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I watched a tractor through the magnifying magic of binoculars this morning. Unaided, I was just able to make out his high beams (why they were on I haven’t a clue as the day is bright, despite the heavy blanket of clouds in the sky) but through the lens, details began to emerge as the tractor ran its errands. To the side in an adjacent field, I saw a white pickup and a newly-clear view of what is normally admired via a quick glance out our sunroom windows. Canada geese flew into my line of sight and, setting the binoculars aside, I noticed a squirrel scampering across the third hole, skirting the bunkers. The pond on the far end of the second fairway patiently waits for the geese to land, arboreal sentinels keeping watch. Purple finches, closer to home, approach our feeder, happy I’m sure, that only yesterday I refilled it with the black sunflower seeds they so heartily crave. There is no snow – just yet – and we’ll enjoy temperatures in the 40s and 50s the next several days but make no mistake: winter is coming.

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The hospice bed occupied a large portion of the living room. Ha! — the living room. Dad was dying and it wouldn’t be much longer now. I hadn’t realized the stillness of our melancholy would be punctuated by the sounds of Dad’s death rattle. Nor did I know that he would slip into a coma-like sleep as the cancer, coursing through his body, began shutting down his internal life support systems. It unsettled us all.

We took turns sitting alongside him, holding his hand in ours as we memorized the lines in his drawn, shrunken face, the twinkle in his brown eyes long since extinguished. We sought reassurance every few minutes that he was indeed still breathing. Once, when my mourning asserted itself in a low, wretched wail, the depths of my anguish more pronounced than any grief I’d ever known, my mother scolded me.

“Stop it. You’ll upset your father”.

A memory, unbidden, startled me at that moment. I was reminded of the time my mother visited my kindergarten classroom. Thrilled that she was there, I eagerly twisted my small six-year-old frame for a glimpse of her sitting behind us — a small group of little ones seated on our colorful nap rugs — happily expectant that she would return the huge smile I offered her. Instead, she shook her finger and sternly admonished me to turn around and pay attention to the teacher.

My father was leaving me and now I had two conflicting states of mind to grapple with: this paralyzing, numbing sadness and the frustration (and hurt) of yet again being shamed for expressing my emotions, each time having been inspired by love.

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We were doing rope work at Dutton Cave in northeast Iowa, almost thirty years ago, when my son was not quite yet in his teens. He was, I think, about ten or eleven years old.

The maw of this cozy cavern is perfect for rappelling as the top of the opening is accessible via a short climb through brush and bramble on either side of the cave proper. At the crown of the vertical granite face, overlooking the drop, is where the ropes were set in place. Playtime prep work was done by the (far) more experienced members of our merry band of adventurers. My son and I, neophytes to the world of spelunking, were simply along for the ride.

Prior to the free-fall exhilaration of gliding down a nylon rope – climbers dutifully attached to said rope wearing only an awkwardly cumbersome but oh-so-necessary corded harness to aid in their ascent or descent – the group elders decreed that one must first successfully climb from the relatively flat, rock-strewn bottom to the sloping, rock-strewn top of the cave wall – an upward span of forty agonizing feet. Doing so, peering into the darkness of the cave or looking out at the tops of the trees in the park, relative to one’s orientation while suspended from the rope at various height intervals, climbers rise slowly up the rope via a stepping motion using a mechanical device known as an ascender.

My time with the group was short-lived and I don’t claim to possess even a modicum of expertise or the skillful ability to correctly employ the appropriate jargon of the sport. So I ask more diligent readers to please bear with me. I will tell you, however, that rope climbing using these ascenders is both a difficult and a most satisfying endeavor.

Once a climber cleared the cave opening, all that stood in the way of reaching terra firma was the delicately demanding act of pushing the ascender up the rope while maneuvering it up and over and then past the rock-lip of the surface where the rope lies. This is not an easy task given the weight of the climber enhanced by the pull of gravity, which makes for a very tight surface connection of rope to rock. However, once achieved, this climber – and this climber’s son who was not at all happy with his mother for insisting he do this! – were both rewarded with instant euphoria. That satisfying bite of the rope as the ascender cleared the rock and slid its way up the track of the rope allowing first me and then my son to summit the top of the cave entrance made the physical and mental challenges of completing the task entirely worth the effort.

