Faith in the waiting

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

— T. S. Eliot, poem, East Coker

This snippet from T.S. Eliot was on my Facebook page recently, and I've returned to it several times over the last couple of days. It has prompted me to ponder deeply, and when I do that, I tend to process through the pondering better when I write the thoughts out.

At first glance, the words above appear negative and self-defeating.  Wait without hope, wait without love.  What is being expressed, though, is to shift our thinking.  It is more of existing in that moment....that space between exhaling and taking the next breath.  Just being there in that suspended fraction of time as we mark it from a human perspective.  And doing so without expectations.  Without Ego attempting to plant a flag of victory.  Much easier said than done, yes?

2012 has been a year full of self-discovery for me.  It's been a year of extremes, in fact.  Some moments so beautiful that they pierced my heart and left a permanent mark of equal beauty.  Other moments so painful, so wrenching and final in this corporeal reality that they left a different permanent mark....a jagged tear in my heart and soul.  I've grappled with these extremes and somehow, survived it all.  We do that, don't we.  We survive. 

It should be noted that surviving the beautiful moments can sometimes be just as challenging, if not more so, as the difficult moments.  

Those beautiful moments...the positive experiences....they can be scary.  They can show us a possible reality that we have dreamed of, wished for, planned for.  The potential manifesting of that reality can throw us off kilter and the common reaction can be panic.  I know this is a truth for me occasionally.  And therein lays the pitfall of expectations.  How we want Life to be.  How we want Love to be.  How we want Work to be.  How we want Health to be.  

This year, I've been confronted with releasing expectations in several very important areas.  And really, what that boils down to is releasing control.  *gasp*  I know, sounds crazy to most of us.  Believe me, I'm not a fan of that concept, releasing control.  Ego leads the race for most of us in that regard. Yet, I am a logical being, and I accept that enforcing rigidity can stifle growth. So, I've continued that refining of Self within the context of those vital areas, and I've recognized where I need to do more work.  It's a curious process, because I do tend to be quite aware of my own psychology, my own emotional patterns.  This year, however, ushered in a life experience tied to another and that relationship produced experiences and a mirror that reflected repeatedly, challenging me greatly.

Right now, I'm in a holding pattern in regard to these several vital areas.  That requires a good amount of patience and as mentioned above, faith.  Releasing those expectations, releasing the desire and urge to step in and marshal the troops, draft a plan of attack and take no prisoners.  Given that I tend to be a person of action, the living in that suspended moment for long periods of time can be downright painful for me.  I'm doing it, though.  How long I can do it, and equally important, how long I should do it, are always the big ticket questions, but I've surprised myself with how deeply I've been able to process, and how patient I have been able to remain.  

There is a limit for all of this, of course.  Nature abhors a vacuum, and we cannot exist in eternal limbo in any facet of our lives.  Eventually, entropy fills the proverbial vessel with water and it spills over, causing reactions and change.  Usually, when I feel myself beginning to chafe and buck the confines of being patient, God/Universe/Spirit will send a reminder such as the T.S. Eliot passage quoted above.  It reminds me to continue to breathe through it, to not allow the frustrations to win the day.  Is that easy?  Absolutely not!  Being patient in certain areas of my life is one of my biggest challenges.  I have learned over a lifetime, however, that attempting to force time and a given situation to speed up to match my personal measure always, always brings me much more grief than is necessary to experience.  

So, there is faith in the waiting.  There is change of a positive nature in that suspended space between breaths, between heartbeats.  My heart is gentled in the process, and my capacity to adapt is broadened.  That place of waiting…in my mind's eye, it is painted in images that are difficult to describe, but I hover there.  The essential part of me, my very soul, inhabits that in between space where the beautiful and the painful, the positive and the negative all combine to weave new harmonies for me.  I envision those harmonies, delicate, liquid threads that dance and entwine with the harmonies of others to produce as yet unknown realities.  Fabric to clothe my soul as it returns to my body, just before the next breath is inhaled, before the next heartbeat sounds.  I return changed, always.  Stronger at times; definitely more thoughtful.  Aware that the path will play out without the necessity of me knowing the complete mapping.  My job is to keep taking that next step and doing so with faith that I'm heading in the proper direction.

