Today, Thanksgiving Nov 24th 2022

Good morning,

I am at my happy place, my home, my little 1300 sq ft abode, and when I get here for whatever reason, I sink into a state of gratitude.

I look at my little creature comforts and stand amazed at how much each of these little trinkets give me such pleasure. I have indeed been given much to be grateful for and yet, these are just things, they hold no real lasting value in the bigger picture, out in the real world, they fall between those who have much less and those who much more, there is not much real meaning to them, for they are impermanent. Things – stuff – no reason to honor these things, but they do comfort me, I like the aesthetics, and the fact, if they do hold any meaning, it’s that I have collected them to bring beauty into my outer world and for a small part, my inner world. It would seem I don’t need these things for any of my inner needs, that can come with just me calming my mind, and settling into a state of grace and wonder.

Looking outside from my perch, today is beautiful in a calming and relaxing sort of way. There is still a little color left on some of the trees in my yard and the spaces around me, so for that I am indeed grateful, I love seeing the beautiful natural colors God has given us and always find joy when I can look outside and become one with and be in the moment.

Here we are, Apple and I chillaxing, it’s one of those days, and I am grateful. I have plenty of food, I have heat, a roof over my head, a car that is safe to drive, and basically all that I need to give me security. I have my good health, my little Apple is still with me at 13 and she has reached a place where her health has become an issue, but she somehow with God’s Grace has managed to enjoy her life, for that I most grateful.

I fixed a lovely brunch, actually it’s what I fix every day, but somehow it felt special today, Ha! I heard from many of the special folks in my life, which was gratifying, and I sit here typing listened to nice soft R & B, which I love, it always soothes my soul to hear good ole R & B.

I did my morning reading using Father Caulifield’s book The Experience of Praying – he wrote in 1980. I picked out the chapter on Aloneness, as I am once again spending this holiday alone, I don’t mind, but for some reason yesterday driving here (3 1/2 hours) I kept flashing back to trips to join my family in many versions of my previous life; home from college, home from life in other towns, feelings of excitement as my destination got closer and stuff like that, but honestly, why was I pining for that experience, when today I get to do exactly what I like, well FR Caulifield explains it to some degree

I’m good, I am fortunate to have found FR Caulifield’s writings, his words reach into my soul and speak to me, and always lift me up. I am grateful.

So, with all that said, I am off to pour myself a nice hot bath in my luxurious soaking tub. What a glorious life I have. My cup runneth over…

City of Sanibel

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Carolyn Thrash memorial video March 17th 2022

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The Warrior

To Hays in Honor of your graduation day

  Dear Hays,
Your life is getting ready to change, but don’t worry, because it has been changing all along. That thing “change” is one of the given’s in our life, and the moment that you embrace this fact, you will experience profound wisdom. This wisdom will insulate you from much misery and harm. 

Don’t misunderstand me, life will never be fully uncomplicated, and it will also throw some rough curve balls your way, but if you always remember the simple saying “this too shall pass” you will have the ablity to shelter yourself from the inner grief which may present itself at times.  

Hays, this morning I was reading from Tony Cuckson, an Irish gent, who writes about love, life and finding peace. Nothing wrong with that in my book. He began to speak about Warriors. He said some things that I want to pass on to you, for you were born from truth and wisdom, and you have inherited a legacy of honor and justice. Your precious life has been a gift to all who know you, and from this summer on, you will be sprouting new wings….


 The warrior is a being of wisdom. Matthew Fox the spiritual theologian and founder of the University of Creation Spirituality tells the story of a soldier who comes back from the Vietnam War. This soldier is from the Native American tradition. On his return to his homeland he feels wounded in so many ways. So the elders of the tribe take him aside and tell him, “Now we will teach you how to become a warrior.” So for four years he undergoes extensive training to become a warrior. The first task he was required to do is to learn to play the flute. Having done this he gives his first public recital to the assembled tribe and the elders. He does well. Following the applause each elder approaches and takes the flute and carves a piece out of it with a knife. The flute like the soldier was in pieces. It was then no longer playable. Then he was given another task. So he continues to be trained in this way for four years until there was nothing more that can be taken way from him even his attachment to life. He is left to love only what was in the moment. He gives up attachment to all that is in form to enter the formless. In entering the formless he discovers something that can never be taken away from him. Thus he crosses the real threshold beyond death into the eternal. Then he is a real warrior.

