When I’m feeling distraught or unsettled about life beyond my control I turn my heart to that which brings me joy. We used to travel a lot and one of my fondest memories belongs to a couple of hours spent wandering through the ruins of an ancient monastary at beautiful Glendalough in Co. Wicklow, Ireland.
Recently, and to my great delight, I’ve learned it’s possible some of my Irish ancestors who emigrated to North America in the 1800s originated in this area.
Beyond my appreciation for its obvious beauty perhaps this explains my feelings of connection.
During these intense and challenging times I return to this memory to bring peace to my heart and to help me be a source of peace for others.
It’s what the world needs now … that and love, sweet love.
Remembering my great-uncle Flight Sergeant Archibald Don Gordon, RCAF, 405 Squadron, killed in action April 6, 1943, over the Bay of Biscay. Buried in Plot 1, Row AB, Grave 5 Pornic War Cemetery, France.
It’s spring and Mr. and Mrs. Goose have returned to the pond to start a new family. Their chosen roost is the top of Mr. Muskrat’s den. Said rodent has also surfaced and is busy controlling invasive pond fauna (yay!). Still Mr. Goose, on his own patrol against home invaders, has already been poked in the ribs for getting too close to Mrs. Goose and the unhatched kiddlings.
In this image, Mr. Muskrat is just passing through.
We all need to be able to compartmentalize our lives enough that we can find some respite from these unusually challenging times.
So much change. So much uncertainty. So much potential. So much promise.
Yet, every birthing of the new requires the passing of the old. We cannot suffer and thrive at the same time. We must make a choice. What do we give up? What do we keep? What do we embrace so we can create the life we want?
This old apple tree, which has been battered by ice storms and had pieces of it grafted back together more than once, is dormant for the winter, but a few weeks from now it will begin its next great awakening. It will blossom full of promise for the new growing season.
That’s what I wish for myself, and for you. These unusual times have forced many of us into dormancy, but like the apple tree that sleeps and renews itself for the coming season we too have the potential to step into a revitalized and fruitful way of being.
And so, wherever you are, and whatever your struggles right now, I wish you strength, I wish you joy, and I wish you resilience. This too shall pass.