Antiques and Asthma

I have been Spring cleaning, during the last few days.  The Winter Olympics are on TV; since I can rarely sit still for longer than a half hour, I have been going through the books in our library.  This still allows me to hear if Canada has a competitor in an event, at which point I will drop everything in order to watch.

I found an old set of leather bound, small books named The Best of the World's Classics.  They were printed in 1909,  with Henry Cabot Lodge as Editor-In-Chief and Francis W. Halsey as Associate Editor.  There are ten volumes in all, although I only have five of them.

I have one Greece volume, two of Continental Europe and two of America. The leather is old and soft; cracked in places and the books open easily to favoured pages...


And then I found two old books on gardening...one by W.P. Wright which was published in 1911 in Great Britain at the Temple Press. On the inside of the leather cover I find a quotation..."Everyman, I will go with thee, and be thy guide in thy most need to go by thy side". I love that.


And the other tome on gardening is The Blue Book of Gardening---Catalogue 1939.  It was printed by Carters Tested Seeds Ltd. It is hardcover, with the 1939 calendar on the inside of the front cover, places for Diary notes, sepia coloured photos of Raynes Park in London, the home of Carters Tested Seeds, gracing the first few pages. A catalogue for seeds in hard cover, with beautiful plates of flowers and gardens scattered throughout!  These days I am grateful to receive a small pamphlet from a seed company in the mail.


And then, I have a very old, very beloved copy of The Works of William Shakespeare, printed by Morrison and Gibb of Edinburgh, Scotland and underneath the title, it states... Carefully Edited From The Best Texts. There is no date on this book, which I inherited along with a magnifying glass because of the very small print, but it is carefully taped here and there to keep the cover together. The cover is burgundy leather over a felt cloth which blanket the books gilt-lined pages, as thin and fine as tissue paper.

I find one of my favourite books of all time...The Good Earth, by Pearl S. Buck. Printed in 1944, it has a foreword by the author, as if it had been written today.  She states..."If these years of war have been any use to mankind, surely their most lasting good has been to prove to all the world the splendid and heroic qualities of the plain Chinese people." With a cloth bound green cover, it was published by Random House with permission from the John Day Company.


As I look through these books, the most uncommon urge to sneeze...and sneeze...and sneeze, as if there were no tomorrow, comes over me. Old books and I have a habit of not getting along, even if they are my old books. A second-hand store is truly vexing...my body reacts as if it were at war, with great, heaving asthmatic attacks. It is vexing in that I love old books and antiques...


I have aired them out many times since they came into my life...it is time for another. I have not ever, even with a thorough cleansing, been able to read the above-mentioned list...they are too old and the smell of must is prevalent no matter what.

Writers were wordy in those days; even a discussion of the many Petunias take up quite a few sentences of lovely, descriptive words. I would love to read them, even just for those words...how different this is from today's tweeting, where everyone shares views quickly, easily, with no formal appellations.

One may well wonder why I bother to keep them. There is little monetary value; it is for sentimental reasons that they still grace the old, long table upon which they reside. I imagine the love  with which my old aunt, who once owned them, turned those pages, taking up the magnifying glass with aged, trembling hands in order to read the fine, fine print.

She must have found comfort in reading those beautiful, familiar words and sentences. I remember she was able to quote long stanzas from any number of books...stanzas to fit any occasion.

I don't imagine quotes are used much when tweeting...

And so I keep these old books, even if they give me allergic attacks. They remind me of a time when books were kept for a lifetime, and read over and over.

A time when there were no televisions or hand-held devices to tell me Canada has just won a medal.... 

Little Man

It's that time of year again. After a long period of time spent indoors, bringing in all kinds of different energy I've picked up each time I leave our house, I feel the need to cleanse and clear. It is rather intuitive. I can go for long stretches of time without cleansing our home of energy I don't  want...and then one day it will become all too obvious that a cleansing is required.

But not all energy will be disbursed.

Yesterday, watching the Winter Olympics on television, I glanced over to the side...and there was a figure sitting on my coffee table. Now, people rarely sit on the table, and I frowned a little when I 'saw' him.


I knew he wasn't physically there. I was alone in the house. Not even our two Dogs were inside...they had each just been given a very juicy bone and were outside, enjoying their chew.  I looked away from the figure, shaking my head and raising my eyebrows.


