Tag Archives: heatherfromthegrove

Bamboo rising

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Since my earlier blog post, The spirit of bamboo, the stalk (see my photo, above) has grown about ten more feet into the sky and is now sprouting bamboo leaves!  It is now approximately 20 feet above the roof line and continues to grow.  We are in awe. 

What’s equally stunning is the late night view, when the Belt of Orion (a constellation of three bright, evenly spaced stars — lined up in a vertical row) seems to be positioned (each night) to the right of the upper part of our bamboo stalk.  Unfortunately, my camera is not good enough to capture this beauteous nighttime wonder, but this photo (see photo, left) will show you what the constellation looks like at night (just imagine the bamboo stalk to the left of the Belt).

We have a grove of bamboo trees, but this one stalk simply keeps growing and growing.  So, I decided to do some research on the divine and symbolic attributes of bamboo.

And that is when I came upon The 7 Life Lessons from Bamboo by Sompong Yusoontorn:

These are very wise and true words, indeed. 

For the moment, however, let’s cast symbolism and meaning aside — instead, simply savour the beauty of this bamboo.  And without fail, each night, the trio of stars keep reappearing — twinkling brightly  alongside this statuesque stalk.  And again, and again, we are in awe.

Whispering “goodbyes”

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“I dropped a tear in the ocean. The day you find it is the day I will stop missing you.”   ~ Author Unknown

As many of you know, the challenges and triumphs of the Baby Boom Generation are the focus of much of my non-fiction writing (and some of my fiction pieces).  As a Baby Boomer myself,  I am acutely aware that we owe our existence, our freedoms, and our prosperity to the men and women who endured, fought, and won some of the most grueling battles and economic downturns in the 20th century, such as World War Two and the Great Depression.  American television journalist Tom Brokaw dubbed them “The Greatest Generation.”   They were our grandparents, great uncles and great aunts or our parents, uncles and aunts (depending on when you were born … the Baby Boomer scale runs from 1946 to 1964).

Many are no longer with us — some have passed in recent years, while others are soon to follow.  My friends (from the later 1958-1964 BB scale), like myself, have recently lost or are in the process of losing one or both of their parents.  It’s heart-wrenching, having to say goodbye to the ones who have played such a pivotal role in your life.

To my dear friends (you know who you are) who are coping with recent (or soon to be) losses, please know that you are in my thoughts and prayers.  I’m only a phone call away and I’ve been where you are now.  Much love, h.

“The heart that has truly loved never forgets,
but as truly loves on to the close.
You may break; you may shatter the vase, if you will,
but the scent of the roses will hang ’round it still.
Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.”

~ Thomas Moore (1779-1852)

The spirit of bamboo

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“It is the elite plant from Asia, the inspiration for countless myths, the manifestation of perfection, both flexible and strong in structure: Bamboo. Stories tell the tale of its nature. Gods display themselves through it. To be sure, bamboo serves as a symbol of luck and the image of long life….

The spirituality of bamboo in Taoism is ascribed to its behavior during a storm: the evergreen bamboo bends to the forces of nature and yet returns unbroken to its original state. Patience, steadfastness, and the blessings of the gods are symbolized through these properties.” (from lotao.com)

We planted a grove of bamboo trees on the side of our home here in Coconut Grove. It’s the part of the garden that inspires meditation and relaxation — a place to read a good book and be still.  Not surprisingly, our divine dog (11½ -year old black Lab, Bacchus) has decided that this part of the garden is his special place to lie down and catch a few zzzzz’s.

What has amazed us is that only in the space of 1 week (I jest you not, ONE WEEK!), this particular bamboo stalk has soared up to the sky, approximately 18 feet over the adjacent Royal Ponciana tree!

We keep gawking at this bamboo stalk, in sheer amazement. 

Is this a sign that “the best is yet to come?”  I’d like to think so.

In the meantime, we shall keep raising our eyes in the same direction of our wonderful bamboo …. upwards, always upwards.

(P.S.  the fireplace chimney — original to this 1928 cottage — is pure coral. Coral is the native stone of South Florida.  Whenever one tries to plant into the ground, one hits coral after about a foot of digging. Another one of nature’s blessings).

