(Chesapeake Bay. January 2007. Photo by Robin)
Only in quiet waters do things mirror themselves undistorted. Only in a quiet mind is adequate perception of the world. ~ Hans Margolius
quotes
All posts tagged quotes
(Photo by Robin. Quail Hollow. 2006)
Above all, do not lose your desire to walk. Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness. I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it … if one just keeps on walking, everything will be all right.
–SOREN KIERKEGAARD, Danish philosopher, 1813-55
(January 2007. Photo by Robin)
Before Enlightenment: Chop wood, carry water.
After Enlightenment: Chop wood, carry water.— Zen saying
Washing dishes, my hands soak in the warmth and wetness of the dishwater. Washing dishes, I feel the steam from the water rising up my hands, my arms, breathing it in, soothing my sinuses on this dry winter day. Washing dishes, I listen to the bubbles popping and crinkling in the water, tickled as they burst on my arms and hands. Washing dishes, I delight in the feeling of clean. Washing dishes, I find a slow and graceful process of movement in the wiping, scrubbing, rinsing, and placing of the dishes in the dish rack. From right to left: wash, rinse, rack, wash, rinse, rack, wash, rinse, rack, until all the dishes are sparkling clean.
Washing dishes, the sunlight streams in through the window and warms me further. Washing dishes, I hear the sounds of traffic outside of our apartment building. The pattern of the traffic sounds begins to sound like waves, rolling in and out.
Washing dishes, I am thankful that my feet, legs, and back are all supporting me. Washing dishes, I am thankful for the floor, the building, and the earth that also support me. Washing dishes, I am thankful that I am right here, right now, washing dishes.
Washing dishes, I can see and feel my accomplishment, a job well done.
(January 2006. Photo by Robin)
“Antisthenes says that in a certain faraway land the cold is so intense that words freeze as soon as they are uttered, and after some time then thaw and become audible, so that words spoken in winter go unheard until the next summer.” — Plutarch, Moralia
Early morning in Quail Hollow. The LovelyMan and I are hiking along the woodlands path, following it up the hill and then down into the hollow where it connects with the peat bog pathway and boardwalk. The woods are still, frozen in quiet on this wintry morning. The only sound is that of our footsteps crunching on the frozen leaves which cover the path.
Our words don’t freeze, but our breaths do, crystalizing as we exhale. My nose feels frozen from the inside out and my cheeks are numb. I’m thankful for the layers of clothing I put on, starting with the thermal undergarments, because other than my extremities, I’m pretty toasty. The hiking keeps me warm, too.
We reach the boardwalk and I see that things aren’t as still and quiet as I’d thought. There are raccoon prints everywhere on the boardwalk, going in all directions. The prints are still wet, standing out on the frosty wood of the boardwalk. Raccoons are nocturnal animals. This one must have been late in going to bed for the day, perhaps dousing (as raccoons will do) one last snack before settling in to sleep.
I look, hoping to catch a glimpse of the masked and dexterous creature. It is said that masks are powerful and magical tools, and that the curious raccoon is a master of disguise and transformation.
I wonder what power and magic the raccoon brought to these woods on this frosty morn. We follow in the footsteps of the raccoon, walking along the boardwalk until we are led back into the mystery of the woods.
(Tea Time. January 2006. Photo by Robin.)
Strange how a teapot can represent at the same time the comforts of solitude and the pleasures of company.
~Author Unknown
While I’m enjoying our sabbatical here in the ‘burbs of Philadelphia (so much to see and do!), I do miss our home in the Bogs. The apartment here is plain and drab, the only really colorful decoration is a purple feather boa I was gifted with by a good friend at the Mummers Parade on Saturday. Because this is a temporary home, I’m not sure I’ll spend much time in decorating. As a result, it tends to feel a little like living in a hotel. That’s not so surprising really. The building used to be a hotel and has been renovated into apartments.
The LovelyMan (aka LM aka my husband) and I bought a house in the Bogs that was in bad shape. It took six months of tender loving care to transform it into the bright and colorful home it is now. Our youngest son is currently living there and taking care of it for us until our return sometime in the summer months.
The photo above was taken in our kitchen which is full of light in the mornings, a lovely place to sit and sip on a cup of good tea. I’m a loose leaf type of tea lover and have jars of the wonderful stuff lined up on the counter. One of my morning joys is to look over the jars of tea and decide which one I will treat myself to that day. Will it be the oolong? How about the jasmine green tea? The yerba mate looks good. Or maybe the darjeeling. The Japanese green sencha is another wonderous possibility.
At night I have the herbal teas to soothe me. A beautiful chamomile, a lovely rooibus, a sweet honeybush, or some homegrown mint. I have a mint garden in front of the house, easily accessible from the kitchen. There’s peppermint, spearmint, an apple mint, and my favorite, pineapple mint.
We have a large pond (1.5 acres) and a small bit of property with woods, meadows, and hayfields in the Bogs. I miss being so close to nature. Now that I’m walking more, I hope to get out and find a park or two nearby. One nice thing about this town is that there are plenty of trees for me to get to know.
This move, I discovered, was part of the stress I carried in my lower back. As much as I sometimes yearn for my home in the Bogs, I’m determined to make this sabbatical another magical adventure in my life.
Note: This is another re-released old post.
Bountiful Healing 