Where Were We? What Were We Talking About? Oh. Yes.

My neighbor across the street has put up a small sign in her yard. It says, "Be Still." It says it in about four different fonts.
My neighbor has five children and lives with her husband and her mother-in-law in a house which is not THAT big. I am mystified by that sign. With five children ranging in age from elementary school to high school and a husband who teaches in the public school system and having a part time job herself AND with the responsibility of an aging woman in her house- how much time does she get to be still? Is this a reminder to herself? Did she even put it up? Did it come from their church?
I don't know. But it's not working for me.
Be still.
I fucking wish.

I myself, a woman whose children are grown and who lives in a large house with one husband and four dogs, never has time to be still these days. Right this second I am being still, in a manner of speaking but it is with metaphorical ear-plugs in, believe me, because the house is groaning with words that sound like, "Come clean me. Please!"
My laundry is in every stage of doing and is not nearly done.
My kitchen is a mass of clutter. And dust. And dirt.
My bed is unmade.
I have so many magazines I want to read strewn from one end of the house to another where I have picked them up and read half an article in a moment here and moment there bracketed by the parentheses of the ending of one task and the beginning of another.
My beautiful fall garden is going to die under the stress of being crowded out by the damn running grass weeds in it if I don't do something about that and SOON!
I have a million unread blogs on my reader.
I desperately want to watch Disconnected again. Wouldn't you want to watch a movie you were in more than once?
Supper's ingredients are laid out on the kitchen counter and patiently waiting for me to come and DO SOMETHING WITH THEM WHICH RESULTS IN FOOD!
And, and, and...
Yet.
Be still.
My heart.

I haven't written a good, old-fashioned tear-it-up-this-is-what-I-think blog post in forever. I haven't taken my camera out to film the light as it settles on and illuminates the banana leaves, the butterflies, the Spanish moss in so very long. I haven't been still for a moment. I have not.

And this. This is life. It wasn't that long ago I was bemoaning my fate as a retired mother whose skills have all been for naught. What good was knowing how to change diapers in my sleep or how to soothe a cranky baby or teach a toddler where his eyes and nose and toes were when there were no babies or toddlers in my life?
And then came this boy:

Almost one year old and this weekend he did a face plant and scratched his face up good and now he is truly and fully a boy and I am reaching deep into my Mother Skills and translating them to Grandmother Skills and boy, oh, BOY, was that grief ever wasted energy.
Shitfire.

And my little Opera House family has turned into a real family of sorts and there are needs there and joys and triumphs and hard times and my heart has had to expand to take it all in, my days and nights have had to expand to get it all done, my skills have had to expand to make it all work and I have been humbled and terrified and glorified, even as I have learned that there are people there who have my back, who love me for who I am and whom I love for who they are.

And my Kathleen, who started out saving me and taking care of me is going through what she calls the gift of cancer and she is allowing me to share that gift and mostly, she shares the gift of herself. I can't even begin to tell you how much she has taught me, is teaching me. And that journey has added fellow travelers to my life who are sharing this journey with her and now they, too, are part of my life. Another beautiful, unasked for gift.

And don't forget this new acting thing I've been allowed to participate it. Oh my god! To be in at the beginning of the career of someone who has such a huge talent- to be part of that? I can't even describe it.

AND, there are all the things which I have always done- the care and feeding of Mr. Moon and the taking-care of this house and the gardening and my beloved chickens and the exercise I MUST do and the thing which keeps me most sane, most whole, the thing which restoreth my soul which is TO WRITE, and this newer thing, the taking of pictures, and of course, not last and never least, my children, even though grown, whom I want and need to be there for, whenever, wherever, and my friends who sustain me and my relationships with them....
Oh my god.
The basket which is my life is about to burst.

Be still.
My heart.

So. I have had this moment while Mr. Moon is in the woods and we had breakfast in town which was like a date for us and I dressed up with red garnet beads and my beautiful gold bracelet for, and then we went and bought birthday presents for that peek-a-boy, chicken-loving, I-WANT-TO-DO-IT-MYSELF boy and for Waylon too, while we were at it, and then here he was, the boy himself, and I played with him for two hours, and oh Lord, I HAVE to get to the laundry and the supper. I have to.

And this post? Ah. It's not worth shit. It's still another me, me, me.

But. I have taken the time. And I took the time to take eggs to the neighbors and I took the time to take pictures. Here they are.

The bananas. That dark spot? A wasp nest. It's September and the wasps are building nests. I think Kathleen is right- it is going to be a mild winter.

My arugula seeds have sprouted. I can't wait for their bitter crunch in my mouth.



The sprouted peas and a rubber ducky head which keeps popping up in my garden.


Miss Betty, my favorite hen whom Owen and I fed peaches to this afternoon.


The roses the cast gave to me last night. I cried. They are in the pitcher Kathleen gave me for my birthday. A perfect match.

And now...supper.
And laundry.
And sweeping.

I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping. Still my guitar gently weeps.

That's what George Harrison said back in the old days. I have no guitar which weeps but I have this keyboard, this camera, this life, and I think I know what he was talking about.

Be still.
My heart.

Get busy. Life is happening. Breathe. Work. Rest. Laugh. Notice the light. Look up. Be careful where you step.

Be still.
My heart.

Amen.