There are areas of my life that require action and forward momentum.  It is clear, however, that the loosening of the limbo stage hasn't yet manifested.  Perforce, I remain suspended.  I suppose that one of the best courses of action is to simply enjoy the view.  That just occurred to me.  Beauty exists in the act of waiting.  I'll have to turn that one over in my mind for a bit.  It will certainly keep me occupied and distracted for a wee!  So, here is where I stand, for the nonce.  Surveying the view and breathing in the quiet.  Absorbing the peace in the waiting, and greeting Faith as it keeps me company. 

2012 shaped me in innumerable ways.  I tasted joy countless times, and it was balanced by the bitterness of grief, repeatedly.  Confusion reigned supreme more than once, as did uncertainty.  Because of this lack of stability, the only thing I knew to do was just let it be.  Allow the chaos to play its natural course, and believe there was a purpose to it.  I have yet to see clarity in all areas where it is needed, but I recognize the method at hand.  Similar to cleaning house, you first have to create chaos and a jumble of items before you can begin to pull everything back into order.  I imagine that something similar is occurring during this limbo stage.  Order is being gathered and it will fall into place in proper, Divine timing. There have been some abrupt endings that I did not wish for, but they were necessary.  Again, Divine Order at work.  And I have grown as a result, finding strength to deal with those endings, and doing so alone.

Mindful stillness; this is what meditation and yoga encourage.  Being in that breathless moment and feeling the immediacy of the feelings.  Entertaining change in a positive manner, rather than seizing up in denial or fear.  Admitting that my preconceived notions are limiting and that not knowing what the next breath will produce, this is the most receptive space I feel I can inhabit.  Faith in the waiting.  

Holiday stages

*I wrote this original post in December 2009.  I find that as we move into the winter holidays, practically everyone that I speak with wrestles with some form of sadness. I thought it would be appropriate to revisit this post, as it helped many people when it was first published.*

From the title of this blog post, you may be expecting a happy story about a Christmas event or pageant, children on stage singing or dancing.  Instead, what you'll be reading about is dealing with grief during the holiday season.

It is a proven fact that around religious holidays, be it Christmas,  Hanukkah, Easter, etc., there is an increase in mortality rates.  The concept of mortality rates can be traced as far back into history as Babylonian times and the rule of King Hammurabi.  In our modern times, this translates into insurance companies creating their mortality charts.  As this became standard practice, there became occasional note in media that death rates increase around significant religious holidays.

Think for a moment, and doubtless, either you or someone you know has lost a beloved family member or friend around a religious holiday.  I fall into this category, having lost the person I consider to be my strongest father figure.  He was my Uncle, my Mom's eldest brother, the patriarch of our clan.  Several years ago, he passed from this life on Christmas Eve morning after a lengthy, brave battle with debilitating illness.  As the Christmas holidays draw near, I find, despite my best intentions, there are definitely moments of melancholy that visit my heart.  Small wonder that if I feel these moments, the rest of the world might be visited by similar feelings in relation to their own personal losses.

There are many schools of thought about reasons that so many souls choose a religious holiday as the time to release from their physical body and pass from this reality.  My own thoughts on this topic are very personal, with one of the thoughts being that our Souls recognize an increased energy around high holy days.  I have always thought that this increased energy might facilitate an individual in making the choice to release from their physical body.  The reasons are myriad, the theories about this are endless, and at the end of the day, they probably don't matter beyond the ability to comfort us in the midst of painful, sad moments.

I have no mysterious remedy for this, other than to give it voice.  We are all very accustomed to slapping on that bright, cheerful social mask to cover our roiling emotions.  It's the holiday season (or whatever other particular moment in life where sad memories surface), be happy, upbeat and positive!!!  Don't be sad about the loss of a loved one, for fear you might drag everyone else down around you!!  Right?!  We all feel obligated to project that facade so that we don't make others uncomfortable or sad right along with us.  It is obvious that this tendency to stuff down our emotions around significant holidays and/or anniversaries of losing a loved one makes dealing with these significant dates that much more challenging.  When, and why did we as a collective society decide that it makes more sense to paste a happy smile on our faces than to honor our true emotions? 

