Scraps of Joy

Equilibrium

Posted on October 6, 2020 by Joy / 4 Comments

Hello Friend,

I had a peaceful piano playlist playing earlier, but I’ve shut it off now and opened the windows so I can listen to the outside. There’s a gentle breeze and the dried leaves – still on the trees – are rustling like an orchestra of rice-paper pages, crescendoing and diminishing as the breeze conducts them.

Beside me, a cup of coffee (which I’ve only started drinking since Covid landed on our collective doorstep), a burning woodfire-scented candle, and the autumn-coloured bouquet Babe received on her engagement last week.

I’m looking for some equilibrium in this noisy off-balance world. Peaceful music and gentle breezes counter some of that noise. Autumn smells and pretty flowers help me to be still.

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October has arrived, and brought with it reminders that seasons change and every ending is a new beginning.

I have just come through a solid week of writing conferences and workshops. My brain is tipping on information overload. And now it’s time to bring some equilibrium to the balance scale, to actually DO the writing. Some people say the writing is the easy part of: writing a book, publishing, marketing, and getting it into the hands of readers. Others disagree.

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There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.
Ernest Hemingway

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Ten days ago I attended InScribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship‘s annual Fall Conference (wow, that’s a mouthful). It was a two-day virtual conference of excellent speakers and lots of interaction with fellow writers. One attendee commented that it was more intimate and interactive than any other virtual writing conference she’d attended.

I was heavily invested in this conference since I was on the planning committee and we’d never done a virtual one before. So that comment meant a lot. The months of brain energy and physical work were balanced off by wonderful reviews like those.

Last week I took part in Siretona Creative‘s daily one-hour workshop entitled Your Publishing Primer, learning about the steps needed before and after writing a book, in order to get it launched and into the world. Very engaging and informative.

And on Saturday I spent seven hours at the Picture Book Summit. This was my third time attending. It’s my only connection with the picture book world and since I always have ideas for picture books percolating in my head, I like to keep up with current trends and themes. Because, you never know. PB Summit is world class and never disappoints.

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You have to write the book that wants to be written. And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children.
Madeleine L’Engle

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But, as I say, it’s time to bring some balance back to the scale. Time to put what I’ve learned into practice. Time to relax into the routine of life now that the busyness of Fall Conference planning, managing the Writers’ Café book, and all the workshops is over.

Life can be a tricky set of balances, can’t it? It’s usually tipping one way or the other. We aim for harmony, symmetry, but we’re more likely to find ourselves a little lopsided. I’ll never forget something my mother-in-law said: Joy’s house is messy, but her kids are happy. I guess that was the trade-off?

I think wise old King Solomon said it best when he wrote, To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die; A time to plant, and a time to uproot …

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I wonder if he had some premonition of the year 2020 when he added … A time to embrace and a time to avoid embracing. [Ecclesiastes 3:5b]

I’m sure many of us will look back on the year 2020 as one that threatened to tip our scales almost to the point of toppling over. But then we’ll remember that some good came from it as well. It always does.

Some of the greatest books came out of the Great Depression: The Good Earth, The Hobbit, Of Mice and Men, The Grapes of Wrath, Mary Poppins, Gone With the Wind … to name just a few.

Some of the most memorable music came out of the two world wars.

WWI: The Planets by Gustov Holst, It’s a Long Way to Tipperary, My Country Tis of Thee, If You Were the Only Girl in the World, and one of my favourites – The Lark Ascending by Ralph Vaughn Williams

WWII gave us Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, We’ll Meet Again, Appalachian Spring.

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Yes, I think King Solomon got it right. Life is a series of seasons, some terribly hard, some refreshing and restoring. And some in between.

Like the swing of a pendulum, time journeys on in balances and counter-balances, in steadiness and uncertainty. And we forge ahead, regulating our pace as we go. For me, knowing that my God in heaven cares about each step I take, I can forge ahead with confidence.

I leave you with a blessing and a song. Thanks for stopping by, and take care out there.

~~~~~

FOR EQUILIBRIUM - A Blessing by John O'Donohue

Like the joy of the sea coming home to shore, 
May the relief of laughter rinse through your soul.

As the wind loves to call things to dance, 
May your gravity be lightened by grace.

Like the dignity of moonlight restoring the earth,
May your thoughts incline with reverence and respect.

As water takes whatever shape it is in,
So free may you be about who you become.

As silence smiles on the other side of what's said,
May your sense of irony bring perspective.

As time remains free of all that it frames,
May your mind stay clear of all it names.

May your prayer of listening deepen enough 
To hear in the depths the laughter of God.