Now, at last, we were able to enjoy rappelling back down to the spot where we began our incredible little climbing adventure. And it was all good.

Daily Prompt: Bite

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American citizens — weary of the bluster and outrage, indecency and greed and the mockery of the traditions we hold dear and the ravaging of our democracy — seek a leader to emerge from the chaos, someone to shine a light on injustice, someone to provide hope and guidance and someone to restore a sense of pride and compassion that has, until recently, been heralded and lauded around the world.

We are looking for that special someone who is:

  • Pragmatic and progressive-mind
  • Intelligent and well-spoken
  • Authentic
  • Earnest
  • Well-informed
  • Kind and compassionate
  • Honest
  • Cognizant of the worth of ALL Americans
  • Appreciative of the merits of discussion from both sides of the aisle and all those in between

Recognizing that saints are in pretty short supply these days, we nonetheless prefer a leader whose character and background are beyond reproach, one who has a record of commanding respect and affording it to others in equal measure.

Timeliness is of the essence. Your skills and leadership are needed NOW. Please: Make yourself known.

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I think all of us would love for the world to be a joyous place filled with strawberry ice cream, confetti, helium balloons and colorful streamers where we dance in the streets with lively music filling the air from every rooftop under sunny blue skies dotted with happy little clouds. There would be no crime, no disease, no disabilities, no avarice, no greed. Everyone is smart! Everyone is beautiful! People would have each others’ best interests at heart and kindness and compassion would be the order of the day.

That’s the stuff of fairy tales and we all know it.

Some people operate under the weight of the direct opposite of that fantasy ideal and almost collapse from the self-imposed negativity of trying to right too many wrongs. Noble, yes but the reality of the ugliness in the world can be too much for anyone to deal with day in and day out, year after year after year if indeed adherence to such a lofty goal is able to sustain itself for any extended period of time.

On the flip side, however, are those individuals for whom unpleasantness must be avoided at all costs. These are the folks, God Bless ‘Em, who insist on only viewing their world with optimism. They do not – ever – wish to be made aware of anything that challenges their funny, furry, fuzzy, fluffy outlook. Too often, these fortunate ones have not yet had to grapple with doubt or struggle or unfairness or financial worry or inequality or hardship or poverty or loss or isolation or physical unattractiveness. Theirs has always been a lovely, wonderful world. I’ve wondered whether they are aware that most people’s lives are not similarly blessed or if they realize that so many others won’t ever enjoy the good life these Golden Ones sometimes take for granted.

It’s true that negativity in a person is an undesirable trait; however, cheerful yet unmitigated and relentless avoidance of the harsh actualities of the Real World is hardly admirable – or practical – either.

Daily Prompt: Fluff

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Age creeps up on us all and while it does create new challenges, many of which are related to body ailments and an increase in physical limitations, the added years also afford us perspectives not previously embraced. The older I get I begin to understand there are demons I’ve fought my entire life. I recognize now the people in my life who’ve always had my back as well as the sad realization there are others who do not — no matter how hard I’ve tried to garner their true love, support and acceptance. One can only channel Sally Field for so long.

And so, I try not to dwell on my hurt and disappointment. Instead, I’m working on appreciating what I do have — and it’s a bunch! — and taking better care of myself even if that means letting go in the appropriate manner.

Daily Prompt: Release

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We had just arrived at the condo we’d rented for a week in Estes Park and were chatting with the older woman in the unit next to ours. Several elk were roaming the area around our new little home away from home including this huge bull. Elk begin the rut in September and we knew from a prior visit how thrilling it is to encounter these magnificent animals almost anywhere in the Estes Park area. So to see one in the parking space behind our condo, well, let’s just say it was pretty amazing.

The bull was surrounded by several females and this guy was certainly protective of his ‘girls’. They were approximately 20-30 feet away from where we stood unloading our car. The male started toward me. Instinctively ( and foolishly!) I raised my camera to take yet another photograph but when he came a little faster, huffing and snorting in a manner indicating his apparent displeasure in our proximity, I moved around to the other side of our vehicle.

It happened just so fast. The whole episode felt surreal. There she was, our neighbor – who we had met just fifteen minutes earlier – lying face down on the pavement next to the driver’s side front tire with Mr. Elk standing over her. His head was down, his massive rack lowered as if ready to strike again if she presented any additional threat to his harem.

