What I'm thinking today: 2020

Thursday, 31 December 2020

New Year’s Eve – December 31, 2020

It’s grey and gloomy outside my door, mirroring my feelings on this last day of 2020. Though I am guardedly optimistic about where we all will be at this time next year, I am unhappily resigned to the tough slog that will be many of the days between now and then.

This most wretched yet rich, scary yet encouraging, unfamiliar yet adventurous year, the resultant emotional rollercoaster of it all has taken a toll. I am restless and weary…

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
        “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied:
        “Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
          That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way."

So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.
And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

So heart be still:
    What need our little life
    Our human life to know,
    If God hath comprehension?
    In all the dizzy strife
    Of things both high and low,
    God hideth His intention.

God knows. His will
    Is best. The stretch of years
    Which wind ahead, so dim
    To our imperfect vision,
    Are clear to God. Our fears
    Are premature; In Him,
    All time hath full provision.

Then rest: until
    God moves to lift the veil
    From our impatient eyes,
    When, as the sweeter features
    Of Life’s stern face we hail,
    Fair beyond all surmise
    God’s thought around His creatures
    Our mind shall fill.

Minnie Louise Haskins (1875 – 1957)

I am soothed and quieted by these words. They urge me to rest not fret, and for a time the poetic remedy works, but all too soon my restless soul cries out, raising a fist in protest. Other words rise, those of Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809 – 1892).

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky
   The flying cloud, the frosty light:
   The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
   Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
    The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind
   For those that here we see no more;
   Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
   And ancient forms of party strife;
   Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
   The faithless coldness of the times;
   Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
   The civic slander and the spite;
   Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
   Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
   Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
   The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
   Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

Ring Out, Wild Bells – written in 1850

Whatever 2021 holds for you, for me, whether it brings gentle restfulness, wild bells or both,

may there be much more health and prosperity,

happiness, kindness, and compassion for all.

May 2021 be vaccine-blessed!

Monday, 2 November 2020

Monday Meander – November 2, 2020

More of a slog than a meander…

A poet’s words written back in 1844, surprisingly capture so much of these days, this month, this pandemic time:

No sun - no moon!
No morn - no noon -
No dawn - no dusk - no proper time of day -
No sky - no earthly view -
No distance looking blue -

No road - no street - no 't'other side the way' -
No end to any Row -
No indications where the Crescents go -
No top to any steeple -

No recognitions of familiar people -
No courtesies for showing 'em -
No knowing 'em -

No travelling at all - no locomotion,
No inkling of the way - no notion -
'No go' - by land or ocean -

No mail - no post -
No news from any foreign coast -
No Park - no Ring - no afternoon gentility -
No company - no nobility -

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member -

No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, -
November!

Thomas Hood (1799 – 1845)

Need something a little more hopeful? How about this from Henry David Thoreau:

"This is the month of nuts and nutty thoughts, —that November whose name sounds so bleak and cheerless. Perhaps its harvest of thought is worth more than all the other crops of the year."

Take care. Stay well.
Let's be nutty together by staying apart.

Monday, 26 October 2020

Monday Meander – October 26, 2020

The Time Between…

The gardens have been put to bed, the lawnmower and weed whacker silenced.
The forest floor is a carpet of fallen leaves.

Though there were no Fall Fairs this year of the pandemic, still we have paid homage to the plentiful gifts from the farms – apples, pumpkins, carrots, squashes, potatoes and more.

We have celebrated and given thanks for all the blessings of life.

The air outside my house pulses with Autumn's incense as smoke rises from a lazy fire in the woodstove within, murmuring about warmth.

I love this time between - a gracious respite after the September start-ups and October gatherings, after the harvests, bottling, and canning; before the Christmas machine roars to life, whatever form that may take this year.

It is a time of tender reflection, a time to look behind me and around me, within me and beyond me, where I've been and where I now am. It's a bit like a meander through a fine old bookshop…

My fingertips brush across the bindings of the stories of my life as I stroll the along the years. A few tales linger on my heart, a few bring a tear, a few tease out a giggle or three, and of course, there are a couple of mysteries to ponder.

Every story is important.
Life is still good even the midst of the second wave of a pandemic.

Monday, 12 October 2020

Monday Meander – October 12, 2020

Autumn's falling leaves waft gold and red in the air. They touch my doorstep with a gentle tap - Thanksgiving has come calling.

We made our feast on Saturday. There was turkey and there was pie. But as it has for seven months now, CoVID-19 muted the guest list, imposing a celebration that was abnormal, incomplete, and far from perfect. Yet perhaps that will be what in time will make Thanksgiving 2020 poignantly memorable and in it’s own twisted way, special.

The leftovers have been dispatched. The pies digested. The table has been cleared – roasting pans and casserole dishes scrubbed down, silverware tucked away, and linens laundered. All that remains on this holiday Monday is gratitude.

"We are grateful for
eyes that see and ponder,
for taste buds that know the sensuous pleasures of eating and drinking,
for hands that hold and touch and feel,
for ears that can delight in music and the voice of a friend,
for a nose that can smell the aroma of newly mown grass or delicious food,
and can also breathe the air that gives us life."