~~~~~

Featured Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Living the Moment

Dreams and Other Burdens

Posted on September 20, 2020 by Joy / 8 Comments

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"We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams.
World-losers and world-forsakers,
Upon whom the pale moon gleams;
Yet we are the movers and shakers,
Of the world forever, it seems."
- Arthur O'Shaughnessy -

~~~~~

Hello Friend,

It’s been awhile! Come, have a seat for a moment and let’s catch up. There are two benches here – one for you and one for me – in case we need to obey the 6-foot COVID rule. When you’re rested, we’ll take a walk.

How are you adjusting to things in your world these days? Last year at this time were you dreaming different things for this moment in time? I know I was.

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Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.
Oscar Wilde

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For one thing, The Cowboy and I were hoping to be almost moved into our dream home by now. “Designed for us, with others in mind” – that’s been the catchphrase attached to the place from the very beginning of the idea, many years ago.

The build was originally supposed to begin in April/May. But then COVID happened and one thing after another, piled on top of each other, has put the brakes on. Maybe we’ll be back on schedule next Spring. Maybe not.

~~~~~

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.
Proverbs 13:12

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The thing about dreams is, they don’t usually arrive by wishing them to appear. It’s true that sometimes the extraordinary happens, and something we didn’t even know we were dreaming of is standing right there in front of us. Those moments are rare though, aren’t they?

No, many dreams turn out to be hard work. Not hard to dream them, but hard to look them in the face. Hard work to bring them to fruition.

They sit there on your dream-shelf and teeter between petition and scorn. They can be a whiney child (please, please, please) or a mocking adversary (this will never happen, why even bother).

Or anything in-between.

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Image by Evgeni Tcherkasski from Pixabay

Rarely, if ever, do we pray a simple prayer then watch as the desire of our hearts falls neatly into our hands. Instead, the best gifts … are those that invite our participation, our prayer, our desire, and only then, when we have so much more to give, our gratitude. Because ‘a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.’
Christie Purifoy [Placemaker]

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Some dreams stay on the dream-shelf, gradually diminishing, until they disappear altogether. They were never meant to flourish.

Other dreams are taken down to study and work little by little, and as we do they seem to shift and change until we no longer recognize or even remember the original. I suppose that’s not a bad thing, as long as we can keep the primary vision in focus, instead of getting stuck in the grief of what might have been.

At times, it takes everything we’ve got to keep our gaze intently fixed on the goal while all around us seems to be falling apart, clamouring to batter us off course. COVID19 and all of the unrest in the world has been that mayhem this year. Wouldn’t you agree?

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Be careful what you water your dreams with. Water them with worry and fear and you will produce weeds that choke the life from your dream. Water them with optimism and solutions and you will cultivate success. Always be on the lookout for ways to turn a problem into an opportunity for success. Always be on the lookout for ways to nurture your dream.
Lao Tzu

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And yet, despite the turmoil, a couple of dreams are coming true at this moment in time. Remember I told you how Babe was using her extra Covid-time-at-home to work on some compositions? Well, her new album is now complete and was released this weekend. Inspired by her childhood home, the lyrical instrumental pieces will lead you to quiet places of wonder. It’s available on most streaming platforms but you can check it out here.