Strong emotions, especially those connected to loss, do make most people uncomfortable.  It hits too closely to home for everyone; if you're mourning the death of a loved one and you present those emotions outwardly, that in turn can trigger buried emotions in others.  It's just a human response, this triggering of fears and resistance, and the need to cover everything up with a neat, tidy, happy facade.  Another truth is that most of us don't deal with significant loss immediately and instantly. 

Most of us are familiar with the five stages of grief.  They are as follows:

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

Each person and each situation, each loss, is different regarding the manner in which these stages are processed.  For some, although I would think this is rare, the five stages are processed quickly and dealt with in a short amount of linear time.  For others, the process can take much longer, sometimes years.  Another point to make is that even after we have navigated our way through those stages, they can boomerang on us and creep back in unexpectedly, years later.  Anniversaries of loss are strong triggers.  What has always frustrated me is the medical mindset that after making our way through those five stages once, then it is all said and done, all bound up in an orderly bundle, case closed and door shut permanently.  I strongly disagree with that mindset.

Christmas, Hanukkah and the New Year, altogether, present a time when family and friendship is our focus, so of course sadness will lurk beneath the surface as we have wistful moments, missing those no longer here with us physically.  It is, therefore, not surprising that we'll sometimes feel sucker punched with sad moments.
 
Dealing with sad anniversaries is never easy.  What works for me might not work for you, but I can share my own process.  When I begin to feel those sad moments creeping in, the most important step that I take is to recognize it for what it is.  Life can be so hectic around the Christmas season that we don't pay enough attention to how we're honestly feeling.  We'll rush from one obligation and social function to the next, pushing the sad, bad, confused or angry emotions down until they finally expand and explode.  So, for my own mental and emotional health, I find it of paramount importance to stop and identify what I'm feeling.  It doesn't always come readily to mind for me either, because of course it's much easier to deny sadness and instead label it as being tired or grumpy or something much easier to ignore.

What I have learned over the years is that embracing the seemingly negative emotions does not equal failure of any type on a personal level.  The true failure, I feel, comes from denying what we feel and never allowing it to have enough of a voice for it to be processed.  So, I take time to look inward.  It isn't always pleasant, or easy, and rarely is it enjoyable.  It is, above all, vitally important.  I feel that in a way, it is a moment of Grace and tribute, when I stop, identify the reason for those melancholy moments and let myself feel what comes from within.  Grace, because I am honoring myself when I allow myself to grieve.  Tribute, because in recognizing these feelings, it gives me a moment to remember the person I loved deeply.  When I do open up to myself, the memories that I embrace are inexorably entwined with all the reasons I loved that person.  So, yes, sadness will be felt.  Many times the result is tears. Eventually, though, happier memories will also flood my mind and in a different manner, I will go through those five stages of grief all over again before coming to that moment of acceptance.

The inescapable truth is that when we lose someone we love, it is a life sentence.  We spend the rest of our lives learning how to cope, manage our lives and live without that person's physical presence.  That's the challenging part.  Just when we think we're doing really well, a holiday or anniversary will approach and cut us off at the knees.  Psychologists developed the five stages of grief to identify what we are feeling and where we are in relation to dealing with personal loss.  From that perspective, the concept is valid, but I honestly feel that it doesn't come to a definitive, full stop, ever.  I am not saying that we exist in sharp, raw grief permanently, nor would I suggest such a thing is healthy or prudent.  What I am trying to point out is that we do experience layers of grief, sadness and loss in sometimes unexpected ways at different times, for various reasons. As a result, we experience a micro-moment, often repeatedly, of those five stages.

In light of this, I think that kindness would be the word of the day. If you can step back from everything else that requires your attention and focus your attention on You, compassion and understanding are what you deserve when you are confronted with those unexpected holiday triggers, layers and stages of sadness.  You deserve kindness, and a few quiet moments to look clearly at what you are feeling.  Give it voice, allow yourself to feel, to remember, to cry; perhaps smile or laugh.  Then, when you feel ready, you will be able to gently tuck the memories back into a corner of your heart and mind that will allow you to move forward with strength, rather than sapping you of energy and enjoyment of the holiday season.  Remind yourself that these feelings will surface again, and recognize that this time, by embracing the moment with Grace and acceptance, you will possibly be able to achieve a more solid balance.

