Rescuing Impressions

I have thousands of what’s described by these words: “Where our eyes are never closing, hearts are never broken, and time’s forever frozen still.”  (Photograph, Ed Sheeran)  Click – a lens opening and closing, exposing light-sensitive film to an image, capturing the impression of a single exact moment as it happened; the colors,  lighting, expressions – perfections and mistakes.  What hopefully was captured and what actually was would be unknown until the pictures were printed, so take a few, maybe in one, everyone’s smiling with their eyes open, or maybe not!  The saying, you can’t stop time, is true, but not for photographs.  “I had rescued the moment by using my camera, and in that way had found a way to stop time and hold it.” (The Lovely Bones)  Rescued, as in unable to dissolve in a second.  Stop time, turning “here one second and gone the next” into here.  Hold it; the ability to hold a second-long impression in time, literally in my hands.  What is captured?  Events, celebrations, funny, beautiful, interesting.  Why?  To keep memories alive.  This is why cameras are laid to rest at funerals.  Each heart, mind, and soul, gently rescuing a unique set of “long past” impressions, meaningful enough to last a lifetime.

Feathers or Swords?

After watching a video on Facebook about a family rescuing an extremely frightened stray puppy, I thought, not all the world is cruel; a thought too big for my very small world.  What did that puppy experience to become so afraid of everything?  My guess; not by something taken, but given or shown – extreme cruelty.  Cower, tremble, recoil; reactions indicting undeserved.  Who would want to hurt a defenseless puppy?  My guess; a top predator, because we can.  I often think about why I was so cruelly treated by death.  Cruelty, yes, but not by something given, but taken.  Did I deserve death’s cruelty? Maybe the question is, is death cruel?  No, for the simple fact it exists for one purpose; it’s just doing its job, a job necessary simply because life exists.  Yes, for the simple fact, the aftermath hurts anyway.  Life, on the other hand, has many purposes; its job focused on maintaining internal organs, leaving living it to individuals, not based on being accountable to each other, but simply choices; feathers to tickle (kindness, thoughtful, selfless), or swords to harm (cruel, angry, careless, selfish) – a cannibalistic predator because we can, unfortunately, all too often mistaken to mean should. 

Dull or Shine?

Lots of things become dull over time, things like silver and copper, and when they do, I pull out the polish to rub off the dull.  When life grows dull, where’s the polish?  Paying for a shoe shine is a thing, so is paying for life shine – personal chef and trainer for figures to shine, a beautician for faces and hair to shine, a doggie poop removal service and landscaper for lawns to shine – periodic, skin-deep maintenance.  How about, when living grows dull, where’s the polish?  Living, as in relationships, experiences, work, favorite things to do.  The tendency is to replace with something new – much easier than figuring out what’s messing with the shine, find the right polish, and apply elbow grease.  My marriage was a mixture of shiny and dull.  Never found myself a new husband, but didn’t make the effort to shine up the dull pieces either, letting dull linger, which does take effort in the form of letting the dull irritate and frustrate, but never motivate me to bring back the shine.  One issue with shine is its ability to generate my reflection.  Look close enough and maybe I’ll see, the dull that’s rubbed off on me!

Sleep Away!

It hit 90 three days in a row; very unusual for June.  Each day, the desire to crawl under an air conditioner and sleep away the heat, grew stronger.  Sleep away, like run away, except it requires no effort; that’s the point.  Wait it out, not by pacing, not in anger or worry, but peacefully unaware.  The past tells me this uncomfortably oppressive, intense, heat will pass, so I’ll wait it out, but wait it out doesn’t always work.  It worked for death’s arrival – sleeping through, too often, the people and moments I didn’t bother to cherish.  I try using it for things like test results – hard to keep worry’s flip flops out of my stomach each time it pops back up.  I try not to use it after discovering damage I’ve caused and character flaws; address, not to be ignored.  When “after death” arrived, there was nothing to tell me this uncomfortably oppressive, intense, heat will pass, because it won’t on its own.  It wasn’t my desire to crawl under reality and sleep away peacefully unaware, but grief’s; time needed to prepare for its passing, and the desires to get up, stop waiting, be aware, effort require to arrive.

Twitter post intro: Sleeping away peacefully unaware can be a useful tool, not meant for always. But sometimes its called denial, ignore, or an infinite delay.

Upon Arrival

I thought more about being blown over by the winds of life, and my most common reactions.  For a gale, it’s the question– are you kidding me?  After this “without thought” acknowledgement of a gale the other day I asked myself, why are you still asking?  Stuff like this happens to you all the time.  Maybe it’s time to reply with a challenge – is that all you’ve got?  Maybe go as far as, go ahead, “hit me with your best shot.”.  A couple of things could happen – challenge accepted and hurricane season arrives, or an indication of “sure, whatever” and let it pass unnoticed.  I like Door #2.  My common response for beautiful, is also a question – was that the wind?  Questioning its arrival, shaming myself for not paying attention, but never acknowledging the shame.  Stuff like this happens to you all the time, but quick to fade away unnoticed.  Maybe it’s time to challenge myself.  Maybe I can start expecting beautifuls to arrive, make them stay a while, show them the respect they deserve?  Maybe I can stop being surprised when gales arrive, stop letting them stay a while, showing them the door and the disrespect they deserve?  Maybe.

