Archive for August, 2009

Rough Road Ahead – Next 12 Miles

Wednesday, August 26th, 2009

“Rough Road Ahead – Next 12 Miles” reads the sign.  I was travelling home from a day of blessed solitude in my heart’s home – The Adirondack Mountains.  Winding back from Blue Mountain Lake, I thought, “I’m so grateful to have that warning.”  Usually, when there’s rough road ahead in my life, there is no warning.  No sign.  But here, on my daytrip, I could prepare.  I could slow down.  I could heighten my awareness.  I could assess my surroundings.  I could be careful. 

In day to day life, there aren’t such warnings or, if there are, the sign is too small to see.  The rough road appears out of nowhere.  A smooth, beautiful morning suddenly turns rocky during a disagreement in the early part of the day.  Or a relaxing evening becomes stress-filled because someone is not participating in our family in a positive way.  During these times, I wish there had been a sign warning “rough road ahead” so that I could slow down, take a deep breath, and pay attention.  Without getting caught up in my emotions, blinded by my anger, I could handle the bumpy terrain in a more skillful way.  How can I make that happen?

The sign even tells me for how long these conditions will last – 12 miles.  I can glance at my odometer and take note  so I’ll know when to expect the rough road to come to an end.  However, during my day, just as the beginning is a surprise, so, too, is the end.  Suddenly things will smooth over and I might not even notice because my emotions are still shaky or my mind is stuck in the stories of the past.  My mind is still riding that rough road.  No, the end is not apparent immediately.  Nor will the beginning of the next patch be. 

In my new marriage and my new stepfamily, the road is rough.  The children don’t want to be part of this adventure; this partnership that my husband and I have created.  Friends bold enough to speak to this topic have advised me that the first year will be the hardest.  12 rough months not 12 rough miles.  “How can they know?”, I wonder.  Is there a sign?  With nothing else to cling to but hope, I feel reassured by this verbal sign.  I’ve (we’ve all) survived 3 months so far.  Nine to go.  Whew! 

I hope their wisdom, my only sign to go by, is right.

patty love
Copyright 2009

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A Relation's Death

Monday, August 10th, 2009

What is the sound of a tree dying?

Men’s voices shouting over Wednesday morning chainsaws. The terrible thuds as severed limbs crash to the ground. The chipper grinding flesh and bone to mulch. Rakes collecting up bits of flesh.

More men’s voices, just before the trucks pull away with the body – cut and chopped and ground into pieces, leaving just an open wound in the Earth’s skin and a few scattered fragments of tree flesh where once stood a magnificent oak.

And the heart-aching onlookers who came too late to prevent their relation’s untimely death.  They who gather in a circle over the wounded Earth hug and console each other.  Through the tears a groundswell arises.  The tree’s spirit speaks through their hearts and they know what to do.  They gather up the fallen acorns and begin to plant.

patty love
Copyright 2009

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