My Mom has Alzheimer's disease. This disease has received so much attention in the last few years that I don't need to elaborate. It's awful...enough said.
Mom and I have never been close and I'm not sure why. In past years, I would have rattled on about the why. But, as I age, I'm content to let the past lie quietly, a little bit of personal history that is what it is. I doubt there is further benefit from further examination.
Mom was often in emotional turmoil and that frustrated me. In my mid-30s, I saw the futility in trying to change her. I clearly saw a better way to a better relationship that involved nothing more than offering peace, compassion and love. Instead of frustration at what I perceived as her lack, I felt compassion for what I saw she was missing. It changed everything for me.
These days, Mom is sweet, agreeable and eager to please. She tries her best (and does an amazing job) to say the right thing. I realize that what I am seeing is Mom...unplugged. Unplugged from the striving, the distress, the uncertainty that this crappy world can elicit in each of us. Just like the musical artists that perform with acoustic guitars in an intimate setting, this is the best of Mom.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Simple circle
Yesterday, I cooked one of the spaghetti squash Paul raised this summer. While scraping out the seeds and strings, I heard his voice in my head, reminding me to save the seeds. Of course!
I almost followed a life-long habit of discarding such things. Realizing my near mistake took my thoughts to the simple rewards of growing your own food. We are far removed in this country from the days when saving seed was critical to next year's harvest and sustenance. If we want a vegetable, we go to the store. The process is repeated over and over, multiplied by the millions in the developed world.
Now, I clearly see the value of raising your own food, saving the seed for next year's planting and for sharing with others. Paul is planning a class this spring to share with neighbors what he has learned about gardening in our challenging climate. A seed exchange will be included in the class. It's a wonderful idea and I wish him much success. If no one else is touched by his love of gardening, it's enough that I have been transformed.
Plant
Harvest (and share)
Eat (and share)
Compost
Repeat
Each seed planted is a drop of water. As the drops grow into a puddle, each new drop forms concentric circles that reach further and further, as more and more people reap the benefits of those planted seeds. What a beautiful, simple circle.
I almost followed a life-long habit of discarding such things. Realizing my near mistake took my thoughts to the simple rewards of growing your own food. We are far removed in this country from the days when saving seed was critical to next year's harvest and sustenance. If we want a vegetable, we go to the store. The process is repeated over and over, multiplied by the millions in the developed world.
Now, I clearly see the value of raising your own food, saving the seed for next year's planting and for sharing with others. Paul is planning a class this spring to share with neighbors what he has learned about gardening in our challenging climate. A seed exchange will be included in the class. It's a wonderful idea and I wish him much success. If no one else is touched by his love of gardening, it's enough that I have been transformed.
Plant
Harvest (and share)
Eat (and share)
Compost
Repeat
Each seed planted is a drop of water. As the drops grow into a puddle, each new drop forms concentric circles that reach further and further, as more and more people reap the benefits of those planted seeds. What a beautiful, simple circle.
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