Friday’s Passing Fancies: Salmon Creek/We Find Peace

…and when the world is howling,
we leave, seeking hearts of stones,
filigree of leaf and web
and water’s life saving–
we go in search of one other
amid mastery of earth
and oh we gather such finds in
God’s shady hollows and wild light

(for Marc)
salmon-creek-in-fall-007

salmon-creek-in-fall-087

salmon-creek-in-fall-028

salmon-creek-in-fall-126

salmon-creek-in-fall-153

salmon-creek-in-fall-217

 

salmon-creek-in-fall-141

salmon-creek-in-fall-164

salmon-creek-in-fall-189

salmon-creek-in-fall-211

salmon-creek-in-fall-105

A Master Key to Contentment

CA. trip 263

Seeking serenity is a way of life for me, a nourishment I cannot live well without. It may have been intensified by troublesome times as a child and young adult but it has nonetheless been a natural impulse as long as I can remember. In any case, it is a powerful key to a kind of magic guidebook for living richly. Why wouldn’t I use it all the time?

It’s being attentive to the harmony that is coexistent with discordance, locating symmetry that hides inside the apparently off-kilter. My belief is that there is order in the messy jumble of life, and renewed creation stirring in the design of every universal interaction. Like pebbles tossed into water, nature’s actions and reactions are a demonstration of exquisite unity and symbiosis. And in human connections–slight as a fast second on the street or ongoing as a long partnership–there are various manifestations of energy exchanged, networks of coexistence revealed.

It is often a sudden point of acute awareness that brings me a sense of serenity. I recognize myself in others’ humanness. I see my place, another soul passing through the byways¬†of human life, a series of trudges and leaps through a breathtaking if also spoiled paradise we share. There are lessons everywhere, light that seeps through the sieve of our often deliberate blindness. But I want to know what is there; I want to reap the rewards of paying attention. The weeping as well as the laughing. The sheer authenticity of life rewards me with a deeper peace in the end.

It’s hard to be disappointed as serenity reveals itself in transitory events or ancient, sweeping vistas. It was in tiny drops of light among azalea bushes as I walked this morning. Released from Samuel Barber’s heartrending “Adagio for Strings” for at least the hundredth time yesterday. My city balcony brings me deeper inside the majestic dark, where I am reassured the North Star and Big and Little Dippers yet demonstrate a purposeful design well placed in a vast cosmos. But¬†even¬†cutting up a nectarine or tomato elicits a smile–the very idea of seeds! The purity of fruit fleshiness. And such tart sweetness savored.

There are other paths to experiencing serenity, of course. For me, engaging in a variety of creative projects fills a predominant need. Spending time in prayer and meditation is essential. Spontaneous dancing frees a joyous tranquility. Whistling (I’m an inveterate whistler) favored tunes–classical or pop or jazz or my own–does, too. Reading brings mental relief as well as stimulation, both kinds of peace. Sitting and talking with loved ones–or chatting with a cashier. Attending a symphony concert, visiting art galleries. Ice skating and hiking. Chopping zucchini for a succulent green salad.

There are endless choices for participating and observing that bring me to that fine, still point of serenity. I prefer to let go of cares I still pick up–as if my carrying their cumbersome weight will solve the problems when in fact, I more often tire and stumble. So I back off, give space to thought and feeling, fling wide the knotty nets of perseveration and emotions. Just be more empty and then open in that way a rippling span of a wild meadow is: all life working together, with time enough for work and rest. I am welcoming of gifts that arrive from everywhere.

It’s a numinous life we are born with and into, and its mystical ways seem to me at once ordinary and exotic. All we have to do is turn around to see evidence of a stupendous wisdom. Deep beauty. Even when there is tragedy to throw us off. Even when there is rancorous pain that wars with a need for kind relief. I think of the juxtaposition often, perhaps because I was a counselor so long and know the price people pay as they thrash about looking for peace, longing for a life to cherish and feel cherished by. But also because I have been acquainted with difficulties. When seeking serenity amid the waste of disregard or rougher antics of living, we can bound toward the healing touch of wonder to rescue ourselves again. Find the inherent peace that is there, waiting. Just listen, watch. Be patient. I trust it to reveal itself, open like a tender, stalwart flower in the midst of the odd wilderness of humaness.

Love, the most basic human compassion and appreciation, is part of this peace. It seems love attracts more tranquility. A charitable act is enough on its own but may bring a return of the same. A smile elicits another smile or a jaunty nod. But who it mostly transforms, I think, is ourselves. When I view life from a place of acceptance and care, I see more clearly, as if mind and heart develop magnified views. Then comes more clarity. Just as the imperfections of a hand thrown ceramic vase provide unique qualities, so do our quirks and defects. We’re made of marvelous whole cloth as humans; that cloth is rendered durable if perhaps a bit spotty by the mysteries of DNA. And gradually life leaves marks within, and those we leave upon it and others. But we are working our way down the road and its byways with help from the powers of physics and presence of many people, some we don’t ever truly know. And, for me, God and heavenly guardians.

