The trail has been steep, dark, and littered with wet roots and sharp rocks. The short days, the cold grey clouds, the dimness all collude in a feeling of weighted heaviness. There are never-ending struggles ahead. Maybe this trail is going nowhere.
And out of the stillness a bird sings, the song rising and falling, completely unselfconscious and free. In the snow, tiny footprints of mice and a small rabbit intersect, hints of quiet gatherings the fairy-folk forgot to brush away. A glowing beam of sunlight finds its way between the trees, and sparkles scatter and dance where gloomy mounds of snow once held their ground.
Breathe.
Lately my blog posts have been hard to write, as if a burning in my bones is pushing and bursting through the pen, scorching the page. The smell of charcoal and smoke lingers. Lately, the seriousness of life has taken hold, and the weight of things happening both close to home and far away has felt burdensome and dismal.
“They have healed the wound of my people lightly, saying, ‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace.” Jeremiah 6:14
There are times when life is heavy. It’s good to acknowledge that, and accept it. But that’s not all there is! And it’s not all I want to write about. At heart, I am a goofball, and I really want to make people laugh, not just think. At heart, I want to be the sudden song of the winter bird that makes the weary traveler look up, up, into the bluest of skies. Right now, the going might be tough, but open your eyes! Beautiful gifts are all around.
- People in our lives who love us and care deeply. The best gift.
- Homes and spaces we can stretch out in, read a book, light a candle, pull a blanket up to our chins.
- Time…the gift of time. If you have it, hold it close. So many gifts of Time lie forgotten, crumpled and torn on the ground, snatched away before they could even be opened and cherished.
And silly things. The gift of the ridiculous. Because under all of our polish and bluster, we humans are the most comical, amusing of creatures! Imagine if we spent our time telling the stories of the insane or simply droll activities we’ve engaged in, rather than our feats of courage and accomplishment. We would all be laughing more, comparing less, and giving far less bothers about everything.
Winnie the Pooh has always been my favourite, since my earliest memories. When I had my own children I couldn’t wait to add little touches of Hundred Acre Wood decor to their baby cribs and walls, and then read them the stories, too. Pooh has a way of just being his own true self that I adore. I used to sing this little song, along with the rest of the verses, over and over again.
I’m just a little black rain cloud,
Hovering under the honey tree.
I’m only a little black rain cloud,
Pay no attention to little me.
Oh, everyone knows that a rain cloud,
Never eats honey, no, not a nip.
I’m just floating around over the ground,
Wondering where I will drip.
In the spirit of silly things, let me tell you the story of this morning.
Bright (not bright, actually dark as pitch) and early I sat up and looked at the time. 4:37 am. Great. I’m going to be so tired today. Sure enough, I fell asleep just before the alarm went off, then dragged myself to the kitchen and made a ham, cheese, and scrambled egg wrap for Dylan to take to work. He would have been perfectly happy for me to keep sleeping, but you know how it is. I would just lie there NOT sleeping, thinking about making the breakfast wrap.
ANYway, I went back to my room with coffee and great intentions, but eventually fell back to sleep. It was maybe 20 minutes. Suddenly, through the foggy subconscious, I heard a distant but familiar sound. THE GARBAGE TRUCK!! GAH!! I jumped out of bed mid-heart-attack, threw on my boots and the first coat I felt, and ran out into the driveway, hair wild, coat flapping in the wind. Yes, the garbage truck was going by! HOW could I forget this important event!?! I grabbed the trash bin, ran it pell-mell to the street (it’s a bit of a jaunt), and yelled as I realized it was too late. All the neighborhood garbage bins stood empty, aghast – their mouths gaping at me in silent shame and disdain.
I had failed. The anger surged then, and I jerked the poor shocked bin back into its place, stomped into the house like a SWAT officer, scared the cat out of one of its lives, and hollered into the void. Why was I so mad? Well, it’s a critical thing, this garbage day, because it only happens once every two weeks and we share one bin with a tenant. But really, I was angry because I failed.
After opening and closing several cupboard doors with unexpected gusto and downing half a banana (frantic stress eating always helps), I tried valiantly to control myself by scrolling on Social Media. This is known to not help at all. I left a comment on some poor soul’s YouTube channel explaining the situation, simply because I had to tell someone, and Dylan was (thankfully for him) out of the service area.
You would think that would be the end of it. Oh no, not for me. I can’t rest until I fix a problem, even if that means making an unhinged mess of it. So, not wanting the community at large to know how I had failed, I threw the coat and boots back on and went out to the garage to find the big garbage bags. First though, I should probably gather the rest of the trash from the house, so clomped from room to room in my boots, heavy coat and toque (-17 C with wind chill today). Half-way to the garage the thought occurred, naturally, that I should look for the box of Christmas decorations while I was in there. I searched every corner, moved heavy bins, you-name-it. However, I got my morning workout checked off the list. Finally, just as I was about to send another loving text to dear Husband, I found the Christmas tote! It was hiding behind Ryan Nugent Hopkins. His large framed jersey, I mean. How could I be mad at him? Sigh. I lugged that huge thing to the house and then – remembered my Mission. Back to the garage, by-passing twice the lonely bag of trash I had abandoned on the snow while distracted by Christmas decorations, found one large black bag to bring to the offended, sullen garbage bin and stuffed it full. One huge bag wasn’t enough. My hands were freezing, but my pride was still warm, so I trotted back to the garage to find another. There, all done. My dignity was restored. Threw them both with aggressive finality into the box of the old blue Chevy, locked the garage door, clomped back into the house, and poured myself a victory mug of pure caffeine.
Some time later, while peacefully click-clacking away on my creative Friday keyboard, a glimpse of suspicious motion outside the window caught my eye. Sure enough, the CROWS, damn them all to hell, had found the garbage bags and were picking and cawing away with devilish delight. NO!! I slammed the boots and coats and toques back on, flew out the back door, forgot the garage key, ran back in the house, finally got the door open and flung the mostly-intact black bags to safety. The crows, appalled at this behavior, watched glumly from the trees. There would be no feast today!
Honestly, I’m starting to think going back to teaching would be easier. And that’s saying something. I’m an expert at getting in my own way!
Well, I hope you’ve had a bit of a laugh at my expense. And now you know, if you haven’t been here too long, that my serious side is more of an occasional guest, and my ridiculous self is the true me.
If you’re hurting, feeling small, frustrated, or wrestling with big, heavy things today, I hope an unanticipated birdsong surprises you, or the glitter of sun on a snowdrift makes you sigh a grateful sigh. Think of all you’ve been given, and take joy in the gifts. Even if it’s a simple deep breath in, and long breath out, feeling the oxygen tell your body that it is alive. Make room for laughing at yourself, too. If you see a cheeky crow with a bit of trash hanging out of its beak, think of me. And let’s all be more like Winnie-the-Pooh!
Stories for Humans 