Gingko Trees in the Fall: Thursday's Reflection

NOTE: I am going to take a short break--a fall break--from posting. I will return on Tuesday, November 12.


"Today is the day," announced my husband.

A few days before he had learned that gingko trees all drop their leaves at the same time--all their leaves--and as I drove through the neighborhood to meet a friend, I discovered that seemed to be true. 

The leaves on some of the gingko trees were yellow-gold and others were still summer green. That made no difference. The gingko trees were blithely letting go of all their leaves, and cars and streets were covered in piles of shed leaves. 








Now you know I love a metaphor, and this one is obvious, but too good to pass up. 

I wonder what leaves I need to shed. Why shouldn't today be the day?
What collection of past hurts and slights need to go?
What painful memories need to be transformed into a new season?
What illusions and denials need to float away?
What attachments need to disconnect?
What would happen if my branches were allowed to breathe and open to the sun? 
What would be possible if I graciously and gracefully created space in my life for new growth? 
What stories have been told over and over again without new understanding? How would it feel to write a new story? 


How odd it would be to see a gingko tree in the Minnesota winter still holding onto all its leaves. Wouldn't we wonder what was wrong with that tree? Well, I need to ask myself that same question. Here you are, Nancy, 70 plus years, in the autumn of your life, how are you preparing for your life's winter?

I would like these years to feel lighter. 
I would like more emotional and spiritual space in which my essence can thrive. 
I would like to be the tree I was created to be. 

I think that means letting go of the leaves that no longer serve me or those who love me; the leaves that weigh me down, instead of giving me life. 

So, why not let today be the day. 

To close, here is an unpublished poem by visual artist Janet Higgins, who is in my writing group. You can often see her work at Highpoint Center for Printmaking. Thanks,Janet, for allowing me to share this poem. 

      Time -- like a River --
      Freezes, Cracks and Falls
      Around my head....
      Scattering illusions and
      Whispering secrets from a
      Time almost forgotten --
      Re-member the path to
      The Garden...
                         

An Invitation
Is today the day for you? I would love to know. 

Highpoint Center for Printmaking

Creating Space: Tuesday's Reflection

Sometimes what I need is space. 



Some emptiness. 










The past week was a full one.

 Taking my Dad out for lunch and a "leaf tour," 
 Meeting with clients,
 Teaching T'ai Chi,
 Sitting with a dear friend at the hospital while her husband had open heart surgery,
 Having lunch at our house with one of my writing groups, 
 Enjoying lunch with friends who had just returned from the civil rights tour we went on a year ago, 
 Attending the middle school play to support our grandson who was the Sound Crew,
 AND, officiating at a wedding. The first time I have done that and what joy, what fun that was! 

Of course, there were all the normal bits and pieces of day-to-day life, too. Doing the laundry. Grocery shopping and meal fixing. Responding to emails. Writing my posts for this blog. Running errands. 

Now first let me say, there were so many gifts during the week, and how grateful I am for this rich life and for the privilege of being with friends and family in both the ordinary and the exceptional times of the their lives. But I admit I was a bit weary as we headed off to church Sunday morning. 

What I needed was some space. Some open space. 

So what did I do?

I cleaned the garret. I suppose I could have put my feet up and read the newspaper or a book or even napped, but that wasn't quite what I needed. I needed to see open space. Some emptiness. I needed to at least give myself the illusion that not everything is packed to the brim. 

Cleaning and reorganizing does that for me. 













The result? Four empty drawers in the garret, an empty shelf and two empty baskets. A very full garbage bag.

AND a heart and mind open to whatever fills the coming days. 

An Invitation
How do you clear the space? I would love to know. 

Words Matter: Thursday's Reflection

Lynching.

Last fall ten of us from our congregation traveled in Alabama and Mississippi as part of a Civil Rights Tour led by our guide Mark Swiggum, whose mission is to promote anti-racism education. 