Long time readers will know I sometimes see energy manifestations of beings who have long left this plane of existence. At least, I believe they have. I might be a little startled when they appear, but I rarely become frightened or annoyed...there's not much I can do about the appearances, after all.


On this particular day I had promised myself after certain chores were done, I would enjoy a cup of Tea and watch a bit of the Games. And after I had tidied up, this is exactly what I did.

When I watch the Games, it is usually in an excited, breathless manner. I experience each event, it strikes me, as if I were the competitor. So there was certainly heightened tension and anxiety present.


And that was when, in the peripheral part of my sight, I saw the little man.


Dressed in a plaid flannel shirt, he sat on the edge of the table, with clasped hands in his lap, and smiled at me. This particular figure has visited quite often; there is only a smidgen of startled response on my part when he appears now.


I looked away, half-hoping he would disappear as quickly as he had appeared. But I couldn't help glancing back...and there he was, still. Still sitting quietly, still looking at me with a twinkle in his eye and a crooked smile on his round, creased face, grey crinkly-curly hair forming a halo.


I could only see him if I looked sideways.  If I looked at the space where his energy signature was straight on, I couldn't see him, although I felt him. It's a strange, rather disturbing thing...I find it difficult to describe. It was rather like a hologram, I think, though I don't know much about them.

I was comfortable, huddled there on the couch with my cup of Tea. I did not want to get up or be disturbed by an entity who insists on visiting at times of comfort such as this. The last time I saw him before this day was when I stood in the warm Sun rays on the deck; he came around the corner of the house, again with that confounded smile, directly towards me, walking slightly bent over and with a limp.


At the time, he completely ruined my peace of mind, my quiet, my wanting to just be there in those warm, sunny rays streaming from the glass doors. I turned and entered the house, knowing even as I did so his figure had disappeared.


I was not quite comfortable enough with him, then, to have a conversation, if such a thing were possible. But I believe we are coming to a Time where contact using all the senses can occur with beings or manifestations from another plane...is this man a precursor?

It is getting to the point where I will feel able to ask his name the next time he appears, if I can get past the startled response. I don't know why I feel the need to have a name...it makes the whole scenario more real, perhaps.


He has appeared in dreams, actually...It suddenly comes to mind I do have the occasional dream about him. This is why he feels and looks so familiar. This makes me believe he is a guide, who has decided to manifest himself before me.


I have met my guides, during long, deep meditations. Some, during mundane hours, fade. Others stay quite brilliant. But at certain times, I will feel an upsurge of energy...a rapid coursing of breathtaking effervescence running through my body. And I recognize it completely...it is how I feel during conversations with my guides. Very uplifting.


I thought I had met them all. But the little man with the limp and the rim of curly greyish hair may be someone who has stayed out of my vision, until now.

Perhaps I will need his guidance in the near future. Perhaps I am to become familiar with him before I need him...


His is a reassuring presence...


And even if he interrupted a mogul event, and even as my Tea grew cold as I pondered his appearance, which only lasted a few moments...


Even if all those things are taken into account...


His is still a very welcome presence.

And not one to be disbursed.

Odd Weather and This and That

It feels as if the World has gone topsy-turvy. El Nino has changed the weather in many areas...it has certainly changed ours.

I went to do errands in town yesterday.  At every stop, I was asked how I liked the weather. The people I spoke to about our warm temperatures looked confused...not sure as to how they felt about it.


Winter in the Cariboo is usually very cold.  Last year, temperatures dipped to -40C here on my deck...this year, temperatures are usually in the range of -5C overnight to 8C during the day. It's warm, folks!

I haven't worn my down jacket much this Winter. Warm hats and gloves...well, I'm not even sure where they are. I keep waiting for the Cold to hit...but each day is warmer than the last.


These record-breaking warm temperatures are not good news for the Winter Olympics down in Vancouver. They will be making Snow in large quantities before the competitions begin on Cypress Mountain within the next couple of weeks...Mother Nature does not look as if she will grace the Mountain with natural Snow, if the long range weather forecasts are correct.

Animals are confused as well, as is the Plant World. Bear, who is usually holed up in some warm and dry cave in January, has decided to awaken. And he smells really bad...even I, with a stuffed up nose, caught his scent the other day.