Goodbye, my huckleberry friend

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Moon River

Moon river, wider than a mile
I’m crossing you in style some day
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker
Wherever you’re goin’, I’m goin’ your way

Two drifters, off to see the world
There’s such a lot of world to see
We’re after the same rainbow’s end, waitin’ ’round the bend
My huckleberry friend, moon river, and me

(moon river, wider than a mile)
(I’m crossin’ you in style some day)
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker
Wherever you’re goin’, I’m goin’ your way

Two drifters, off to see the world
There’s such a lot of world to see
We’re after that same rainbow’s end, waitin’ ’round the bend
My huckleberry friend, moon river, and me

I have come out of hibernation to pay homage to a man who I grew up watching and listening to — Andy Williams.  I remember curling up on the sofa, comfy in my pjs, eager to watch the Andy Williams Show.  I especially liked to watch his show over the Christmas holidays.  There he would be, dressed smartly in trousers and a wool turtleneck sweater, fireplace burning in the background.  The smile on his mouth always, always reached his eyes.  And then he’d sing.  Christmas Carols, my mother’s favorite (Days of Wine and Roses), and my all-time treat — Moon River.  I know, I know, I’m showing my age. Never mind. That was a simpler, more wholesome time. How I miss those days!

Another one of the good ones has bid us “Farewell.”  What a lovely legacy he has left behind.  A man of integrity with smiling eyes, a silken voice, and songs that remind us of once upon a time.

Howard Andrew (“Andy”) Williams

1927-2012

Image via americanprofile.com.

For the love of a dog

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Dogs are truly Divine creatures.  I found this poem and thought I would share it with all you dog lovers out there.

Grow Old with Dogs

“When I am old…. I will wear soft gray sweatshirts, and a bandanna over my silver hair, and I will spend my social security checks on wine and my dogs.

I will sit in my house on my well-worn chair and listen to my dogs breathing. I will sneak out in the middle of a warm summer night and take my dogs for a run, if my old bones will allow.

When people come to call…… I will smile and nod as I show them my dogs…… and talk of them and about them; the ones so beloved of the past and the ones so beloved today.

I will still work hard cleaning after them, mopping and feeding them and whispering their names in a soft loving way. I will wear the gleaming sweat on my throat, like a jewel and I will be an embarrassment to all…especially my family…. who have not yet found the peace in being free  to have dogs as your very best friends.

These friends who will always wait at any hour, for your footfall…. and eagerly jump to their feet out of a sound sleep, to greet you as if you are a God.

With warm eyes full of adoring love and hope that you will always stay, I’ll hug their big strong necks….. I’ll kiss their dear sweet heads…… and whisper in their very special company.

I look in the Mirror…… ..And see I am getting old. This is the kind of person I am and have always been. Loving dogs is easy, they are part of me. Please accept me for who I am. My dogs appreciate my presence in their lives… they love my presence in their lives.

When I am old, this will be important to me. You will understand when you grow old…… if you have dogs to love too.”

— Author Unknown

From sea to shining sea

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Seven years ago today, at sunset, the ashes of my mother and my aunt were scattered at sea.  It was a misty evening — with fog and rough waters.  Having grown up by the sea, it was the final request of each sister — with the hope that the waves would guide their ashes from the Atlantic shores of their adopted country to the land of their birth, along their beloved azure Mediterranean coast.

They are deeply missed, but we know — deep in our hearts — that they are Home … and at peace.

“As we return to the earth and sea from whence we came, Divine Creator of all in heaven and on earth, we bring before you these last earthly remains, returned to you, to do with as you will, and to set free for all eternity; and to remind us that forever they shall live in the wind and the waves and on the earth in substance. 

Even though the spirit is already with you, we ask that you receive these ashes of the one that you created, that you might create again from them life anew.”

— Prayer for Scattering

To Listen (and really Hear)

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A few days ago, I spoke about how (as we age) we become more appreciative of our five senses.   Although the senses of sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch are — in each their own way — unique and valuable, one stands out above the rest :  Hearing.  

Now, I am not speaking literally (i.e. hearing a sound). If I were being literal, I would give first priority to the physical ability to see.

But, I am speaking metaphysically.  

