Catching the Light

How often have you been in the presence of a small magical moment and wished you had your camera? It doesn’t have to be anything groundbreaking … sometimes just a brief few seconds in which the light was brilliant and soon would pass?

As I enjoyed the luxury of journaling this morning, the sun had risen and was angling its light on the small pool of light blue marbles in the plate on my coffee table. As Spring approaches, I put away fall and winter candles and decor, and had just recently encircled a vanilla pillar candle with a small pool of blue in which this little bluebird could wade. The sharp sunlight was just dancing off these simple blue gems, and both they and the textured glass plate beneath were sparkling.

There was only a small window of time to catch this light before the sun rose further. I couldn’t help but smile broadly at this scintillating vignette … photographing it was just a reminder of how happy we can be when we are truly in the moment. It still never fails to amaze me.

Check back soon and I’ll show you who I captured in this warm, morning light.

Loving Is Easy, Loving Is Hard

Falling in love is always the easy part. Then it gets complicated. Why? Because “the other” has their own ways, their own ideas, their own habits, their own fears.

It doesn’t matter if “the other” is human or animal; no matter how hard we try, we cannot help but bring our own hopes, expectations, ideas, habits and fears to the table. Case in point – an animal one – elsewhere on this blog, I have mentioned that I feed a small feral cat with tuxedo markings whom I’ve named Little Fee. He’s been coming around since he was 9 months old or so, and that was the summer of 2009. He comes like clockwork for breakfast and dinner, and snacks in between from the bowl on my back porch when not chased away by one of the cats next door.

If not waiting for me on the back porch, he comes to his name when called. Yet he is extremely fearful and will not be touched or approached. He has never been missing for more than 2 days, and that was only after severe snowstorms. But now he is missing 2-1/2 days. What has happened to him?

The scenarios for a feral cat are … 1) Hit by a car  2) attacked by another animal  3) injured and laying low somewhere while healing  4) accidentally trapped in a shed, garage, etc.  5) poisoned  6) trapped by a human and removed with any number of intentions – to be neutered and returned, taken to the local shelter and/or to be killed. None but one of them are good. And there is nothing I can really do about any of them.

One of the things about loving another – be it human or animal – is that it is always fraught with risk.  Perhaps the greatest risk is giving up control, for it is the one thing we cannot have when another being is involved, or at least not without potential harm to ourselves or them. And one of the things about loving and caring for a feral cat, I see, is that I have no control at all.

And still we, in all our yearning humanity, risk loving again and again, knowing that we cannot control much … only our own thoughts, really. We can offer the best of ourselves to another being, offer our love, and then it’s out of our hands.

As for me, I keep intermittent vigil at my back door … watching and hoping … hoping my voice, my love, can bring this small being back and help heal him, if needed; hoping he’s not gone forever.

UPDATE, MARCH 1 –

The Fee has returned! In one of my porch checks late last night there he was, looking none the worse for wear, a bit hungry, and happy to be fed. Breathing easier at last.

A Teensy Sign

You know how when you’re really busy and/or distracted and/or not feeling 100%, (or whatever), something can happen and you shrug it off, chalk it up to “it couldn’t be helped?” But then the next day you’re kind of bummed about it?

Well, after running around on Saturday, I was pretty tired at night, so decided to leave my front earrings in, no big deal. Didn’t bother even checking them. Small studs rarely come out overnight. Except … I woke up Sunday morning, and one of them, indeed, was missing. I did a search of the likely places it could have gone, and then, just chalked it up to “whatever.”

But as the day wore on, I was bummed about it. They are these cool little Celtic knots, and had become my “go-to” earrings when I couldn’t decide what to put in my ears, or needed something simple to complement a busy shirt or scarf … my back-up earrings. Damn. Now I was really bummed at the prospect of never having them to wear again. Who knows when or where I got them? OK, so be it. Life goes on; this is the small stuff.

