Shabbos, 9 April 2010
Yes, it is the Sabbath. I should be refraining from writing. But as usual the Sabbath quiet and reflection leads to shimmering ideas that insist on being written down, especially lately with the possibility their life span will be as short as a soap bubble floating in the air.
I found this quote (1st of 2) not long ago, and it struck a chord inside me, and so I recorded it- to share. Someone may have stolen your dream when it was young and fresh and you were innocent. Anger is natural. Grief is appropriate. Healing is mandatory. Restoration is possible. by Jane Rubietta Lately thoughts of those youthful dreams buzz in my head like angry bees. Been through anger and grief, attempted healing. Never thought about restoration though. Sounds intriguing. And how is it after spending so much time today attempting to get my son to understand a concept we’ve covered time and again, I can go out and work hard in the garden, and feel tired but renewed, or at least relieved of the terrible pressure from earlier. Even while knowing I’ll deal with the same problem again, soon. Sigh.
Here is the second; a poem not a quote, though I take issue with the word, “perfect.” See what you think;
Quiet and unnoticed
The flower of your whole life
Has opened its perfect petals.
by William Carlos Williams

Before I stop — two things; next time perhaps I’ll have a picture of my rock garden now in it’s second year of existence, with the newest twist; no, not the bricks I planted (poor person’s rocks) to stabilize the dirt until more plants sink their roots. I also used upside down mugs and one very pretty tea cup. Why not, they’re colorful, sturdy, and were very cheap.
Now what was the other thing? While I’m waiting for inspiration, here’s the doings of my kids. Youngest is off to a swing dance contest this weekend, while working on new bread-making recipes in his head. Next one up is working on her plans to move into her future about 5 states away, and her older sister is now contemplating the visit we’ll be making soon to see beloved grandson/nephew, and her too.
Must remark on signs of spring. I do love spring with all the possibilities and the ripening of dreams. Mint has come back in my rock garden and how lovely that will be, to gather for my tea. Oh yeah, I planted a beautiful future bush of yellow forsythia. Today it’s merely a willowy ballet dancer swaying in the breeze. I know that within the delicate form is the future growth, oh like each one of us. Ain’t life grand. All the possibility…and the ripening, maturing, and each spring; new growth. Yes.