Life Renewing Itself. Miss Marie’s Snowdrops.

Posted by Barbara Techel

Life Renewing Itself. Miss Marie's Snowdrops.

We’ve had some warm days in-between some chilly ones. I’ve taken full advantage of the warm ones. I pulled Gidget’s dog stroller out of the corner of the garage and we’ve been strolling through our quaint village when we can.

Whenever I drive into town, I drive by Miss Marie’s home. There is no other way around it really, as it is part of our small downtown. It’s hard to see it so quiet and closed up. Though there is a tenant living upstairs yet. But it’s sometimes a jolt to know Miss Marie will never again walk down the steps of her back porch, nor will I see her in her oilcloth apron, or hear her one-of-a-kind laugh.

It’s been one month since she died. It kind of amazes me that this much time has passed already.

I’d been avoiding walking on the sidewalk next to her house. Instead, I’d stand across the street and take a few moments staring at her home wishing she’d still be there.

But the other day I decided to walk by. She never really had a lawn. Instead, the yard is landscaped with many plants and shrubs growing wildly. This time of year with winter now on its way out, everything is still in its dormant stage. But underneath I’ve no doubt there is life just waiting to burst forth.

As I rounded the corner to walk past the front of her home –  her home is on a corner lot – there among the plants that lie still without visible life yet, was this small patch of snowdrop flowers.

I know Miss Marie’s soul lives on. I just can’t see it. I can’t tell you how often I hear “Miss Barbara” in my mind as I’m thinking about things we talked about or making decisions I need to make.

When I saw these sweet snowdrops I couldn’t help but think how life continually renews itself.

Some of the common meanings for the snowdrop flowers are purity, hope, rebirth and consolation or sympathy.

Miss Marie may not be here physically, but her spirit lives on in so many of the lives she touched. Her life is renewed in a new way, as is mine as I open to connecting with her in a different way now. And her home that will come to life again someday with new residents I’m sure.

But for now, it feels like such sacred ground as I continue to honor the gift of Miss Marie and all she brought me in my life.

XO,

Barbara

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If Only We Really Took Our Own Advice

Posted by Barbara Techel
If Only We Really Took Our Own Advice
Off the Rail – Elkhart Lake. Photo: courtesy of Off the Rail

This morning I walked to our local cafe, Off the Rail, to work on more editing of my latest memoir. It’s about a 2-mile walk round trip from my house. I like that I can walk to it as I can get exercise, take in the sounds of nature, soak up some sunshine, breathe in fresh air, get work done, and eat good food. My favorite breakfast treat they serve is the Flying Scotsman Bagel – smoked salmon, cream cheese, capers, onion, and cucumber.

There are fun signs everywhere you look within the cafe. Pulling my manuscript out from my backpack I had to try and concentrate without getting pulled into reading all the fun quotes on the walls. But this sign pulled me in and had me thinking more in-depth about it. I made a note to blog about it after capturing this photo.

On my walk back home I thought more about this quote. I often do talk to myself. I’m not afraid to say so. It’s because I’m home most of the day without much face-to-face interaction with others and honestly, there are just some things said out loud that helps me to make sense of something.

Sometimes I talk to my dog, Gidget. She’s a good listener.

I thought more about the line under Of course! I talk to myself, that says, sometimes I need expert advice. I don’t know about you, but for way too many years I didn’t feel I had expert advice to give myself. I was too busy beating myself up inwardly of what I felt I wasn’t doing right.

It was in my early 40s, fifteen years ago, that I made a choice to live more consciously. I yearned to follow a rhythm all my own and not stay stuck in the fast-paced corporate world. It began to feel dizzying to me and felt off.

After contemplating the one sign, my eyes traveled to the one underneath that says “Timeout Place.”  I realized how fitting that was to the quote above it.

I don’t know if parents still do this today, but I recall hearing a few years a lot about when their kids were acting out they’d send them for a “time out.”  Time in their room, or wherever, just being quiet and settling down.