I have heard a great saying; “Do not give a gun to a warrior who does not know how to dance.” 

Hays, remember these wise words, you have been trained and have been shown truth. You have imprinted within you all that you were sent here to do. You were not actually sent, you chose to come here, and you also know deep inside what your purpose is.

Don’t worry, don’t fret, you are special, and your path is certain. Time is your friend, life is waiting for you, patiently.  
I have told you and told you, Hays you make us all very proud of you, we see that inner self that you are. You will have all the pleasures that God has planned for you, just remember….look inside, you have it all there. I promise!

I love you dearly….always in and of love, aunt jimmie 
  

How to Poach Turkey Breast

TURKEY BREAST POACHED IN OLIVE OIL

• Servings: 6
• Print

Author: Chef James R. Kirkley, IV

• 1, turkey breast (4 to 6 pounds)
• 2 cups, il Fustino Mission EVOO
• salt and pepper to taste
• 8 medium, carrots (optional) – peeled and cut into 2″ lengths
• 1 large head, garlic – cut in half
• 8 medium, shallots – peeled and left whole
• 1 medium, fresh lemon – quartered
• 1/2 bunch, fresh parsley – minced

Put the olive oil in a deep skillet that will accommodate all the ingredients in one layer and turn heat to medium. Meanwhile, salt and pepper the turkey breast. Prepare the vegetables. When the oil reaches 200 degrees, gently slide in the breast, garlic, shallots, and carrots. Adjust the heat so the temperature remains between 180 and 200 degrees.

If the oil covers the turkey breast, let it cook undisturbed; if the oil does not cover the turkey breast, turn the breast once or twice. In 45 minutes to 1 hour, check the internal temperature of the breast. It should be 170 degrees. The breast and carrots will be tender enough to be pierced through with the end of a thin-bladed knife. Turn off the heat and use a slotted spoon to transfer everything to a platter.

Drizzle with lemon juice, sprinkle with salt, pepper, and parsley.

Feb 17, 2018 Seeing…..

HOW – How – how?  Did this occur? I am scrolling down thru my facebook page, when I read each of these two post. Actually the first one I saw was Father Martin speaking about the book by Richard Rohr, it is titled Breathing Underwater, I just recently began a Daily Prayer Meditation; The Examen, which is narrated by Father Martin, I am doing it as my Lent this Spring 2018. In that daily prayer Father Martin is asking us to be mindful where we see God all through the day. So, the book he recommended was of interest to me. I gave pause.

Then…..I continued to scroll….

Passing one post, and the very next one, again. I see the words “Breathing Underwater” now of course, I am caught in full attention. I had just seen those words a few seconds before, I look again to make sure words are the same. They are, are they the same book? No. They are different authors. One Richard Rohr and the other Carol Bialock. One a book, one a poem. I am even more intrigued. My daily meditation has me watching for God, I am sure God is here, asking, offering me to pay attention. I am here recording this – I am sure there is something here for me. I will come back later, as this is not a coincidence. I am amazed, I am blessed. I…..I…..I……. am mystified.

David Solie

February 14 at 11:41am ·

Breathing Underwater

We adult children look at aging and say no thanks, not for me, best to keep a safe distance. But aging is patient, biding its time and confident of its purpose.

From seemingly nowhere, our safe distance collapses and a new truth emerges. This mutative moment haunts Carol Bialock’s magnificent poem “Breathing Underwater,” is an intergenerational elegy to what this inconvenient truth does to all of us…

Breathing Underwater
By Carol Bialock

I built my house by the sea.
Not on the sands, mind you,
not on the shifting sand.
And I built it of rock.
A strong house
by a strong sea.
And we got well acquainted, the sea and I.
Good neighbors.
Not that we spoke much.
We met in silences,
respectful, keeping our distance
but looking our thoughts across the fence of sand.
Always the fence of sand our barrier,
always the sand between.
And then one day
(and I still don’t know how it happened)
The sea came.
Without warning.
Without welcome even.
Not sudden and swift, but a shifting across the sand like wine,
less like the flow of water than the flow of blood.
Slow, but flowing like an open wound.
And I thought of flight, and I thought of drowning, and I thought of death.
But while I thought, the sea crept higher till it reached my door.
And I knew that there was neither flight nor death nor drowning.
That when the sea comes calling you stop being good neighbors,
Well acquainted, friendly from a distance neighbors.
And you give your house for a coral castle
And you learn to breathe under water.