I hear crashing through the bush at night. Moose has decided the Willows must be ready for browsing, with the sudden, uncommon warmth. Every time I let the Dogs outside, there is something for them to chase...whether it be Bear, Moose, or Deer. It's a very good thing there is a fence. I doubt I would even have Dogs without it, considering the size of some of the Animals they chase. The fence gives them a very false sense of security.


There are many, many Birds about...far more than there are even on Spring days. With the nattering of the abundant Squirrel and the chirping of Birds, around here one could think one was visiting a Bird sanctuary.

And the Plant World has chosen to allow their buds to swell, has chosen to believe the unusual warmth will last. If I were a shrub, I'm positive I would want to believe Winter was over as well. Yet the temperatures at night go well below freezing, leaving Ice sheets behind.


But Sun, with its golden, loving rays, melts everything during the day...One can hear the dripping rhythm of melting Ice throughout the daylight hours.  It makes me think I am living close to an overflowing, babbling Brook.


I want to say Spring will be early this year, I want, at the very least, to start seedlings. But I feel convinced it is too early...it must be too early. Winter will not give up this easily...will he? I feel confused and convinced...a strange way of being.


The very oddness of the weather keeps me unsettled. Winter is not supposed to be this way. Yet, this year, it is.


To keep my mind off the should I's, will I's, can I's, I resolve to ignore the strangeness and go on with day-to-day living. I have applied for Hospice training, with an interview slated for next week. Wish me luck...not everybody will be accepted for the programme.


And then there are eye appointments, dentist appointments, etcetera, etcetera. I recently had my hair cut...this, in itself, keeps my mind off the weather as I try for some semblance of neatness and easy care.


Life.  It goes on regardless of odd weather patterns. What will be, will be...and all the angst in the World about freezing plant life will not change it.

But I have the need to wonder about something.


What will Summer be like in this El Nino year?

Treasures!

When I joined an Art Box Exchange, held on Blogland Lane,and organized by Debra Kay, I had no idea what lay in store for me.

Me and art? It's been too many years since I've let that part of my brain have free rein. I once loved to paint...watercolours mostly, but some oils and acrylics, as well. And I've always loved to sketch, which now translates into doodling.

During my high school years, I took every Art class available. There were Art History, Silk screening, Oil painting, Watercolour, Acrylics...all great classes...but little or none regarding Collages.


During my young adulthood, I took college classes in painting. Again, oils and acrylics and watercolours were where my intuition led me. I was good with them. I loved painting with a passion, taking courses over and over.


And then, a long hiatus. Life crept in...there was no time, crises and joys occurred, and doubt prowled in with a cogent force. With that doubt the Muse left me. You don't use it, you lose it.



I didn't take any notice of the burgeoning popularity of crafting collages until my granddaughter began scrapbooking.


Snob that I am, I considered scrapbooking a hobby...a cut and paste kind of thing. Something we once did in grade school.


Huh. The Universe slammed me, as it will do, immediately, upon any kind of ignorant, negative judgment I make.


Suki's Art Box arrived. I had previously decided to make a collage. I thought that might be the easiest thing for me to do, since my fingers have stiffened and they tremble from time to time. Ahh, the ageing process.


I was astonished to discover how excited I was, when I received it. I didn't open it until I was assured of a long stretch of time to discover what treasures I had received.


Oh! There were so many items which spoke of spirituality. I immediately decided to take the beautifully prepared Birch bark,the Feathers, the speckled Bird's egg,the Amber and Stones and create a collage with a Shamanistic theme.


That one I will leave last; it is one that speaks to me, loudly and quickly and easily.


There were also old photos, handmade papers, buttons, stamps and ribbons and Seashells.This collage would be more difficult.


I thought and thought and thought about it. I could have sworn Suki was in the room with me...she sent a little booklet with the word Rethink on the cover...


I looked at the photos.  They were old, most from the 1940's. I looked at one of a young girl. Her name swam into my mind...Bea. Another young woman...Alice. One of a baby...of course! Jon.


The Muse and my intuition did not let me down. I only followed along with the story I was 'hearing'...a story about Bea and her family, her likes and dislikes, her passions. And another gathering of objects and their use in a storyline quickly became apparent.


The most difficult part lays before me. How to place these different items so that the grouping is pleasing to the eye? I have moved photos and papers and ribbons and buttons around on the background paper until nothing makes sense.


