A Visit From My Christmas Spirit

  

At such a joyous time of year,

My Christmas spirit's in low gear -

I'm putting too much octane

In my tank of busyness;

Instead of looking 'round to see

The beauty that's surrounding me,

My eyes keep looking inward

Focusing on my own mess.

The Spirit, longing to impart

Its gift of hope to lift my heart,

I seem to have wrapped up and left

beneath the Christmas tree;

This precious gift that can't be bought

Should not be left to afterthought,

But opened first and shared a lot

With friends and family. 

As I pay it more attention,

Pause, and take time for reflection,

It is growing, speeding up,

Approaching second gear;

I'm heeding now its hopeful voice,

Speaking of a wiser choice:

To take each moment that I'm given

And spend it well this year.

          "If I could make you smile,

            For just a little while,

            It would give me such a lift

            To help you find

            Your forward shift

            That would be the perfect gift,

            One that we could open together,

            No ribbon to untie."

The Battle Cry

The Battle Cry

Remembrance Day is happening this weekend, and there are solemn services and acts taking place throughout this week.  Each year, while I stand at the cenotaph, I think of the mindset of those veterans who saw so many horrors, horrors that are still happening in many countries around the world; and I offer sincere prayers of thanks for the freedoms we have inherited, thanks to their sacrifice.  I tried to imagine what might have gone through their young minds and hearts as they heard the battle cry, and I wrote this cautionary poem for them,  a reminder that calls to action are happening daily for each of us.  Let us honour their memory and their sacrifice by stepping forward to help, lest we forget, and answer, "Not today". 

               Not Today

Two soldiers heard the battle cry,

Their blood grew cold within;

One thought of home, of loved ones dear;

The other, love that had not been,

Of chances that had passed him by

While he said, "Not today."

He thought of works he meant to do,

Of things he meant to say,

To his parents and his relatives

 To friends, moved far away,

And he regretted now his words,

"I'll work on that, but not today."

Each hour, the battle cries are heard

By soldiers, just like you and I,

When those in need call out our name,

Do we march forth, or not reply;

If we forget, we may regret

The race we have not won,

The love we've left un-nurtured,

The good we've left undone,

The choice is ours to make each day,

When cries fall on our ears,

When those in need, the marginalized,

Voice their hopes and fears;

As we listen, young and old,

Let's not let our hearts grow cold,

Don't tell them, "Not today".

A bag of Le Geyt Premium Bird Seed  -

 A banquet in my hand; Formulated by Elizabeth Le Geyt in 2012 in celebration of her 40 years of writing her bird column in the Ottawa Citizen, It was a fitting take-away gift handed out at her memorial service last week.  Elizabeth was an amazing lady, who embodied passion and wisdom in an active love for the environment.  Over her generous lifetime of 103 years, she shared these seeds eagerly, with her children and grandchildren, her  readers and fellow bird enthusiasts, and with her neighbours;

I knew Elizabeth originally as our next-door neighbour and friend on Martin Lane.  I loved her voice, her musical British accent - it brought every conversation to a more intense level of attention.  In those early years, I also learned to admire her in other ways; I recognized that her sophisticated British accent encased a brave and generous individual, a mother like my own,  and that her heart was subject to the same emotional ups and downs, as she raised her family of five boys.

Her love of nature in all its forms (except perhaps for bird-chasing cats!) was infectious, and we learned so much just being around her on walks down Kelly lane or playing about in their yard.  She was also an avid reader, encouraging us children to read as well - She generously shared her library of children's adventure books  with our family of seven children, who didn't have money for books in those days. 

Fast forward to 2014, and she and her son Michael co-authored a book themselves , "Bird Lady -  a lifelong love affair with birds".  The book title says it all - her life really was an inspiring love story, an adventure - one that she is, I'm sure, continuing to experience.   

A planter passed this way one day,

And scattered seeds about,

The birds flew in with shouts of glee,

To check the banquet out.

Some they ate, and some they dropped,

Upon the welcoming earth;

Plants grew up, their seeds  formed well,

Eager for rebirth.

Those tiny birds can tell us much;

To share,  for who knows when,

The planter will return,

To gather seeds to spread again.

A Pause In Nature

I love the Fall season, when Mother Nature takes a deep breath, a pause, and calls, "Break Time!"  Then she gathers up all of the stresses of the rest of the year and lets them all go in one glorious coloured exhalation.  

 Those stresses may have been in the form of uplifting growth experiences, or the weighty regrets of our individual unique gifts that have been left un-added to life's beauty;  Add in the fears created by world events and it's no wonder that our posture becomes less than erect and our gait slower .  Then along comes Nature with her reminder to be patient with ourselves,  that the year is maturing, and so are we, as day by day we release our own amazing colours into the world, both in our speech and in our actions.

  In this season of thanksgiving, as  Autumn colours swirl around us, Let's take her lead, and exhale - just let it all go;  A humble, quiet walk can be just what the doctor ordered:

A Humble Walk, A Silent Talk

I contemplated God's beauty

As I walked in the woods;

I breathed in His peace,

And it did my heart good.