 

AND THIS….

 

Fr. James Martin, SJ

22 hrs ·

We were happy to welcome the great Franciscan spiritual master Richard Rohr, OFM, and his colleague the publisher James J. Knipper, at America yesterday. Richard doesn’t travel all that much these days (rather, he works at his Center for Contemplation and Action in New Mexico) so it was a rare treat to see him. If you’re not familiar with his amazing work, I’d say start with his amazing book “Breathing Underwater.” Also, you should subscribe to his daily meditations. They’re drawn from his many books, and are a great way to start your day. https://cac.org/category/daily-meditations/

Trees and The Present

Last summer in the Redwood forest in CA, being in the presence of these stately old trees is humbling, yet it is impossible not to feel joyful. My cousin Patrick and I.

Anne Dillard “At the apogee of the road’s curve grew an enormous oak, a massive bur oak two hundred years old, one hundred and fifty feet high, an oak whose lowest limb was beyond the span of the highest latter, I looked up: there were clothes spread all over the tree. Red shirts, blue trousers, black pants, little baby smocks——There was a gay assortment of cotton underwear, yellow dresses, children’s green sweaters……You know roads. A bend comes and you take it, thoughtlessly moving on. I looked behind me for another split second, astonished; both sides of the tree’s canopy, clear to the top bore clothes. Trompe!

But there is more to the present than a series of snapshots. We are not merely sensitized film; we have feelings, a memory for information and an eidetic memory of the imagery of our own past.

Our layered consciousness is a tiered track for an unmatched assortment of concentrically wound reels, Each one plays out for all of life its dazzle and blur translucent shadow-pictures; each one hums at every moment its own secret melody in its own unique key. WE tune in and out. But moments are not lost. Time out of mind is time nevertheless, cumulative, informing the present. From even the deepest slumber you wake with a jolt–older, closer to death, and wiser, grateful for breath. …..Yes, you say, as if you’d been asleep a hundred years, this is it, this is the real weather” Chapter 6. Pilgrim At Tinker Creek

 

This Tree….I took this photo in Virginia, most likely around 2009, it is huge. Two days ago while reading Annie Dillard’s book Pilgrim At Tinker Creek, I happened on her description of similar tree and finally, I think, her way of describing this enormous tree captures it’s size. The other part, where she sees this tree with all those clothes hanging  was priceless, can you even imagine? Me, even with her vivid description, I still have a difficult time seeing those clothes hanging on such a tree. But, this is a tree like she saw. I am sure. I don’t think we run across trees this size often and when we do, we remember. I’ve visited the Redwood Forest in California, they are monster trees, but different. But, as she says in this quote above, we have a eidetic memory for the imagery of our own past. I get that, for that is what happened to me, upon reading this above quote, my memory went immediately to the photo and I couldn’t brush it away, I had to find that photo (where did I put it?). My OCD kicked in….

 

