Changing Seasons...
Sunday, August 26, 2007 (2:17pm)
Changing Seasons...
It’s interesting as I get older, what memories pop up from time to time. One of my internet buddies mentioned getting to take a trip back east and having the opportunity to see the leaves change. Here on the west coast we only have two seasons... the brown season, and if there is any rain during the year... the green season. My roots are in rural Kentucky and West Virginia. I am actually much more comfortable in a rural setting where there are things like land and farm animals... and the incredible show of all the leaves changing color in the fall.
When I turned 21 I lived in a house with a bunch of women I played in a band with (yes it was very much like a sitcom) and I was working at a media/video production house. I was working 7 days a week and I was exhausted... and I was very much missing my roots... and seasons. I had such a strong desire to get away and go see the leaves change color back in West Virginia where the hillbilly side of the family lives. I mentioned that to one of my roommates. The leaves changing were always symbolic to me of a more peaceful time of my life and having time to stop and enjoy the world. It was also the whole thing of having real seasons... something bigger to mark the passage of time for me than deadlines.
My roommate told a bunch of my friends and somehow managed to scrape enough money together to get me a ticket and contacted my boss to make the arrangements to get me off at work. (which was my now husband Ken who had the hots for me even then... I also suspect that's where the bulk of the money for the plane ticket came from.)
Being back there for me was such a healing and restorative time in so many ways. The leaves were exceptionally beautiful that year and I was there right at the peak. It was the first time I had seen my relatives since my mother had died when I was 14... sort of a rite of passage into adulthood, coming to grips with my family and heritage. I took a bunch of pictures while I was back there... of the leaves and the landscape. One of the close ups of those leaves still hangs in my teaching studio. I'm sure the kids wonder why its there in the middle of all the music stuff. But it serves as a reminder that I have a God in my life that loves me enough to see the real needs and desires of my heart and acknowledges them and helps sustain me through the long periods where there are no times of rest in sight. The photo still always makes me smile... a great memory as a gift. It's always a reminder to me that God chooses to use people to be his heart and his hands, and that it's good for me to watch for those opportunities to be that for others too.
It's interesting to me that here I spend 12 to 15 hours a day working in my teaching room that is at the back of the house. There's a great view out of the back windows that span probably about 10 feet or so... all I can see is the slope of the hill and trees... the house behind us is about an acre away hidden behind the trees... and the next door neighbor has 3 huge aspen trees in his back yard. The only way I notice the passage of seasons is to watch them grow leaves, have them turn yellow and then drop off. There's not enough weather here to really have much of that, so it's a wonderful thing to behold. I really want to get a Japanese maple to have here too since they are one of the few trees around here that will have that kind of fiery red leaves in the fall.
In the midst of my crazy schedule I can look up at the leaves and see that memory of being outside in the vastness of a changing landscape, and almost breathe the fresh mountain air. Then I can keep putting one foot in front of the other to take care of the tasks at hand and steal those moments where I remember the beauty in nature, and in caring friends who are precious gifts themselves. On the front of my notebook I use to keep track of all my students in I have van gogh's starry night at the top with a quote I found on the internet that stuck with me...
"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying... 'I will try again tomorrow.'" That could be my motto. No matter how busy I am or what else is going on, I want to really live and appreciate what I do have around me.
When Ken and I went to Balboa Park last time I specifically went to the artist's village. They have an artist there who does glass vases. Her stuff is in galleries all over the country. They are brightly colored and have designs like fields of flowers or sunflowers with a deep rich blue sky at the top. I decided I needed one of those as a modern day reminder that He's still sees what I need now too. A few of her vases now sit underneath the leaves picture where I can see it. I think in the midst of all the work and the business I'm learning to look for life and nourishment in the small nooks and crannies of my life... probably like the desert creatures who learn to find sustenance one drop at a time, and in unusual places most people wouldn't think to look. I keep finding it unexpectedly in emails or quick phone calls with friends, or a great quote that I had forgotten in one of my favorite books, or playing with the dogs and seeing how much they love even a few minutes of goofy play time. I get it from standing on the back porch and watching the wind blow the plants around. And I find it in all the memories of love and friendship and the beauty in my memories landscape that I will always carry with me.