One of the most profound and powerful stops was at the National Memorial for Peace and Justice, https://museumandmemorial.eji.org/memorial, also known as the Lynching Memorial, in Montgomery, Alabama. Completed in 2018, this memorial was developed by Bryan Stephenson and the Equal Justice Initiative. 

Here's what we learned.

Lynching was used as an instrument of terror and intimidation 4082 times between 1877 and 1950, but many more lynchings were undocumented. 

This was white terrorism used to maintain white supremacy. 

Often a lynching drew crowds of thousands and was a time when people brought families, including children, to experience the event as a festive celebration. Walking into this open air exhibit, however, was like stepping onto the grounds of a concentration or extermination camp in Germany. One felt the need to whisper, to become very quiet, for this is a sacred place.














Casket shaped steel boxes standing on end were arranged in rows.  The names of people who were lynched and the county where they were lynched are engraved on the boxes. The metal, as its corrodes, drips rust-colored drops on the oak wood flooring, suggesting tears and blood. 

Moving along, the floor slanted downwards and gradually the boxes are suspended overhead. We became part of the twisted crowd taking in the spectacle of intimidation. And death. 

On plaques lining the memorial we read,

"Hundreds of black men, women, and children were lynched in the Elaine Massacre in Phillips County, Arkansas in 1919.

"Dozens of men, women, and children were lynched in a massacre in East St Louis, Illinois in 1917.

"Seven black men were lynched near Screamer, Alabama in 1888 for drinking from a white man's well.

"Jesse Thornton was lynched in Luverne, Alabama in 1940 for addressing a white police officer without the title 'mister.'

"Elias Clayton, Isaac McGhie, and Elmer Jackson were lynched by a mob of 10,000 people in Duluth, Minnesota, in 1920."


This is lynching. 

Words matter. 

An Invitation
If you feel outrage by the misuse of this word, what will you do? I would love to know. 

NOTE: I adapted the text for this post from the script several of us from the tour wrote and presented to church groups after our return from the trip. 

For more reflections on this Civil Rights Tour read my earlier posts: November 13, 15, and 20, 2018. 

An October Walk: Tuesday's Reflection

I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers." 
                 Anne of Green Gables

                 L. M. Montgomery

Me too!








Most Sundays after church and then lunch at Turtle Bread Bakery where we read the New York Times, I head to the garret and make my lists for the week and then write my Tuesday post. This most recent Sunday afternoon, however, I abandoned the garret to enjoy the most beautiful of October days.

Come, walk with me!












Just as there may be an age when each of us comes into our own, I think there are seasons when homes and neighborhoods come into their own. As much as I love seeing everyone's gardens restored into new life in the spring and then grow into summer's fullness, this neighborhood seems born for fall. All it takes is a pumpkin or two to wrap a home in coziness. What may have even felt a bit drab and stuck in brown and beige becomes alive. 

I marvel at the color--and wonder if the person who dared to combine deep pink mums in a bright orange pot, has bright colored walls and upholstery inside the house as well, or does the awareness that winter white will soon dominate push a last gasp of deliberate and intense color?



















Speaking of gasps--what about the presence of ghouls and ghosts and skeletons in the neighborhood? I delight in the creativity, the time and effort all in the name of holiday and seasonal celebration. No one is paid for the planning and work involved, and yet here they are--these generous gifts of the imagination. 

Many neighbors are busy raking leaves, preparing the gardens for sleep, and others are walking dogs, scrunching through leaf-covered sidewalks. I pass a couple, older than me. We smile and greet each other and the man tips his hat to me. Now when was the last time that happened? So civilized, so polite. 

In the backyard of a corner home, a woman hangs laundry on the clothesline, and I can smell the freshness, almost the healthiness in the air. I pass other homes dominated by For Sale signs in their front yards and wish them well. Been there, done that! I hope the transition to the next season of their lives goes well.

This is a time to consider my inner change of seasons as well. The leaves are a kind of insulation, leading me into quiet, and as the leaves fall gently, but deliberately, there is an invitation to let go. To slow down. 

