...then make sure you can get at it without adverse consequences!An old 12-Step axiom is, "Want to make God laugh? Tell Him your plans." (No, I'm not saying that "God" is a "He" per se; bear with me here). To me now this is an eyes rolling duh. Perhaps the duh quotient is more bittersweet as one of my core lessons includes having desires without trying to staple them to my forehead. It's truly one of the running conundrums of the leukemia dance, the Here Now! doing its gyrations with "... and then I'd really like to...."
An example is the morning when I had a number of Important Things pencilled in. (I've learned that much at least - to use a pencil in my Day-Timer). Tony got off the phone and said, "One of the sheep is stuck in a fence and we can't reach the farmer. I'm going up the track to get it unstuck." He then looked at me. "Do you want to come along?"
"Well, yeah!" I chirped.
"Bring your camera," said Tony and off we went.
You'd think that momma sheep would have been close by, maternal urgings desperate to find her offspring, well, sprung. She was nowhere in sight. Little lambie was there with its head in the fence, lunging and bleating like a broken record. Well, you can see the photos. I needn't belabor the process - Tony came to the rescue and the little clueless one went scampering back to the farther away grouping of its fellows. Next time you enjoy a lamb chop, consider the transmission of intelligence. Not!
We did get our daily hooting fix of "Sheep Shaggers Monthly" jokes. I wouldn't upload the photo at first for that reason. "Tony. I can't post THIS!" I said. "Oh go ahead," he grinned. There is a holy solace in not taking yourself too seriously.
Later that day a swarm of bees was part of the diem interruptus. But wait a minute here... what was being interrupted? My thoughts? My intentions? My desires? A little lamb was given a few more months of life (you do know why these are bred and it's not for the local pet store).... a garden with two beehives became one with three. Who interrupts what? I was busy frowning over my age spots and how to treat them when leukemia struck last October. Now I see the sweet elders shuffling along the High Street or in my tiny new parish church and think, "Yes, I want to be like you... older, slower, alive." And aware.
To recap a few of my lessons:
1. If you yearn and go for it, try to minimize the adverse consequences.
2. Don't be afraid to ask for help. Yelling is allowed.
3. Don't be afraid to mess up your Day-Timer by giving help.
4. If you see a swarm of bees, keep walking.
Thoughts and options change. Life is full of curve balls. I used to judge myself more harshly for being easily distracted. Now I pray for flexibility... and awareness...
...and humor!
Ahhh...I see lambs driving to and from work; but not stuck in the fence! How sweet you have Tony and a camera. Sounds like you are going with the flow...which I'm trying to do a little better now that my spiritual buzz has worn off!
ReplyDeleteYes, well, you would think young 'people' would be smarter than young sheep but I don't think so. Consider a younger me, four or five years old if memory serves me, I liked to lick icles when I was sent to play outside in the snow and "get some fresh air". One day, I licked an icle that happened to form on the wrought-iron railing on our fornt porch. I got my tongue stuck to the railing. All good Canadians know that warm wet things stick to frozen dry things, like metal.
ReplyDeleteI remember the thoughts running through my head:
1) my mother told me not to do this - now I know why
2) how will I ever get it off without losing my tongue, or a strip of it?
3) how can I yell for help with my tongue stuck on a railing?
4) how long will I have to stay here?
5) what will happen to me when my mother finds out that I did exactly what she told me not to do?
I think my distress warmed the railing and my tongue eventually came off, not wihout a fright and considerable embarrassment. My conclusion: Sometiems mothers know whereof they speak and at least the lamb could make loud noises!
Great photos! And how wonderful about more bees...
ReplyDeleteLove,
Felicia.
i LOVE all your comments! :-)
ReplyDeleteOch aye the noo, Diane, you're getting positively Scottish! Just want you to know that we are following the new blog daily and always keeping you in our hearts here in Normandy. With great love Donald and Lesley p.s. I'll add my photo to the profile when I find one says Lesley, I could only locate Donald for the moment!
ReplyDeleteSeeing Tony's garb in the picture spawns a question from an ugly American. ;-) Does a modern Scotsman living in Scotland wear a plaid shirt of his family pattern? Or would he, like me, just buy something generic off the shelf?
ReplyDeletebmw
Ya ain't no "ugly American," dear. As to the plaid and the "modern Scotsman," well, I don't know. Tony's English. He ain't got no tartan...!
ReplyDelete