Friday, January 14, 2022

Back to It


Life continues with its twists and turns. I am thankful that this morning I had focused my thoughts on distilling the goodness, on centering my heart, my mind, on whatever is working, feels safe, can be managed. I had this elaborate post all worked up, and then I talked myself down. Process that, I reminded myself. Refine the message, and get to the particulars, the certain points that highlight good moments, progress, comfort. It's not hard for me to get overwrought, these days. I edited pictures off of my phone, happy that I found more than screenshots of memes, and soundbites. I thought about Maria back in school, the start of a new robotics season. I relished sharing a nursery visit, my intentions there. All of this is with mindful focus, and deliberate, as I also handled business emails, and dealt with a contentious miscommunication. Then a text came through, a death in the family. The emotions, and complications, the dystopian surrealism that has proliferated our lives... it's hard to believe, to take in. I am sad for his passing, for his children, and grandchildren, for his siblings. I admit that my own sorrow is for my younger self, who I was when I knew him better. And the sorrow is for the inconceivable future we find ourselves in. I could not have foreseen how strange things would become, how difficult. When we were children, traveling to El Valle was hard, a long journey, but nothing to compare with the obstacles, barriers, risks, and divides, literal and figurative, that stand in the way today.

I will focus on those particulars, my faith, and the happiest recollections, the good times, the small moments that can be so vivid, so imbued with hope, that they prevail, even over time, and loss, and grief.

Love Yourself, And the World. ~Bryce W.

Maria recognized her friend's message, written in chalk, at school. The flowers and heart-faced smiles are a sure giveaway. Bryce is a hearts and flowers life poet. It's a good message. All of these pictures, these moments, are good messages, reminding me of friendships, connections, of funny exchanges, and exquisite natural beauty, and silly beauty, and life's rhythms, the things we get to experience and share, like birding season, robotics season, the next sunrise. Who knows what unforeseen struggles we will face, but thank you, Life, and God, and friends, for the particulars that keep me hoping, and help me get back to it.

6 comments:

Nicole said...

That last photo! Wow!

I am so sorry for your loss. May your memories help you through.

Natalie, the Chickenblogger said...

Thank you, Nicole. Good memories are helping a lot. And I am appreciating how important it is to make as many good memories as we can... they are like feathers to line a nest, insulation against hard times.

And that sunrise! I am so glad I got up and out, and didn't miss it.

Sarah said...

I'm sorry for your loss; I hope the beauty you have found around you helps.

Little Dorrit does... said...

I'm so sorry you've had a death in the family, and for the sadness that brought you. I can empathise with the sorrow for your younger self who knew him better - I have similar thoughts/feelings about my aunt, who I was closer to as a child - my memories of her were from a younger time too. In the years since she passed the initial sadness has subsided, but those happy childhood memories are always awakened when I see her photo on the shelf. I just wish I could replicate the way she made porridge - thick but never sticky!

I think that amazing sunrise must have been on a round-the-world tour - I had exactly the same mass of red-pink clouds on Monday morning - with a gorgeous pale golden-peach and turquoise combo along the horizon too.

Hugs to you.

Natalie, the Chickenblogger said...

Thank you, Sarah. The beauty does help. And so do thoughtful messages, like yours.

Natalie, the Chickenblogger said...

Thank you, Amelia. I am glad you can relate, because I feel somewhat perplexed over my own sadness, as though I need to rationalize it, justify my emotions, when we were not close, not in many years. But the memories are good ones, and connected to even fonder recollections, and it makes me realize that even when time has passed, and things have changed, there are still notions, possibilities I have hung on to, and I am grieving what cannot ever be. Your experience, wishing you could replicate that porridge is so relatable! I find myself aching to watch my Grandmother make her tortillas, just one more time, to sit around a table with my other Grandmother, and aunts, uncles, cousins, talking and laughing, and having those familiar, but fading sensations of connection.
From tears to warm smiles... I happily concur, we shared that wonderful sunrise! Those colors, pink-peaches and turquoise, always make me feel six years old and convinced nothing is prettier than pink next to turquoise blue. It's as though those were my first crush.