A key to my ability to rebound and regroup, to stay in the present while also moving forward is this innate need for peace and tranquility. The life we lead requires it. It is sustenance, regenerates¬†body and refills soul. I sit at my computer desk and hear the sonorous tones of chimes one of my daughters gave me a decade ago. And robins and crows among others. Earlier I listened to cellist Yo-Yo Ma’s album “Obrigado Brazil”. He’s a musician, a cellist I have long adored not only because of his extraordinary talent. He harbors grace that seems to vibrate, and an enthusiasm for not only a large variety of music but for life. He transmutes his experiences of harmony and delight into the miracle sound.

The months of April and May are not lately my most favored. I do enjoy the lessening of the cold rains and the profusion of flowers that take over all but it is also a time of sad remembrance. My oldest sister died right before my own birthday (one year ago) and my mother passed and was buried on Mother’s Day (fifteen years now). I miss them, still, though the ache is not overwhelming. And this year, my husband became acutely ill and was hospitalized. So I seek more serenity as it is needed. Sadness can be a beacon if you become fully open to it, for beyond the tears flow more love and gratitude.

I began this post thinking I would share only a few pictures along with a line here and there. Oh dear, words carried me along their willful current, as ever. But now to share a few places or moments I have found inspiration and the treasured balm of serenity. I hope you also will be moved to seek more each day. Don’t put it off; the Grand Mystery of Everything awaits you!

Taken at a favorite cottage and beach on the Pacific Ocean:

Yachats 66th BDay 341Yachats 66th BDay 275

M., my husband, recently survived multiple blood clots in both lungs. This peaceful though short vacation was a good healing time.

Yachats BDay trip, Irv. walk 149

Yachats BDay trip, Irv. walk 137 Yachats 66th BDay 542

M. rock hunting, guaranteed to bring serenity. Me, breathing salt sea air, mesmerized.

Yachats 66th BDay 431

This is a city park where I power walk and also enjoy the pond with ducks and a heron, towering trees, flowering bushes, people relaxing and exercising.

City and market 047

I ¬†find peace and delight at the farmer’s market on the week-end.

Random pictures of gardens and me 025Random pictures of gardens and me 020

City and market 007

City and market 010

The forest saves me. I often hike in woods within our city and elsewhere and last time watched a barred owl for several moments!

Random pictures of gardens and me 048I have a thing for trees! They shelter all, give us oxygen, beauty.

Tryon 1st hike 095Tryon 1st hike 132

DSCF5991

Tillamook Forest and Hwy 101 7-24-10 006

One of the best paces in the Northwest: Steigerwald National Wildlife Refuge In Washington. We love the Cascade mountains, glimpses of Columbia Gorge, open meadows, marshes, birds.

Steigerwald birds and such 3-16 075 Steigerwald birds and such 3-16 049IMG_9214

I look forward to any ferry ride, especially when heading out from northwestern WA. for Vancouver Island, BC. Serenity, every time.

Victoria Trip 7-12 784

Victoria Trip 7-12 427Just a glimpse of beautiful Butchart Gardens, Vancouver Island.

Victoria Trip 7-12 323

Victoria Trip 7-12 581

Easy: simple fun creates contentment along the lively waterfront in Victoria.

I also seek out Portland’s Japanese Garden frequently. It was the place I needed to be following 9/11, and go when I want to be filled with beauty, yet also emptied.

A fine place to go for countless infusions of serenity.

010 052 094

DSCN7619 DSCN7670

But I love walking in my own historic neighborhood; it provides me with ample doses of happy surprises and peace–and an abundance of flowers, without which life would be much less joyful.

IMG_2031

IMG_2716

Bishop's Close, teal 078

Walking in light 011 Walking in light 015 Walking in light 021

Serenity waits. Go find the magic. Fill up; share the abundance.

(Please note: All photographs are mine. Please share but attribute to me.¬†If you’d enjoy seeing more visual posts let me know.)

The Great Unknowns

DSCN0530

Ever get the feeling that something is about to happen but¬†it isn’t going to be an event¬†you¬†desire?¬†Something you¬†cannot¬†even imagine? Or you can, and that’s the problem, or will be sooner or later.

Your throat¬†tightens as though a vise has gripped it, your breath is¬† squashed¬†by the¬†fancy architecture of your ribs. What was once your important and strong core, i.e., your diaphragm, is now a puddle of¬†bad jelly.¬†Your heart? It has its own agenda and it is not listening to reason. Your autonomic system¬†is responding to¬†a three alarm fire and you can’t even see the smoke. Then you realize what is happening but it leaves you quaking anyway: anxiety attack! If only there was somewhere to run¬†for cover.