Another dream about to come true is the book my writers’ group, Writers’ Café, has been working on for a few years. Hope Connections is a collection of our stories and poems, and it took a massive push, through Covid, to get it moving and published. It should be in our hands next week! Very exciting. (Meet the authors and stay updated here.)

~~~~~

A book is a dream that you hold in your hands.
Neil Gaiman

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So, not all dreams are a bust during these crazy confusing times. I don’t know what’s on your dream-shelf, but it’s worth taking one or two down and having a look at them again. What are they doing today? Are they pleading, or scorning, or wagging their tails like eager puppies? Have they shifted and changed into something more malleable? More doable? Or do they still need more time on the shelf?

Don’t give up on your dreams. The Father of Dreams hasn’t given up on you.

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I learned this, at least, by my experiment; that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavours to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.
Henry David Thoreau

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Well, that was a refreshing walk wasn’t it? And here we are at another bench, just in time. Thank you for joining me today. You have lifted my spirits and I hope you feel lifted as well.

As you leave, please listen to Sara Bareilles’s Soft Place to Land. I recently came across this song, from the Broadway musical, Waitress. It’s about dreams, and the harmonies are exquisite.

Stay safe out there, and see you next time.

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Soft Place to Land – Sara Bareilles

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Featured Image by Pepper Mint from Pixabay

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Living the Moment

Purple Balloons and Belonging

Posted on July 26, 2020 by Joy / 4 Comments

“Which of all my important nothings shall I tell you first?”
Jane Austen, in a letter dated April 1, 1816

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Hello Friend,

I’ve been taken back in time this week. You know those moments when you smell something, see or hear something that triggers a memory from long ago? That’s what happened to me.

The trigger:

A TV show where a group of people were releasing pale purple balloons into the sky. It was the colour of the balloons that instantly took me back to my childhood, standing in my grandparents’ den, looking at framed portraits on their wall – generations of aunts, uncles, cousins at different stages of life.

Instead of brushing past a moment’s memory, I leaned into it. I wanted to know why on earth the colour of a balloon would bring up my grandparents’ wall of family portraits. So, I let myself go back in time. Are you ready for this journey?

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Walking into Grandpa and Grandma’s den, there is a big solid desk on the right where they keep the mantel clock that strikes every quarter hour in solemn comforting chimes. Decades later I would come to recognize how that clock is symbolic of my roots, my foundation. Solid, steady, as reliable as Grandma, who wound it once a week. One of my cousins has it now.

Across the room from the desk, under the window, is Grandma’s sewing desk. Probably vintage 1950’s, beige plastic-y wood. Possibly formica? And on the wall between the two desks, above the scratchy chesterfield, are the framed studio portraits of all the relatives – mostly 8 X 10’s.

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Some are black and white, but many are in the filtered greeny-grey typical of the 60’s and 70’s. Fresh faces, pouffy hair, families lined up from oldest to youngest, all looking out at the camera with their best smiles.

And then there’s the oldest portrait, black and white. The one that my eyes come to rest on longest. It’s a head and shoulders close-up. He’s wearing a dark suit with white shirt, skinny dark tie. Strong jawline, wavy black hair. The eyes behind the heavy black-framed glasses are friendly with a hint of a twinkle, like he’s about to tell a joke or play a prank on someone. This is Uncle Ike, who died months before his sister – my Mom – married Dad. A farm accident. He was months away from his own wedding, I’m told.

I know all my aunts and uncles and cousins. But I don’t know him. Though he died years before I was born, as I stand here looking at him I still feel him missing from my life. Who were you Uncle Ike? I think I would have liked you.

But my reason for coming into the den in the first place is to look for my Easter bag. Every Easter Grandma fills brown paper bags with Easter candy and hides them for my cousins and me to find. Each bag has exactly the same items inside.

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There’s mine, on Grandpa’s desk, behind some books. It has my name on it in affirming black letters. I open it. The largest candy egg in the bag is an opaque mauve, exactly the colour of the balloons I saw on the TV show. It’s so sugary it gives me a headache.

Remembering the Easter bag takes me even further back in time, to another Easter hunt. This time I’m searching for my Easter bag on Grandpa and Grandma’s farm. (They moved off the farm about 1969 so I am under six years old at this time.)

All the boys’ bags are in the big red barn and the girls’ bags are in the old red garage. It seems like there are a lot of cousins here today – maybe about 12. I’m one of the younger ones and a little apprehensive because … well, because I’m a little in awe of my older cousins and usually quiet around them. I’m an observer by nature.

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Grandpa and Grandma’s barn, present day.

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Inside, the garage is lit by daylight coming through the big doors that open out on hinges. It smells like gasoline, motor oil, and something sweet. The concrete floor is stained, rough and uneven. At the back of the garage where it is darker, plank shelves seem to rise forever to the ceiling. That’s where I’m heading – the plank shelves, on which a jumble of oil cans, rags, and other garage paraphernalia reside. I know my bag must be there on the shelves and I’m wondering how I’ll reach them.

