Solar Squalls and Snow Storms

Today, our little planet was hit with a huge solar squall - I watched video tape of this squall yesterday morning and held my breath as I watched a section of the sun's surface bunch up and gather itself together for a grand expulsion into space of energy particles, heedless of any repercussions... It seems that nothing dramatic will happen, and I am grateful. I hear via NPR that we may be graced with some lovely northern lights, courtesy of our Sun and its most recent temper tantrum. I have been fortunate enough to see northern lights from my bedroom window three times this winter - one time in particular I remember because it came immediately following another solar storm which I suspect also took out my 2006 edition computer (one of my excuses for not blogging in so long a time).  So while I appreciated the light show, I was very unhappy about this unexpected and very costly side effect of our Sun's "off gassing". It made me stop and think a bit more yesterday when I heard of yet another approaching sun storm. It is easy to take for granted the lazy loops through space we make every day. I'm beginning to appreciate that our existence is incidental and precarious. Dependant on the steady behavior of a distant star.  My daughter and I were driving home from a hot springs soak yesterday afternoon and heading west with the lowering sun beaming directly into our faces. We talked about how everything that happens to our sun, happens to us. We are utterly reliant on this dispassionate relationship. As large and rock-solid as the mountains seem that surround us here in Long Valley, they could be gone in one vast solar burp - and us with it. I found myself thinking of a phrase I love from The Book of Common Prayer:  This fragile earth, our island home.

Scott & Ethyl dig us out

View from bedroom window

Not discouraged by these reflections, I find myself  leaning into new challenges and sharpening my eye towards equanimous resolution to life events - even snow storms that bury us when friends of ours are gardening a scant 40 miles away.  Encouragement came in the form of robin song while at the hot springs yesterday - just one short little trill; and while I couldn't spot her, the familiar song is undeniable and is a harbinger of spring. Even though it was only 6 degrees this morning at my mile high house, I know for certain now that the season is turning towards warmer sunnier days.

A snowstorm seems like a minor challenge amidst life's storms and squalls.  What happens when our own bodies bunch up and ready themselves for their own expulsion of particles, heedless of its inhabitants reaction? Health issues are rather like our reliance on the sun - dispassionate in that our bodies do what they do with or without our given consent. Yet we are utterly reliant on this imperfect vehicle to carry us through our own lazy loops that we make through the space of our lives.

For many years, I have suffered odd joint pains and muscle spasms. Not having any other experience of bodily inhabitation for comparison, I was unclear as to what significance these manifestations had. I did know better than to go very far without Ibuprofen. In my back-country wanderings with my late husband, I would sometimes wonder if I would be able to make it back out without a big production. I became balky about making hiking and athletic commitments. The last two years, these symptoms have blossomed into full time and sometimes debilitating pain. I am grateful to my doctor for putting a label on this condition: fibromyalgia. 

Giving something a label, or identification tag, helps me grapple with what it really is... for me. What does this disease mean for me?  How will it shape my life? What steps do I need to take to make my life better given this new circumstance? Will I make the decision to follow my doctor's recommendations?  This may seem like a given but it is, in fact, a choice and one that is not always easy to make. For others in similar circumstances, or facing a new physical issue, you know what I'm talking about. When your doctor looks at you and says, "..this is life changing.." your senses go on high alert and you know decisions are coming your way.

Things are sorting, sifting, and reorganizing themselves in my soul's pantry.  I am figuring out what I need to add to my general provisions and what I need to throw out. My "equanimity" is being challenged and I hope to maintain grace and composure as I face skepticism and doubt.  Fibromyalgia and many diseases/disorders are not readily visible to others. During my late husbands last months, I was sometimes approached with a questioning, "...but he looks fine!" Not quite an accusation, but an expression of doubt that anything was truly wrong.  

 We humans are funny creatures. Often quick to reach a conclusion about someone else, we forget that each of us has our challenges.  And to each of us, these challenges are significant, requiring thought and decision. Did someone offend or snub you today? Behave in a distant manner? Consider they may be mulling over their own dilemma.

Teaching and Creating in my Little Town

Fish Sketch

I am teaching art again this winter to fifth graders in our school district.  I have taught in New Meadows, McCall, and this year it is the little town of Donnelly.  Each year, I am surprised at how much I enjoy this project - I did not like children even when I was a child myself, preferring the company of adults. I was the kind of mom who loved her own, but wasn't looking for a playgroup to join... I view this as a healing in my life; the enjoyment of being with and interacting with children. 