Monday morning, a cold and rainy morning, I returned to the garret where my To Do list waited for me. Waited for me patiently without judgment or punishment. How glad I am I enjoyed the most beautiful of October days.

"Anyone who thinks fallen leaves are dead has never watched them dance on a windy day."  Shira Tamir.

An Invitation
How does October live in you? I would love to know. 

Library Love Affairs: Thursday's Reflection

This year I have rebonded with libraries. 

The first library I remember was in my elementary school where the library consisted of temporary shelves in a hallway. A sort of reading nook with a limited number of books, but so seductive for  this little girl who was on the path of becoming a voracious reader. 

When we moved to a town smaller than the suburb where we lived in my early elementary years, I was old enough to bike to the city library. I recall a librarian noticed how frequently I was there and what I was reading, and she directed me to books I might not have discovered otherwise. I wish I remembered the titles of those books. 

With each move after that, and there were many, a first item on the To Do list was to get a new library card. A real bonus was if I could get to the library on my own. When I was in college, I studied most of the time in the large reference room, comforted and encouraged by the books and the hushed silence around me. I felt studious and serious sitting at the heavy and masculine looking tables. 

 I have fond memories of other libraries that beckoned me over the years and, of course, memories of taking our children and grandchildren to libraries. The library habit dwindled over the years, however, as I built my own library. Independent bookstores became my passion, instead, especially the years that I worked at  Odegard Books, a fabulous bookstore that no longer exists. 

I continue to buy books and am a patron of independent bookstores like Arcadia Books in Spring Green, WI, and Next Chapter in St Paul, and Content in Northfield, MN, and on my bucket list is to go to Parnassus Books in Nashville, TN and owned by author Ann Patchett. However, I am more conscious of what I add to my personal stacks, for during this time of life I am more focused on downsizing and simplifying than acquiring. But this is also a time of heightened time of reading. I am devouring books. 

Back to the library! 

I now have a love relationship with the HOLD system--going online and requesting titles. Sometimes that means I have to wait for a long time for a title I want to read, but then when the email flashes in my inbox, saying a certain book is now ready for pickup, it is like receiving an unexpected gift. Books have always been my favorite present, and wow, I have received lots of presents in recent months. 

For example, I just read The Dutch House by Ann Patchett, and I love this book so much that I am reluctant to recommend it because I don't want to know if you don't love it. I don't want to hear any criticism of this book! Isn't that crazy! I actually may request this book again and be the 173rd hold on 36 copies. 

Right now I am waiting for The World That We Knew by Alice Hoffman (#29 on17 copies) and Olive, Again by Elizabeth Strout (#56 on 17 copies). Sometimes what I request is not a current bestseller on anyone's must read list, but is a book that needs to come from another library. Perhaps I heard about a book that appeals to me while listening to a podcast like "What Should I Read Next?" An example is a mystery set in Victorian England, A Curious Beginning by Deanna Raybourn. 

During the last few months I have read library copies of The Testaments by Margaret Atwood, This Tender Land by William Kent Krueger, The Secrets We Kept by Lara Prescott, Maybe You Should Talk to a Therapist by Lori Gottleib, and The Other Americans by Laila Lalami. I enjoyed each one. Sometimes, however, I request a book, which I discover I don't like and how good it feels to simply return it to the library unfinished, knowing I had not bought it. 

Writing this post has made me itchy to curl up with the next book on my list! Oh, how grateful I am to live where there are vibrant libraries and well-stocked independent bookstores owned by people who love books. I hope that is the case where you live. 

An Invitation
Do you have any favorite library memories? I would love to know. 

The Arrival of Cold Weather: Tuesday's Post

We experienced our first snowfall of the season on Saturday, and I sprang into action. 

I headed into the kitchen, turned on the oven and made the first batch of pumpkin bread. The smell of pumpkin and cloves, ginger, allspice, and cinnamon filled the house. Such a cozy aroma.

