Lull

This is part of my prompts series from the blog The Habit of Being. Each of the posts in this series will feature the prompt for that post as the post title. While I may sometimes use the current day's prompt, it is more likely that I will pick and choose as inspiration dictates. If you are interested in following along with the prompts or writing some of your own, here's the link to the page with the prompts: http://thehabitofbeing.com/writealm/

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The huge oak tree in fairer weather.

The huge oak tree sways,
Its stately limbs stretching skyward
Side to side, they fan in the heavy breeze.
The air, thick with water
Hot and heavy, despite gusts of wind.
Clouds above hang pendulous
And ever darkening from gray to patchy ash to soot
Plump with the promise of rain soon to come
And the pleasant smell of petrichor when the rain has ceased.
My hair whips around my face
Strands catch my nose, lips, slightly open mouth
As I assess the sky for signs
Of more than the rumbles of thunder and streaky lightning.
Girls rush inside to escape rain.
My feet follow theirs
Fingers flicking the TV on for more learned advice.
The littlest bear crawls into my lap
Seeking snuggles and my voice to read stories.
My lips find her soft hair and
We rock together through "Guess How Much I Love You"
Her sisters retreated to their room
And in the quiet, the sound of falling rain.
I gaze down, see steady breaths
The little bear has fallen asleep
Lulled deep by raindrops, rocking, and reading,
Her sweet curls moving gently in the ceiling fan's cool breeze.
In the lull between wind and water.
In the lull, my eyes close to rest a moment
And fully feel the weight of sleep against my torso
Keeping this rare moment of quiet close to my heart
Before the lull between chaos and chaos ends.

My littlest bear, GB, sound asleep on the sofa.

A Week in the Life - My Daybook Online Journal

I'm going to try something new with regard to keeping track of day to day life. It's called a Daybook. I've seen several bloggers who do this and have yet to be able to find a format that I really like, but I do find the idea of prompts appealing, because it helps you think about things constructively rather than just casting about in your mind for memories of the week.

The main reason I want to do this is because, to quote Jenny at The Littlest Way, "the little things that seem insignificant in the day to day" are important to remember because they "end up being the things of importance in the long run." I want to have a record of the mundanity of life so that when I am old and gray and wondering where all the years went, I can look back and remember and tell my grown children and (hopefully) grandchildren about all the things that made up the fabric of life for me and for my family. Another reason I want to do this is to follow through with a goal (#oneword365 -- follow) to write a little each day in 2015 (#oneword365 -- write).

As I've said previously, I have always struggled with keeping a journal on a consistent basis despite a desire to record life in this way, but I think with this blog and this more structured way of writing about things, I may have hit on something I can finally do with some consistency. I think I'm going to start with some of Jenny's prompts that she uses for her daybook and I may switch it up as I go.

Next up -- my first entry in my new daybook!

Five Minute Friday: Notice

Note: This post is my weekly contribution to the Five Minute Friday community that is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Click here for more information about Five Minute Friday and how you can get involved! To link up with all the other entries for today's prompt word, click here.

Also, in the interest of trying to be my authentic self and letting you "notice" the real me, I'm writing through a lot of intense emotional pain right now. This may or may not come out in my words below, but whether or not it does, it's time to start the clock...take a breath...five minutes...here we go...

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Noticing London

I leave the study center where I live with all my fellow students and step out into the brisk February air. It is cold, but not so cold that I am frozen solid. The sky is a typical sort of London grey with heavy clouds. As I go down the front steps and stroll the sidewalk, I take in the row of attached houses behind me and around the corner. I continue walking, occasionally passing people as I make my way to the Tube station two blocks away. 

On the corner of Gloucester Road, there is the fruit man on the corner. He is there almost every day and I have become a familar face to him. He spots me and gives a little smile, his eyes crinkliing at the corners. " 'Allo there luv. How yer doin' this mornin'? What ken I do ya for?" he says by way of greeting. I return his smile and exchange pleasantries as I select a couple of pieces of fruit, hand over a few pence, and wave goodbye as I make my way to the Tube station. Inside, I put my ticket in the turnstiles and walk through, grabbing it from the other side as I continue my stride.