In my enthusiasm, I have forgotten to be still and listen to the little voice deep inside...the voice that so easily can be lost in a chaotic atmosphere.


Instead, I fight my sense of order...the idea that every thing must be in its place...that kind of order. I fight my perfectionism. I fight against my inexperience. I fuss and fume. I fight.


Until I'm done. Until I'm ready to listen.


And then? Well, then I'll be ready to go on, willing to let my inexperience show, allowing that certain vulnerability in.


Collages, I'm discovering, is all about taking bits and pieces and making a whole.


Not so different from writing, if you think about it.


Just a lot harder.

Benefaction and Grace

The Universe has seen fit to bless us with warm, almost tropical weather (for the Cariboo!) for the past couple of weeks. Even during the worst onslaught of the Bug's war on my body, I could not help being aware of it.

It is strange. I'm not sure what to make of it. Snow, which was piled up against fences, which had been ploughed and left in huge piles, has completely melted. Mud is the name of the game at the moment, with long swaths of Ice still lying about...making walking slippery and treacherous.

The warm Southerly Winds blow, sometimes with a ferocity which calls to me.  Come out, Wind moans, come out and feel my balmy greeting.  I speak to you of Spring...can you not sense it?

But it is the middle of January, I answer. I cannot fully trust your temperate and hospitable message. But I will enjoy it, for a time, and with great gratitude.

Gingerly, I walk about in the garden, avoiding the melting sheets of persistent Ice. I see the tips of Bulbs, bright, perky green...they seem full of wonder at seeing daylight so early in the Season. I check the Shrubbery. I see, with delight and foreboding, buds beginning to swell.


My greatest desire is to go out and rake the detritus from the lawn and gardens. I want to start seeds, I want to order mulch, I want to begin the gardening season. This is the message contained in the very gentle breezes from South Wind which caress my cheeks.


I am wary, however. Last year, it was May before Snow completely melted. It is still relatively early Winter...and I feel sure North Wind will have a rebuttal to South Wind's promise. Also, the Soil is still frozen, albeit barely.


And so, instead of finding shovels, rakes, hoes and wheel barrows, I fight the urge to plunge into the garden. On the Island, I would be outside in full force, knowing any Storm would be brief and rarely dangerous to plant life, even at this time of year.



Instead of launching myself into the plant world, where I can be completely immersed into a different space and time, I wander and think about the problems associated with the World today.


I send Reiki...a small, sincere offering...to the victims of Haiti.  I send gratitude to Spirit for delivering the seventeen High School students and their ten chaperons from the Kootenays  home from Haiti, safe and sound, into the arms of their parents. I cannot begin to imagine how I would feel had I sent my child off to help build a well and a Goat farm in an impoverished country, only to watch and wait helplessly as that same country was devastated by an earthquake, barely twelve hours after their arrival.

I send gratitude on the arms of the South Wind that the World's heart has opened...has unlocked...and that Nations have come together to send aid and financial help to a country in dire need of it. 


Closer to home, I ask Spirit to help family members who lost a parent, a grandfather and a great-grandfather just last week. I know, having experienced the death of my own parents, just how devastating and strange it is when parents follow the natural order in life and die...leaving one on the front lines, so to speak. I ask for understanding and acceptance and forgiveness to be sent to my family; I ask for a lessening of the stranglehold Death holds on one's heart, splitting it wide open, leaving it ever so vulnerable.

I ask for help for Graham, who is still very ill. The Bug has attacked his bronchial tubes, swelling them and making it very difficult to breathe. I send my extreme thankfulness that the nurses and doctors at the hospital here were able to move and shift the blockages in his throat, were able to lessen the violent coughing fits which hurt so badly, and were able to help him breathe.



My prayers are taken on the arms of the soft South Wind. It is as if I can actually see the words and feelings spiral up...up...up far into the Sky...into Spirit's receptive ear.


I see an Eagle fly high above...a messenger from the Gods. I know my prayers and emotions have been received.


The weather forecast promises a few more days of this oddly warm and friendly weather. And yet, I see at the end of the forecast period that the temperatures will cool again, after this weekend.


We'll be back in cold temperatures soon; this warm interlude a distant memory.


In the meantime, I will enjoy Spirit's benefaction. The weather Gods have smiled warmly at an area of the country where Cold and Ice generally reign.


And I find it such a blessing!