When I was a kid I spent hours with my friends and siblings on the wooden seesaw my dad made. It was long enough to seat four people on each side, although usually there were just two of us going up and down. When I agreed to seesaw with my little (as in eight years younger) brother, he spent most of the time in the air, and I on the ground. It was a challenge to adapt the rules of seesawing: take turns being up and down and try to find balance. But we managed to enjoy ourselves, even while I was attentive not to let my brother fall and hurt himself.

        I am reminded of the current political show going on. No one is following the seesaw rules of fairness and balance. No one is sharing the ups and downs, nor trying not to hurt each other by bumping too hard; no one is  striving for balance. In fact, they may never attain the balance needed to give anyone a chance, especially the little brothers and sisters in the world.   

Watch out for those lazer pointers! I’m not certain how the following story relates to silence, solitude or simplicity, but if peace of mind is any part of it, reading this warning in worth your while.  

    The other day I heard about a ten year old boy who woke up one morning almost blind. After visits to several specialists, one doctor asked him if he had been playing with a lazer pointer. Sure enough, and like any inquisitive human being, he had shined it in both eyes, and then never gave it another thought. Now he and his family are living with a ‘new normal’.

 Last weekend I attended the Wayside Quilters Guild biennial show. It was spectacular, from choices of fabrics, to piecing, to arrangement, to exquisite quilting patterns, and everything in between. A little part of me longed to get back into it. Oh, all those fabrics, and  all the creative possibilities out there in the quilting world!  But then, I thought of how labor intensive it is; there are no short cuts in quilting. By it’s very nature it can consume your life.    
        The quilting life and the simple life just don’t go together. And I want a simple life.

     The other day I walked into Brigadoon. Up ahead of me I saw flashes of color dancing back and forth across the road. Gnomes and elves, disguised as members of the high school cross country team practicing on the hills. When I stopped to chat with them, they asked me if I wanted to train with them. Really, how friendly is that? I declined, but then we talked about the fabulous combination of independence and teamwork, of solitude and companionship that cross country offers. Before I went on my way, I took a picture and sent it to one of the members.  

The other night I completed the most difficult jigsaw puzzle that I’ve ever undertaken—Vasari’s “Florentia”. Its 500 tiny pieces have only two basic shapes, all alike, all fitting into each other. None of my usual strategies, including matching pictorial details, worked in any consistent way. But I kept at it, very sloooooowly,  and then, to my surprise,  I only had 35 pieces to go. With a renewed adrenalin surge on my part,  all the pieces fell into place.

    You may be thinking that the point I’m trying to make through this vignette is about sticking with something to its conclusion,  otherwise known as, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” Sure I feel good about completing the puzzle, but no, I want you to know that working on a jigsaw puzzle gives me a feeling of peace.

       This marvelous, solitary activity supports my decision to live more fully in silence, solitude and simplicity. I have purposely chosen not to take on many hobbies or long-term obligations, either at home or in the community. I have enough to do. I read, write, and meditate; I cook, clean and tend the house; I help people who can't get out and about easily; I spend time with friends and family.  That is plenty as I strive for a simple existence, with a quiet balance between doing and being. The challenge--what to do with my time without filling my mind with too much thinking?

       Working on a jigsaw puzzle releases the chatter in my head. When I’m working piece-by-piece, I am more in the present moment that most other times in my day. Peace-by-piece is what I experience.

Here’s a simple, inexpensive way to entertain visiting grandchildren: take a field trip an animal shelter.  Buddy Dog Humane Society, just down the street from us, is extremely welcoming. They encourage families to come in and interact with the cats that are waiting to be adopted. Today I was there for nearly an hour with my granddaughter who loves to sit and pet the kittens. I take a book and read and watch. This way she knows that I am patient to stay as long as she wants, which is a very long time.

    The only down side to this simple outing is that of course she wants another cat. But I’m the grandparent, not the parent.

Looking out at our yard this morning, it is pretty obvious that if you have a lot of stuff, you have a lot of clutter, and if you have a lot of clutter, you have a lot to clean up. That’s the way it is at Camp Fisher. I’m not complaining. It has to be that way. The grandkids are immersed in craft projects and swimming, so they need supplies and towels. The grownups are immersed in conversing and relaxing, so they need chairs and books.

      This evening we will order pizza so the camp cook (me) can get the kitchen in order. This evening, the head counselor (my husband) will rally young and old to join his instant lawn and cleaning service. Tomorrow we will wake up ready for the July 4th festivities—road race, lunch, parade, fun and games, and a cookout. Family and friends will think they have entered a movie set. But of course it won’t stay that way, which is fine with us. Camp works best when there is a lot of stuff around. It’s simply the only way to have a good 4th.   

       Happy 4th to all of you.

Camp Fisher begins today. It is in session whenever any of our grandchildren are visiting. Usually the parents come along but once in a while it is just the kids and us. They are ages 14, 13, 11 and 11 now, so you can imagine that the camp has morphed over the years. My husband is the head counselor and in charge of the grounds and activities, and since we do most things outside, he has a BIG job. Believe me, if we had merit pay, he would deserve it all. I am the head cook, another big job, but I get all kinds of help and it is I who decides when it’s time to call for pizza or take-out..

      Camp week isn’t a time for silence, solitude and simplicity in any of the usual ways. And yet, there is something very calming about it. Being with family—playing, talking, even enjoying from across the lawn—makes solitude never lonely.