Amusements

I love to feed the birds. I love birds of all kinds and always have. This love most likely was instilled in me by my grandmother, who, when she would visit us in Richmond from Chicago, would wax amazed at the blue jays and robins that hopped around our front yard bird feeder. Our picture window in the living room let us see nature in splendor, our couch served as the viewing spot. I would sit there, with my lovely Gramma sitting next to me, and watch the birds with her. If anyone at that given moment asked me where my favorite place in the world was, it would have been right there, on the Sears and Roebuck couch, next to my most special person in the world.

So here, now, years after my sweet Gramma has gone to heaven, I carry on the tradition. Feeding birds, watching their antics and being amazed and awed by nature.

Meanwhile, there is the squirrel.

All this spring I have been working to outfox the squirrel. No, it isn't just one squirrel. There are many. But to me, the battle is against the one. The squirrel.

If anyone out there reading this knows of a real way to keep a squirrel from raiding the bird feeders in the world, please let me know. Do not tell me about the squirrel proof bird feeder. I have bought more than one and I will tell you this ... the squirrel has found her way past the proofing.

I have to admit that I am rather amused by the squirrel's antics, her ability to "figure things out" and do what comes natural -- survival at whatever cost. I'm therefore most impressed with her tenacity. She really doesn't give up until she wins. Or till it's time to go home.

I think I should take some lessons from this squirrel.

Thunderstorms

There is nothing better than a spring thunderstorm. Except maybe a summer thunderstorm.

The air, electric, ticks with energy. The sweet fragrant rain (a scientist told me that aroma we smell during a rain storm is ozone). Everything turns upward, reaching for the green.

Thunderstorms. Reflecting life in a pool of fresh water.

Happy days, June.

Loss and gain

You know, since I lost my breasts and then went through chemo, I have not really spent much time considering my loss. That is, I have spent a lot more time considering what I have gained... much healthier in the long run, I think.

Most of the time, when tragedy strikes us ... and let me be frank here, YES it was a tragic occurrence that I lost my breasts ... it is easy to be consumed by the pain, the loss, the fear.

But I choose not to focus on the tragic. I am alive. Many adjectives to describe this new chance I have at life: Surviving. Grateful. Hopeful. Full of myself. Being. Learning. Looking for the new. Seeking and seeing the hand of God in all things. Faithful. Believing in the future. Growing.

I think the tragedy is that it sometimes takes loss to appreciate gain and to love what we have been able to keep.

Two years later ...

May 15, 2009 is a special day.

Two years have gone by since my diagnosis of breast cancer. I am truly feeling better. I look forward to many more years of growing, feeling better and surviving whatever life throws at me.

Searching

I always seem to be searching. But for what? Something I have lost? Something I have yet to encounter ... something nebulous, a thing I do not know I will find? Something that is searching for me?

Maybe I am searching for an answer.

What, though, is the question?

I often feel I am in a fog. A cloud. Floating around without purpose.

It's sometimes unsettling to be in this position, but since it is very much a normal part of who I am and a significant quality of my life, it mostly feels like home.

Curious. Does this happen to everyone, or is it a phenomenon unique to me? Is this part of the larger collective consciousness, a human condition?

Nevermind ... no answer required. Even if it's true that all of us have this experience, the actual searching is our own. The experience then for me ... mine.

Now, what was it I am looking for?

Blue

There are days I feel blue. For no reason. Inexplicably, this wave like the ocean engulfs me, cerulean. Maybe the blue came upon me because it is Monday. Maybe it came in the night. I didn't sleep well last night. Worrying. Free floating anxiety. Nothing specific. Everything specific. Blueness in the black night.

I want things to be bright blue, like the September sky. Instead I get the murky blue that like sediment floats on thin air ...

I think I saw a blue heron today. It really isn't blue.

Tomorrow I will not be blue either.

A new chapter

Today is the day before Easter and I am thinking that I want to start a new chapter in my new reality blog.

In exactly a week from today I will turn 51. In a little over a month from now it will be two years since my diagnosis of breast cancer. I am truly feeling like a survivor!

I appreciate that I have been given a chance to explore my feelings and thoughts regarding my battle with cancer, and I think now I would like to just get on with living as a survivor.

So, from today, my blog posts will be more about life ... life after cancer. I am going to borrow an idea from a friend of mine who also blogs. Her blog is entitled 10Minutes. 5 Lines. I like that and think it's time for me to start focusing on the moment, and focusing on writing.

This is the season when we strive for new beginnings, for resurrection, for healing. And from now forth, these concepts are my new reality.