We do need to take our own advice, don’t we? Timeout is necessary more so I think for adults than kids. Though if adults valued this more, I believe it would be a beautiful example to our children.

It’s those times when the voice inside me that isn’t nice and judges me needs to be still and listen intently to the voice that knows better. It’s also that I need to pay attention to what part of me is feeling not heard, hurt, or triggered by something and having compassion for myself as I search for the why.

And you know that other voice- the intuitive one we tend to ignore and think it doesn’t know anything? But it’s precisely the one that when I take its advice my heart soars, I see things more clearly, and I feel more at peace.

So I say let’s all start talking to ourselves. But most importantly let’s value the timeout we all need in order to thrive and be the best we can be – and trust that our advice when we really tune in and listen, is more often than not, exactly what we need to hear.

Are you with me?

XO,

Barbara

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Hearing Something in a New Way. She Just Let Go.

Posted by Barbara Techel
Hearing Something in a New Way. She Just Let Go.
a favorite driftwood art piece in my writing cottage. Can you see that it is a woman?

A few weeks ago I was driving to my monthly women’s mastermind gathering. There are four of us and each month we take a turn hosting our circle in our homes. This month Monica hosted.

I often listen to a local radio station in the car that plays what is often referred to as “oldies but goodies.” Sometimes this makes me chuckle because the oldies I listen to are from the 70s. So does that mean I’m old? Or better yet, perhaps it just means I’m a goodie since I’ve been around a while now.

I’ve heard this song, dare I say, thousands of times. But I never heard it in the way I did this day. I was really struck by the one line in the song, which is also the title. It’s by Charlene and it’s called, I’ve Never Been to Me. You can listen to the song and find the lyrics here if you wish.

The thing about the song is that it talks about how we think things outside us, people and places, or material things, are better. That what we have within the context of our own lives is somehow not enough.

We search high and low for what we think is paradise and as Charlene sings, I’ve been to paradise, but I’ve never been to me.

I’m often moved to tears when something lands as truth in my heart, besides being sensitive by nature. It brought me back to revisiting the darkness and emotional pain I experienced last winter and how I felt trapped and as if life was passing me by.

For years before this I was content with the simple pleasures of life and seemed to take more in stride, but I came to a point of not being able to cope. There was a blessing within it all as I learned to move inward and go to the core of what was causing me so much angst.

Through the wisdom of animals and oracles, I faced my inner child who felt wounded. Hearing this song it resonated because how often we think our challenges are outside of us and we try to mask them with other things. Though I recognize that we aren’t always consciously aware of this.

But feeling angst, pain, less than, or unworthiness is an opportunity to explore what that is about and peel away the layers. Having taken the time to be with me, to see all the many parts of me, the sad, the scared, the wounded, the lonely, helped me to appreciate and value even more the parts of me that did all she could to protect that little girl from further hurt and pain.

And this brought me back to me. Nothing in the outside materialistic world could have done that for me. 

Arriving at Monica’s house I shared with the group how I’d really been moved by the song I heard. Monica brought it up on her cell phone and we listened to it. She then had copies of a poem she’d found a few days earlier that she wanted to share with us. We each took a turn and read following the flow. 

How often synchronicity is at play in our lives and how we are being supported if we are aware. And this poem by Rev. Safire Rose was just that, and I just had to share with you:

She Let Go

She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of fear. She let go of judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice. She didn’t read a book on how to let go…She didn’t search the scriptures.

She just let go. She let go of all the memories that held her back. She let go of all the anxiety that kept her from moving forward. She let go of the planning and all the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go, she didn’t journal about it. She didn’t write the projected date in her day-timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.

She just let go. She didn’t analyze whether she should let go. She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter. She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment. She didn’t call the prayer line. She didn’t utter one word. She just let go.

No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing.

Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go. There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad. It was what it was, and it is just that. In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore.

XO,

Barbara

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