The Gift of a Wreath

A wreath of artificial everygreen and artificial fruit and berries - real pine cones and nuts. It sits in the center of the coffee table in my living room.

I don't remember the origin and historical significance of a wreath with nuts and fruits ,pine cones, and dried berries. I remember being mesmerized by them when I was young,  eventually creating one every year for the center of the table. Nowadays, I pull out of storage one I made of jeweled fruit several years ago. After, reattaching the one or two which have fallen from their hot glued place,  I put it in the center of the table, and in the center of it, I place a candle.

The encounters with these wreaths are enough to fill the wreath with meaning. 

One of the memories, or maybe more than one, was the relating the story of its historical significance. Even though I can't remember the story, I remember that there is history embedded in the wreath with fruit, nuts, pine cones, and berries. 

The wreath itself, along with its tokens of a harvest, stand as the unending recycling of life.

Best of all, is the priceless sense of awe I observe in the eyes of someone who never saw this kind of wreath before. The energy in the room begins to dance in wonder.

Then the questions begin.  What is it about a wreath that makes us more human? 

Happy New Year Everyone!

Solstice Full Moon Eclipse

Painted on a storefront window in Ybor City

There must be singing -

A choir, a chorus, a lone bird

Or an aria center stage,

  Carrying the journey

To point of Return,

For a moment

Resting gently on the edge

Of  a disappearing sun.

Full moon eclipsed by

Shadow of Earth passing by.

Dark and starry sky.
Reflection.
Silence.

Then, a deep chanting
Heartbeat,

Sound of Sun

Beginning its return.

Celebration. Joy. Peace

And music - Singing in
Another incarnation
of new possibilty. 

What is it that no longer supports your journey at present? Are you willing to let it go now?

Where is your heart beating its drum of beckoning?  How will you respond this year?

May we celebrate this holiday season together, wherever we are, with joy, with hope, with peace.

Empathy for a Racoon

 Mama Raccoon on the porch, looking for dinner.

Crescent City is a very small town. There is no "down town" as such. Shops are spread out along a couple of main streets. There's a church of about every denomination. This is a rural area which rises between two lakes. While the homes of the original block are built in close proximity to each other, there is still plenty of room for possums, squirrels, raccoons, snakes, an occasional fox or bobcat, peacocks, sand cranes, sea gulls, and alligators.

For the past two or three months, a raccoon has been making the rounds to cat food dishes in the neighborhood, which are outside for the most part.  There were two attempts to shoot the raccoon with a 22, but the raccoon was on a serious mission for this food and was not about to get shot. Most of us did not agree with this anyway - not to mention that discharging fire arms in this block is illegal. We all did, however, agree, that the raccoon had to go.

One day recently, the raccoon was on the porch. I had climbed the stairs and turned the corner. There was the raccoon at the cats' food dishes, eating away, seemingly oblivious to my presence. I stood there,  calm and centered, watching the raccoon. Finally, it noticed me and was spooked.

Instead of running away, it looked up at me and we stared in each other's  eyes for a moment.Then, off it scooted within one inch of my boots as it passed.  I was convinced that this was a mother who had little ones waiting for her return. She was looking me straight in the eye, appealing to my own maternal instincts, I had no doubt

Sure enough, the next day, she was spotted, leading her babies to the nearby  cat food bowls. They have grown past their gestation phase, and ready to face the world. . I was grateful for the  nurturing mother archetype which has late-bloomed in my Soul.

Mama Raccoon up a tree, either scoping out the neighborhood for food sources, or about to raid a squirrel;s stash, or...

Shooting her was no longer on anyone's agenda. The animal control person is no help at all. We, the neighbors are having to figure out how to gather up the family and take it to the "real" country where they can thrive and survive. There was still some concern, occasioning caution, that, since the raccoon gets so close, that she might be rabid.

I would say, EMPATHY HAPPENED, when Mama Raccoon looked into my eyes and I back into hers. Rabid or on a mission, this creature is alive and we are connected as One within this neighborhood.

Occasionally, we are  reminded that creatures and people coexist in the same environment. We have the opportunity to share the space. This is a different perspective than one of eliminating all annoyances as they disrupt our plans and routines.

Will you share an encounter you have had with a creature,, one in which Empathy happened?

Advent Aging

 Send in the clowns. There must be the clowns.

At this time of year, I am always filled with anticipation. It may be because I was brought up involved in church and it is now Advent. I remember, now, the four weeks of  "O Come Emmanuel" , lighting a new candle each Sunday in anticipation of lighting the white one in the center on Christmas.  I loved living in New York City at this time of year. I especially miss Paul Winter's presentations of the Solstice celebration at St. Johns Cathedral.

Here in Crescent City, at this time of year, the Presbyterian Church holds its annual holiday tea. There are gifts and crafts that the Women's Club spent all year making.

Some of the crafts made by the women during the year

The silver tea service comes out of storage and sits at the head of a table covered with novelty finger foods - sandwiches without crusts, various types of fudge, and tasty cookies. There is a nativity scene in its center that looks like gold trimmed] Lenox.china.

 The tea table full of goodies

This year, when I walked around the big room, the man who lives around the corner was playing holiday tunes on the piano.