For this years project, we are creating fabric banners 3' x 5' in size.  Pretty large, but I want them to have something super fun to take home with them! (many thanks to Lori of Granny's Attic - I wouldn't have the fabric for this without her generous donations!) The theme is centered on stream rehabilitation, trout, and trout habitat in our area.  We are working with a text entitled, appropriately enough, "Trout" - you can see one of the beautiful photographs in this book at the bottom of my photograph here.  I was captivated by that large hazel-colored fish eye and it was the first thing I drew in my thumbnail sketch that will become my own banner.  The photo is not great, but above the fish eye you can see a trail of bubbles leading to the surface, some waving stream grass and a few pine trees.  Next to the "eye" is a full sized trout nosing downward and into a pile of trout eggs resting in the pebbled stream bottom.  I really like this sketch and I am looking forward to translating it into fabric on my banner working alongside my enthusiastic, welcoming and intelligent fifth grade class.  Having met only once so far with my class, I am already charmed by them and looking forward to more.  They are really into this project and that makes it even more fun!

Farm Fresh Eggs!

Donnelly is a quiet, charming little town.  One of the focal points of the town is the charming and tasty respite of Flight of Fancy coffee shop (best pecan and maple bars ever) with it's wonderful little Glory Bee market.  I stopped into the market on my way back from teaching to pick up some eggs, and this is what I found:

I love it.  AND, they are the prettiest, nicest eggs I've found in this here valley.

Queen Bee Night Cream with Royal Jelly

On other fronts, I am still building my ETSY store with my Thea's Bee Beautiful  products.  I just posted listings for my Everyday Lip Balm and Everyday Lip and First Aid Balm.  Part of the process of doing these listings is discovering all the photos I need in order to properly display and showcase a listing.  A few days ago, I found I needed a photo of my Queen Bee Night Cream with Royal Jelly in both the 1 oz. and travel size for my website updates.  It was a brilliant sunny day and I needed an excuse for a walk by the river with my trusty dog anyway.  So I packed my travel basket with product, my camera, and ...  for some mysterious reason...  this fabulous crystal globe my mother-in-law gave me years ago.  And darn if it wasn't just the perfect thing.  Look at this photo:  The light was zinging through the globe and was entirely too bright.  Solution?  Put a jar of night cream in front of the shaft of light! The jar seems to glow from within which is what it also does for your skin.

I've chatted quite a bit now.  I so enjoy writing these blogs and know they tend to be lengthy, so I thank you for opening and reading them!  I leave you with another picture I took during the Queen Bee photo shoot of an old sheep herder bridge across the Payette River:

Rsolution

Tired Tree

Sometimes, by the last day of the year, I feel a bit like my Christmas tree... a little bedraggled, limbs weighted down and drooping, and the baubles that hung brightly and cheerfully at the beginning of the season now seem like they are trying too hard.  It is also true that we have given the season our best - we reached this state of bedraggle-ment by giving it our all.  And so, as the tree will be rejuvenated by being stuck in the snowbank outside tomorrow,  I will also experience a sense of rejuvenation through the time honored tradition of reflection and resolution.

A few days ago, I was hard at work in my studio drawing a full scale blueprint for a new fiber art piece for a client.  I was in that spot in the process that every artist knows...  how will this piece resolve?  Continuing on, that word was in the forefront of my mind.  By the end of the session, I could see where and how resolution would occur.  With this knowledge came a sigh of relief and flood of happiness.  I now knew where I was going with this work. There is a kind of peace that comes with this knowledge.

Journal Page

Writing in my journal this morning (a nearly daily ritual), I noticed I had - poetically - reached the last page of my current journal on the last day of the year.  Another type of resolution wherein a type of conclusion is reached.  This inspired me to look the word resolution up in my battered and beloved old Random House Dictionary.  I found that there are 18 definitions for this strong and useful word.  You can see that I jotted down abbreviated versions of each one in my journal.  It seemed a very fitting way to close out the year and my journal.

On this last day of the year, what will we decide was the resolving moment in the year past?  What will we determine to be our resolution for the coming year?  Will we feel a sense of peace when we attempt to resolve the past with the present and future for ourselves?  Or will we feel dissolution within our hearts?  Each of us defines this for ourselves.

I leave you this cold, clear and brilliant winter day with a segment of a poem sent to me by a dear friend:

I broider my life into the frame,

I broider my love, thread upon thread;

The world goes by with its glory and shame,

Crowns are bartered and blood is shed;

I sit and broider my dreams instead.

- Arthur Symons

Payette River, McCall, Idaho