The Tube zips along quickly and I get off at Victoria Station to find my local internet cafe. The station platform is crowded with people of every conceivable colour of the rainbow. There are Indians, Afghans, Brits, Americans, Italians, Germans, Swedes, Danes, and everything in between. I know because I hear their dialects, accents, and native tongues in conversations as I pass through on my way to the cafe. The smells of the people are mixed too. Some food smells, strong cologne, delicate perfume, a mixture of sweat and dust, and the ever present smell of body odour. 

Behind me, I hear the sound of the Tube train's doors shutting and the rumble as it speeds away to the next station. As I make my way out into the grey clouded daylight, I am struck by this mix of cultures, sights and sounds. All on display, if only one will take a moment and notice.

It is in noticing these things that I have fallen in love with this city of tea, gardens, palaces, crisp BBC and warm rolling Cockney accents, Cadbury's chocolates, and yes, even the slightly piquant body odour of those who are not fond of deodorant. All of it is real and authentic and unabashedly who it is. And I am glad to notice. 

Want to join the FMF party? Click here for more info!

Day Thirty (part 2): Swingin' and Swayin' and Gettin' Merry Like Christmas

Note: This is a continuation of a 2 part entry. To read part one, please click here. To read the entire 31 Days series, just click on the tab above.

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Later that day, Balinda and I go fabric shopping at my favourite shop and a couple of others and by the time we are done, it is almost dark. We stop at a local grocery store and pick up provisions for making tacos for dinner, but for me, tacos will have to wait until much, much later. I have plans with Sarah and my other sister in law, Olivia (who is married to Gray's little brother Andrew) to make good on my desire from earlier this summer when I was at the beach. I am going to get a tattoo. I have been thinking about this ever since this summer and the idea just won't leave me alone. I've looked at designs and local shops back home, but haven't done it yet. I know what I want and even have a picture on my phone of it but that's as far as I've gotten until now. Tonight, we are all going to get inked. Both Sarah and Olivia already have tattoos but they are eager to get another one and to come with me for my first one.

Day Twenty-six: Poetic Musings on Depression

Note: I have been inundated with life lately but wanted to post something related to depression to help move this series along. To that end, the following are three poems I have written at various points along this journey. They are meant to convey some of what depression feels like from the inside. They are quite dark, so if you are easily disturbed or triggered, please be cautious about reading. 

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Into Black

The darkness steals over me again
And I feel quiet in its clutches
Despair washes through my brain

Day Twenty-five: A Cord of Three Strands

Note: After having had several days of struggling to write something and posting stuff that's not part of the story itself, I am returning to the story of my journey in this entry. Just to clarify, this part takes place in September of 2013. To read the rest of the story, click here for Day One or on the 31 Days tab above to access the index for this series.

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It is September and the temperature has dropped a few degrees. The nights are cooler and the air drier even if the daytime still feels too warm for fall. The trees have begun their slow transition from greens to golds, reds, oranges, and browns and fall flavoured treats are everywhere. It has been a month since that first meeting with Pendragon in his new office and we have met every week without fail. Unlike when he was at Green Tree, we are able to meet for longer than an hour if necessary and lately, the extra time has been very much needed indeed.

Day Seven (extra content): A Mindful Drive Home

If you are in any way familiar with the concept of therapy, then you are also likely familiar with the concept of coping skills or tools to help you get through the challenges of your particular mental illness or life struggles. Since there have been a number of folks who have said they are reading for insight to help someone else or help themselves or just because they have experienced depression too, I thought it might be good to occasionally post some extra content that is helpful for coping or helpful in giving assistance to those you love who are dealing with mental illness. To that end, today I'm posting something on mindfulness.

Mindfulness is, in short, being really and truly present in a particular moment and noticing everything you can about it. It can be helpful for calming anxiety and getting yourself out of a dark mood by way of focusing on the present instead of the past, the future, or the flood of emotions you are feeling. It's a great way of sort of disengaging yourself from your illness, even if only for the duration of the exercise. Obviously, if you are (or someone you know is) in a crisis situation, that is not the time for this. The time for this is before you get to that point and can be a means of helping you avoid getting to that crisis point.

