Blog Archives - A Cottage by the Sea

Where's the snow?

10/29/2011

There’s something simple about getting a project done quickly. Today from the Angel Room I thought that maybe I was watching a fast forward YouTube clip entitled “How to shingle a roof quickly, simply and silently.”

Next door ladders went up, shingles went up, three men went up; old shingles were thrown down; new shingles stapled; three men came down, ladders came down. Job complete in eight hours. They beat the storm. What storm? Where’s the snow that everyone else is getting? So far, it's simple rain for us.

Can we 'out pray'?

10/28/2011

Where does it say "OUTPRAY"?

Having watched all twenty-three seasons of Survivor, I have experienced the many twists and turns the game has taken over the last eleven or so years. Nothing really surprises me, but I was taken aback the other night when one of the teams gathered in a circle and asked Jesus to help them win the challenge; then when it was over, they thanked God for being on their side. Here was the “just war” theory in action, along with all the exclusiveness that accompanies it.

I trust that the scene might be offensive to many people of faith, be they Christian, Jew, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, agnostic…; in fact to all of us sitting in the mystery of faith. I can understand individuals privately praying for guidance and wisdom to do their best; but I can’t get my head around the idea of a God who could possibly care who wins Survivor South Pacific. And what about the woman, who later “on camera”, but not to the group, admitted she didn’t believe in the prayer and felt uncomfortable being part of the scene, but because of the dynamics of the game, chose to remain silent?
I could go on and on but I won’t. This sure gets in the way of silence, solitude and simplicity.

The gift of solitude~

10/25/2011

This morning I decided to give myself four days of solitude. Actually, I think it’s good to give yourself a gift. My idea is that if you give yourself a present, you won’t be disappointed, especially when it’s Christmas morning and you’re a grown up and you can be pretty sure that no one is going to wrap up a stuffed animal for you. When my kids were young I gave myself Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle. In fact I just brought her into the AR (Angel Room) for company for these four days.
Now obviously I can’t wrap up solitude, but I can enjoy the gift of four days without any obligations or commitments. After the heartfelt memorial service for my mom and all the activities of the weekend, I don’t have the psychic energy for any B&F (back and forth) conversations with anyone. Not to worry--having read The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle, I can trust that my Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle won’t interrupt me. She is an extremely solitary soul who loves her silence. We'll do just fine together.

Searching for solitude~

10/24/2011

I’m sitting here wondering what in heaven’s name I want to blog about. Mom’s service, as well as the family gathering was more than I could have hoped for or imagined, and now I am home so desperately wanting solitude but not able to take it when offered. Today I’m meeting the daughter and sister of a long time college friend who died about four years ago. It is just the right thing for me to be doing. And then the rest of the week is mine for silence, solitude and simplicity, if I'm able to take it. I guess it be a while for this adrenalin surge to abate.

Only now am I able to take in that Mom is not alive any more. Only now do I dare open up the flood gates. Oh, and please, don’t try to make me feel better by telling me something like the line that my mother will always be there. I'll come around to that in my own good time.

Janet Ross Eberman 1910-2011

10/24/2011

Mom on her 101st birthday.

My mom’s memorial service was more than we could have hoped or imagined. We celebrated the life of this fabulous woman, who lived every one of her 101 years to the fullest, full of grace and love.

Waiting~

10/19/2011

Rainy, dreary day here. I made myself drive over to BJ’s for a few supplies that I purchase in bulk; soy milk, pasta, soft scrub, grated ptarmigan cheese. I guess I saved a little, but every time I shop there I have to remind myself that my best way to save is by staying out of stores like that. I can’t believe that I almost bought a package of fifteen non-scratch sponges. I don’t even use sponges.

Why am I writing about my boring shopping event on this dreary day? It really has to do with this waiting time before Mom’s memorial service on Saturday. When someone lives to be 101 years old, there isn’t a big need immediately to have the memorial service. Mom’s slow fading away, plus her age, helped us prepare for her parting, and so waiting for two and half weeks seems just fine and logistically sensible—and it is.

And yet the waiting…. All the arrangements have been made—the service itself, hotel reservations, family gatherings, even what to wear. It’s a restless time, so what better day to stock up on soy milk. I doubt that I’ll want to do it a week from now, and anyway, maybe then it will be a cheerful late autumn day.

Come walk the beach~

10/17/2011

      Open Studios in my town this past weekend. Half of the artists displayed in the Town Hall and Grange, the other half in home studios. I headed to the Town Hall to see my friend Sandra’s seascape watercolors. Fabulous. Check it out. http://www.sandyewilensky.com/

      As I walked among the exhibits of paintings, photography, ceramics, jewelry, clothing and more, I observed the sociable side of the artist as they chatted away with the public. But in truth, these folks spend most of their time in solitude. The creative process is like that.

