|
|||||
|
I AM here. In the garden. ~ Early morning dawns with promise Cool air kisses me hello Quail’s familiar two-beat comment Letting his companion know I AM here. Pre-dawn light, the garden beckons Heat has not yet scorched the day Scent and scenery sweetly reckons What was sown in mellow May. I AM here. Harsh now, all the elements be Searing baulkers, the unwary But in this early light, I see The wonders, wrought so perfectly. They speak to me Lovingly Abundantly Clearly I AM here.
Paradise has it’s price. My little bit of the Sonoran Desert is bursting with new life, and it distracts me at every turn.
I’m compelled to wander through my mission garden several times a day in an effort to catch the quail off the nest and sneak a peak at the 11 eggs therein. Excited to see the brown cotton ball babies as soon as they hatch, I check often so as not to miss the big event. Fortunately, the brown turkey figs, which I share with the cardinals, are ripening, so I’m well-nourished on every foray.
On the other side of the house, the yellow finches love the wildflower garden, and obviously ~overtly~ they love each other, too. There’s a whole lot of chasin’ and matin’ goin’ on. And I am, apparently, a voyeur, because I cannot stop watching. The flit, they fly, they dance low in the sky; and I watch every move, regardless of what’s on my morning calendar. I might soon be expert on the mating practices of yellow finches. Just saying.
Then there are the butterflies. At least 8 different varieties, and lots of them. Honestly… a friend came by one morning, looked out back and said in low, controlled voice, “That is a lot of butterflies. It’s creepy.” And I’ve developed a personal relationship with nearly all of them. I know the adult food sources and the larval options. I know the plants they prefer, but the sorts they’ll eat if they have no choice. I know way too much about desert butterflies. What did I expect? I planted a bird and butterfly garden right outside my writing window. It’s in full bloom. Birds and butterflies abound. Caterpillars rapel across my window panes and spiders skitter after them.Then the lizards and roadrunners get into action, hoping for a quick snack or a sip. And I watch. For hours. Lest any of us forget– BULLETIN — I AM a writer! Some days I worry that I might never write again. But then I’m wont to remember… this is the Sonoran Desert. Temperatures are nearing 110° most afternoons. Soon, the wildlife will retreat to the cooler ends of the days, leaving the middles for writing.
And I AM, after all, a gardener, too. So I’ll enjoy this little bit of paradise, and appreciate what a gift it really is. Wanna join me?
Love. One of my favorite topics. I’m big on it. I’ve been in various stages and ages of love with the same man for nearly 34 years. I loved him intensely way back when. I love him intensely now. We met in high school, went to nearby colleges, and married when barely in our twenties. We had a mortgage at age twenty-five and three babies before I was thirty. It was those babies, as they grew, developed and became the people they are now, who taught me about the greatness, the hugeness, of love. With each one, I wondered “Could I possibly love another person to the degree that I love this one?” And as each one came into being, I experienced the expanding nature of love. If one is open to the possibility, love is never-ending, unlimited, and I think, eternal. It grows and it grows and it grows, if you let it. Through some challenging times as the matriarch of a family, I learned, among other valuable lessons, the wonder and truth of unconditional love. I learned that people aren’t necessarily their actions or their choices; and that it’s my duty, indeed my blessing, to love them regardless of the path they walk in the world. This wasn’t an easy lesson. It took staring into the chasm of near-death to soften my heart and my soul. How lucky I am that they did. Selah. As my children bring others into their lives and into our shared world, my love is extended. How can I not love someone who so clearly loves my child? Or someone my child so deeply loves? It grows this way, love. It extends to others and surprises us with its intensity. The world, I’ve learned, is filled with people I do love, could love, would love. As I age, I realize and recognize a love that always is, a love that encompasses my essential self. I feel deeply for people I’ve long-known, as well as some I’ve newly met. I feel connected to others in a way that makes me wonder about life here and now, and life in the past and in the future. I consider the possibilities that I knew and loved in another way, in another time and place, in another life and realm. I thrill at the ongoing, undying qualities of love, leading forward and backward across the spectrum of existence. When inclined to judge or begrudge, I remind myself to love. I’m better in every way when I function this way. I feel love and know it’s what I was created to feel, what I’ve evolved to be, what I AM. I love Love. And I love this Erica Jong quote: “Love is everything it’s cracked up to be… It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for.” So I will continue to fight, and try to be brave, and risk all that I have, for the glory of love. Because it is everything it’s cracked up to be… and then some. “Love is life.All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love.Everything is, everything exists, only because I love. Everything is united by it alone.Love is God, and to die means that I, a particle of love, shall return to the general and eternal source.”~ Leo Tolstoy
Dear Leo, Did you know that I’m a Leo, too? Yep. Born on August second. Smack dab in the middle of The Leo Zone. I am FULL of Leo-glow… strong, creative and enthusiastic, open-minded, faithful and loving. I’m a little bit dramatic, like to make an entrance, and want to leave an impression. I can be dogmatic, pompous, and am sometimes patronizing. I’ve been called stubborn and opinionated, and overly idealistic. Although I hate to admit it, I’m a little vain. And I must be boastful since, on occasion, I really do think “It is good to be queen,” while secretly yearning for a ruby-studded tiara. I am uncomplicated. I have few secrets. What you see is what you get. How is it that I am aware of all these things? How do I so thoroughly understand my assets, flaws and foibles? Simple. You, Mr. Tolstoy were right. We only understand when we are willing to love, and I have learned to love. I’ve benefited from exceptional living examples, numerous historic role models, and a lover and friend who loves me unconditionally. I have learned to love. Not all of us do. How lucky am I? I live love, give love, take love, make love. I AM love. I live. I breathe. I love. So thank you, Leo, for so famously putting into words what is certainly the universe’s driving force and eternal truth. But I have to say, you and I are also alike in our verbosity. John Lennon put all that in a nutshell. And then in a song. Using only 5 words. “All you need is love.” And there you have it. Love to you, Leo!
My friend and fellow writer, V-Grrrl, wrote a compelling post about her dealings with depression and the healing and supportive effects of social media. I invite you to read her story. In response, I penned the comments below: I first wanted to die at age 7. Prayed every night that I’d not awaken in the morning. For the longest time, I blamed my inner turmoil on a wildly tumultuous family life laden with violence and abuse and tears. Through my thirties, the “dark debilitator” and I never parted company. I read scores of self-help books, ate right, got plenty of sleep, avoided alcohol, sought counseling, never toyed with drugs and practiced every holistic recommendation. Still, He dogged me. Despite the fact that, once an adult, I enjoyed every blessing and achieved every goal, I fell into the abyss on a regular basis. Climbing out was a monumental feat that nearly broke me time and again. When the first of two of my children became chronically ill, I finally told the doctor the dirty details of my thirty-year battle with the beast. Her response? “This is a biological illness. All you’ve done has helped, but only medication will set your chemistry right.” Enter the vanquisher- a prescription antidepressant. Over the last ten years I weaned myself off of it several times, thinking I could manage on my own. Finally, I accept it as my saving grace. On it, I AM me. Without it, He wins. Fuck that. If it ever stops working, I’ll get myself to the doctor and find a new weapon. I love being me. I’ll never again willingly give up myself. If you think you might suffer with depression, make an appointment with your doctor. Seek help. Feel better.
* "Black Dog" is a colloquial term for depression. |
 |
||||
|
Copyright © 2008 - 2010 Kim Nelson Writes - All Rights Reserved - For Permissions Please Use Contact Form |
|||||