I've practiced the S's: Slippers, socks, shawls, and sweaters, making the switch from summer clothes to fall and winter ones. Coats and hats and gloves and boots are ready as needed, as well. 

Don't forget the other important S's: slow simmering soups and stews with a side of hearty bread.  

I've filled one of my green depression glass jars with a selection of tea and another one with chocolate for hot cocoa. Candles have been located in strategic places to add to a cozy atmosphere during reading times, and throws are folded over the backs of chairs for added warmth. How grateful I am for a reliable furnace and the ability to pay heating bills throughout the months of cold. 

I've noticed how the rituals of the day have shifted. 

Now, instead of plugging in the small fountain that all summer long rested on top of a trunk in the garret, its gurgling water sounds making me feel cooler on the hottest of days, I turn on the twinkle lights around the window overlooking the backyard. They warm and welcome me to the darkness of the garret each morning. I keep a lamp or two lit all day now, and when I move into the kitchen to fix dinner, I stop and turn on the hanging light in the entryway and the lamp in the bedroom.  

Bruce has been busy for days preparing the gardens for the long winter's sleep. He covered the patio furniture and dismantled my sanctuary space called "Paris," and rearranged his garage workshop area, creating room for the cars. 

We are ready. Perhaps there will still be some warm, more fall-like days when I can stroll the neighborhood wearing a sweater, rather that coat and gloves. Maybe there will still be a day when I can leave the front door open and let the sun pour in. I would love some days of autumn magic, shuffling through leaves and appreciating all the pumpkins of the doorsteps, but if that isn't to be, I will adjust. 

After all, there is always another book to read, another page to turn, another sentence to write, another hour to relish the silence. 

And I imagine, there will be another slice of pumpkin bread to eat. 

An Invitation
Are you ready to move into the next season? Of the year? Of your life? I would love to know.

A Mini-Retreat: Thursday's Reflection

I looked at my calendar. I looked at the weather.

Tuesday was THE day. 

I am preparing to revise the last section of my memoir, and the first step is to re-read the most recent version of those chapters. I wrote them well over a year ago, and I have only a vague recollection of what is in them. 

In addition, my sense is that these chapters in the memoir need the most revising for a variety of reasons--mainly because the material is not as much about the past, but is more about NOW. How do I find perspective on the present? 

I realized a day without interruptions and distractions like the refrigerator, emails, laundry and other home tasks would be a good thing. I love working in my garret, but sometimes a change of scene is a good thing.

Off I went to St Olaf College, my alma mater, in Northfield, MN, only 45 minutes away, an easy and pleasant drive. When Bruce and I were there a couple weeks ago for a 50th class reunion meeting and we were on a tour of some new buildings on campus, I noted a spot where I would love to spend the day working, and that's where I spread my writing materials yesterday.

Now here's the surprise for those of you who know me: I spent my retreat day at the Regent Hall for Natural Sciences! SCIENCE! 

A brief story. When I was a freshman at St Olaf, I took a biology class to fulfill my science requirement. One day during the laboratory time I was dissecting the fetal pig--or should I say, destroying the poor pig--and the professor, a grandfatherly looking man, moved station to station to see what we were doing. 
             He looked at my attempts and said, "Miss Jensen, What's your major?"
             I said, "English."
             He said, "Good."

The only reason I entered the science center once I was done with that class (I did pass, by the way.), was to walk through it to get out of the cold on my way to another building. How amazed I was to spend the day so close to the science disciplines. But look at the view, the setting! 







I spent the bulk of the day there, only leaving for a quick lunch in another building. I enjoyed the comings and goings of students, but no one bothered me, and I was able to focus on the task for the day.

By the time I left I felt refreshed and eager to begin reworking the structure for this part of the memoir, a task which only the day before had felt overwhelming and daunting, and I wondered if I even wanted to do it.

That's the gift of retreat. 

A time-out in order to...
             Refresh and Recharge
             Renew
             Release
             Reconnect with...