Talking about it with family or friends might be an integral part of this process; there are no hard and fast rules here.  Do what works best and feels right for you.  In talking with others, you may be surprised to find that you've opened the door up for them as well, to do some processing, sharing and healing of their own.

In closing, I wrestled with myself about posting this blog.  It is a highly personal and volatile subject, and perhaps not one many will want to contemplate in the midst of the holiday season. I was feeling sadness as the calendar approaches a personal anniversary date of loss, and for me, writing out the emotions and giving them voice was helpful and healing. I have no idea if what I have written and shared will be of a helpful nature to others, but I am going ahead with posting it.  Perhaps these words and thoughts will resonate with others out there and bring a moment of clarity and peace to their hearts as they realize they are not alone with what they are feeling.  Maybe the simple suggestion that yes, you will go through repeated, myriad experiences of those five stages will be a moment of epiphany for someone out there, allowing them to embrace kindness towards themselves as they process through that most current incarnation. 

If you have stayed with me through to the culmination of this particular post, whether it clicked with you on a personal level or not, you have my appreciation for spending time with me as I navigated through my own five holiday stages.  As a result, my heart is lighter and I have been able to move forward with a gladdened spirit to enjoy my Christmas.  Blessings to you all, this year, this holiday season.

Gratitude Moments, Vol. II, November 2012

Photo:  www.innerworkingsresources.com

Occasionally, you have a difficult day.  Or a difficult week.  Sometimes it can stretch into a month or longer.  During such times, it's challenging to recognize the positives and the blessings that abound.  I'm having a week that has been populated with a couple of less-than-pleasant experiences, and in order to avoid dwelling on the negative energies, I decided to dwell in gratitude.  This is the second in my Gratitude Moments series, and as I sit here to begin writing, I have no idea what thoughts will flow from my hands.  Let's take the journey together....

Gratitude Moments

1. Finding that perfect gift for that perfect someone when you weren't even looking. (I do this throughout the year and squirrel things away for birthdays, anniversaries and Christmas/Hanukka.)
2. Sharing time with someone special where no words are necessary, and the silence is comfortable.
3. Breathing in crisp, fall morning air, stung slightly by wood smoke and evergreens.
4. Learning a new word.  This one never fails to delight me!
5. Creating with my hands. Whether it's writing, painting, sketching, knitting or crocheting, or any other tactile expression, the ability to create with my hands lifts my heart and gives voice to unspoken emotions.
6. Front porches with porch swings, rocking chairs and gliders.  
7. Being far from home and hearing the cadence and liquid lazy vowel sounds of my home region.  That region is the southeastern United States.  East Tennessee, to be specific.
8. Speaking of East Tennessee, my heart always expands in joy when I am in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, absorbing the incredible energies that exist in my beloved mountains.
9. Sitting next to a river and listening to the music of rushing water.
10. The scent of Crayons™, before they meddled with the formula recently.  That scent used to be a favorite.  Maybe someday they'll return to the original formula.  
11. Feeling your Soul sink into that other person with an instant sense of Homecoming.
12. Walking in a field during morning hours in the slow, heavy heat of a summer day and hearing the world waking up....winds whispering softly, fat bees droning from flower to flower, birds calling forth the sun.
13. The complex fabric of a large, noisy, loving family.  Myriad aunts, uncles and cousins who know you to the depth of your Soul, and love you unconditionally.
14. A brand new journal with fresh, empty white pages, waiting to be filled with words, images and the journeys of an agile mind.
15. Granny Smith apples.  
16. Climbing into a freshly made bed and reveling the sensation of clean sheets.
17. Red plum jelly.  This one is a rarity - I seldom find it in grocery stores.
18. Tying a length of string into a circle and creating shapes from childhood such as Jacob's Ladder, Cat's Cradle, etc.  
19. Blackberry cobbler made by my Mom.
20. Waking up naturally, without an alarm clock!
21. Puttering in the kitchen with that special someone.
22. Meditation.
23. Eye sight, both physical and spiritual, to write these thoughts and to recognize them.

