sustenance | reverse threading

we have two pinecones on the mantel. because, well, in these times, under these circumstances, in the middle of this middle, one pinecone doesn’t seem like enough.

we enter the new year.

and we draw on the pinecone – its symbolism is hopeful with descriptors of meaning like resilience, regeneration, connection to higher consciousness, abundance, good fortune and protection. right now, there is not much i wouldn’t put on the mantel to ward off negative influences.

pinecones on the trail always get my attention. there’s something about the starkness against the snow that is simply beautiful. and, on this day when everything was so vivid, this pinecone invited me to kneel down and capture it.

if there was anything i would like to remember – every single day – this new year, it would be just that – that everything is vivid, everything is inviting our notice. i would hope to remember to pay heed to all that is around me – even the simplest of it all, the seemingly inconsequential. i would hope to remember to kneel in the snow.

for as each day ends i feel that i will find – as i sort through the hours and minutes – that it was the least of it all that made me feel most alive, the least of it all that made me know that my one, wild life includes pinecones and deer tracks, cold fog over the lake, dogga’s sighs, the holding glance from d, the suspended ninth. it includes the belly laughs, sous-cheffing next to each other, the first sip of coffee, our favorite trail. it includes new gutters and rube goldberg fixes, fuel pumps and matching flannel pjs. it includes the birds at our feeder, the squirrels on the wires, the last hugs we had from our kids, the sun lingering in a pink-peach-fire dusk sky.

sometimes the most important stuff is the least important stuff. the things that carry us from one day to the next in troubled times, the things that sustain our will and buoy our faith, the things that give us courage and let us exhale.

wishing you every pinecone.

happy new year.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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we waited for it. and the bit o’ sun showed up on christmas morning – after several days of fog. it was a moment of hope – to see that shining orb trying to burn its way through. it didn’t last long – it ended up raining – but it counts that it was there.

i woke early the other morning. snugged under the comforter and the quilt, open window by my side, i could hear birds. it’s unusual to hear them quite so zealous in the winter, but for a few minutes – on this not-as-cold winter dawn – they were there and it was exquisite.

we walked through the antique shoppe and stumbled across the frame of a lampshade tied with bits of muslin, satin and gauze. i was immediately back in the old farmhouse in iowa where several fabric-ed repurposed lampshades hung in a corner. we walked on, but that time-spent surrounded me for a few minutes and i texted the owner of the airbnb – just to let her know about this visceral fondness – the memories. they were there, swirling around me.

some things are indelible. they etch into us as touchstones of comfort. the sun, early-morning birds, memories. they feed us in times of extreme hunger, times when we really need something to hold onto that is somehow tangible even in its fleeting.

and some things are meant to be laid down. they are shadows. they starve us, they compel us into deeper waters where it’s harder to differentiate good from not-good and we feel a bit lost, out to sea. it’s too noisy, too raucous, too frenetic – when we are merely seeking serenity. we work to lay it all down – that which impedes us, which makes us stumble, which blocks us.

in this very first week of the new year i am hoping that this is the year i personally may be able to put a few things to rest. we all have them – those open manila file folders in our heads or hearts. i – like you – yearn to take a sharpie, label them “done”, slap the folders closed and staple them shut.

but even in this rapidly-approaching-medicare age of mine, i know there is work to get there. nothing worth doing is easy…isn’t that the saying? though i don’t have the flip-the-page-a-day-over-the-metal-u-rings-at-a-glance calendar that my sweet momma had, i want to flip the pages over to get there.

we all take out the manila folders and peek inside. it’s a hunger. to get to “done” on those folders and to get to “start” or “start again” on others.

and sustenance helps. the generous. the most basic. even crumbs. even the most transitory, the most evanescent. if it was there – if it fed us – it counts.

*****