Or perhaps it is a malingering you feel, a daily burden, a sensation that nothing is ever quite right or something will go wrong no matter what is done. A deep sense of unease keeps you company, heightened by some circumstances, lessening a bit in others. But it is like your shadow, never vanishing once and for all.

Anxiety is the most common¬†mental health issue¬†noted in the U.S.¬†At least eighteen percent of the population suffers enough to seek help according to one report. I can testify to how widespread it is after counseling clients for over twenty-five years. I estimate that¬†seventy percent of my clients have¬†anxiety.¬†They have said it is¬†the primary reason (grief and loss is second, tied with depression)¬†for abusing drugs and alcohol. And they also complain that they’ve developed¬†a host of¬†symptoms related to anxiety (and the stress and tension it brings) from insomnia to nausea to migraines;¬†avoidance of the company of others; and¬†becoming blocked in¬†achieving lifelong goals. It can¬†kick-start depression. Anxiety can stop you from going out the door for milk or to a holiday party.

DSCN0533

Anxiety is¬†the buzzing¬†static¬†in your head that is louder than¬†a city at full-tilt. It makes things feel harder. Relief is the goal for those who know its redundant tune. Anxiety can¬†hold you hostage. And all you want is freedom, if only the very thought of it wasn’t so¬†anxiety producing.

But my disclaimer: this post does not offer a perfect panacea. There are already good ways and means to address anxiety disorders if that is what you experience and need professional help. At the local bookstore are a wide variety of books on how to manage anxiety. There are physical and spiritual practices (meditation and prayer, yoga, acupuncture, tai chi, and so on) that ease symptoms. Therapists have skills that enable them to treat anxiety in all its manifestations; they make a decent living due to so much need. Pharmaceutical companies profit from designing and selling medications that may or may not help.

What I want to talk about is¬†that it is possible to¬†de-fang¬†and de-claw much of our anxiety.¬†I don’t even think much of that word; it lacks¬†even a utilitarian¬†flair.¬†I am certain that decades ago “nervousness” was just another emotion to experience and cope with; now it has become a major diagnosis. But it is here to stay, it seems.¬†So this is an essay about how I have increasingly avoided¬†an emotional stutter that forces a¬†time out from life.¬†Because that’s what anxiety feels like to me: going into¬†a corner, facing a wall for more than a tolerable¬†few minutes. As long as anxiety can breathe my breath for long, I’m not living the life¬†I¬†need to live: full-on, intrigued by what comes my way and how I get to respond. What I get to next create.

Oregon Garden  with Avery and Asher+misc 041

I’m not easily thrown¬†by challenges¬†though I’ve had some doozies.¬†But I learned a few useful things along the way. Painful events are equal opportunity: we all get to experience them, first off, because we’re born with human bodies.¬†Bundles of nerves and powerful chemicals that create chain reactions set¬†the stage.¬†Each emotional nuance helps us to¬†better know ourselves and others. Our¬†potential and limits.¬†Sometimes we get into something we didn’t foresee at all. Or too late. And it has sudden impact.

Like the one I stumbled into when almost fifteen.

I was walking¬†by a city park, above it, actually, on railroad tracks. The sun beamed down on all.¬†I loved trains, being in them or not. I’d once jumped¬†one for a slow ride as it came into town, hanging on with one hand,¬†the¬†wheels’ rhythms travelling up bone and sinew. So I kept my eye on¬†the far point and my ear¬†attuned to a mellow whistle. It was Indian summer in Michigan.¬†There were children down below playing, adults sharing a last barbecue, and¬†their shouts and laugher drifted up the hill.¬†No train made itself apparent. I wasn’t worried if one did start barreling toward me¬†as¬†I could easily¬†scramble up the¬†incline to the street. There, just out of¬†reach, were¬†gracious homes with broad lawns that overlooked¬†the Tittabawasee River and the park.

I was thinking of little when I heard them. Footsteps. They¬† closely matched mine but¬†fell¬†heavier, then¬†a bit faster. I threw a glance over my shoulder, thinking it was another like-minded person¬†enjoying the day, waiting for a train. But no.¬†He was not much older than was I, maybe younger, wiry with dark¬†hair and no smile. No words. He felt…wrong.¬†Discomfort did not creep up on me; it hammered me¬†with¬†a surge of adrenalin that was critical. I started to run; my legs chose how fast.