More on Trees….Father Sean Caulfield. Chapter 10 Spaces…

” I sit here looking at a pine tree outside my window. At first glance all pine trees, or at least of the same species, look alike. We look at them but we do not see them. In fact, no two are alike. To see the tree, we must look intently, concentrating on the spaces between the branches. It is not the branches, but the spaces between the branches that define the personality of the tree. It takes a little time. We must focus and hold. The tree does not yield up its secret easily. The secret is really our secret. We put our spirit on the tree, much like a composer does on the sounds, and it comes back to us changed. We become when we contemplate. Eventually, and this is consoling or a frightening thought, we become like the God we contemplate, the God of love. We take the tree into our spirit and it quietly reveals it’s own spirit –“you alone are the one who cares to know. I was not and I am, and now that you know me I shall never cease to be. I am part of your fullness forever. To a logger I am only money, to an artist I have aesthetic value, to another I give shade or warmth to his furnace. But to you I am the word of God. This is the inner essence of my being. When he fashioned me out of nothingness I was modeled on himself. In some small way he had to be like a pine tree for a pine tree to exist. I am a word he speaks in trunk and branches and spaces…….” This is a little of what the tree says as it bends down and embraces me with its branches. To say that it actually does that would involve us in magic. But, not to see or hear anything would leave us blind and deaf to the reality around us, doomed to isolated and uninteresting lives. And once we grasp the personality of one tree, then all trees get into the act.”

Some of the trees that I have met…..

A Virginia favorite

 

To really get this photo, you would need to lay down and take the photo. I did not. ha! Redwood.

Thomas Jefferson described the Tulip Poplar as “The Juno of our Groves” when he forwarded seeds to a Parisian friend, Madame de Tesse, in 1805. The Tulip Poplar, also called Yellow Poplar or Tuliptree, is a fast growing tree and the tallest hardwood species of the eastern North American forest. — at The Saunders-Monticello Trail. This tree was once standing next to Monticello, but as you can see from the hollow interior, it finally became time to cut it down. Now it’s been placed out on The Saunders-Monticello Trail.

My brother standing near a beauty on the Blue Ridge Mountain Trail.

Lovely view near Shell Knob, MO. I lived here one year.

Another Missouri tree near me. (well, two trees really)

In Virginia where I worked, this tree on the right had to be taken down, it was a beauty.

There is something about this view that moves me.

Sean Caulfield goes on the say “The spirit of the forest is awesome and sublime. It mocks the pettiness of our lives. But even our lives have spaces, spaces in human affairs. They are the non-temporal moments when thoughts die into decisions, decisions into act. They form our personality.

The finite is complex. It is easily fragmented. Contemplative awareness can hold it together. It draws together all the powers of our spirit and body to center on the deepest level of our being where God, the ground and source of being, is present as gift and salvation. In quiet contemplative praying fragmented people are put back together again. Back at the time when I was pushing the idea of opening a monastery in the Philippines I was, myself, a very fragmented person. I was being told that I never ceased being a diocesan priest and I should return. I was torn apart within, not knowing what to believe. There was nobody who could give me a sense of direction or say; “Look, this is all part of being a monk.” I am not given to superstitious signs, but there is a harmony of things that to the intuitive mind indicates a way to go, a time to make a decision. I did not have that harmony, and there was no indication that any decision would be a step forward. I spent weeks in prayer, nights in nightmares. We have this conceit in the Trappist that our way of life is the ultimate in human endeavor, and flunking out is regrettable failure. We put a great deal into the life and leaving it is traumatic. Eventually I wrote my former diocese and was invited to return. I had been 18 years in the Trappist.”

He goes on to say on the day of his departure, he was saying goodbye to a few of the monks and one replied: “Ah well, there were some good things about you.” Sean says he was so low “this condemnation by faint praise actually picked me up.”

So where do I go from here? I’ve been typing from two of my favorite writers today. I’ve been inspired by them and their spiritual harmony with trees. I love the honest and humble writing of Sean Caulfield, he let’s me see his warts and all. Reading his life experiences, ups and downs, is educational. I tend to be so hard on myself, I shelter myself from others in order to live in peace. They say in order to experience peace, you have to lower your expectations. I not only do that, I just stay away, then I have no way to get hurt. I guess it works, I feel contented. I’ve passed the point in my life where I feel obligated to achieve new heights, I basically want to find a way to live in harmony. I get to live that way out here in the woods, I have a very simple life and my days are pretty ordinary.  I want to end with something profound, but I am having a time with that right now. I am not getting much original thought. I am thinking of a quote I read yesterday and wanted to make a point of retaining it, maybe I will end with that.

Many of those who strive to overcome pride are hoping to puff themselves up with this triumph. Hakim Jami

That quote is indeed worth pondering…..have fun!  Go climb a tree?  I don’t think that would be safe for me. I used to do it and loved being up in our tree house. An old osage orange (or horse apple tree)…..wonder if it’s still standing? hmmmm?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stress – UGH!