So now it’s Monday morning, a boatload of stuff to do, and I lean over to see how the stain on my “Berber” living room carpet is coming along – the cat vomit one I had Nature-Miracled to death – and there’s the earring, hiding in plain sight. I still find it bizarre how such a tiny thing – quite literally, too – can so brighten a day; I was grinning from ear to ear, and felt like I ought to be thanking somebody. Was I just plain lucky? (Since I don’t believe in coincidences, I tend to doubt that.) I could go on with my own personal conjectures, but I won’t. What it seemed like to me – as these seemingly insignificant instances in all our lives can be – was that it was a sign – a teensy one – that all was well.

And you know what? I’ll take it.

Women Helping Women or ….

If you give to any charities, you are aware that most charities sell their mailing lists to other charities. So where you may be a regular supporter of a few, you receive scores of other appeals requesting your donations to support their mission.

I understand this. What I find particularly difficult is that because I truly believe in the charities I donate to, those organizations with similar missions often resonate deeply with me as well. How do we decide to whom we give when the funds available to give are limited? I already have a stack I’d like to give to and more requests continue to pour in. In the last couple weeks, I must have received at least 20 appeals, some from those I already give to, and many other charities with worthy missions that want me to come on board with them.

The piece in all of these that really caught my eye told me that:

  • One in three women worldwide are beaten, coerced into sex or otherwise abused in their lifetime
  • Up to 70% of women worldwide encounter violence.
  • As many as 6 out of 10 migrant women from Central America are raped on their journey to the United States
  • Native American and Alaska Native women are 2.5 times more likely to be raped or sexually assaulted than women in the U.S. in general
  • In 2010 alone, an estimated 15,000 women were raped in eastern Congo.

The letter went on to describe the circumstances of individual women, one in the Democratic Republic of Congo who spoke out about being raped by a soldier and was raped again and bayonetted in the stomach. There are numerous other bone-chilling instances of women being burned because their dowries were too small, stoned to death because they “dishonored” their families, etc. Reference is made to the many women who, unable to support themselves, endure years of domestic abuse.

It is hard to believe that in our so-called enlightened world with all its technological advances that we remain so utterly barbaric towards one half of the human race … women. Madeleine K. Albright said, “There is a special place in hell for women who do not help other women.”

I feel compelled to help, but how? Do I give financially? Should I give to this organization, (Amnesty International), or to local organizations? Or should I help organizations that fight mammoth industrial giants who will knowingly destroy entire geographical areas and cause widespread species extinction?  Or help American Indian elders without food and heat? Or organizations that fight the worst of animal cruelty? Or … or … or?

Is there not a special place in hell for those of us who are aware of such need and do nothing? I was profoundly struck by these egregious offenses against women, yet I am aware of the need in every corner of the planet, and I, as can we all, can always do something. Whatever it is.

Oddly enough, after reading all these appeals, I remembered why I wanted to write children’s books … I want to open children’s eyes, to show them the love and beauty in the world, but also to show them that they have the power to change what’s wrong. They needn’t know at 5 years old that women are being sexually assaulted throughout the world, but they can know that helping and caring about others, be it humans, animals or our planet, makes a difference. And a well-crafted children’s book can show that in the most un-obvious of ways. So while I’ve yet to figure out where to send my next donation, perhaps  writing from my heart is my unique gift to a troubled world, the gift I can always give.

My guess is that you, no matter how much money you do or don’t have,  have plenty to give, too.

While You Were Dying

In Memory of Kathy  –  1/31/1942 – 2/2/2012

While you were dying,
my wings were open.
the empty breeze whistled through,
an exhalation of sorrow,
and I, half frozen,
watched the clouds, the rain, the moon
go by for days.
They took no notice of me
hovering in place.

I fed the cats and swept the stairs
Got the mail, ran laundry through
Got dishes washed, paid the bills
Answered e-mails, watched TV,
All while you were dying.

Though miles away
I held you close and we
laughed at life
in all its beauty and contrariness.
Why should now be different?
I watched your angels
light the way,
knowing
their wings would soon enfold you.
I held my breath
while you were gently dying.

And then …

A light within the light.
Unanticipated joy.
You, luminous.
And me,
Wings beating,
Soaring
in love,
remembering,
and remembering,
dear friend,
that you
were never dying.

Jeanne Balsam
February 3, 2012