 Alan at the piano

Betty, whose very rich and exciting life I had written up in my column , "It's Your Turn, in April, didn't recognize me.  I've known her for years. She finally recalled me through telling me about her two Himalayan cats- which she doesn't have, but I do.

 Betty, bless her heart.

There was a new woman serving the tea and coffee. Mrs. Suggs always wore a fancy cocktail dress for the occasion. She is not able to get around any longer.

Two women in their late seventies, pillars of the Women's Club for years, looked ten years younger than last year. Several women my age were tending to the food and beverage supply, all donned in red aprons.

 Patricia in her apron at the kitchen door

When Minnie Todd was no longer able to make the divinity fudge and meringues, I vowed to pick up the tradition. I did it for one year - made hundreds of meringues - someone came and bought most of them for a party she was having.

Wilhelmina, who for years made framed trees from old jewelry and novelties made of beads, had reported last year was the last. But, she was back with a whole new collection of framed trees, but was having a close out sale on the beaded crafts. I bought them all.

 Wilhelmina and her artwork - framed trees made of old pieces of jewelry

Every year, I buy raffle tickets for a crocheted afghan or colorful handmade quilt. Finally, this year I won a raffle.

 The afghan I won in the raffle

This holiday tea used to be the highlight of the season for Crescent City. Now, on the same day,  the South Putnam Women's Club holiday bazaar happens on in the park. There's even a parade.

 Santa is a big part of the annual parade

As I sat munching on dainty finger foods, and sipping decaf coffee from a real china cup, I observed everyone interacting. I used to know everyone who was in the room. I could go sit anywhere and get caught up on what was happening. This year, I sat next to a young woman and two seven year old girls. The young woman and I smiled at each other, while watching the girls were thoroughly enjoying  their goodies and tea served from real china cups.

Then, I got up, took a lot of pictures, and went on my way.

This is a slice of life. It is slice of the mundane on the one hand. On the other hand, t is a glimpse of the inevitability of change. I just wrote about what was going on, never mentioning the churning going on inside of me about the absurdity I experience in the passing away-ness of everything.  Every time I go to places where I have been going for years, I discover that everything - yes everything - is very obviously changing.

Yet there is a certain constancy in every present. For me, it is that there is a beginning, there is an ending, and in between, there is a clown on a bicycle, determined to dare me to anticipate newness.  How do you describe that constancy?

A Black Madonna

 Black Madonna at St. Baume

While reading The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd, I became curious about the Black Madonna image she used in the novel.  I googled "black madonna "and read what seemed like endless sites on this icon which dates back to the 11th century and was really popular during the Middle Ages. Also,in some circles (!), she is considered the alter ego of the Virgin Mary.

Some accounts even trace her back to Mary Magdalene who  was said to have been Jesus wife and bore him a  son, the heirs of which became Kings. Eventually, she migrated with her son  to Saintes Maries-de-la-Mer and  then lived in a cave in St. Baume  in the French Alps for the rest of her life. There is a Black Madonna icon in a chapel there today.

There are over 300  sites for  making a pilgrimage to a Black Madonna throughout Europe, When I learned this,  I decided I had to go - at least to France.

Then, I began to read Traveling with Pomegranates, also by Sue Monk Kidd. In this novel, written somewhat as a diary, mother and daughter travel to Greece, Turkey, and France. One chapter is from daughter's perspective, the next from mother's perspective, alternatively throughout the book. (As an aside, I might add that they are both in the process of unfolding the future of their lives as writers.)

The account describes how Sue came to use the Black Madonna as the symbol on the honey jars in The Secret Life of Bees - from their encounter with Black Madonna sacred sites on their journeys.

Their descriptions of the sites was so real to me, I have, in essence, now been there along with them, taking my own inner journey on the way.

A dear colleague has been a Black Madonna in my life.  Mary was her name, as the truth would have it. She was the one and only friend  and colleague, up to the time I got to know her,who awakened that center in me where loving myself became real. Her continued affirmation of the Self that I am, made it possible for me to have the confidence to  reach into the bottom of my own heart and pray - yes PRAY - for what I really want - for the first time in my life. I was 46 at the time I had that experience.

Mary passed into the next realm the same day as my brothers and I were burying my mother's ashes. I was going to visit her on my way back to New York City, but couldn't get hold of anyone.  I found out soon, why.

Later in the year, I received a black necklace that had been Mary's. Her husband, Rob, and sons were sending them to people according to Mary's wishes.

As I thought, today,  about making a pilgrimage to France, to St. Baume, especially, I remembered that black necklace. I remembered Mary's ability to affirm life as it is and experience the gift that the moment has given.

I don't have to go to France. My life has been blessed with a Black Madonna. She has performed her miracle in my life. I took the black necklace out of its place in the jewelry box. I will keep it closer to me now. It will remind me that I have been  able to reach into the bottom of my heart and ask  for what is now coming to be, slowly, but surely.

Most of the time, no one would ever catch me saying "pray". I would say "standing in the victory", or "claiming a promise", or "creating a new reality". These are all very meaningful phrases to express the same reality. But,  "praying' is appropriate as well.

 Cave is located in this mountainous area

 

As you reach into the bottom of your heart, what is it you want - really want? Ask a Black Madonna for it to come to be now. When it does what will you give her in return?