Intro to the blog on Twitter: Why is it so easy to acknowledge life’s gales with anger and let life’s beautifuls pass by without a thank you?

A July 4th Sparkler

Anger has mastered the art of getting in the way, by being first to arrive.  It uses the combination shouldn’t and happen, and “not so great” actions of others to produce long lists of complaints and negative feelings, along with the desire to whine.  It’s funny that even though physical wounds qualify for the happen list, they’re not there, because the first to arrive is tend to those wounds.  But for every other kind of wound I let something incapable of tending arrive; anger – a July 4^th sparkler, burning for minutes, but also capable of starting a full blown forest fire.  Very angry arrived when I saw my husband for the first time after learning he died.  I was furious by the time I grabbed his flannel shirt and twisted it, thinking, how dare you leave me all alone – the deepest wound yet.  Thankfully grief knows how to tend, and did so until my anger ignited the “forest fire”  wound of living life without him.  I don’t see myself as carrying around a sparkly sparkler, but it certainly wins more races than a band-aid in coming to my aid.  Why is it so easy to forget I have a choice?

Over, Not Away

What happened, what’s happening, can be like being blown over by the wind; beautiful and refreshing, or gale force, bent on difficult disruption.  Both swirl particles of consequences around me and feelings I breathe in, affecting both me and my world.  The beautifuls never seem to last long enough.  Why is that?  Because lots come along in “shot glass” size; just enough for a swallow?  Because they come with a single glue stick?  Because how far over depends on being noticed, and I tend to be somewhat oblivious?  I have none that continue to blow me over.  Blown over by beautiful?  I should be disappointed it’s not blown away.  The gales always seem to last too long.  Why is that?  Because they can be “tanker truck” size, enough for me to drown, keep drowning?  Because they come with a life-time supply of “gorilla glue”?  Because how far over is a given, so is being noticed?  I have two that continue to blow me over.  Blown over by difficult?  Thankful it’s not blown away.  Blown over once or many times, remember, there’s less wind resistance after landing – so make use of that time to figure out how to stand back up.

Whole Pictures

Life comes with a lot of pictures, whole pictures; events, experiences, start to finish.  The best of these “whole pictures” are easy to carry around; no consequences to get in the way as reality moves forward.  The worst are not; difficult to carry them whole and also manage the present reality.  A description of my worst whole picture: “. . . what happened is bigger than me.” (Waves of Grief, 2.16.21)  Is, meaning still, not was, meaning no longer.  It was bigger than the two of us; how could it not be bigger than me?  I carried some of it, a very small some at first, while grief carried the rest.  I’ve carried more and more of it over time, but how much, waxed and waned, like the moon, except far from gradually.  It’s more like, juggle my present reality, along with a few pieces of the whole picture, then drop reality and juggle the whole, then drop half of the whole to pick up half of my reality; every juggling scenario as I add more and more whole with less and less impact of the weight.  The whole picture?  Yup. No desire for pieces to go missing.  Still bigger?  Yup.  No longer afraid of its size.

Because It Can

“What would you ask if you had just one question?” (One of Us)  My first thought was, can I ask more questions?  Probably not, so that’s out.  I thought about asking why did my kind, caring husband die so young, while so many cruel and mean people are still breathing?  Why doesn’t matter when he already did.  Oh, but it would help me reach acceptance.  Are you saying there’s another option when something can’t be change?  How about, why am I here?  Very disappointing if I found out I’ve already completed my mission.  Why can’t we all get along?  Nope.  Better question: what would it take for all of us to get along?  Would the answer be insurmountable?  I’ve got lots of hindsight; how about some foresight?  Someday you will die – not helpful.  Is there life on other planets?  Yes or no answers, also not helpful.  Where do we go when we die?  Nope, I’d rather stick with my hopeful belief than know for certain.  I’m often inquisitive about how, but “the cloud” has those answers, so how about just why?  Why, generally, regarding happened, is happening?  But, I believe I have that answer too.  Because it can.  That certainly explains a lot.

Intro on Twitter: Just because something can happen, isn’t a good reason for why it should, why it does, but I’m guessing it’s probably the #1 answer to the most heart-felt question on the planet – Why?

Laid Out Before Me

(Influence My Spending, continued) What if life didn’t just unfold before me, but was laid out before me?  Teach is foremost in the minds of adults regarding children – you need to talk, walk, feed yourself, and be given facts and figures.  But life goes beyond needs to understanding.  Things like emotions, behaviors, qualities, relationships, why, how.  Looking back, my path to adulthood was missing this helpful information, like how to argue productively, not find, but be happy, or reach accept.  What to do with feelings like scared, lonely, misunderstood,  Where does perseverance and brave come from?  Big plates of encounters and experiences laid out before me; insights into what else is out there!  And the biggest plates yet?  What about love?  “Love is a many splendored thing”, AND it’s like a new copper penny, naturally becoming dull over time, which you can let happen, or “if you prefer to maintain the copper’s original shine, regular cleaning is necessary.” (Martha Stewart)  What about death?  Why, when, how, and more importantly, not to be feared, but rather a pocket-sized reminder that time shouldn’t be wasted, and when it comes for those we love, grief will also come as a friend, not an enemy.  Who knew?  Someone. Not me.