In this green sanctuary,

In soft, quiet mood,

I lowered my head,

And it did my heart good.

How many have passed here,

And paused where I stood?

I greeted their presence,

And it did my heart good.

My spirit watched humbly

As leaves gently fell,

And covered my footsteps

'Till no one could tell

That one Fall afternoon

I had come to these woods,

I had partaken peace;

It had done my heart good.

Gentleness - Don't You Just Love It!

Gentleness - Don't you just love it?

Children are the most honest critics, aren't they?  They are able to sense the true character of those they interact with; They are attracted to playfulness and gentleness, especially when they find those qualities in surprising people or creatures, like a great big friendly giant or a fierce monster who just needs someone to pull a thorn out of its paw!

Throughout my life, I have been blessed to have so many family members, teachers  and friends who exemplify those positive qualities, despite the thorns that have caused them pain.

 Their presence  surrounds others with comfort and encouragement as we all struggle to share our gifts with the world.  They are the ones that we miss the most when they are no longer with us, those  faces graced by warm gentle smiles and mischievous twinkling eyes.

 Fear and disappointment will always be there, knocking  at our door, wanting to take over our agendas and drown our inspirations, placing the blame squarely on others.   It is up to us to choose how we answer those knocks; whether we open up to let  intolerance in with its negative view of others and of ourselves, or do we take a breath and wait  a few extra minutes for the chime of  gentleness to ring.  

  I hope that gentleness and good humour will win out in the battle for my attitude and that I will be courageous enough to pull out as many thorns as I can.   Tweezers up!

Apologies to Dylan Thomas:

Let me go gently

As I walk through this life,

Adding no harshness,

Bringing no strife;

When fear walks in boldly,

Disguised as my friend,

Carrying  anger

As it tries to pretend

That it came to protect me,

That I need to strike out,

Then, let me strike fear instead,

Turn it about,

And catch it off guard

With a warm, gentle smile,

Replacing its gloom

With the hope of a child.

No Ordinary Thing!

No Ordinary Thing!

No matter how many times I watch a child jumping in a puddle, skipping rope, playing hide -and-seek, or swinging, I am amazed at how beautiful these ordinary actions are, and how powerful their ripple effects can be;  I automatically stop and smile when I witness their play; a positive ripple, created out of thin air, with the power to change my mood.

  Children love to give gifts - pictures they have drawn, an original dance routine, notes and stories that they have written and ones that their voices create, in the form of songs or jokes.  They have an inner desire to share their gifts.  Over time, that desire becomes either stronger or weaker depending on their sense of freedom to share.  They notice our actions as much as our words, so Let us set an example for them; grab hold of our own inner child and jump into life's puddle with enthusiasm and courage as we share our own gifts:

It was something ordinary,

But a treasure that I'll save;

It clothed the extraordinary,

Music turned into a story;

A child's sweet gift she gave;

She sang a song about a dream;

No sooner did she start,

Than the simple little melody,

Very unexpectedly,

Reached right into my heart;

I was, once again, that little child,

Swinging in a  tree,

Seeing colours in its bark,

Then, piling leaves up in the park,   

And it delighted me!

She looked at me with hopeful eyes

As she laughed the final note;

No other would be quite like this,

Signed and given with a kiss;

A lump formed in my throat;

It was something unexpected,

On an ordinary day,

But, to touch a heart  and make it sing

Is no simple ordinary thing -

It's a miracle at play!

Who Am I – In Twenty Minutes?!

I’d love to introduce myself, but I don’t know who I am – yet!   It’s life’s great mystery, isn’t it?    Every moment that I’m alive changes me – so, I guess I’m a work in progress.  If you ask me who I am twenty minutes from now, I will have grown and fulfilled twenty more minutes of my life by finishing this ‘rant’, and it will have changed my mind set – I will not be the same person.  I will be twenty minutes older; the world will be twenty minutes older, and whatever I have invested in that time will remain with this world. 

With every breath we take, we have the potential for meaningful thought – that is a wonderful gift; our symphony, to direct in whatever way we choose.  Sometimes a beautiful piece of music takes me on a trip to inspiration land, and voila! – my thoughts have been lifted to new levels.

 Every one of us is our own student, teacher, our own scholar; Our subject matter can be as simple as noticing, observing, and learning from the actions of a house fly or a spider, a petal opening on a blossom; or as complex as picking up a book of philosophy and letting our minds absorb whatever rings true to us in that media.  Graduation day is actually broken down into graduation minutes. None of us knows how many ‘twenty minutes’ we will have left to grow and change and become; I’d like to introduce myself – just wait twenty minutes!

I'm a wondrous work in progress,

A conundrum to be sure;

When I wake up every morning,

When my thoughts are still a blur,

Before I even raise my head,

And start to take thoughts in,

Life turns a brand new page for me,

A chance to write a melody,

Then offers me the pen;

The words I write

Might help or heal,

Might change a life,

But then,

I'm still a work in progress,

I won't know till I begin.