One doesn't need to have a project, in order to retreat. Perhaps you are feeling a bit stale or bored or out-of-sorts. Perhaps you recognize the rut you are in. 

You fill-in the blank. "I need to retreat in order to______________.

Then the next step is to consider possible retreat places. They need not be far or costly or need reservations. Is there some place you've wanted to explore or enjoy, but haven't done it yet? A museum or park or arboretum or yes, a college campus. 

Keep a list of possible retreat places, and then when the calendar, the weather, and most importantly, the need are in synch OR when the need outweighs the practical aspects, you will be ready to say, 
                   "Today is the day!"

An Invitation
Have you ever given yourself a retreat day? I would love to know. 

Seeking Wisdom: Tuesday's Reflection

An owl has landed on our steps. 

Until recently she ruled the front garden, partially hidden by flowers and bushes, summer's growth, but now she is more visible. I like to think she is guarding the pumpkins from the marauding squirrels who gnaw at the tasty pumpkin flesh. 

Perhaps, however, I should think a bit deeper about her presence. 

In many cultures Owl is a symbol for wisdom. An Owl perched on  the shoulder of Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom and revealed unseen truths to her. Owl sees what others miss. Where others are deceived, Owl sees and knows what is there.

Often wisdom is associated with being older, and as a woman in her 70's, I like to think I have acquired some wisdom along the way. Jean Shinoda Bolen in her classic book, Crones Don't Whine, Concentrated Wisdom for Juicy Women, says a wisewoman has a

            sense of truly being herself, can express what she 
            knows and feels, and take action when need be. She 
            does not avert her eyes or numb her mind from reality.
            She can see the flaws and imperfections in herself and
            others, but the light in which she sees herself is not
            harsh and judgmental. She has learned to trust herself
            to know what she knows."  p. 4

Oh, is that all?!


Obviously, living for a long time does not mean one just naturally becomes wise. My foolishness is often all to evident, but there is help, inspiration. Wisdom.

I love Wisdom's words in Proverbs 8:
             Come to me, you who lack understanding.
             hear, for I will speak gracious things
             and from my lips will come what is true and right...
             I, Wisdom, will offer you awareness and strength of soul.
             I walk in the way of right relationships and along the
                 paths of peace.
             I give knowledge and understanding to those 
                who love me...
             So now, my children, listen to me.
             Watch for me in the morning and wait for me at night.
             Hear my guidance and be wise.
             For those who find me find life but those who lose me 
                  will lose their way.

It seems wisdom requires listening, being aware and open, seeking harmony in our relationships and working towards peace in all the world. And patience, as we wait for Wisdom in the night. 

And maybe an Owl on your shoulder or on your front step. 

             Open our eyes to see your Spirit in all life.
             Open our hearts to receive the blessing that is in 
                all created things.
             Guide us with your wisdom, O God,
              in the handling of matter,
              in the sharing of earth's resources
              and in the knowing of one another,
              your Spirit within every living spirit. 
                                     from Celtic Treasure
                                     Daily Scriptures and Prayer
                                     J. Philip Newell

An Invitation
Where have you known wisdom? I would love to know. 

            




       
             

  .

Early Morning Prayer: Thursday's Reflection

In the early morning light before I ease out of bed and into my slippers, I give thanks for a good night's sleep and for waking to a new day. 

I gather my thoughts for the day.

What will be the topic for my next blog post?
How much writing time do I have today?
Is it going to rain again today?
When should I go on my daily walk?
And even, do I need to wash my hair this morning?

I review the previous day.

The afternoon with my writing group and the help they offered as I begin working on a new section of my memoir. Once again, we talked about how to maintain focus. 
The evening with other writers and our conversation about what we learn as we work on a long project, including the discovery of patterns in our lives and the growth of compassion towards ourselves and others.
The French Onion Soup that simmered in a slow cooker all day and tasted delicious. Leftovers tonight! 