Stress is basically a disconnection from the earth, a forgetting of the breath. Stress is an ignorant state. It believes that everything is an emergency. Nothing is that important. Just lie down. If you ask what is the single most important key to longevity, I would have to say it is avoiding worry, stress and tension. And if you didn’t ask me, I’d still have to say it.George Burns. (he should know) Want To live Life Without Stress And Worries, I don’t Need To Be Rich And Famous, I just Want To Be Happy… Realize that not all movement is progress. When stress and tension and chaos surround you, pause for a moment and relax. The best time to take a deep breath is when you don’t have time for it. Live life in harmony. Balance the elements of life around you to live in peace. Let your worries go. Do not stress over things you cannot control. Live and be. Saying yes to Happiness means learning to say no to things and people that stress you out.

I can hear the distant drumroll of thunder, the sky is bright blue and sun is shining. It is a mixture of both the strong elements, the soothing brightness of the gleaming freshness of mid-day and the eerie sounds of looming storms from a distance? I guess today presents both. I wonder if that is a metaphor for what I am writing and thinking about today, the way life mixes both elements into our present. Life holds all the cards, we draw randomly the ones we’ll be challenged to play. My life is great, it is so full of goodness, mercy and contentment. I have been gifted. I am indeed grateful.

What will tomorrow bring? Who knows? I wake each day, open my eyes and I have to admit, I drag myself out of bed. I am grateful I can put my feet on the ground and I have the full capacity to live independently. I have devoted little dog who loves me, no strings attached. She has needs, which I provide her, I have needs of love and acceptance, she provides that and we live together in goodness and harmony.

I am graced, but I am challenged as the next with times of stress, how much do I dump on myself? My job has stress, and I must learn better ways to deal, I pray for that wisdom to present itself.

I am graced beyond my wildest dreams.

Miss you every day Momma

God looked around his garden

And found an empty place.

He then looked down upon the earth,

And saw your tired face.

He put His arms around you

And lifted you to rest.

God’s garden must be beautiful,

He always takes the best.

He knew that you were suffering,

He knew that you were in pain.

He knew that you would never

Get well on earth again.

He saw the road was getting rough

And the hills were hard to climb.

So He closed your weary eyelids

And whispered “Peace be thine.”

It broke our hearts to lose you

But you did not go alone…

For part of us went with you

The day God called you home.” by Wendy Bradley

(my mom, she is probably 16 years old)

My life changed last week, my dear mom passed on to her next destination. Some people tell me she is in a better place, that is hard to understand. However in fairness, I too, have told that to people before, but it was when the end of ones life had reached the place where there was nothing for them to enjoy. I could see it being said, “they are in a better place”. My mom was not actually there yet, but she was not exactly living the life she had enjoyed over the past 8 and 1/2 decades. She was in a state of limbo, some days better than others. I was sad to see her finishing her last chapter in that nursing home, but it wasn’t gloomy. She seemed to be pain free, content and in good spirits. Daddy on the other hand, was in misery. He begged to die. He was a much stronger person than mom, so if he had reached his tipping point – I believed him. He endured his misery in order to remain here with her. When he died, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He WAS in a better place.

Mom feeding little ole me, this had to be 1951

The woman who told me yesterday in Alanon that my mother “was in a better place” came across deeply disingenuous. I could spend most of this blog writing about that, but, no need. Her response was generic.

Thanksgiving Day 2016 – we fixed her dinner and gathered with her at the nursing home to have a family dinner. My brother Rex standing above, it was a good day.

 

I don’t know if mom would be happy with her final outcome. There are many ways one could spin her final months. She was content to be in that nursing home. She introduced  the aides as “her friends”. I think the day I heard her say that, I had the best feeling; she had embraced her surrounding and her day to day contacts as if they were special people in HER life. Indeed they were, they were kind and loving to her, that was a gift.

