“what the sun lights up…”

But this: it is heaven itself to take what is given,

to see what is plain; what the sun

lights up willingly...

—Mary Oliver from “Daisies”

Today I read this poem, then read it again out loud. What I've been missing! That will definitely be my new routine. Read the darn thing out loud!

As I journaled I realized that the call to get out and walk at one of the parks was a necessity today, with the new idea of paying attention to what the sun lights up. I made a plan and got ready and drove to Lakes Park. The last time I was there I walked maybe a mile and stopped twice to rest on a bench. Today I walked nearly one and a half miles, mostly through the wooded area, and I didn't have to stop once. Progress is mine! 

The following photos will be my creative piece today. I'm calling this "caption poetry." I think I've made it up, but who knows? Enjoy my captures of "what the sun lights up" in Lakes Park on a Saturday morning.

The sun hits my back and a
long-legged shadow appears

The sun on the tree branches
demonstrate strength and growth

Sun on the rocks is shadow and light

the floating feather a lucky wish

There is always the moment of awareness
how the sun strikes the lake and 
silhouettes the trees

Even cypress knees are found
by the sun

A bench for resting, musing, being
with sun and water reflections

In the opening to the woods
a reminder from the Ladybug Man.
The sun shines here, too

Sun through the palm fronds
a neon effect

God is always the details.
Today she was in the woods
glamorizing the bay laurel leaves

As my walk ended
My gratitude knew no bounds
This place. This day. This.

 

Wild

 Wild sings the bird of the heart in the forests of our lives. 

—Mary Oliver from “Wild, Wild”

When I was getting ready to marry my first husband, I remember sitting with my friend Cathy and telling her I am just meant to live a normal life. I am not to do anything out of the ordinary, anything to rock the boat. When I think of it now, I think she must have thought it was the saddest thing she ever heard. I can only say I was operating on some kind of underlying fear. I couldn't color outside of the lines for whatever the reasons were. 

My wild heart was awoken when I met Jim. As I started to see we were meant for each other, I did feel terribly wild.

It was wild he was 13 years older than me.

It was wild that his oldest son was just five years younger than me.

It was wild that I easily gave up the thought of having children, something I always thought was a given in a "normal" life, and I had a tubal ligation shortly after we were married. I was 31, and no regrets.

It was wild that I decided to start college and become a teacher in my 40s, with his 100% support.

It was wild that we decided one day to move to a warmer climate, and made it happen in about 6 months.

The Mary Oliver poem was about the heart wanting what the heart wants. I knew going in that Jim would be the first one to go, and I'd spend time alone. Knowing that certainly didn't make it any easier losing him on this earthly plane.

But what I'm finding is my wild heart is still awake and alive. I can feel its stirrings. I don't think I'm meant to live an ordinary elder life. What that means, I have no clue. I just know I'm on my way to somewhere unexpected. I also know Jim is forever with me, our wild hearts forever melded together. 

My wild heart

wanted no

other thing

than what

he had to

offer. So

I listened

to whispers

and followed

to where I

am today

forever in

gratitude.

As the Sun Rises

 

This turned out to be the thing that saved me: the knowledge I could get back by myself.

--Ann Patchett Tom Lake page 250

When I read Tom Lake in 2023, the sentence above was so significant to me that I used it in my Good Reads review.  A number of weeks ago, my friend Amy and I had a discussion about this scene in the book. The character was in a wheelchair and was left alone in the theater, and had to get herself back to the camp cabin by herself. It spoke of her strength in the face of being abandoned.

*

Today I woke early, did some coherent breathing exercises I learned at a workshop yesterday, and after writing in my journal, I noticed it was getting light outside. I was called to pull on some clothes and take a walk. I didn't have to think twice about it.

I took the walk, thinking about how "normal" it felt in a life that has been anything but normal. 

This week, the positive shifts continued. There are twice a week Tai Chi classes available at my church through Neighbors Network of Lee County, and I cannot believe how quickly it has helped me build up some strength I have lost since last June. They are the ones who sponsored the workshop yesterday called Breath * Body * Mind. It was a morning well spent.

Today I had the knowledge I could make it around the block in a safe and stable way. It is exactly what happened. I had my camera with me, but didn't take a picture.

When I returned home, I was being nudged to write a poem, so I did. It came out as a monostitch -- a poem that is all one sentence.

 Then I noticed the sun brightness through the blinds and took a picture. So this blog was written backwards--the poem came first, then I found a quote I had saved that applied. 

Everything the past several days has accumulated into this moment.

I am grateful I have the agency and momentum now that I have lacked for so long. I am graced with an abundance of knowledge that I CAN make it back by myself.  Oh yes, I have plenty of support. But the real work is done alone. 

The outdoors called to me

and I did not hesitate,

and immediately pulled on clothes

and my Barbie pink sneakers

and walked around the block

at sunrise, the entire time

thinking how normal it felt,

how stable and strong I am,

as if I've been doing this

consistently for the past

nine months, so I am declaring

the days of difficulty are over,

the barricades to movement 

broken, and as the sun rises,

so do I.

The Essentials

What is essential does not die but clarifies.

-Thornton Wilder-

I come to write today because it has been poking at me, but somehow I've been crazy busy and just haven't set aside the time. I finally said I'm going to do it NOW, and see where it leads.

Then I looked at my last blog post (from March 24) and I see that in it I was wondering where I was heading and what life will look like.

And now I know why Wilder's quote struck me this morning. I have been getting some of that clarification since that day at Lighthouse Beach.

Ask the question. Get the answer. (Even if you didn't remember asking!)

With family here, I was able to get some things fixed, switched out, cleaned out -- in particular the garage which looks like an entirely different place with all the STUFF out of it. 

It hasn't stopped since then. I find I'm thinking more and more about what my style will be, and I've been seeking out new clothes and shoes. Especially now that I lost 20 pounds and a bunch of my pants are too big! (Good problem to have, I suppose.) I muse on other ways to change up things in my home, make them mine. Every day it seems I do get a little more clarity of the essentials of life as it is right now.

I started taking Tai Chi classes that meet twice a week through May, and I'm loving it. Tomorrow morning I'm going to a Breath Body Mind workshop. Today I got myself to Lakes Park and walked around the lake. I am still nowhere near the strength I need, so I had to stop and rest twice. I'm not willing to push myself too much. The last thing I need is an injury or a setback.

Today I was asked to take over leading our book club starting in June. I have known the right things would come to me at the right time. I'm sorry that my friend Trish will be moving away, but I'm glad she asked me.

Now that I'm recovering from months of health issues, I feel myself moving through the world with more confidence and stability. It's been a long time coming.

 At first the wind was a bit cold

but that blue sky, those clouds!

The birds all around the lake, my companions

Ibis and seagulls and moorhens

Nearly everyone I walked past said hello or good morning

This is the Lakes Park I have missed

And now sitting at this computer writing -- 

touching back to who I am in the deepest part of myself

which has been making its way to the surface

Wilder is right.

The months of darkness made me feel something was dying,

but that is not true.

It was taking off the husk.

Polishing the diamond.

Opening up a door to a room I've never been in before.

And I'm okay right where I am because

I have the essentials.