And then I lift the names of those on my heart; those in need of prayers.
A friend who is being stretched by all her caregiving responsibilities.
Another friend who is struggling with health issues and growing older.
A couple who are bravely addressing other health issues.
A nephew as he relocates and a niece as she begins a new job.
The spiritual directees who come for monthly sessions this week.
Government officials who resist doing the right thing.
My loved ones as they move through this day.

Well, this list goes on and on and I could spend the day in bed praying. I hope if/when the day comes that I am bed bound or limited in my activities and movements, that I will remember to spend my day in prayer. But for now, even though the advent of morning light appears later and later as we move into October, it is time to rise and, I hope, shine. 
                                  
                  Dear God,
                  I give this day to You.
                  May my mind stay centered on the things of spirit.
                  May I not be tempted to stray from love.
                  As I begin this day, I open to receive You.
                                         from "Morning Prayer"
                                         Illuminata, A Return to Prayer
                                         Marianne Williamson 

An Invitation
What are your first thoughts of the day? I would love to know. 

50th College Reunion: Tuesday's Reflection

How is it possible that I graduated from college almost 50 years ago? 

The invitation to be on a planning committee for the St. Olaf College 50th reunion in the spring of 1970 was a reality check. 

I've never avoided my age. The milestone birthdays have never been difficult for me, but somehow the unmistakeable fact that nearly 50 years has passed since I was an undergraduate student gives me pause. Am I ready for this rite of passage? 

My graduation day, standing outside my
senior dorm with my sister Amy.

Bruce and I both agreed to participate in the reunion planning and attended our first committee meetings on campus last week. We wondered if we would know anyone or let's be honest, would we RECOGNIZE  anyone? And let's be even more brutally honest, would anyone know and recognize us? 

The truth is we all look old, although some have weathered the years better than others! We strained to see each other's name tags,  looking carefully to recall the person who may have lived down the hall from us or was in one of our classes. We shared stories and memories and gave brief work and family histories of the last 50 years. 

We started the process of reconnecting or even connecting for the first time.

How appropriate that the theme we selected last week for our upcoming reunion is 

                      Remember...Reflect...Renew

One aspect of reunions is the opportunity to share memories. To remember. Some stories are funny now, but weren't so amusing then. Some stories remind us of our vulnerabilities as we learned how to cope with less than stellar grades and how to find and know our place in the world. Some stories remind us of how chaotic the world was, thanks primarily to the Vietnam War, as the new decade began.  

Fifty-six of our classmates have died in the intervening years, and part of the reunion weekend will be a service of remembrance. That's right and good to do, but perhaps we need a service of remembrance for the young people we were in 1970. What parts of ourselves have we lost or set aside? Who is that young person we need to remember?

One of the tasks of these older years is to reflect on both the gifts and the burdens in the lives we have lived. What have we carried with us from our college years that has served us well? How did the experiences from those years lead us towards becoming the persons we were created to be? What have we learned over the years and how did our college years provide the grounding for that learning?

It is good to remember, unless one becomes stuck in nostalgia. The good old days. Trust me, not all my days at St Olaf were good ones. Just the memory of walking into the cafeteria by myself and wondering if I would find someone I knew to sit with makes me quake inside, and there are many others I prefer to keep in the past. But even the good ones, and I have many of those, too, are to be treasured, rather than idolized. 

And it is good to reflect, especially if reflection is accompanied by gratitude, rather than mired in regret.

The key to a reunion, it seems to me, is renewal. Not just a renewal of connections that may have been set aside over the years, but a renewed commitment to live meaningful, purposeful years, no matter the number of years we are blessed to have. In recognizing the gifts and the burdens of our college years, we can renew our love of learning and discovery. We can renew our belief in the importance of community and a trust that the future of this country will be in good hands, especially if we support the work of a college like St. Olaf. 

How good it was to be on campus--to see and feel its energy and engagement with body, mind, and spirit. 

One more note: As Bruce and I approach that 50th reunion, our granddaughter, who is a junior in high school, is beginning to look at colleges. Howis that possible?

An Invitation

What are your feelings about reunions? I would love to know.