can't fix everything.  

Fears fall away along with prejudices and complaints.  We collect experiences rather than things.  We give eachother our time and attention.  We plan outings.  For the children too.  

Ideas flow like air.  I exhale thoughts.  The longer we live the more we understand because somehow, in some way, we've been there before.  The way one generation lived through WWI, another lived through the Great Depression. The way some experienced the assassinations of the Kennedys and Dr. King, the Gulf War or 9-11, everyone today will know where they were when the pandemic shutdown began.  I remember the name of Allison Krause, a student killed by Ohio National Guardsmen during a peace rally at Kent State on May 4, 1970.  That anniversary is coming up. And I know I'll remember the chants, "Say his name" . . . "George Floyd."   The longer we're alive the more formative moments, bad and good.

We bother to get to know ourselves and, Eureka, like who we are.  Or if we don't, we take steps.  Our friends are more precious. And love . . . love becomes most precious of all.  We don't throw away love; that we recycle. Take it, give it, take it, give it. Round and round.  If we have a lover we live in ripples of tenderness.  But we also dig for love from within.  We learn to love ourselves with that same gentleness we give to others.  We learn to forgive, even when forgetting is not in our control.  We don't save our emotions and we don't squander them.  We lay it all on the line.  

I pray more.  I'm getting to know God as God has always known me.  It's just another kind of embraceable love is what I'm finding.  I don't know how God manages to find me, but it happens every day.  Maybe because I'm outdoors more.  Mary Oliver says, 

When I am among the trees, 

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness,

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I would say that too.  We have beech and oaks and pines.  And cedar and dogwood.  And volunteers that grow huge and look more like weeds than trees. When I'm out amongst the trees I too feel saved. 

Could it be that as life reverses and becomes smaller (as it has for us all this past year), our thoughts become larger?  Our ideas range further? So that de-cluttering is also a gathering in, a pulling together and what remains matters more.  Matters more and has more space and time.  That would be good, wouldn't it?                                              
                                                         Nina Naomi

P.S. Full disclosure: I still have the plate for deviled eggs. It's useful and sparks joy!

                                                 

 

 

 

 

IF EVER A YEAR NEEDED CHRISTMAS THIS IS IT

Our pastor, our vicar and the church administrator have all been exposed to someone who came into our church building and then tested positive for Covid-19.  We're not a large church, so the outdoor service and drive-through communion for this week are cancelled.  The clergy are isolating, getting tested, and we all have our fingers crossed.  My husband was in the building this week too.  We're sorting through that.  No different than what each of you is going through I'm sure.  Everything on a scale.  Trying to be hyper-vigilant without succumbing to fear.  Balancing risks.  

So yes, if ever there was a year that needed Christmas this is it.  For a thousand reasons.  When life is as complex as ours is right now reading or writing a poem sometimes helps.  Here is my offer, small as it is.

Advent is a time to wait.

Silent thoughts.

Whispered prayers.

Hushed hopes.

It is meant for contemplation.

     As the night tucks in the day so should we.

O come O come Emmanuel.

Bring peace on earth to us as well.

While we wait let us be more, let us do less.

Now is not the time to do, but the time to undo.

Take a breath.

The air is fresh.

In and out as we wait . . .

Nina Naomi

INVESTING IN YOURSELF

So many things to write about.  I've got lists upon lists.  All these blog post themes I keep thinking about, such as: 

Soothe Your Soul

Turn on Your Creative Brain

Find Your Flow

Making Space

Investing in Yourself

The Best Time for New Beginnings

Finding Fresh Headspace

Time to Grow 

All fertile subjects, what I'd like to ponder, look for, find or do and I bet you would too. Who in this world wouldn't?  Hoping to share, to inspire just a little in return for all the inspiration I've received.  To pass on what, over the years, has been given to me.  Such a common goal.  

Lately lists have taken on new meaning in many of our lives.  This is new for me.  Outside of work I haven't been that much of a list maker.  My teenage Diary is more narrative, marked by overstatement and hyperbole. My Prayer Journal has no lists. 

My husband, on the other hand, has kept a red-covered paper date book for each year of his adult life. Everything he's ever done or meant to do--edit a chapter, call the plumber, walk with (name)--is listed, crossed-off or moved forward, a timeline of his existence.  He has a standing order for the same red book every December. The mundane and the private, who he has spent time with or is thinking about, hour after hour, all there revealed.   

But what about lists where nothing has to be scratched off.  I've seen some as writing prompts, some as self-care advice, some in mindfulness workbooks.  These kinds of lists are there for us to retrieve and do with as we will.  Like "Places I want to See" or "Where My Best Memories Were Made" (Ok, on a porch swing--marriage proposal; in Paris--honeymoon; in London--young marrieds; in Blowing Rock, NC--another honeymoon.)  Or "My Favorite Places and Why."  All individualized ways to appreciate our past or plan our future. 

Then there are the more difficult lists, but still helpful.  Lists like "What I Fear" or "Traumas in My Life."  "My Survival Tactics" or "This Helps Me."   I like this last one best.  I'd like to make this list carefully so what helps me will be on mental speed-dial when I need it.  

All these Not-To-Do-Lists not only solidify our memories, but also help us understand ourselves better.  What about this one, "How I Do NOT Want to Be" followed by "How I Want to Be?"  My responses are almost instantaneous for the first list.  I Do Not Want to Be:
Depressed
Anxious
Thoughtless
Unkind

The happier list by far is "How I Want to Be."  This list too comes readily. Because we know how we want our lives to unfold.  For me, I Want to Be: 
Aware
Creative
Peaceful
Grateful
Mindful
Loving
Healthy
Valued
Kind

Helpful
Hopeful

This list is far longer for most of us because it is probably the way we actually are, more often than we always notice.  So, let's pick what we want to list.  If it's not the time to list fears, don't.  If it is the time to list achievements, do.  If it's not the time to face the bad times, don't.  If it is, remember that you are brave, loved, healthy and strong.   

Well, this has turned out to be my Investing in Yourself post.  I didn't know that when I began.  So, I've added the title.  That's what lists can do; help us arrive somewhere. How nice.                                                                                                           Nina Naomi