A Story - "At the Root of It All" and Walking on the Hill

 "I tried the mindfulness exercise you gave me last week," Dana shared with the therapist.

"How did that go?"

"After a few minutes, I felt more relaxed, but then reality hit again. I don't think zoning out periodically throughout the day is going to be much help."

"But you've only started. Give it time."

Dana gave the therapist a long look.  "I don't see how it is going to help my underlying anxiety. I'm worried about getting sick, I'm worried about losing my job, I'm worried about dying."

"You're a healthy young woman. You'll be fine. You're smart and organized. I'm sure you are valued at your workplace."

"That's a lot of denial. My aunt died of cancer when she was 40.  She used to run marathons. My dad was a senior executive and lost his job when the company restructured. He never found another executive position.  And guess what, my best friend died in a car accident."

The therapist wasn't quite sure what to say. She didn't have any sure answers.

"You want me to pretend that nothing bad will happen to me," Dana said, "but bad things happen to regular people all the time.  Life doesn't offer any guarantees. How can I not be anxious?"

"Well, the odds are you'll be fine."

"Somebody always wins the lottery, " Dana replied impatiently.

Back at her house, Dana felt another wave of panic smash through her. If her therapist had no answers, who did?

She got out her journal and made a list of her fears. Beside each one, she wrote out what she believed to be a deeper fear related to it.  She realized her fear of getting sick was based on a fear of pain, a fear of abandonment and ultimately a fear of death.  As she continued through her list, she began to realize that all the fears, in the end, lead to a fear of death.  So, she thought, I really only have one fear.  It was a big one. How could you not fear death? And yet, she knew some people who didn't fear death.

A new goal emerged.  She wouldn't try to stifle the myriad of fears that assailed her.  She would look death straight in the face and she would find a way to come to terms with it.

At the back of our house. the land drops off significantly. My son cleared a path through the scrubby bush a few years ago to make a walking path down the hill. It is about 300-400' long so not that long but because it is fairly steep it is a good way to get exercise.  In the middle is a short flat area where I usually take a little break. In the distance, you get a view of the bay.

Closer to the house, the land goes up sharply again. I really like all the moss that is starting to cover the ground.

When the sun shines on it, the moss is quite the electric green.  Because the topsoil is quite shallow in this area, big hardwoods like maples, birch and hickory aren't able to grow here. Unlike our old home where we had lots of native spring bulbs like trilliums, dog-tooth violets and Jack-in-the-pulpit, this spot isn't able to support those plants. 

Moss, rocks, and dried leaves make a pleasant combination.

A Story - "Comfort Food" and Lights like a Winter Garden

A Story

Comfort Food

Shelly packed her sports bag with her clothes and taped up her memory box. Her mother had already filled some boxes with their other possessions. They travelled light. It was too much work to deal with more than the essentials.

Later that afternoon, they stepped into their new apartment.  Hardly new, though.  The floor was cracked, scratched parquet. The kitchen cupboards were flimsy cheap wood with crooked hinges. In the bathroom, the bath was pink but the toilet was white, the sink cream coloured.  Shelly would be sharing the bedroom with her mom. Two single beds filled the space with barely room for the rack they hung their clothes on.

At school the next day, Shelly tried to blend into her desk, but at the first lunch hour one of the girls, who had a gaggle of friends around her, came up to her and laughed at her cheap clothes and well-worn lunch bag. It was going to be a miserable year just like the one before.

On her way home from school, she stopped at the corner store and bought a couple of chocolate bars and a bag of barbecue chips. That was all she could afford.

Curled up on her bed waiting for her mother to come home from work, Shelly slowly ate her chocolate bars, savouring the sweetness and the smoothness as they melted in her mouth. A feeling of warmth crept over her like a hug. She licked her fingers and popped open the bag of chips. Salty and spicy the chips crunched as she bit into them. She crushed them like she wanted to crush the bully girls at school.

After she finished the chips, she flattened out the chocolate bar wrappers and the chip bag and put them at the bottom of her memory box. Letters from her best friends.

The sparkling lights of the town across the bay are like flowers in a winter garden.  They are cheerful to see in the dark winter months.

 

 

Two Stories - "No Place for a Baby" , "Christmas Joy" and Winter Scene

A Story

No Place for a Baby

Little Marcia liked the colourful Christmas decorations.  One house had flashing lights.  Another had an inflatable Santa that chortled as you neared.

A miniature stable was on a snowy lawn.  Marcia took a closer look.  Inside was a mother, father and baby, but the baby didn't have a crib.  It was lying on straw in a trough.  A donkey and sheep were eating the straw.  Some dirty shepherds were the touching the baby.  Three men in fancy robes looked scary.  Marcia shuddered.

Poor little baby.  Why would someone put this up for Christmas?

Santa and sparkly lights were so much better.

                                                    Snowy Scene.  

                                           The bay is mostly frozen.

Another Story

Christmas Joy

In the frosty cold, we helped Dad cut down a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.  Its spicy aroma wafted around us as we decorated it with mismatched ornaments that shimmered with multi-coloured reflections from the tree lights.

Later, giggling with excitement, we wrapped our home-made presents: knitted mittens, hand-painted calendars.

At the Christmas eve church service, I almost fainted as the glowing candles used up most of the oxygen.  Beloved, joyful carols revived me.

Christmas day was warm and cozy as we opened presents, played in the snow, and ate turkey dinner.

Heavenly arms embraced us as we fell asleep.

A Story - "Fly on the Wall" - Ring-billed Seagull

 Fly on the Wall

It was the beginning of the new season of the neighbourhood social hour. Darker days and damp chilly weather were pushing people inside. About a dozen guests were either perched on stiff dining room chairs or sinking into oversized couches or slithering on a shiny leather lazy-boy.

The hostess offered an assortment of drinks for any taste: beer, wine, non-alcoholic beer, soft drinks, tea. Nibbles were picked up with tongs and nestled into azure-blue glass mini bowls. A couple of floor lamps cast a dim light over the living room. No one was in the spotlight.

A couple of extroverts carried the conversation as newcomers to the group tried to see where they might fit in . Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle first attempts to connect didn't always work. Alcohol helped to blur the awkwardness for some of the people.

A nondescript senior woman sipped her tea and studied the others, noticing slight tensions here and there, little bursts of friendliness, maneuverings to get some attention. She joined in when necessary but mostly she blended into the background.

It was interesting to be the fly on the wall. More fodder for her stories.

A ring-billed seagull in Lake Ontario catching some waves on a bright autumn day.