"We are grateful for
the treasure of loved ones
whose hearts of openness and acceptance have encouraged us to be who we are.
We are grateful for their faithfulness, for standing by us when our weaknesses stood out glaringly,
for being there when we were most in need
and for delighting with us in our good days and our joyful seasons."

"We are grateful for
the eyes of faith, for believing in the presence of God,
giving us hope in our darkest days, encouraging us to listen to our spirit’s hunger,
and reminding us to trust in the blessings of God’s presence in our most empty days."

"We are grateful for
the messengers of God - people, events, written or spoke words -
that came to us at just the right time and helped us to grow."

Monday, 5 October 2020

Monday Meander – October 5, 2020

On this first Monday of October, I'm not finding any real forward motion. Oh, there is some motion but it truly is more of a meander without any direction, a fugue of indecision rather than an orderly decision tree. Is Thanksgiving a go or no go? If a go, what’s in and what’s out, who is in and who is out. Is it take-out or eat-in? Do I make all the usual treats or pare it down? Simple or grand?

Is this Thanksgiving a gourd or a pumpkin?

A year ago at this time, the man and I had just returned from a seventeen day journey through Scotland. The laundry had been done and the luggage stowed away without a thought that a year later it would still be unmoved and gathering dust in a closet. But hey, I need a diversion, so let's re-visit where those traveling bags took us last year, and of course let's check in with that little bear Schwartz.

Whiskey tasting at The Malt Room, Inverness

Our journey took us to Edinburgh, St. Andrew's, Ballater, Culloden, Inverness, Isle of Skye, Isle of Mull, Iona, Stirling, and many points in between before ending back in Edinburgh.

Tobermory, Isle of Mull

The standing stone above Corgarff Castle, in Cairngorms National Park

Dean Village along the Water of Leith, Edinburgh

The Hogwarts Express on the Glenfinnan Viaduct

I also enjoyed a three day English side trip to Wooler and Berwick-upon-Tweed in Northumberland while the man attended a conference in Edinburgh.

Bronze Age stone circle at Duddo, Northumberland

Greensheen Hill (above St. Cuthbert’s Cave),
and I did climb to the top of the outcropping on the right – well of course I did!

Och aye, twas a grand journey giving not only me but my Fitbit® a workout: 200,000+ steps (128km) + 720 floors (2200m). And the photos? 3000 of them still still need a full edit which gives me plenty of busy work for the dark months. But poor old Schwartz is getting antsy these days. Maybe I’ll have to start taking him out for car rides and together we can share memories of the places we’ve been.

Tasmania, Australia 2010

And Thanksgiving? Well, here’s what I know: there will be turkey, there will be apple and pumpkin pies, and it will be a lumpy twisty gourd kind of celebration wrapped in humble gratitude. So be it.

Monday, 28 September 2020

Monday Meander – September 28, 2020

It may be sunny and even summery warm on this last Monday in September, but my enjoyment of such amazing Indian summer weather has been drowned by news of rising CoVID-19 numbers not only in the country, but the province and even in my town. The second wave is upon us, something I thought would have occurred in late October or even early November. I was counting on having a a bit of time to actually relax and not be so uptight about when and where to go out. I had even begun to get excited about Thanksgiving celebrations – the food, the decorations, the family.

Ours have never been huge affairs. In recent years we’ve never numbered more than seven, still this feast is a big deal to me. It is my favourite one of the year. But in 2020, a microscopic microbe has swept all the vibrant anticipation, all the excited preparation off the table. I have ordered the turkey, but maintaining any enthusiasm for a celebration that remains hidden in a cloud of questions is a heavy lift. It’s a good thing I have a new BFF to talk to.

The scarecrow gets full marks for an unwavering stance on any topic I choose. Any question I ask is met with what I am certain is a thought-FULL silence and a bemused smirk that never fails to make me feel better. Perhaps together we two should embark on a journey through pumpkin land…

I’ll be searching for the way back to my harvest home and the scarecrow will be looking for a brain. Along the way, perhaps we’ll meet a tin man in need of a heart and a lion in need of courage. I know I’ve heard this story before, but even in 2020, even in the midst of the second wave of a pandemic, it only takes a brain, a heart, and courage to find our way.

Mind the distance! Wash hands! Mask up!

Let’s do this.

Monday, 21 September 2020

Monday Meander–September 21, 2020

It’s the last full day of summer. So how’s it been? In a word, survivable. That’s my kneejerk response. Here’s another: run of the mill. In a year which continues to be anything but unremarkable, it actually sounds good to me to declare the summer survivable and unremarkable.

For those still counting, and yes I am one of them, it’s pandemic Week 28 in these parts. Case numbers are climbing again, restrictions are increasing again, and tensions are rising again.

Screw it!
I’m going for a walk.

The sun is shining. The first frost decorated the ground Saturday morning and now the autumn colours are popping. Just step out my front door…