I’ve been drawing on the porch in the warm evenings of late summer. Wyatt – my feline muse is showing up in my sketchbook and on the pages of my writing journal. I scratch out his likeness with different colored markers and color in his black patches.
The white epiphylums and tiny Christmas Sleigh aloe are in bloom. I take such pleasure in being on my private patio. Poking in the dirt, tending the plants, reading, star gazing, watching the moon set. I am hidden from the world of homo sapiens back here. Only visible to the long cascading branches of the olive tree and oak, who gaze down at me while I putter.
It is very nice indeed to have places outdoors that are sanctuaries. I cherish mine.
Only this week Wyatt and I took refuge under the umbrella when a rare September rainstorm blew over Moss Cottage on a warm night. One minute I was watching the silver crescent moon, the next a wooly white quilt shook itself across the sky and stars and moon were hidden. The next morning, another brief flash of rain as I rode to school.
I’m always thinking of retirement. Wondering if I dare retire early at 60 and end my school career. My pension would only be half of my current salary, but I would receive full medical and dental benefits. I’ve turned things over and over in my mind. The right course of action has yet to fully reveal itself, but I’m operating on intuition here. Letting myself be guided by a deeper force than logic. Sums and figures, calculators and calculations will not be what lead me onto a different path. I am following my north star. It winks at me through the long veil of night. Into my bedroom window.
Retirement for me would not mean the end of working life. It would be turning my vast energy stores in the direction of creativity. Lifting my face to a new sun. I know by now, in my creative life that even when I sit through long dry periods something is sprouting.
It’s like this with my writing journal lately. I follow along as I’m urged to make illustrations on the pages with markers. I don’t pretend to know where it’s all leading. I’m an expert in exactly this: NOTHING.
But I keep going. Following the tracks even as they disappear in front of me.
My sister Dottie shared a poem while she was her annual retreat in Minnesota. It’s called PILGRM and it was written by Dom Hélder Câmara.
A message, received and decoded.
Put out to sea!
I have tuned my transmitter to pick up signals from intelligent signs in the universe. I will be sitting still by my receiver and listening for the delicate code to come across the wires. And when it is just right, I will act.
This epiphylum looks as though it is picking up some signals too doesn’t it?
From my writing journal where I record matters of big and small import.
The plant world is also wanting to be noticed.
More BIG juicy thank you messages from the students I teach. Some seen here and some invisible. On Thursday of this past week I had at least half a dozen packages to open. They were ALL from the same person. Books, pens, highlighters, more books, staple removers, more books. I’ve restocked the WISHLIST and it goes without saying that you don’t have to even visit it. Just if you want to, it’s there. I’ve received more than one email/comment from people who didn’t make it in time. Every single thing is put to good use.
On My Bookshelf
Making pictures and reading books and sitting still keeps my antenna clear and untangled.
I am pressing PUBLISH and heading outside to watch the sun set. Me and my cat posse of 1, my journal, my pens. See you soon.