Zoo Day and Farmer's Market-City pics 023

Not fast enough.¬†Hands grabbed¬†and I was down, blows catching my chest, face. I kicked and hit back and when¬†my jeans were¬†tugged I bit the hand that tried to silence me. I screamed at him. He wasn’t giving up easily but¬†I was raging.¬†My only defense was words because¬†below me in the park no one¬†could or¬†would pay attention.¬†¬† I said¬†exactly what¬†I felt with a force that shook me.

“Who do you think you are?¬†God is more powerful than you and¬†He will get you for this! Stop!”

He pulled back, stunned, eyes wide. He went a little slack so I  shoved him off. He fell over and I dashed up the hill and into the street. I heard the train whistle, that low, full-bellied moan that builds into a forlorn and beckoning call. I could not stop running running running. I did not tell anyone what happened but said I had fallen hard and split my lip. Telling that sort of truth was not encouraged in my mid-sixties town.  I pondered if I made the error, wrong place and time. I decided it might not be the best place to walk alone but nothing was my fault. Yet,  self-doubt lingered. Anxiety found a way in, cutting me off from the known world, weakening my confidence.

I survived that attack; in the future even¬†worse would waylay my life. But countless¬†people¬†can and do survive¬†terrible things every day. Living¬†is a complicated ride where treachery and wondrousness¬†can share a¬†seat.¬†Large and small tragedies¬†make us ask: what is safety, really, in the end?¬†We come into this world with¬†hearts and spirits ready to be dazzled and they are. But they’re also¬†turned inside out.

How does one live beyond the bruisings and wounds? Was I¬†to be dogged by paralyzing fear whenever I left a familiar sidewalk, town, country? Would I¬†battle nightmares the rest of my life, only to enter each day expecting the same or worse?¬†Did I fashion an armor so fail proof that I was distanced from others? How to find¬†a way back to ease?¬†It was imperative¬†to learn how to thrive¬†in¬†altered territory, both interior and exterior. It took¬†time.¬†I patched things back together with¬†help,¬†same as anyone who¬†desires to live¬†better.¬†Anxiety, which is a gnawing worry over¬†loss of control in our lives, was not my real problem. I already knew I could have control taken away, with pain left in its stead. So my thinking had to change so I could “live life on life’s terms” (as¬†AA informs recovering folks). Peace was the prize I coveted.

Yachats Beach Trip Day2-9-9-11 122

So facing up to the fact that our lives are unpredictable but resilient  helps. Safety is, in actuality, often relative, fluid and shaped by our viewpoint. How do I determine not the future but the way I will greet it?

So we can adjust our¬†perspective.¬†As¬†a youth I¬†tried to ignore¬†spurts of anxiety (why feed something I didn’t like?) with some success (denial can give us a break). I tried blotting it out with substances. I distracted myself with work, achievements, loved ones.¬†I was busy first and last, being constructive in my life. But nothing yielded good results until I found another way. It was imple¬†acceptance. Of¬†the real¬†sense of uncertainty. Of¬†randomness and sudden changes in the scheme of things. Anxiety accompanies our living; nerves are conduits of information to apprise and use¬†all our systems. Without some adrenalin I’d not¬†move from a chair, after all.¬†I had to make a friendly alliance with anxiety. And, sad human creatures that we sometimes are,¬†¬†we also need great, unswerving¬†compassion. I give you and myself full permission to heap this on ourselves whenever we feel small. Vulnerable. Then go out there; walk in¬† kindness.

Not everything needs to ring¬†the alarm. It can ring a small bell. There can be silence. Times¬†can feel¬†harrowing but others are¬† tender, exquisite.¬†Battling old¬†or unseen adversaries–phantoms on the railroad tracks–keeps the bloody fight going. It¬†took the spunk out of me, which I refuse to allow again.¬†We cannot reasonably fight the unknown.¬†I can¬†learn how to be a dragon slayer, just in case, but why? Surprise is¬†a valued¬†element¬†in my life story as well as acceptance. I do have trust that I’ll keep on walking to¬†the end of this road. That it will stay¬†lit up by¬†ordinary and Divine Love and the next turn will¬†proffer¬†extraordinary things. I am,¬†simply put,¬†allied with my humanness and with¬†my faith. I have surrendered so that I¬†can¬†dwell in my personal power; fear will not¬†own me. And if it gets to me anyway, I remind myself: I am like a sieve as¬†emotions flow through, morph and retreat, rise then fall. Things¬†change once¬†again.

I open the door wide.¬†I look around as my animal senses pay attention.¬†This¬†is¬†automatic and also prudent.¬†I step out and breathe lungfuls of¬†fresh air. Today it is chilled and rainy; I welcome it. Tomorrow? Who knows how the winds will blow? I’m as ready as I¬†can expect to be. There is not time or inclination to give¬†the vast unknowns so much attention.¬†Life calls to me, even the world,¬†and I am enthralled.¬†I just get on with it. You can, too.

Victoria Trip 7-12 580