I stopped at twenty-three.  This list took exactly 7 minutes to flow from my hands, with each thought springing effortlessly forward.  I didn't know what each new thought would be, yet each one prompted a smile and a lifting of my heart.  Challenges still exist in my life, and the journey of this current week is still a bit of a confused jumble.  What exercising gratitude moments gives me is the opportunity to step above the difficulties that Life hands out on a regular basis.  

I often quote jewels of wisdom from my maternal Grandmother, my Granny Reagan.  She had a very challenging life, stifled in virtually every way imaginable, yet she continued to harbor wisdom and gentle guidance to all of her grandchildren (27 of us).  I remember, very clearly, one specific comment she shared quite often:

"An obstacle is nothing more than a platform to step UP on, gain a more clear view and understanding of your surroundings, and step OFF of, to propel yourself forward."                - Alpha Celestia Nelson Reagan

So, I'm reminding myself of those words of wisdom and recognizing that the current obstacles I'm experiencing are giving me as yet unseen opportunities.  The first step to that realization is recognizing the difference between obstacle and opportunity.  

For those of you who visit me here regularly, take time for Gratitude Moments and see how instantly the process changes your state of mind.  Blessings constantly abound; we just have to be willing to take time to truly see them.  Namaste'.   

Whence they came

http://fr.freepik.com/photos-libre/plumes-les-poules-plum-plumes-482314.htm

  I often ponder the process of writing and my mind's eye always conjures a mental image of a symphony of sorts, where music, color, texture and emotion all come together in a tapestry.  There is the scientific fact that our brains produce electrical energy, and that each thought and spoken word is eternal.  Radio waves translate our human thoughts into a different type of electrical current that goes out into the cosmos to linger there forever.

When we create, we produce something tangible, born out of our deepest selves.  It's an effort to express the inexpressible.  I don't know that we ever truly can match the wordless images in our minds, but occasionally all the planets align and we hit that sweet spot.  I have experienced a small handful of those moments, when I sit back after reading something I wrote and feel an immense satisfaction that I communicated those inner feelings properly.

In this lifetime, I believe that I was destined to write.  I learned to read at the very young age of three, with daily visits to my maternal grandparents who lived next door to us.  Local banks used to hand out yearly calendars with small gold painted pencils in a clip at the top of the calendar.  My grandmother found those small pencils the ideal size for my wee hands to manipulate.  I would visit in the morning and she and I would make the walk to the mailbox together, stopping frequently along the lengthy driveway to investigate various wonders.  Upon returning with the daily newspaper for my grandfather to read, I would sit on my Granny's lap and she would go through the alphabet with me on scraps of paper.  We would then take sections of the newspaper after Grandpa had finished reading them, and I would learn words from the articles, then I would write short sentences with those small gold painted pencils in the white spaces between the articles.  Pulling recognized words together, Granny and I would create a short story.  I would then transfer my small self over to my Grandpa's lap to read to him what I had created, laboriously trailing my tiny finger over the scribbled words.  By the time I started kindergarten, I had a firm grasp of the rudiments of reading and writing.

I don't believe I've ever looked back since then.  I remember having an almost overpowering urge to read, read, read....everything I could get my hands on.  Throughout elementary and high school years, I wrote many a report and essay, but it didn't occur to me that this would be something from which to create a career.  For some reason, because writing came so easily to me, I didn't consider it as a career option.  It took me a good stretch of years in many iterations of industries to begin retracing my roots and coming back to those elements of childhood.

These days, I am comfortably at home again, deep in the embrace of words and the process of writing.  I write both for work and for personal satisfaction.  I never find a tedium to it.  There are certainly times when the Muse abandons me and I go for long stretches of time remaining silent.  Those stretches of time feel somewhat odd, as though a part of me is missing, but I have learned to not push the process.  Those stretches of silence are necessary, and allow me to tend to other areas of my life for a while.  I come back to the world of writing refreshed and renewed, and the words flow again with color and texture and energy.

This recent renewal cycle, air was my Muse.  The flow of it, how it can whip and tear at the earth, how it can paint patterns upon water, sand, rock and metal.  It can carve expression lines into every object on the planet, given enough time.  This is what came out of my fingertips....