The other girl cousins have fanned out throughout the garage. I can hear them chattering and laughing. Somehow I’ve climbed high enough to reach the first shelf. I’m being careful of splinters.

Aha! There’s a bag. I pull it towards me, but someone else’s name is on it. I check over my shoulder to make sure no one sees before I dutifully put it back in place. But someone has seen. “Hey, is that mine?” She takes it and heads happily out of the garage. So much for my plan to be the first one to find my bag.

I climb down and start to walk to the other side of the garage but here, on the floor behind a broom leaning against the wall, is another bag. I glance around before picking it up. It’s mine!

I feel a mixture of elation and irritation. I found my bag, but what an easy hiding place. I hadn’t thought to look in an easy place. I head out of the garage to the big white farmhouse beyond.

End of memory.

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I’m glad I leaned into this purple-balloon-triggered memory. It reminded me that I come from a rock solid foundation, a place where I was loved and valued, felt safe, belonged.

Everyone should feel like they belong somewhere, don’t you think?

Thanks for visiting today. Stay safe out there, and see you next time.

Joy

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The Simple Woman's Daybook

July – The Simple Woman’s Daybook

Posted on July 16, 2020 by Joy / 6 Comments

Hello Friend,

We are half-way through July and I can hardly believe it. Where is the time going? I meant to join Peggy and the other Daybookers on the first Monday of the month but that day slipped by, and here we are! Oh well, sometimes it’s okay to be late to the party.

For Today

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Looking Out My Window …

Scrappy cotton clouds are moving across a blue sky and past my window in a hurry. From my vantage point upstairs in my study, I can only see sky and the tip of our mountain ash, which dips and sways in the wind – definitely more than a mere breeze.

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I Am Thinking …

This July feels so unlike past Julys … the months since the pandemic began have melted into each other like lava overtaking the earth. Even though life has returned to routine in many ways (I’ll never call it normal), it’s not the same out there.

I watch this world, with its masks and directional arrows and lines marked on floors to remind us to keep our distance, and wonder where the old one went and how did it creep away so suddenly. It’s funny to think back on the things we took for granted, like standing right behind a person in a checkout line. Who would ever think to be grateful for that in the moment?

Shared Quote …

“Days flow on, even after the coming of an event of great purport. Even after great sorrow and great gladness, days flow on, and all things become the shining woof and the shadowed warp of the tapestry of the past.”
Martha Ostenso, Wild Geese

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I Am Thankful …

That my joy doesn’t depend on my circumstances.

You will show me the path of life;
In Your presence is fullness of joy;
At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore.
Psalm 16:11

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One of My Favourite Things …

My wash-line. Hanging wash on a line to dry has delighted me from the time I was a little girl when I’d stretch my skipping rope out between two trees to hang doll clothes and blankets on. Clothespins pinning wet clothes on the line, sheets snapping and billowing in the breeze, memories of Mom pulling damp towels out of the basket to clip to the line, her clothespin apron around her waist. There’s just something so comforting and grounding about hanging laundry on a line.

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I Am Creating …

A new quilt … but it’s all hush hush right now. Shhhh.

I Am Wearing …

Black capris, a hot pink top with a white flowered print, dangly earrings, and peachy-pink nail polish called Dance Shoes.

I Am Reading …

Anne of Green Gables. Again. I haven’t read it since I was a teen, but the girls and I often watched the movies as they grew up. That’s why I assumed Anne arrived at Green Gables in the afternoon. I had not remembered that when Matthew picks up Anne from the station, their drive home is in the evening. L.M. Montgomery’s descriptions of Anne’s first experience of Prince Edward Island – at sunset – are enthralling. And I can say, from my own experience of Prince Edward Island, that this is one time when the book truthfully describes the real thing. It really is an enchanting island.

I Am Listening To …

A song in my head – In the Garden – because I just read Brenda’s post where she writes about it. I think it will be in my head all day now, one of those sweet lingering tunes.

I Am Learning …

About what it takes to publish a book. Not the writing of it, but the steps to publication – and what order they go in. Editing, formatting, cover designing, printing, front matter, back matter, ISBNs and where to get them … the list goes on. It’s been a journey! There are a smattering of decisions still to be made but the manuscript is now safely in the hands of the printer and they tell me we will have a finished book in our hands by September: HOPE CONNECTIONS – a Collection of Stories and Poems from the Writers’ Café. I’ll keep you posted.

In My Kitchen …

I’ve opened the windows so I can better hear the birds.

In My Garden …

Colourful chairs in a sheltered corner invite me to come and sit a spell.

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A Moment From My Day … (on the weekend)

Watching Gramps put down the convertible top.

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Closing Notes …

Thanks for visiting today. Stay safe out there, and see you next time.

Joy

~~~~~

Featured Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

Scraps of Joy

Equilibrium

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Dreams and Other Burdens

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Purple Balloons and Belonging

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July – The Simple Woman’s Daybook

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