I am keenly fascinated by Taoist philosophy. Taoism (modernly referred to as Daoism, which is a more accurate English pronunciation of the Chinese word) is an ancient Chinese philosophy and religion whose core belief centers upon the Tao (also referred to as Dao).  Tao means the Way (or Path) … the underlying law of the universe.  Tao is not God, nor is it worshipped.  It is a religious philosophy of  unity and opposites:  Yin and Yang — where the universe is composed of complementary opposites like  dark and light, hot and cold, action and inaction, feminine and masculine.  Harmony or unity with nature, self-development,  the pursuit of spiritual immortality, and living a virtuous (humbly so) life — these are  the basic tenets of Taoism.

The theory of Yin and Yang is also central to all Oriental health practices. And, the root of all health is Ch’i.  In his book “The Book of Ch’i: Harnessing the Healing Force of Energy,” author Paul Wildish writes:

“Ch’i is “breath,” it is the air that we breathe and at the same moment the energy and vitality that sustain us.  Everything we see, or touch, or experience is composed of ch’i and is merely an arrangement of this energy into recognizable form.  It is a concept comparable to the explanation of quantum physics for the structure of atoms and molecules as accumulations of energy organized into distinct patterns.  Our whole existence is determined by this energy.  All facets of human life, our physical health, mental alertness, and emotional stability are conditioned by the levels and the relative flow of ch’i in and around our bodies.  Summoning, conserving, and using ch’i therefore is vital to maintaining a happy and healthy life  …. Ch’i operates through the bipolar dynamic of yin and yang, in a constant process of transmutation.  When we breathe in it is yin and when we breathe out it is yang … Good health is founded on establishing a natural cyclic equilibrium of these two forces.”

So, now you understand where I’m coming from when I say that “I am speaking metaphysically.”  I view the importance of the senses (notably the sense of “hearing”) as harmonizing with nature and thus contributing to our quest for self-development.

The 6th century Chinese philosopher (also known as the Father of Taoism) Lao Tzu (“Old Sage”) best articulates what I am trying to say about the importance of listening (and really hearing):

“It is hard to hear anything when you are doing the talking. Appreciate the value of silence, listen to the world around you and gain understanding from the insights it offers. “

In my reality, as perhaps in yours as well, this may mean listening to someone (be it friend, family or even a stranger) who needs a sounding board, a compassionate ear.  Or, it may be someone who wants you to go beyond listening, to really hear what he is trying to say (although he is not speaking).  In this case, you have to hear what his silence is telling you.  And then, understand.

Aye, there’s the rub.

Images via sheknows.com  and fertility-health.com.

Summer reveries …

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As a child, I used  to love those quiet summer days when I’d lie down on the grass and gaze up at the sky, marvelling at its perfection.  I’d close my eyes and feel the sun’s warmth on my skin, and listen to the gentle rustling of leaves from the large oak tree nearby.  I would lie there for hours, as midday became late afternoon.  Sometimes the weather would shift, surprising me, bringing with it a new set of  sensory delights. Mesmerized by the different cotton ball shapes, I’d track the movement of the clouds as the warm summer breeze caressed my face and I waited in anticipation for what was sure to come next:  the sun shower.  I’d laugh out loud as the raindrops tickled my skin, and stick my tongue out to taste the drops.  Before I could count the minutes, the shower stopped, leaving behind the fresh smell of rain. Then it was time for me to go inside for tea time with my mother. I’d jump up, shake the grass off, and — with the hint of a smile on my lips — I’d leave my peaceful afternoon reverie behind. There would be more summer days like that.  Plenty more.

Although those sweet childhood days have long since gone, I still enjoy summer days like that.  In youth, we take much for granted — not at all concerned about the passage of Time.  As we age, we become acutely aware of how precious each and every moment is.  We are grateful for each and every sense that we are blessed with. It becomes more important for us to look (and really see)  the beauty all around us, to listen to (and truly hear) the sounds that make us smile,  to breathe in and smell that first summer rain, to taste and savour a freshly picked apple, and to touch  the hand of a loved one (like it was the first and may possibly be the last time). 

To live life as if Today is all we have, is to savour and love each and every minute.

Don’t put it off until tomorrow. 

 

Photo Credit Anita Patterson-Peppers via iStockPhoto.