Changing Seasons...
It’s interesting as I get older, what memories pop up from time to time. One of my internet buddies mentioned getting to take a trip back east and having the opportunity to see the leaves change. Here on the west coast we only have two seasons... the brown season, and if there is any rain during the year... the green season. My roots are in rural Kentucky and West Virginia. I am actually much more comfortable in a rural setting where there are things like land and farm animals... and the incredible show of all the leaves changing color in the fall.
When I turned 21 I lived in a house with a bunch of women I played in a band with (yes it was very much like a sitcom) and I was working at a media/video production house. I was working 7 days a week and I was exhausted... and I was very much missing my roots... and seasons. I had such a strong desire to get away and go see the leaves change color back in West Virginia where the hillbilly side of the family lives. I mentioned that to one of my roommates. The leaves changing were always symbolic to me of a more peaceful time of my life and having time to stop and enjoy the world. It was also the whole thing of having real seasons... something bigger to mark the passage of time for me than deadlines.
My roommate told a bunch of my friends and somehow managed to scrape enough money together to get me a ticket and contacted my boss to make the arrangements to get me off at work. (which was my now husband Ken who had the hots for me even then... I also suspect that's where the bulk of the money for the plane ticket came from.)
Being back there for me was such a healing and restorative time in so many ways. The leaves were exceptionally beautiful that year and I was there right at the peak. It was the first time I had seen my relatives since my mother had died when I was 14... sort of a rite of passage into adulthood, coming to grips with my family and heritage. I took a bunch of pictures while I was back there... of the leaves and the landscape. One of the close ups of those leaves still hangs in my teaching studio. I'm sure the kids wonder why its there in the middle of all the music stuff. But it serves as a reminder that I have a God in my life that loves me enough to see the real needs and desires of my heart and acknowledges them and helps sustain me through the long periods where there are no times of rest in sight. The photo still always makes me smile... a great memory as a gift. It's always a reminder to me that God chooses to use people to be his heart and his hands, and that it's good for me to watch for those opportunities to be that for others too.
It's interesting to me that here I spend 12 to 15 hours a day working in my teaching room that is at the back of the house. There's a great view out of the back windows that span probably about 10 feet or so... all I can see is the slope of the hill and trees... the house behind us is about an acre away hidden behind the trees... and the next door neighbor has 3 huge aspen trees in his back yard. The only way I notice the passage of seasons is to watch them grow leaves, have them turn yellow and then drop off. There's not enough weather here to really have much of that, so it's a wonderful thing to behold. I really want to get a Japanese maple to have here too since they are one of the few trees around here that will have that kind of fiery red leaves in the fall.
In the midst of my crazy schedule I can look up at the leaves and see that memory of being outside in the vastness of a changing landscape, and almost breathe the fresh mountain air. Then I can keep putting one foot in front of the other to take care of the tasks at hand and steal those moments where I remember the beauty in nature, and in caring friends who are precious gifts themselves. On the front of my notebook I use to keep track of all my students in I have van gogh's starry night at the top with a quote I found on the internet that stuck with me...
"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying... 'I will try again tomorrow.'" That could be my motto. No matter how busy I am or what else is going on, I want to really live and appreciate what I do have around me.
When Ken and I went to Balboa Park last time I specifically went to the artist's village. They have an artist there who does glass vases. Her stuff is in galleries all over the country. They are brightly colored and have designs like fields of flowers or sunflowers with a deep rich blue sky at the top. I decided I needed one of those as a modern day reminder that He's still sees what I need now too. A few of her vases now sit underneath the leaves picture where I can see it. I think in the midst of all the work and the business I'm learning to look for life and nourishment in the small nooks and crannies of my life... probably like the desert creatures who learn to find sustenance one drop at a time, and in unusual places most people wouldn't think to look. I keep finding it unexpectedly in emails or quick phone calls with friends, or a great quote that I had forgotten in one of my favorite books, or playing with the dogs and seeing how much they love even a few minutes of goofy play time. I get it from standing on the back porch and watching the wind blow the plants around. And I find it in all the memories of love and friendship and the beauty in my memories landscape that I will always carry with me.
posted by Raw Faith Real World at 2:45 PM
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