Home » Posts tagged 'Reflection' (Page 3)
My Helmet has been lost
My Sword is dull
My Battle Axe is broken and rusty
My Shield is faded and cracked
My Ship is weathered, battered and taking on water
It is time to seek the refuge of a calmer harbor, out of the rough sea…
In order to rebuild and fight another day
***
I scribbled this on a scrap of paper four years ago, things are better, but not much.
This drawing was a gift to me, from my daughter Heather, of a gift to me, from Sarrah.
Another newer wrinkle of our annual tradition in what has evolved into the month of Christmas, we escaped to the Beach House for the weekend prior to the actual holiday. Just Nissa and I with our pets, went to get away from it all and make peace with the season. This is a nice, quiet, uneventful time to unwind and reflect in our place of refuge, sort of ‘the eye in the storm’ that is December. This last time Sarrah was clingier and wanted to sit in my lap, many times. She wanted to do this often in her early years, but with wiggly youthful restlessness. Now she wanted to be still and press her forehead against me, perhaps bonding in reflection. I wonder if there was a tear in her eye.
Where do I go from here?
The Tohono O’odham people cherish the symbol of I’ITOI, the Man in the Maze. I have seen this symbolic artwork many times on trips to southern Arizona. It is of a man standing at the top of a circular tribal looking maze. However, it wasn’t until my daughter Heather sent me a postcard from there did I possess one nor know the meaning (thanks to the brief explanation on the card). Basically the symbol depicts a life; starting at the top following the path, acquiring knowledge, strength and understanding, nearer the middle one reflects back on wisdom gained as they move closer to the end in the center. Initially she and in turn me were attracted to this one because the symbol is black on a white card, (I have long favored the illusion and absence of color).
I saved it and a couple of years later, while writing my story of Life with Sarrah more of the meaning found me. Keeping it in the binder, I look at it often.
‘Twas the season… earlier, yet again. Sarrah and I enjoyed another ‘ever encroaching’ season for our evening walks to be lit by the sporadic houses participating in multi-colored Christmas accents. Though I do not adorn my house with lights, I do make an effort to appreciate the works of those who do, Even if they insist on doing this further into November. This year the lights seemed more special, so we varied our route and changed things up a bit to see and experience a little more. Much like a movie, on our quiet evening walks my mind took me back through many of Christmas seasons of the past, most bright and delightful, some a little less, but all memories worth having. I typically have more of a seasonal chaos and yearend stress induced ‘Bah, Humbug’ attitude around this time of year. Even after the excess commercial nonsense and profiteering junk is scraped off, Christmas is still a bittersweet holiday for me.
As the year winds down, festivities compress what time remains. The usual events, rituals and traditions combine to make the last couple of months blur into a final season. I am grateful that Sarrah was able to be here for ‘The Holiday Season’, one more time.
Sarrah was part of my increasingly favored holiday and our recent annual tradition of gathering at The Beach House for a few days around Thanksgiving joining; us, my parents Esther and Stan, Nissa’s mom Gail, the cats and our beach neighbor friends Mike, Lori and Jessica for another extended weekend of giving Thanks. We individually gather and stay there for a few days, making the holiday more about being with family and friends than just an over planned annual meal. It seems the added time in this place allows the traditional stress to dissolve and the true flavor of giving thanks takes over. Sarrah was part of it all; inhaling all the smells of the cooking feast, scoring human food snacks, walking with her toes in the sand, barking orders at cats, collecting affectionate pats from all and constantly reminded me to be thankful. This year the quiet moments were a bit heavier and at times a little saddening, but moments like these helped me remember and define others.
Life with Chronic Pain is full of challenges…
some of them have tarnished silver linings,
waiting to be found
“The River longs to return to the Ocean.” –Zen Saying
As I watched them meet for the first time it was obvious that Heather adored Sarrah. Their initial meeting was when Heather returned to our home after a surprise eighteenth birthday party dinner for her (my first ‘in person’ celebration of her birthday, in sixteen years). She had only seen pictures of Sarrah, so the occasion was a little anticipated. Heather had not been to my house since she was a little girl, so Sarrah helped ease any tension from the occasion. After all, a cute Dalmatian could not hurt my appeal to a teenaged young lady.
Heather was drawn to Sarrah. She drew two fabulous pieces of artwork in pen and ink, from photographs taken by others; one of Sarrah and me walking on the beach as the sun was setting (taken by Nissa) and the other of Sarrah peaking from behind a bush, magically enhancing these moments… capturing them in their time. These drawings were gifts to me, from my daughter, of gifts to me, from Sarrah.
Participating in another of Heather’s artistic passions, she also photographed Sarrah, often. I don’t think you can have too many pictures, especially those taken by people close to the memory.
Can Bryan Write? 