Balancing time: back to the halcyon days

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“The more you sense the rareness and value of your own life, the more you realize that how you use it, how you manifest it, is all your responsibility. We face such a big task, so naturally we sit down for a while.”

— Kobun Chino Otogawa Roshi

My greatest challenge is balancing time. With so many book projects — in different stages of development — I sometimes feel overwhelmed.  Experience has taught me that when this feeling washes over me, it’s time to press the “pause” button in my life and switch gears.  So, I put my gardening shoes, hat and gloves on  and then step out into my very own tropical garden.  When I’m pruning, weeding, planting and tending to my herb garden, fruit trees and flowers, I am in another zone.  A zone were mobile phones, emails, LinkedIn and Google do not exist.  This is a time and space when/where I am able to think, imagine, and create — not on paper, but in my mind.  This is a place of peace, of balance.  So, I’ve made some decisions as to how I should balance my time. 

In this country (United States), many people work 24/7.  Some, because they have to and, others, because they want to.  It is very easy to get caught up in that work ethic. Whatever the reason, it is simply not healthy to work continuous long hours, seven days a week.  In many locations around the world (notably, Europe), Sunday is still considered a day of rest. In Israel, Saturday (the Sabbath) is observed as a day of rest.  In the days of yore (pre-1970), North Americans happily left work behind at the end of Friday and prepared to enjoy their weekends (Saturday AND Sunday) with family and friends. 

It is my belief that those were the halcyon days.  Granted, the world is a lot more complicated and intense.   But, and think about this,  does it really have to be?  Do we not have the power to make choices about our own lives?  Can’t we figure out a way to balance work and play, business interaction and family interaction, money and quality of life?  Are they all mutually exclusive?

I think we can strike a balance between all the components of our life, although we may have to choose to let some go.  For example, does little Suzie really need to go to ballet class, Girl Guides, tennis, AND Glee Club?  Shouldn’t two extracurricular activities be enough? I’ve said this many times — to anyone who will listen — we overschedule ourselves and our children.

I, for one,  intend to recalibrate my thinking.  I now refuse to answer business calls during the weekend (yes, Saturday AND Sunday) and after 9 pm on weekdays. On weekends, I will not check LinkedIn or respond to business emails.  I will not do client work on weekends, only my own projects. 

Weekends are for family and friends. No exceptions.  I will go on Facebook and Skype, because that’s how I communicate with family and friends who live miles (and oceans) away. 

So, there you have it.  Back to the 1950’s, but with a 21st century social media twist!

As for Volume 1 (When the Child Becomes the Parent) in my 4-volume Baby Boomer Series, it’s still in progress. Spring has come and gone. I am eye-deep in research.  It will be done when it is done.  Sooner, rather than later.  I’m not getting any younger.

“Writing is not a matter of time, but a matter or of space. If you don’t keep space in your head for writing, you won’t write even if you have the time.” 

— Katerina Stoykova Klemer

Image (stones) via groupsoutdor.com.

Her Eyes Spoke Volumes

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Mother-Daughter relationships can be very complex.  Mine was not.  It was, actually, exceedingly simple.  We understood each other and loved each other — unconditionally and without judgement.  Sure, we fought. But, my God, did we laugh … long, loud and often.

My mother had a beautiful singing voice and a dimpled smile. She was tiny (all 4’11” of her), and yet her natural charisma gave her a towering presence.

She spoke with her eyes. We could have complete conversations, she and I, without ever uttering a word.

Her Eyes

by VALARIE M. SHEA
Gone are the eyes that watched me grow
The eyes that were able to see into my soul
Together we climbed mountains and made it through the pain
Only to find out that someday it would be forever changed
As you’ve gotten weaker, I’ve gotten stronger
Able to take care of myself even though I didn’t want to

You’d be proud of my wit, my confidence and my charm
People say I’m just like you and I know all about your charms
The eyes are in my heart, the eyes that saw my soul
But gone are the beautiful eyes, the eyes that watched me grow

Not a day goes by without me remembering her eyes.

When I look into the mirror, there they are.

MUM2

Evelyn Formosa Blundell (née Alamango Cook)

March 9, 1926 – June 19, 2005

Gone, but definitely Not forgotten.

R.I.P.