Isabella Bird Miscellany

There was a day I was walking in the park with Isabelle. It's a daily activity that's pretty easy for me, now. But, several years back that wasn't the case. Discs in my lower back were pinching nerves, causing the most piercing pain I had ever experienced.  Walking was the worst; and I loved walking. i saw you walking in the park alone birds chattered with squirrels together i saw you bent, moving slowly coping willows shifting in the wind sky lit and sparkling balanced i saw you and i was sad until i saw your smile inspiring After infinite physical therapy treatments and injections and chiropractor visits my doc said a fusion was needed. I freaked, but at this point had nothing to lose and my very movement to gain. Seven years later, I can hike and bike, kayak and snowshoe. I'm grateful for the mobility I gained. So, seeing this woman in the park brought a flood of emotion and empathy. She was as bent as branches...

Walking past the hedge, on the edge of the broken pavement, the path constricts as branches brush past my cheek. The way is narrow and thin; a reflective pace unavoidable. There's life in the hedge - birds and bugs, spiders and the sort. Life seems well designed for creatures of nature. They exist in the hedge and dine on what comes their way; a small interactive society. In some way or another, we all live in a hedge - our town, our community, neighborhood and home. How much we participate in the movement of our hedge depends on us. Take the spider for example. She spins a lively tatted web and then waits, luring in her food. On the other hand, birds flit and flicker, seizing what have you's here and there, and then  return to their nest. Other living things fill additional elements of the hedge. All have a useful fragment of the being. I walk by this hedge most days. And, most days the phrase, "walking past the hedge on the edge" goes through my mi...

she lived an abstract life,          one painted, but lacking elements of realism existence was too harsh whereas the color-washed reality was delightful and delicate, full of impulse                  open to possibility        children live an abstract life                     she had chosen to join them Existing in thought or idea, but nothing concrete and tangible - abstract. Paintings, feelings, the wind, these are intangibles. I often feel like I live in and relate more to things, people, places that are abstract. There's a certain mystery, something to uncover. Abstract is experienced, felt. It's not quantitative. It can't be defined or put in a box with a pretty little bow. I often wonder why we want to define everything.  Think about it. Your job has a description, an ailment is named or given an acronym and heaven ...

unplugged in this sweet spot  Our annual unplugged weekend. We adopted this habit last year. It’s a great concept, sometimes easier to strive towards than actually accomplish. It takes discipline to say “no” to the pull of technology and entertainment; saying “yes” to the simple pleasures of writing, reading, napping and having deep and superfluous conversations, just because we can. I’m usually pretty good about letting down when we get a chance to run away for the weekend. This time was more difficult . I don’t know if it had something to do with having been sick and stuck at home with no people contact for several days or what. No matter, I did manage to set my pacing self aside. bottles of red and books and glimmering candles The couple hour drive went smoothly and we arrived mostly on time for our massages – a great way to begin . A stop by the market for simple meals and “thank-you” bottles of wine for our hosts. They joined us at the cabin - a loos...