September 17, 2017. For several days, I’ve been rummaging through old photographs (from before I went digital) hoping to spy a certain mug. It was white stoneware, with a pink primrose painted on the side – part of a set, four different flowers. Those mugs were my first purchase post divorce, back in 1979. Symbols of independence – kept through the years though discolored from tea and coffee. The pink one, most used, was the worst. When Gary and I merged our lives and belongings under this roof in 2006, off to Good Will went the ugly mug. I kept its blue mate, least discolored, as souvenir.
Striking out finding an old photo of the pink mug, I’ve let the blue one take its place in this collage. Behind the mug is a scanned 1997 view of my backyard swing – scene of the drama.
Here’s to memories of mindfulness before I claimed such as part of my practice.
September 6, 2017. Still on edge from Hurricane Harvey assaulting the Texas coast, I now watch with great distress as Hurricane Irma targets to pass directly over my former home in Florida. I watch with empathy for all in Irma’s pathway – the reality of Houston-area aftermath so raw, and Florida may get even more devastation.
But along with property damages, storm refugees, and gasoline supply panics, I cannot help notice all the fresh blooms arrived in response to the abundant rain here on Harvey’s fringe. The bees are noticing, too – so eager that I smile in spite of tensions.
And when I finally find pumps with gasoline, I look at the others eagerly filling their vehicles – all of us somehow friendlier with strangers than usual – smiling, waving. We’re like the bees, buzzing after our fuel. Quite the energy hum.
The collage mixes found human-essential images with bee photos from my backyard.