Is it Geese or Goose?

In Northeast Ohio there are tons of Canadian Goose. We have two families sharing our pond this year with us. I love watching them. I was going to photograph them but decided there are so many, and everyone sees them all the time so who wants to see another photo of a Canadian Geese?

I remember when they were a rare sight. All the artists were painting them. Now? Everybody just complains about their mess.

Okay, for sure they do poop a lot. What doesn't? For all we know, goose pooh could be a cure for a dreadful disease, or something to rid ourselves of wrinkles. It just made me think how we find something that is rare more beautiful than something that is plentiful, besides money. I was thrilled to find a goose feather earlier this spring, now there are scads. I stopped saving them. But they still make me smile when I see them along the banks of the pond signalling that nature is alive and well, busy as a bee.

Therefore, along with some pics of my garden and the new spot for my beloved Blessed Mother statue, here is a poem entitled "Wild Geese", by Mary Oliver:

You do not have to be good

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

Here's what to do

I was thinking now is the time to start using more warm colors in my art work. Ya know, a pumpkin here, a pumpkin there. That's good. I even went so far as Christmas.

Last week it was hot outside and muggy.

Today I am back into my winter slippers and sweater. My hands are freezing as I type this but I'm determined not to turn on my furnace.

So, the positive side to this? my coffee tastes extra good today and I'm not paying anything to keep warm or cool.

I read an interesting quote the other day,

"we have been taught that negative equals realistic and positive equals unrealistic."

by Susan Jeffers, author of Feel the Fear and do it Anyway.

Everybody says this country is going down the tubes, blah, blah, blah. Folks are getting weary for lots of reasons.

And we believe that is realistic. We believe fear is truth.

I have no idea if one or the other candidate can bring our country together, and you know what? I'm not so sure it's apart. I mean all we know is what the media tells us.

I try not to be just one more person complaining about the gas, about the government and crime, high prices and pretend shortages.

If we have to make a choice, let's make a choice on the inside first, choose goodness.

Then, mind your own beeswax and make stuff!

Love to all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and to all a good night♥

Sacred Strangers

The other day I worked at the gallery and met a gentleman who came in searching for something to make windchimes with. He said it was for his mother, so it had to be really good, he wanted it to look really nice. We don't sell parts and pieces for windchimes, so I couldn't help him there, but I answered questions about our art which prompted other conversations, which sort of turned to the price of gas. He was quite rattled and angry about gas prices. I commented many years ago gas was only 75 cents a gallon, but I didn't have money to buy both gas and food at that time, and now, gas is $4 and I can buy both gas and food.

We both agreed it was important to count our blessings and focus on the gifts we have now. I mentioned that one of his gifts obviously was his love for his mother and that I admired him for wanting to make her something she would treasure.

I enjoy sharing deep and sacred feelings with a stranger, even though it goes against what society has taught me. Most times, I hold back out of fear or mistrust. Maybe that is why so many people are isolated, they are fearful of sharing about their lives, especially about loss, or mistakes made.

It's not unusual to hear someone brag, but I'd so rather listen to a story about how they learned humility, or speak to me softly about a blessing they received.

It's like Anthony DeMello said, "We differ from others only in what we do and don't do, not in what we are."

Remembering Beauty is a Gift

Looks like summer is here. I've had my first mosquito bite, and so it begins.

Each season has it's own particular beauty to each individual. Some of my favorite things about the seasons are the memories they trigger. Yesterday my sister called me and said, "remember all the locust trees that bloomed around our house when we were kids and how we woke up to that smell each morning?"

Yes, I remember.

I remember how my mom smelled like roses after her evening bath and how we used to sit on the back porch and talk, her in her housecoat and slippers, me in cut off shorts and t-shirt.

I loved it when she was happy.

She worked hard to make things beautiful for us kids.

Now that I'm the age that she was at this memory, I understand things look really beautiful to children the most when their parents are happy and things are peaceful around the home. That's when the good comes to rest in a child's mind and sticks with them throughout their lives.

"The ability to see beauty is the beginning of our moral sensibility. Whatever we believe is beautiful we will not wantonly destroy."

_Rev. Sean Dennison