       I invited Sandra to come to my cottage-by-the-sea this winter and walk the beach. In solitude she can see, hear, touch, taste, and smell the sea, sand and waves.

Never alone with a book in hand~

10/14/2011

I thought I’d update you on my current reading project—read two or three books a week and only read one at a time. I’m doing okay but I’m not rigid about it. What’s most important is that I’m getting more reading done now that I’ve given myself permission to read all kinds of books. As the expression goes--Just do it!

    Yes, I’m reading more. I finished that silly mystery, Agatha Raisin and the Love from Hell, by M.C. Beaton, set in the Cotswolds. Not worth recommending, but I’m not going to put it in the reject pile either. I loved that Agatha Raisin, had so many rough edges, my favorite being her rudeness, or shall I say, her blatantly honest—no glossing over her truth telling.

    Although reading one book at a time is a goal, it can’t be a hard and fast one for me. Some books are meant to be enjoyed, a little taste at a time. For example, take Let Evening Come, Reflections on Aging, by Mary C. Morrison. The very word ‘reflection’ in the title tells me this is not a speed-read book. And so I read and reflect, one journal section at a time, while also reading Caleb’s Crossing, by Geraldine Brooks, set on Martha’s Vineyard during the settling of the English Puritans in the 1660’s. Here, in an entirely different situation than Agatha Raisin’s, we have another woman living outside the box; in this case, Bethia, the minister’s daughter befriending a young Wampanaog.

     As Nina Sankovitch tells us in Tolstoy and the Purple Chair, reading widely opens us to different ways of being, most of which will remain in our imagination; but a few of these book friends may just nudge us to try something new, and some may even burst forth from within us.

      What does all this have to do with those of us who are looking for silence, solitude and simplicity and who sometimes like to be alone? Somehow it all feels especially comforting to sit alone in the Angel Room with the two books I’m currently reading on the table and with my ‘anticipation stack’ of future reads on the floor by my chair. Books are the perfect friend for people who love solitude. We are never lonely and yet we are alone in the best ever way.

Scurring squirrels~

10/12/2011

I used to think that in my animal reincarnation I was a squirrel, and maybe that was so when I was younger. When I was a child I was told that squirrels scurried and I like to scurry. If you look outside this fall, squirrels are still scurrying. It fact it seems that they are in more of a frenzy than other years. And then there are sooooo many of them, even though there seems to be a plethora of seeds and nuts. Don’t they know that there is enough for all? Clearly, the squirrels in my yard are not looking for silence, solitude or simplicity.

Maybe years ago I scurried around in a frenzy to be sure to get my share of the goodies. Maybe I still identify with the intense, compulsive energy of the squirrel. I may remember, but this running about doesn’t appeal to me; I’m just not in a squirrel’s body any more.

And yet, I love squirrels. Um, undoubtedly I’ll always have a little squirrel spirit in me. Just yesterday I put an over-ripe (call it rotten) pumpkin on the back stoop. This morning when I opened the door, a squirrel scurried off, leaving sunflower seeds behind in his newly created orange play fort. I’m glad he’s enjoying our playground. I’m reminded of all the days I spent as a nine year old scurry about outside, creating magical worlds. Now that I think of it, it was a silent, solitary, and yes, a simple life.

One book at a time~

10/10/2011

I didn’t want Tolstoy and the Purple Chair to end but I kept on reading. And now I’m into another book, a simple, humorous mystery, Agatha Raisin and the Love from Hell, by M.C. Beaton, set in the Cotswalds. Next, sitting on my table is Mary C. Morrison’s Let Evening Come: Reflections on Aging given to me by my long time friend from preschool.

     Nina Sankovitch has me hooked on reading, but I’ve always had a book in my bag, so what’s the difference? As a start, I usually have three books going and consequently read a couple of pages of this, a chapter of that, and end up deciding I don’t need to finish any of them, particularly the non-fiction— I’ve got the gist, and that’s good enough.

     Those of you who know me, are probably aware that I am pretty active. If ADHD were around when I was growing up, I would have been tagged. My Uncle Don would offer me twenty-five cents if I could sit on his lap for fifteen minutes and I never earned the coin. So, I’m in awe of anyone who can sit all afternoon, and evening for that matter, reading a book, which is what Sankovitch did during her book-a-day year. She read fiction and non fiction, one at a time, and that’s what I’m working on now, the one at a time part. And oh, not a book a day, but maybe one every three days.

     Sankovitch accomplished this with no built in solitude. The givens in her household were four school aged boys and a husband. If I weren’t so hyper, I should be able to read two books a day, but first I need to learn to be lethargic. I’ll let you know how I do.