I sat, isolated
looking inwardly

my focus on the cadence of my breath

and the wind teased
prompting me to lift my eyes

and regard the dance before me

my mind stepped up
into the sky

taking bites of the air
plucking harmonies and weaving them

into gossamer, silver-shot plumes
...and leaving them dancing there

whence they came

punctuating the autumn day
with a curious level 

of strength

my own
like unto the wind

invisible

until applied with sureness
carving indelible expressions

emotions from depths

that shape who I am

emotional currents
...revealing in my eyes...wisdom

from a well of experiences
....breath, life, peace...dreams...

swirling now

eddying across my soul
presenting my true Self

....whence it came?

rich and gossamer
silver-shot plumes

...dancing in the air

Three Years

Today, September 25, 2012 is the three year anniversary for Healing Morning blog! I almost overlooked it, as today was a typically busy day.  I happened to scroll down and see the widget that tracks my blog-i-versary and sure enough, today was the big day!

Three years seems such a short time.  In some ways, I've lived many lifetimes in that short span.  I've met incredibly gifted blog writers and formed beautiful friendships.  The blogging world is vast, and I'm thrilled when I look at my blog stats and see that I have a truly global readership.  That phenomenon never ceases to  fascinate and amaze me, that people the world round follow my writing and look forward to my articles.

Writers write, just as musicians create music, artists create art, athletes achieve physical feats.  Each of us seek to express ourselves in our unique manner.  Secretly, we hope others will find our work pleasing and worthy of attention, yet many of us tend to squirm and wrestle with any large amount of recognition.

It's a curious thing, embracing a level of transparency with my writing.  I've said it over and over in these past three years, that when I write something that really exposes my true self, when I write something that pushes the envelope on a spiritual level and uncovers sides of me that up until that point had remained safely hidden and protected....those are the articles that always receive the strongest and most positive responses.  In becoming a blogger, I've learned to trust my gut instincts and bravely rip away layers of protection, walls that used to be high and thick.  I have grown in friendship and in self-knowledge and I expect that both of these will continue to flourish.

I find a sense of personal joy with my writing here.  Healing Morning is where I come to express random thoughts and concepts that don't fit into my business writing.  It is here that I give free rein to whimsy, to laughter, to tears, to strength, to weakness and every emotion that exists.  You who visit and take time to read my thoughts, and then go that extra step to leave wonderful comments - I wish I could find words to express how much I appreciate each of you.  You add to the experience of my writing, adding your unique strokes of color and brightness to the canvas that I paint with my words.

To each of you:

Namaste'....meaning,

"I honor the place within you where the entire Universe resides; I honor the place within you of love, of light, of truth, of peace; I honor the place within you, where, when you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me, there is only one of us."

Thank you for visiting.  I look forward to celebrating many more years of writing, blogging and fellowship.

- Dawn

Grasshopper Thoughts, Vol. VI September 2012

It's been ages since I last grasshoppered, so it's definitely time to embrace the concept again!  Grasshoppering is cathartic, after all, so here I go....

• The great debate of ketchup vs mustard on French fries exists in my world.  Mustard, you say?  Yes, I do!  Ketchup is usually a bit too sugary for my taste.  So I usually have a puddle of each on my plate when I indulge in French fries. There is also the odd occasion where I have either sour cream or mayonnaise with French fries, but that's a whole other debate.
• Whomever invented the little plastic prison to capture shavings on pencil sharpeners, you're my official Hero. And whomever finally incorporated that concept into sharpeners for cosmetic eye and lip liner pencils, Bravo!  I applaud your brilliance.  
• I was looking at river rocks the other day.  What is it about their smoothly tumbled, pleasing to the touch surface that makes me so happy?  Perhaps it's just that.  They're simple and beautiful.  Dreamy in variations of colors, usually.  I have a silver bowl full on my desk that I've collected over a lifetime.  The newest one is a pale, gentle peachy shade and is blobby in shape.  It fits beautifully into the palm of my hand.
• I have a weakness for dimples.  There, I said it.  If you're a man with dimples, and you smile at me, I'm going to get a wee bit giddy.  There's not a whit of logic to it.  Dimples just flutter me, and with one person in particular, they tend to short circuit my brain for a microsecond or two. This is not a bad thing, btw. :)
• Vinegar is awesome!  Apple cider vinegar, rice wine vinegar, balsamic vinegar, plain old white kitchen vinegar....I love them all.  Wonderful for toxin-free cleaning, but even more so for cooking.  The more tart, sour, tangy, the better, in my opinion.  As I mentioned with ketchup, I'm not a big fan of things overly sweet.  
• And vinegar gives us pickles!  So, obviously, it follows that I'm a pickle person.  Sour, tart, crunchy, savory.  Just the scent of pickling liquid makes my mouth water.  Being southern, I have to give a special nod to that delightful treat of pickled okra.  If you haven't tried it, don't knock it!  I promise you, it's delicious!!!  :)
• Snort-larfing.  You know you do it occasionally!  I did it recently over a random comment at my family reunion.  It wasn't a quiet one, either.  No, it was a full fledged, less-than-feminine full out snort-larf.  Sometimes life is just that funny.
• We're moving into the fall months here in East Tennessee, and cooler mornings, milder temps during the day, lower humidity and promise of fall color in the Smoky Mountains are upon us.  I love this time of year!

