I’m still going through boxes and stashed stuff. The latest find was some very fine merino fiber for spinning that I don’t remember buying. It must have been a long time ago. Fortunately, when I bought it I bought a full pound so whatever it turns out to be, I’ll have plenty.
Before drafting the colours are easily seen … pink, soft blue, light yellow, and an almost invisible lavender. The dyer called it “Unicorn”. But because I spin cobwebs, when I draft it the distinct colours fade. It becomes a soft mist. You see the colours, but they aren’t separate. Different, but lovely. It resembles what I imagine you’d see if you saw a rainbow through fog.
Too bad I don’t know anyone having a baby. It would make a nice christening shawl.
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Sunrise has moved decidedly north. I once again have morning rainbows all over my room from the crystals hanging in my east window. It is always a treat when the year turns enough for my mornings to again be blazing.
Of course that will change in about a week when Pacific Standard Time becomes Pacific Daylight Time and morning comes an hour later.
Oh well …
~~~
Another friend is now a widow.
During the days and weeks after George died, I thought a lot about grieving and how it “should” be done. I thought about cultural customs and taboos … about how some European cultures wear black arm bands for a designated period of time and those seeing the band recognize the mourner’s needs; about how some indigenous cultures require physical signs of loss such as cutting your hair; about acceptance of weeping in public; about withdrawing; about funeral services (which would seem to actually be for those attending … possibly an apology for whatever was left undone); about religious beliefs and practices; about how to best support the mourners; about …
My conclusion (so far) … we could be doing a lot better for those grieving.
If you ask a mourner “What do you miss most?”, the answer is often “Being touched.” or “Knowing there is someone who thinks I’m special.”
I have come to think the Jewish custom of sitting shiva has a lot to offer. Those of us/you who are grieving can just grieve and those who care for us/you (both emotionally and physically) can respond … we need to be quiet, they can just sit; we need food, they can feed; we need to talk, they can listen; we need to cry, they can hand tissues; we need reassurance , they can smile and/or hug …
I read once that grief hits so deep it can’t be seen. However, I believe it can be seen. It is just that you must look with the intent to see.
End of contemplation …
~~~
Remember I told you last week about the small book of poetry which had made its way from Redlands in California to Tampa in Florida to me here in far northern California and is now in Colorado? Well … here’s the rest of the story.
As you may (or may not) know, I grew up in a small southern California farm and ranching town named Hemet. It has a twin town named San Jacinto (pronounced san haw- sint’-toe).
I graduated from Hemet Union High School shortly after WWII.
Ona Jane Meens, who wrote the poetry in the found book, lived in Redlands when her book was printed in 1965, less than a hundred miles from Hemet-San Jacinto. Some time not too long after that, she moved with her husband and son to … yup … Hemet. I had moved on by that time and the town had become a city. Ona’s granddaughter was born in Hemet where my mother was a nurse in the hospital OB unit. She graduated from Hemet Union High and married a boy from San Jacinto. She is now living in Colorado and is the one to whom I returned the book.
I got this last sunday … “My grandmother’s book arrived! Thank you so much for sending it to me. I’m so surprised that you actually found me. Thank you again.”
Okay … all together now … It’s a Small, Small World.
~~~
Some time ago I bought a Peace Lily to put in my room as an air cleanser (an attribute researched and proven by NASA). She had outgrown her pot, so last thursday I undertook to repot her. Wow …
By the time I finished I had a nice new plant for the desk area in my room, a smaller plant for my bathroom, a plant for Tyler’s place, three starts to share with friends, and had discarded several small starts which didn’t seem to have adequate root growth for survival (after thanking them for their past help with my room air … yup, I talk to plants).
Next up for division and repotting … white holiday cactus.
And as an aside … my red holiday cactus is budding for the second time this season.
~~~
And finally … I just saw this and it hit home …
You ask, “How can I be happy if I am not?”
The answer … “Do something simple. Think good thoughts, speak good things, do good deeds, behave the way a joyful person behaves – even if you don’t fully feel it inside. Eventually, the inner joy of your soul will break through.”
So … ‘til next week …