Out of the technological complications of internet networking come some of the simplest expressions of human compassion, a wish for another person’s well-being, even if that person is a virtual stranger. And it makes the sleek, glib, electric world a bit softer and warmer. I’ve made some sweet connections this week with a few of my favorite bloggers, all of whom live at least a couple thousand miles away. I’d like to share them with the rest of you.
Mistress of Monsters is like another daughter to me, in a way. She is getting married next week. Here’s an exchange we had. She turned it into a blog post.
And then there’s that rascal, Stuart. He’s a gritty city photographer who travels to exotic places like Brazil and Spain and has just taken up residence at a farm for the winter. We inspire each other to keep open to possibilities. Here’s his post. Our exchange is in the comments section.
I’ll be taking about 3 weeks off from the blogosphere beginning next week, but I will be thinking of all of you. May All Beings Be Happy.
Last Tuesday, I went to visit my daughter and son at their new house in Batavia. I brought along a box of mixed photos from storage to sort, and I got the opportunity to meet Becca’s boyfriend’s parents. Becca and I made a simple supper out of what was on hand in their garden and from their purchases from the Farmer’s Market that week. I find it a challenge and a victory when I can figure out how to put a meal on the table without having to go out to pick up any more ingredients! We made a corn/potato/bacon chowder, a loaf of Challah bread, and a salad. It was great fun planning and cooking with her in her new kitchen, and of course, I had to show off my new camera, too! Here’s a shot:
What do we really possess? What possesses us? What is “me” all about?
For years I called this place “my prairie”. I do not own the land; I think it belongs to the village park district. I cannot even claim to own land in the neighborhood any more, as I moved out of state almost 2 years ago. But I associate some of my deepest “me” moments with this place. I walked into this prairie, with a feeling of reverence and retreat as if I were entering my personal sanctuary, on a regular basis while I was living nearby. I was in the midst of raising 4 children, nursing a dying husband, and striving to grow mature in those 20 years. My sense of identity, my sense of spirit and of sanctity and of God were all shaped by the time I spent here. I felt the place “talk” to me, as changes in weather, flora and fauna taught me to observe and ponder the significance of transience and transcendence. I cannot say that anything here is “mine”, really, but much of me will always belong with this place.