Thursday, March 21, 2013
There are moments when my heart seems full and happy.
Rituals that result in ordinary life being lived often provide this experience. A deeply satisfying weekly event involves laundry. It always happens on Sundays, with rare exceptions. Sunday is "change the sheets day." I can't remember when we set Sunday as the day when our sheets would be switched out. But, it seems to work well. Sunday is a good time since it's rare that we are rushing off first thing.
When we rise on Sunday Ron helps me to strip the bed, take the sheets to the washing machine and start the machine doing its work. Then we pull out the new, clean sheets, adjusting if the weather has gotten colder or warmer, and we make the bed, pulling on the fleece blankets and ending with a heavy velvety quilt spread that we've had for years. The bed is clean and made and ready for the week ahead.
And, as the morning progresses the old sheets are laundered and put in the dryer. An hour later I am able to take the fragrant sheets from the dryer and fold them for putting away. And, then comes the moment when I place the folded sheets in the linen closet pictured above. Just so you don't think I'm TOO fussy you can see that the sheet piles are not perfect. The shelf above has our super warm winter fleece sheets, one of life's great luxuries. The bottom shelf holds five sets of jersey cotton sheets.
The moment that I want to celebrate here is the moment that I place the laundered sheets in the closet each week. That simple action fills me with a wonderful sense of accomplishment, order and peace. A cycle is complete. I have done my part in taking care of the objects that serve my life (in this case, the sheets). The fact that I have several sets of sheets, a working washing machine and dryer, water to wash and electricity to power the machines . . . it's all wonderful. I am filled with thanksgiving for the everyday miracles of having a warm bed to sleep in, soft sheets to cover me and the strength to do my small part in keeping it all working. Everyday life is the way.
Monday, March 18, 2013
A truly remarkable woman, my friend Dalla Brown of Gananoque, Ontario died on March 14, 2013. Her friends and family are giving a celebration of her life on March 22 at the local Legion in Gananoque. I have asked Dalla's son Stephen Brown to read these thoughts for me.
I would like to join the party that has come together today to celebrate the wonderfulness of Dalla Brown. I know her as a friend. In fact I can say easily . . . she was my best friend. "BFF" they say in the language of texting shorthand. Best Friends Forever! And we are. But Dalla would never have wasted time texting, I might add. She had too much good sense for this. She was too busy looking at the natural world and being helpful to others.
Dalla's great gift was to turn an ordinary life into a work of art. She touched everything with attention and respect. She lived lightly on the earth, never wasting anything, and always attending to living things with great care. I remember once a bird's nest that she watched over at Hawkline. She knew all the creatures who lived in her vicinity. I don't know if she gave them names . . . but she was aware of life all around her.
Some of you know that Dalla and Jeremy were frequent visitors at our home in California during the winter months until her health made travel difficult. They were "snowbirds" who escaped the worst of the Canadian slush by sharing a month with us under mild California skies. We loved having them near to celebrate the holidays.
My favorite image of Dalla was in the early morning. She would often rise quietly before dawn and ascend the stairs from the guest room to sit silently in our living room, wearing her nightclothes. She always made herself a warm mug of tea and sat on our white sofa cradling the tea while watching the dawn light. Like a Madonna of the morning Dalla was all there experiencing the ordinary event of daybreak . . . finding in these moments deep communion with nature, with the light and the dark, with the seasons and with the unmistakable perfection of life "as it is". She was something of a Zen master without all the nonsense or incense.
I learned from her what it means to tune in to the natural world. This simple wisdom is all too rare these days in a world where we miss the sunrise because we are toying with some electronic device. Dalla never let technology spoil her relationship to the natural world and the changing of the leaves. She noticed everything.
Her laugh and her wisdom will stay with me forever. It won't be possible to bake a loaf of bread without thinking of Dalla and her practical advice about how to tell if the proportions of flour were right in the bread mixer. She cooked by instinct, teaching me how to improvise in the kitchen. I wrote a chapter about her in my book, Improv Wisdom. "Try-See" was her motto.
I am grateful to Dalla for introducing me to other of her women friends: Joan, Pat and Elsa as well as her sister Stephanie and daughter Wendy. I know each of you will join me in the celebration of her friendship. And we treasure the deep love we have for Jeremy, Dalla’s great partner in the dance and for Dalla’s sons (of whom we best know Stephen.)
Love, love and more love
Patricia Ryan Madson and Ron
March 18, 2013