March 4th, 2010
Today I was going through old photos—old being last spring—and came across ones that I had taken while on a visit to family in Kentucky. So I spent some time skimming hundreds of captures during my week there in early May…bumblebees on sweet peas, as-of-yet unidentified butterflies and moths, daisy-like flowers that are probably weeds, three-leaved clovers…and I was suddenly overcome with sadness. Through all those images, grief re-emerged over my father, who, unbeknownst to us at the time, had only another six months of life left. I remember taking all of those photographs last spring as I walked the fringes of his small hay bottom, stopping now and then to take in the complete silence and gaze at the old house up the road—the one I had spent my first few years in. I chased flying insects from grass blade to flower head and after returning to the house I remember him asking me what I was doing outside and him not really understanding when I told him I was photographing flowers and bugs…just as he didn’t understand W and me wanting to drive cross country five years earlier. “Why do you want to do that?” he had asked.
Many of his attitudes perplexed me, but at least he was here to perplex.
So I guess that’s how the grief thing works. Time helps heal the wound until one brushes up too closely against its memories.
February 25th, 2010
George Harrison would’ve been 67 today had lung cancer not taken him in 2001. I join millions of others in a love for the Beatles, but George has always been my favorite. Maybe because he was the “quiet Beatle,” but most definitely because of his collaborations with best friend and *ahem* my musical crush, Eric Clapton, as well as his guitar sound. In the early 70’s, Harrison had said that he was only allowed one or two songs per album, and that it would’ve taken many, many more Beatles albums before he could showcase all that he had written. So, when the band decided to break up (in his opinion, at no fault of Yoko Ono) he was ready to do his own thing.
I’ve put together a new playlist of some of my favorites that he either wrote, sang or was involved with somehow, so if you’re a fan, go take a listen. It is really very good stuff.
If drjay were here and not off yoga-ing in the “Rich Coast,” he could give me a lesson in George Harrison 101…which reminds me…today is drjay’s birthday, too!
Happy Birthday, guys.
Many thanks to W for the fine photo.
January 29th, 2010
I couldn’t decide on today’s photo. Nothing felt right…not the acorn in a stream of sunlight on the forest floor nor delightful Lucy on a summer day with her muzzle buried in the sand. So, with just minutes left in the day, I’m going with this one. It resonates. A little angsty about an upcoming visit with family, this will be the first time in my life that my dad won’t be there…the first time in months that I may, again, face contention. And snow is coming—a pittance compared to the mess that is plaguing other parts of the country—but still unwelcome. So, I’m going to brush the uneasiness aside and strive to put my mind at peace, because there is no good reason to not do either.
January 5th, 2010
Last week, way too much time was spent overworking the idea of whether or not to send the sibling a card for her wedding anniversary. I couldn’t decide whether to let the occasion pass, unrecognized, or acknowledge it and fret that having done so would give the wrong impression: that all’s forgiven for recent bad behavior. And I wasn’t sure of my motivation…a kind gesture or a preemptive strike, of sorts?
The point is, though, is that following a full morning of this indecisiveness over the card, W made an observation. He noticed—actually, he’s noticed for years, I’m afraid—that I stress myself to no end to win approval, friendship, love, whatever, from those who, for whatever reason, don’t fully appreciate the effort. In turn, he and Lucy, who genuinely care, get the short end of the stick…no energy left to give them the attention and love that they deserve. They’re slighted, left on the sidelines to endure my boring match of should I shouldn’t I lobs concerning others. I’ve apparently operated this way my entire life, and although it felt uncomfortable, I’ve never looked closely to see what was going on. If I had, I would’ve realized that it is a waste of time and energy and worst of all, extremely selfish.
So, what gives? While I’m not sure if I’m a textbook people-pleaser, I sure do have a scary number of traits: having a hard time saying “no,” trying to fulfill others’ expectations, always seeking validation, feeling others are in control…shall I go on? I won’t, as I’m getting woozy, and you might too.
So yes, I sent the card. And no, I’m not agonizing over it, because being thoughtful never hurt anyone…although I’m not convinced my actions were at all thoughtful. See? I have my work cut out for me in 2010. *!tosses confetti!*
December 23rd, 2009
This is not a post for those who are high on the holidays, though you may want to stick around if you need to come down a little.
Recently I’ve been revisited by what I call bleak time. It usually starts around 3 or 4 am, and runs an anxious course, ended either by a slow re-introduction to sleep or by just giving in, saying “what the hell” and rising to start the day. Going the early bird route guarantees distractions, which pretty much end, for awhile, the festering, obsessive thoughts on which bleak time feeds. Always the saddest hours of the day, they are filled with emptiness, yet always have plenty of room for feelings of hopelessness, angst and sometimes even fear. Upon waking, the mind is groggy and barren, but then slowly it starts to fill…
The latest wakings have been prompted by a culmination of family stuff…the loss of my dad, and specifically, the mental flogging by a contentious sibling a few days after my dad’s passing. A full day’s cold shoulder—typical flogger behavior—was capped by harsh words because my mother was helped, at her own request, to make some household changes—things to help her save money and make the house more mom-friendly. The offender—or offended, depending on how you see things—thought the changes were “too soon” and accused me of sweeping my father’s memory under the rug.
Hmmm, unforgivable words there, for sure. Needless to say, a tirade ensued, in a very un-Earth-to-Holly fashion…uh, maybe not. And the cold shoulder remains. And I’d be surprised if it didn’t. Because that’s the way it always is.
So, bleak time is just thrilled with me. It has a new life and a whole new menu of crap.
November 28th, 2009
Daddy left this Earth last Sunday morning. Today at noon, we’ll scatter his ashes here, at the family cemetery, overlooking his beloved rural home of 35 years.
Continued thanks to all who have sent their well wishes and visited while Lucy and I have been away. A special thanks to W, who has maintained this blog, exceptionally, for all of you, its faithful friends.
W, Lucy and I hope to be back home within the next week. I can’t wait to visit all of your blogs once again.
Holly
August 14th, 2009
In light of the 40th anniversary of Woodstock, there’s no shortage of nostalgia floating around the interwebz, so no one really needs me to jump on that train. After all, Earth to Holly doesn’t usually do the recycled news thing—not that there’s anything wrong with that. However, I like personal stories and especially liked this one, so thought you—my peace lovin’ readers—might like it too.
July 24th, 2009
Today is W’s birthday, so I’m posting one of my favorite photos taken by him, without his recently expressed permission. Awhile ago he said to post it if I’d like, but since I prefer to stick to my own stuff, I passed. However, I like this photo so much, I thought now might be a good time to show it off. Photographed on the banks of the Potomac River in Old Town Alexandria, while on one of Lucy’s walks, W doesn’t think it’s anything special, but I disagree. I love the blanket’s splash of color in the otherwise bleak surroundings, and although you can’t see their faces, I imagine that the unsuspecting couple is happy and relaxed, having no worries other than, “Where’s that book I thought I brought?” or “Where shall we go later for lunch?” And not that I know much, if anything, about composition, but it does appear that W, intentionally or not, followed the rule of thirds, and in my opinion, it worked out pretty well.
*Ahem* Notice that I posted my favorite for his birthday. Well, here’s a photo that W might like much better…Lucy, singing Happy Birthday, I imagine…
Much love to you, W, from me and Lucy.
July 6th, 2009
A beautiful day
was wasted by me.
Its frailty and transience
I fell short to see.
In a shadowy demise
the day is set free.
A beautiful day
was wasted by me.
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