Day Four: Wild Musings with Renee Magnusson
What gives light to the dark places? Yesterday when I was in the kitchen I noticed a sudden flurry of sparrows fly close to the back window. Unusual. I checked it out. Six sparrows were perched on the edge of the cats’ water dish, drinking the water. No cats around. No people around. They didn’t notice me at the screen door so I watched them for several minutes. The dish, a plastic moss-green Tupperware bowl, seemed made for them to perch on. Every so often one or two would fly away and others land or hop up. A couple squabbled, all flapping wings and squawks. One hopped onto the multi-coloured stone in the middle and ruffled its chest in the water even though I have a bird bath out front. When they took a drink and paused, looking around, the water drops on their beaks glistened in sunlight. I could have watched them all day but a neighbour drove into their yard and all the sparrows flew away in a single whoosh. I memorised the details, searching for the right word for the jewel of water from their beaks. A pearl? Maybe but not quite. I’m a poet at heart and knew I’d just witnessed a poem. A Mary Oliver moment. A moment full of light where anything I might have been troubled about didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but being in that moment, watching and absorbing it all. Cementing it into a poem would come later. But how to describe that drop of water? A pearl? Maybe? Later that evening my hubby and I met up with one of his daughters visiting from out of town and his son and two of our grandchildren. We hadn’t seen each other for over a year and Mae who is 8 rushed up to me and gave me the biggest hug. A real adult kind of hug, tight where you don’t let go and give little squeezes throughout. My stepson later described her as ‘an old soul’. Absolutely. But after that hug she again became a little girl in a magenta ruffled skirt wearing a Ninja Turtle mask. At dinner Mae proudly confided to me, “I’m wearing pearls, look.” And indeed she was—a single strand of pearls hung around her neck. Maybe the word pearl would work after all. I imagine a story of birds daring to drink water from the cats’ dish on the hottest day of the year to gather pearls to make a pretty necklace for an old soul of a little girl. And I have moments of light to revisit. I write a haiku everyday with a somewhat accompanying picture, a practice which forces me to look for the little moments in a day that matter. They’re not always light, but overtime they shine a light into my life: day by day by day, moment by moment by moment. I also write a gratitude journal every day: 5 things I’m grateful for that day. Then, because that can become stale and rote, 3 things that made that day unique (these do not necessarily have to be ‘light’ things) and finally a ‘big win’ for that day. If nothing else this practice helps me think about my day and again helps me to notice what is happening throughout the day. Not every day has a big win but again it becomes a practice that forces me to seek out the brighter spots in a day. Sometimes it can be rewatching favourite movies, listening to my Spotify playlists (I swear I have a list for every mood!), reading poetry (writing poetry, haiku or pretty much anything), painting, going for a walk in nature, puzzles under umbrella shade…some days, like yesterday, bring enough light to carry me through prolonged dark. They are the pearls. Day 231 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku Pet sitting black cat yellow crescent moon eyes beg me to stay
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AuthorWelcome! I'm Sue Blott: a writer of all things, a poet at heart, mom, wife, daughter, step-mom, grandma, tea drinker, tai chi-er, mystic, artist, dreamer...and now a blogger! This is my world. Categories |