Ahhh....much better.  Now my noggin is a bit more clear of clutter.  If only I could incorporate this into housecleaning!  Alas, it will never happen.  Grasshoppering is relegated to my mental faculties.  The writing process of grasshoppering is fun, though.  The recent summer months have been challenging for many of us, myself included, so there is merit in the occasional post that addresses a moment of whimsy.  

Quiet Tribute

*I wrote this article in 2012, and feel that it still speaks my heart and my perspective on the day this tragedy struck my country.  It is my way of paying tribute and remembering those who fell that day.  - S. Dawn Sievers*

I was taking a shower that morning, and heard the phone ringing.  I didn't think much of it, as I had plans to meet a girlfriend for lunch later that day.  I finished showering, decided to dry my hair before listening to the answering machine message.  But the phone rang again, and yet again, encouraging me to stop everything and answer the call. It was my girlfriend telling me the USA had been attacked, that a plane had hit one of the Towers of the World Trade Center and another one had gone down in a field somewhere in Pennsylvania, and equally nightmarish - a living nightmare - was the news that our Pentagon had also suffered an attack....all of this happening within a very short span of time on the clock of that September morning.

This was difficult to even picture or fathom, because this type of thing just doesn't happen to America.  Or, it didn't.  Up until that day, our country had lived in a unique bubble, safe and never assailed by outside forces in this modern age.  The bubble was broken that day.

I turned the TV on and watched, horrified.  The second plane hit the second of the World Trade Center Towers before my eyes and the eyes of the whole world.  Comprehension and terrible understanding sank in.  As I left my house to drive over to my girlfriend's house, I noticed the absolute hush over the day.  Some of this hush was due to all airplanes except for military being grounded, but it was more than that.

There was a hush in nature.  

No birds were singing.  I remember that very clearly, and I stood outside listening for a good 15 minutes, looking around me, but the sounds of nature were silent.  My home at the time was surrounded by heavy tracts of woods, so there were always the sounds of birds chirping.  But not that day.  It was silent outside.  There was no breeze.  Just a still hush over the world that was palpable.  I will never forget how it felt, as though the world was holding its breath for the people who perished that day.

I spent the day getting in touch with everyone I love the most, making sure they were safe.  There was an intrinsic need to connect with them, and I learned I was not alone in that need.  Phone lines and computer servers were overloaded with extremely high levels of activity that day.  I grieved at what a great loss we had incurred and struggled to make sense of it.  There is no sense to be garnered, obviously.  The only positive thing I can take from it is that we survived it.  Our country survived, but thousands of innocent people died.  This many years later, the memories are still vivid and fresh, and for many....still raw.

I've read other people's thoughts of where they were that day. I was in Knoxville, Tennessee, living my very ordinary life, safe and far from harm's way.  That prompted me to share my memories and what still stands out so strongly in my memory was how quiet the day became.  For those who believe this planet is inanimate, without reaction to tragic events, I would hold that memory out as an example of the exact opposite.

I felt the earth react and give quiet tribute to the ones who left us.