Not likely, as she was bleeding profusely from above her right eye and under her chin. Her shirt was soaked in blood. My husband raised his arms, yelled and hit the hood of the car to get the elk to run off. Eventually, the bull tired of the game and turned around, calmly walking away and back into the woods.

I grabbed some napkins from the glove compartment and Bill went next door to retrieve her husband. We helped the woman up and then they left for the ER. Her injuries required stitches in both places and she also suffered a jawline fracture. She could have been blinded or killed and was extremely fortunate the elk had not injured her more seriously.

There are signs located throughout Rocky Mountain National Park advising visitors to maintain a distance of at least two bus lengths when encountering elk. Duly noted, RMNP. Duly noted!

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We navigate our lives with arms stretched out before us, unsure of what lies ahead. We find our way, we learn, we grow. Soon, we are enmeshed in the familiar, the sameness, the comfort of what’s known, providing us with the warm satisfaction of safety, nesting and contentment. But this same familiarity can often lead to stagnation, boredom and restlessness whether or not we are aware of its impact. We require change and challenges if we are to grow.

So, if we are to enjoy continued reawakenings – those grand feelings of awe and self-nurturing – we must recreate ourselves. New mantles undertaken with enthusiasm, perhaps tinged with caution and restraint, are key to exploring new realms of what we are capable of becoming. Climbing those mountains, learning new skills and acquiring new tools for living, touring exotic locales, opening ourselves up to infinite possibilities are all positive and exciting facets of lives not just well lived but truly, truly lived.

Daily Prompt: Recreate

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My twenties were hard. I was alone and unsure of myself. Feelings of inadequacies at times were overwhelming and simply stated, I just wanted to be loved, to know love, to have someone to share my days (and years) with. As much as I struggled during this time of my life, I was sure of one thing: Moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other just as I did when I walked dusty gravel roads each day to clear my mind and (try!) to keep extra pounds at bay. That has been my mantra over the years and it continues to sustain me. I’ve expanded my self/world view even further with new words of encouragement: RSG, Baby. Reach, Stretch, Grow!

Really, it’s the only choice we have.

Daily Prompt: Continue

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Earlier this summer I joined a writer’s group. We meet every week at Barnes & Noble where each person is free to share something they’ve written whether it be poetry, a short story, flash fiction or the latest chapter in a novel in progress. Surprisingly, poetry is something I’ve become drawn to, an unusual development in that I’ve never really taken an interest in it before now. One of our ‘tribe’ members is well versed (sorry, couldn’t resist!) in haiku so I thought I’d give it a try myself.

When I get home from these congregations, I’m usually too wired to sleep. Ideas, words and phrases flood my brain and I take pen to paper to gather my thoughts. Last night I shared some of these haikus with the group only to learn what I’d written weren’t technically haikus. Haiku, also called nature or seasonal haiku, is an unrhymed Japanese verse consisting of three lines of five, seven and five syllables, is usually written in the present tense and focuses on nature. What I learned is that what I’d originally called my ‘late night haikus’ were similar but identified instead as ‘human’ haiku, a form of verse that only references some aspect of human nature or emotions. They differ from nature haikus in that there are no references to the natural world.

Google defines senryu as “a poem, structurally similar to haiku, that highlights the foibles of human nature, usually in a humorous or satiric way”.

So, I know something now that I hadn’t known before – a good day yesterday, therefore! Here are my examples of this newly discovered form of poetry: the senryu. Each is a distinct verse, there is no correlation of one to the other; they are just six separate ‘human’ haikus. I hope you will enjoy them, keeping in mind these are my first attempts! 🙂

Hot/cold mermaid mugs
Seattle-based elixirs
Free wifi: Drink up!

Shallow depth of field
Two point eight aperture wide
Sweet bokeh delight.

Gifted in sheer pink
Lacy thongs, sequined brassiere
For whose enjoyment?

Elongated nails
Siren red with flecks of gold
Corrupted by grief.

Desires yet flaming
Stifled by heat and fatigue
Yearn for cooler nights.

Fleecy pajamas
Tunic top, wide-legged bottoms
Tangling good night’s sleep.