Changing the Storyline

How respond to/within life has to do with my storyline.  Crafting one that throws full support behind welcoming with open arms a robust, full-flavored, fully experienced life!  


Mind  you, even my former fairly faulty storyline couldn't completely deny that my life's been graced with awesome blessings since Day 1.  Praise be that the over-hauled & updated version sees clearly the endless bounty of  wondrous things that grace my life and welcome even more to flow right in, thank you!  


Through my most challenging years, my weird saving grace was the ability to hear & register when I said over-the-top things.  Like when I accused a sib of KNOWING that asking me to do something equated to telling me I had to do it.  What an internal shocker to hear myself say the words & KNOW that I believed them.  Or when Page Morahan talked about setting goals & I heard myself explain, "Oh, I never set goals;  setting them is a sure way to ensure I never reach them."  Again, can remember the shock I felt hearing the words come out of my mouth, come from a deep deep place within me.  


Am in such an intriguing place at this point in time.  Know it's essential I continue overhauling my storyline to keep step with my true self, with my sense of awesome destiny waiting to be experienced, with the lessons I've learned (instead of the lessons themselves, which want to hang around but only hold me back).  What got me to where I am is my ability to work with words, to step back & analyze, to hold things in a warm embrace but not too tightly.  What will move me forward will be my willingness to welcome wordlessness, to not have to understand everything, to let things just BE without examination & dissection.  To where my storyline has changed so much, it doesn't even exist - just the story. 

Inaugurations & Ordinations

Until today, I didn't grasp the difference between a priestly inauguration & an ordination.  Thanks to the Rt. Rev. Tom Kline, I now get it - a person is only inaugurated ONCE, on being officially designated a priest, but could be ordained up to three times:  into the 1st degree (white stoll - teacher), into the 2nd (blue stoll - pastor), into the 3rd (episcopal - red stoll).  One has to do with use, the other with #ing.

Much more to write about, but - as so often happens when I feel something deeply - am feeling challenged putting down into words all that I felt this morning.

In time.

A Picture's Worth

A picture is truly worth countless words!

A friend just posted a vintage photo on Facebook.  Two young ladies, apparently barely out of high school, with a rather dour-looking older woman in the foreground,  all three seated on what looks like either the stern of a boat or a bench overlooking a lake.  The girls look is relatively timeless, although the older woman's hat places the photo in the 1930s.

Turns out it was shot in Scotland, on a trip the girls - cousins - took in the '30s.  (Small wonder the aunt looked a trifle dour - not always a lot of fun chaperoning even the most well-bred young ladies abroad!)  The girl in the middle - Morna, a distinquished "ancient" (as my Mom would say) in her 90s, generally regarded by one & all as a living treasure - had given it to one of her nieces to post.

Impossible to imagine the impact seeing that one photo will have on so many of us youngsters, who will smile with memories of Karen, of Morna, of Miss Creda.  To see that Miss Morna's smile - known by so many of us  from thousands of math classes, from being greeted by her as principal, from it being flashed to us as we pass by her - remains basically unchanged over the years.  And that Mrs. Cole - Karen - projects the same quiet quality I always sensed when I was a classmate of one of her daughters.  Funny seeing Miss Creda look like she'd just tasted something sour, as I can't recall a time when, as a white-haired "ancient," she didn't invariably have a warm smile for me.

So many memories, all stirred by one snapshot.  

Impossible to imagine how many memories would be stirred by someone with "real-time" memories of Morna & Karen in those younger years.  And it's a spur to me to get Cyber Access for the Technically Timid up & running asap.  This blog - Sneezing Chickens - honors the stories in our lives.  By making CATT a success, I'll open up to so many of my older friends access to countless memories, priceless moments.

Still thinking about all the different responses to that one photo, all the different memories stirred by all the FB friends when they spotted it, when many shouted out to someone, as I did, "Hey - you've gotta see this!" What is a picture worth?  More than any of  us can imagine!

PEACE, IT'S WONDERFUL!!

A major moment the other night.  I was up at midnight, having been roused from a sound sleep by Rennie, who wanted me to know it was time for the kitties midnight feeding.  Knowing John was working like mad on a painting that needed to be done by the next day, I dragged myself from the embrace of my blankets & set out to feed our clowder of cats.  Guess John heard the activity, because I heard his studio door open & close & within moments he was walking into the kitchen.

As I finished with Gryf's dish (between the island & the pantry) and was making my way to Rennie's (near the fridge) - John rather sheepishly opened the upper pantry door, took out a can of Pirouette Rolled Cookies, and asked, "Is it okay if I have some of these."  

Oh my - what a stricken look came across his face as I broke it to him, as tenderly as possible, that I actually needed those cookies, had plans for using them for Bryn Athyn Bounty baking AND that I'd happily nip out to Giant for some working-into-the-wee-hours cookies.  Rather downcast, he declined.

Well, it took less time than needed to move from Rennie's dish over to the The Great Ballou (Ballou, for short), waiting rather impatiently over by her stove-side dish, for me to notice my messed up priorities!  Much to Ballou's disgust, I moved over to the pantry, opened the upper cupboard door behind which was the can of coveted cookies, reached over for it, picked it up... and noticed it felt considerable lighter than I'd expected.  

Opening the lid & peering inside, my suspicions were confirmed ~ the sealed-fresh bag had already been opened & half the cookies long gone.

My guess is that not that long ago, my response would have been to become huffed & indignant at such a plundering of what was clearly intended for my baking, not John's nibbling!!!  Instead, I was swept with the most unusual experience - silently shaking with laughter over John's dilemma at HOW to break it to me that the deed was done AND being thrilled that humor rather than upset has become my default in such a scenario!

Without touching the bag - which I couldn't have noticed had been opened - I put the lid back on the canister, handed the whole thing to John, and told him that I really & truly wanted HIM to have them, because I was so proud of the piece he was working of & so aware of how many hours he still had in front of him. 

Still chortling over the situation.  And I totally understand how it came to happen.  And thrilled I've FINALLY gotten to such a healthy response.  

Peace, it's wonderful!!! 

SUPER NATURAL

Realized that I've been blessed with a super natural life.  


Yes - not one word.


As in it's SUPER and I'm constantly amazed at how NATURAL it all feels. 


Well, how it's all felt since 10/01/01.  


So many people to thank & bless that I'm able to feel that way.  Big goofy grins to all!!

Really Quite Remarkable

Sigh... I'm still a relatively lousy letter writer & fairly abysmal when it comes to remembering birthdays!

Not so my sister, who is a delightful letter writer and who seems to remember everyone's birthday!

Big smiles earlier this week, spotting the return address on an envelope. A letter from Mim!! She'd caught a whift of some really awful smell and got an immediate sense memory of the two of us driving through Georgia, down I-95 past the coastal town of Brunswick. WHEW! To this day, neither of us have smelled such a stink!!! And we were miles away.

Great fun to suddenly, in my mind's eye, be driving down the interstate, Mim at the wheel of the van, trying to hold her nose & steer at the same time.

So long ago, yet feels just yesterday.

I've always WANTED to be a good letter writer/card sender. More like Mim, who's an excellent letter writer, part of a tool box of social skills that she uses to deftly forge & maintain connections with the wide range of people she's met in her world travels.

Maybe one reason I never got into the letter writing swing of things is never feeling like I had much to share. My life has been far smaller than my rather epic older sister. Not less, just smaller. Way less traveled, way fewer richly-textured experiences.

Mim really is quite remarkable.

Still Dragging My Feet

Still hesitant about connecting with my namesake. Wondering why.