Wordless Wednesday

Change

Once again,the seasons are changing.

Mother Nature, up here in the Northern Hemisphere, is a tad schizophrenic at the moment.

One minute, she's shaking her booty, stamping her feet, rattling her bones and generally making a bit of a song and dance about the whole process and the next, she's billing and cooing and lulling us all with her gentle humming and sensuous dance. I suspect, like most of us old broads, she doesn't do change and upheaval in a ladylike manner.

Me neither.

For as long as I can remember, September and March are the times of the year when I can be depended on to be totally out of synch with the rest of the planet. Some might argue that this phenomenon is not confined to these 2 months. I don't listen to them.

Another symptom.

At the moment, Mother Nature is rattling my spirit.

Most of the time, when I indulge myself in Nature's embrace, I am richly rewarded.

But these days, the trees are growling at me, the, normally, gentle lapping waters are maelstroms of confusion, the murky, grey skies are ominously threatening, even the birds and animals are wary of me. I feel like a stranger in my own skin. Left to my own devices. To sink or swim. To do or die. To rebel or acquiesce. To be or not to be.

"Ah, you're just a bit down, maybe a little bit depressed ....." they opine, knowingly.

I don't think so.

Change is all around us, all of the time. Nothing stays the same, ever.

I like change. Usually.

But, right now, deep within me, something is changing, altering its course, causing my mind and body to throw some pretty severe wobblers.

And, needless to say, the map AND the manual are missing.

Roll on October.

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

Reality

You live in illusion and in the appearance of things. There is a Reality. You are the Reality. But you do not know it. If you wake up to that Reality, you will know that you are nothing, and being nothing, you are everything. That is all.

Wordless Wednesday

Weeds

An old friend of mine called to see me today. Unexpectedly. We hadn't seen each other for quite a while.

As she entered the black hole of calcutta, one of the residents ambled past and bid her a very polite, semi-coherent "Good morning"through a haze of hair and sleepiness. Even though the clock indicated that it was, indeed, 2.30 in the afternoon. She mumbled, incoherently, back at him. Very fitting response. We continued the arduous trek to the kitchen in search of the cup of tea, without which, no conversation can even be considered. Arriving at the kitchen, we are met by apparition No.2. "Would ye like tea? I've just made a pot... Oh hello" .. and promptly breezed past us to attend to more pressing matters, such as blow-drying her hair. Tea poured, milked and sugared, we settled in to catch up.

"Jaysus", she said, "What ARE you feeding them?"

I looked, rather blankly, at her and said "What do you mean?"

"They're HUGE" she gasped, "the last time I saw them, they weren't THAT big. My God, but they're growing like weeds!"

I smiled. It had been ages sinceI'd heard that expression.

We are a tall breed. So it really should come as no surprise to anyone that the offspring are most definitely not vertically challenged. But then again, I'm used to us. And the fact that we tower over most people.

We went on to regale each other with insights into our lives and the exploits on the roads less travelled. The ones that are covered in weeds. These roads, that are fraught with danger for any unsuspecting, beautiful, wild, growing creation. The danger of annihilation, extermination, all in the name of beauty, order and progress. The rooting out of undesirables. The hidden treasures that lie locked in these paths strewn with God's greenhouse's finest. The simple splendour of it all. The essential role that these misfits play in nature's landscape. The other misfits that are ruining the planet. We went a good way to solving the problems of the world. If we had our way.

Being very polite and well brought up, she enquired about the garden. She marvelled at the lush growth. The variety of shapes, sizes, aromas and colours. The exotic and the mundane. She enthused over the, hitherto unknown, varieties lurking behind the buddha. She expressed surprised disbelief when I told her that the vast majority of my treasures were, in actual fact, weeds. She wondered how I found the time. Not being a gardener herself, she was somewhat impressed. The best kind of visitor one can have.

She stayed for a couple of hours and we laughed uproariously, indulging ourselves in the madness and lunacy that we can both slip into as easily as an old, favourite Tshirt. Having conversed, at length, with the two apparitions, her parting shot to me was "They're 2 fine weeds, you have there ... and all of this without a gardener?"

Which got me thinking.

Dangerous territory, this thinking.

Like all parents, I suspect, we had the the grandest of plans and the highest of ideals when we embarked on the parenting journey. We struggled with the childhood ailments, the temper tantrums, the insecurities, the fluctuating hormones, the major and minor disappointments that we couldn't protect them from. We rejoiced with them in their triumphs over the intricacies of jigsaws, reading, bike riding, sharing, loving and growing. We were torn between loosening the ties that bind and tightening the leash. We did it all to the best of our ability. And, sometimes, we doubted ourselves. A little. Especially, when others were critical of our way. The outsiders nodded their heads knowingly when no.1 son pierced his ear and his tongue and when no.1 daughter dyed her hair a cobalt blue. "Wild" they muttered sagely. "No good will come of that" they whispered. I could hear, again, from the archives of an angst- ridden teenager, the old biddies, who used to remark as I passed by "That one, she's like a weed at the side of the road ... wild, wild, wild ... she'll come to a sticky end".

We suffered the pitying glances and the insufferable patronising with remarkable resilience.

And we continue on the journey, regardless.

We never did feel the need of a gardener.