There are many ways of practicing mindfulness, but when I employ it, I like to write about my surroundings or what I am experiencing in a mindful way.  To that end, I am going to cut and paste something I wrote after driving home one evening this past April (2014). The back story is simple in that I had gone out to get some sandwiches and fries from a local fast food place for our family's supper and was driving home. I don't really know what possessed me to start noticing everything in such a mindful way, but I did and wrote it down later. Without further ado, here is my unedited mindful drive home.

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The smooth plastic cylindrical signal lever slips easily between my fingers and I deftly flick it down with practiced facility as I apply pressure to the brake pedal beneath my right foot to bring the car to a halt at the traffic light. The light changes red to green but I don't see it and instead move forward with the rhythm of the cars in front of me. Hand over hand, the steering wheel moves beneath my palms in a fluid motion done almost without thought and turns the car easily left across the intersection and onto the main road. The smell of the food in the bag on the seat beside me pricks at my nose and although objectively, the smell is pleasant, it does not tantalize or excite me into wanting to eat. It is simply a means to an end. I glance at the sky as the car moves beneath and around me, propelling me forward along this stretch of road I know so well. It is painted thick with clouds that hang heavy and pendulous, full of unshed raindrops and darkening the early evening sky. The sky on this late April evening would normally be almost fully light because of the shift of the earth's revolution toward the sun, but it is muted, an ashy dark grey tinged by palest blue. I look toward the south as I roll along and see the barest peek of pink near the horizon's edge, obviously the edge of the storm that is closer to clearer skies and brighter sunlight. As I drive, my speed increases a bit too much, so I lift my foot from the accelerator and coast, letting the downward incline of the road both slow me down and keep me moving forward. I feel a small swoop in my stomach, almost akin to the sensation of flying but it is mostly in my imagination and passes in a blink, further obliterated by the application of the brakes as I again come to a stop at another light. The light changes quickly and this time, I notice, the bright green of the arrows urging me to turn left seems brighter, more electric, almost as though the lights are possessed of some ability to compensate for darker skies and storms. I am through the intersection before I know it and feel the rumble of the train tracks beneath my wheels as I continue the drive home. It is only the first set of tracks I will cross as there is another yet to come. Over and over, I make the motions that move the car in the direction of home, nearly all of them without any conscious thought as they are contained quite fluently within my muscles' memory and well-worn neural pathways that need precious little to fully engage them. Outside the windows, the trees sway in a heavy wind, leaves dancing and branches waving. The colours of the trees, grass, and even flowers seems somehow less vibrant, less green, less bright, possibly indicating that spring is at an end and summer is fast approaching. Perhaps the lack of colour is a reflection of the tenebrous nature my own inner thoughts or simply the fast fading light. The second set of tracks approaches and as I cross, my mind flashes on thoughts of dark nights and even darker thoughts. The thoughts are gone in a moment, but they have succeeded in unsettling my mind. Another application of the turn signal lever and the familiar sight of our neighbourhood comes into view. Houses built when I was born, various designs and nothing the same about any of them. Some have one level, some have two, some, like our own, are a split level design. Some lawns are meticulously tended, some need mowing. There are flowers planted and shrubs here and there, but nothing consistent except the trees. Lining our street like sentinels, each house has trees in its yard - junipers, dogwoods, Bradford pears, and stately oaks reach their branches into the sky, greeting me along the final stretch of my journey. As I near our home, I see our oak tree, very old and very tall standing proudly in its place, so sturdy and determined to withstand anything. I love that tree. It is beautiful in any season and in any light. Although we have not lived here long, I already have many memories of it - our children playing beneath its branches, pictures of them in front of it on the first day of school, the beauty of a sunset filtering through its leaves, the lovely shape of it against the sky on a cold and snowy winter day. It is a beacon and a symbol of hearth and home. I park the car and get out to go inside. The warmth of the air and its humidity are ominously oppressive, almost syrup like and in the distance I hear a low rumble of thunder as I open the front door, home once again.