 

And then, I needed to move on, not overthink all of it. It was what it was. Dad’s death, mom’s inability to shake her grief, her alcoholism that plagued her until that last stroke, and the severe stroke (s) that finally landed her in the nursing home, her dementia that came on as fast as the stroke, and later I figured out that these strokes had been coming over a period of years and she had been declining bit by bit, but that realization came later and hindsight is 20/20. All of this information does not come to you wrapped in a pretty package, it is information that slowly develops if you want to figure out what had occurred. I do. That is not what I am writing tonight.

Tonight is about a dead gray rabbit and dying baby squirrel

The rabbit was in a dream one night ago, it was lying on my front walk. I do not know why it was there any more than I know why I dreamed about it. I tried to get some information from my google search, but it wasn’t that easy. I am still clueless.

The baby squirrel was in the parking lot this afternoon, it was so little and would not move. We knew it had something wrong. We finally figured out it had been injured in the head, and the boys wanted to ‘put it out of it’s misery’, which, is not a bad thing. But, I ran off when they suggested it. I realized it wasn’t a bad idea, but emotionally, I ran.

 

Dead rabbit in dream, dying baby squirrel and mercy killing. How are these two events connected? Are they? I think they are. I just went through a miserable week of watching my mother die. It was not a cake walk by any stretch, nor was it a bad thing. Her situation was terminal and if by some miracle she had survived, her way of living would never be the same. It was a stretch to say her quality of life was good at the nursing home, but it was not complicated. She had a routine, she was safe, and some days she knew what was going on. The medical situation that took her life came suddenly and I guess for whatever reason was her end. It was her time to go.

 

I could write and write about the circumstances, I could debate the decisions we made, I could debate the what-ifs and even question the soundness of her Doctor, all within my rights. But, in this case, and really out of respect for all concerned, I leave it be.

We were all there, by her side, til her final breath. My sweet brother sat all night with her, he sang to her, he read Psalms to her,  it was a long night, I took a break, went down and tried to sleep, then he came and I went to sit with her. Wednesday night March 30, 2016.

She is still in ICU, I think they moved her to Comfort Care mid day Thursday March 31st. I am sure she still knows me, this is hard to look at, however, I am glad I took it.

 

I was with her from Wednesday afternoon about 6pm March 30th until April 1st at 1:45 pm when she took her last breath. I slept there, ate next door at Tad’s and ran to Prescott one time to shower and change clothing. It was a long 36 hours. I will never forget.

 

So what about the Rabbit and Squirrel? Not sure, maybe all they were meant to do was inspire me to come here and write. It worked.

 

When we are grieving, moving in a slow healing process through fear and loss, we are also undergoing an extraordinary awakening of the heart. Grief can broaden our capacity for empathy and deepen our strength. We mourn the absence of a loved one, the loss of safety and the disappearance of certainty – the stark awareness that none of know what might happen next.

But even here, there is a great life teaching: the truth of impermanence, the preciousness of this fleeting moment. The recognition that we don’t have a moment to waste – and the realization that love is the rational act of a lifetime. – Stephen Levine

Today I realize more that I did how much I have to allow that grief to flow through me. As this unit of my parents has moved on, the finality of it has yet to fully become part of my conscious thoughts. Maybe it is supposed to be that way, many folks tell me they continue to think of their parents almost daily. I do also.

 

Timothy Shriver: “If you get grief wrong, you get a lot of things wrong”.

Not being able to acknowledge grief, no one to talk about it with, or to even allow yourself the time to feel the pain. you hide from pain; you hide from the things that bother you, hiding comes in many forms – be it drinking, drugs, food, and even shopping (ahem) can be a form of denial, the internet can become a way to avoid feeling. I think I ran across one of my methods, which has become almost an obsession since mom passed, it is looking for a small condo. I filled many hours browsing the hundreds of photos of condos in a variety of communities in Arkansas and Missouri. Nothing has become of this diligent search, but the idea made sense to me. I thought about slowing down on my search and immediately this empty feeling came over me. I think the condo is a way of moving on, then when I don’t have that hope for tomorrow, the pain of my mom being gone comes back. There is an insecurity that I have that if I don’t allow myself to find a place to go, a home of some sorts, that I will be drifting out there in the unknown.

Rest In Peace Sweet Mom (April 1, 2016) No Fooling About This One.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For Sale