Friday, July 12, 2019

FAWN AND GAMES – An Extraordinary Nature Connection

On a scale of one to ten, yesterday on the beautiful #StCroixRiver was an eleven. One reason, experiencing another of my occasional transcendent connections with animals—this time with this precious fawn.


I was paddling silently up a narrow slough (I’ve learned to do it without so much as the sound of water dripping off of my paddle.) when I felt a presence. I looked up and there was this face peering at me from the grassy bank no more than 30 yards away.

My heart raced; my spirit calmed. I voiced a silent reassurance: Oh, you beautiful little spirit. Please know that I adore you, that I would never harm you. Please just let me behold you.

At first, the animal did what wild animals should do; it turned and leapt up the steep slope. Oh well, I thought, it will warn its mother of this odd floating thing with eyes it had seen in the water, and they will stay away.

My soliloquy turned from welcome to a farewell, a blessing: May the deer flies and ticks leave you alone; may you find lots of leafy twigs and plump acorns to eat; may you find a mate and live a good, long deer life.

    Had my presence turned this creature just a 
    little tame? Or had I turned just a little wild?

Suddenly, the tall grass parted and there was the fawn again, edging tentatively back down the bank. I couldn’t believe how close it came. Somehow, I told myself, it must have sensed my psychic efforts to communicate.

For several minutes it grazed calmly, looking up at me now and then without concern.

By now, I’d reached down slowly for my camera. As I raised it to my eye, the animal bolted once again. But this time, it dashed just ten yards along the bank, stopped and dashed right back again. It stood there, mouth open as if about to say something. I swear the little thing was posing for me.

Like a puppy eager to play, it repeated the little game several times. Finally, perhaps summoned by its mother, the fawn turned, bounded up the bank and was gone.

And so was I. The beauty of the moment had left me breathless. I just sat there, immersed in the wonder of it, in gratitude for this gift of being able, now and then, to connect this way with such sweet, utterly enchanting fellow beings.

As I basked in it all, I asked myself what had just happened. Had my presence at all changed this creature—perhaps turning it just a little tame? A little too tame? Or had I turned just a little wild?

Tuesday, July 9, 2019

MY BAD – Taking the Rap for Hope

The last month or so here has been laden with what seems like more than its share of death and dying. I’ve lost a former hospice patient and dear friend (He “graduated” from the program five years ago.) and a member of my 40-years-and-running men’s group. Another, current hospice patient is fading. And my long-time shrink has cancer.

What if the outcome I pray for is different from that being invoked by the patient?

WHOSE PRAYER IS IT?
When someone—especially a loved one—is facing a scary diagnosis, naturally I want to do something. I guess we all do.

So, besides the usual nuts-and-bolts support—visiting, offering respite to the care-givers, perhaps dropping off a nice pie or casserole, I put my fondest wishes for the person out there into the Universe to assimilate and perhaps factor into its next rendering of The Big Picture.


In other words, I pray. But for what, exactly? Do I pray for the dying person’s ability to gracefully let go of life and pass away in peace and comfort? Or do I pray for them to beat the odds, kick cancer’s ass and get back to a normal life? It’s a real dilemma. And what if the outcome I’m praying for is different from that being invoked by the patient?

Well, for the hospice patients I volunteer with, the answer’s usually easy. Typically, they’ve lived good, long lives, suffer any number of discomforts and indignities, and in many cases are quite ready to die. It’s when the patient’s younger— chronologically and/or in their attitude—that I’m conflicted.


PROFESSIONAL DETACHMENT
Right now I’m channeling all the positive energy I can marshal into the prospects of the man who’s been my “behavioral health” counselor (I’ll call him Bob). For the past five-plus years Bob’s been the only person in my life whose time I’ve felt I could commandeer to just sit there and listen to my personal problems. He’s helped me cope and hope and grow into a better man.

A couple of months ago, the day after my last appointment with him, Bob had a sudden seizure. Next day, they operated on his brain and confirmed the worst: glioblastoma, the most aggressive form of brain cancer. He was admitted to hospice.

Maybe it’s not typical of such patient-provider relationships, but I love Bob. Though I’m sure any reciprocity on his part has been unintentional, let’s say we’ve come to know each other pretty well. He’s a kind, gentle, compassionate man.

And now, though I want desperately to see him and help him as a friend and supporter, a veil of confidentiality imposed by his employer separates me not just from offering that help, but from even the most basic information about his condition or whereabouts.

So, for Bob, it’s come down to praying. But I’m facing that give-up or give-‘em-hell dilemma. What if what I’m praying for isn’t what he’s praying for? What if he’s decided to commit himself fully to dying with grace?

          I picture every single cancer cell in
          his body as turning a bright, Day-Glo
          red, no longer able to hide.


EXPANSIVE THOUGHTS FOR A SHRINK

I thought about it for several days, simply wishing him peace and comfort. And then it hit me. So what if I wish for a recovery he can no longer envision? Could that be any worse than cheering for an athlete who’s resigned to losing a race, or for that matter any underdog who doesn’t believe they can beat the odds?

So I’ve taken part of my daily meditation—the one visualizing my own body as healthy and pain free—and turned that biofeedback toward Bob. Maybe I’ll call it tele-biofeedback.


I picture every single cancer cell in his body as turning a bright, Day-Glo red, no longer able to hide from his body’s natural defenses and the search-and-destroy raids of chemo drugs. I see all those pinpoints of red getting zapped, darkening to burgundy, then dark gray, and finally blowing away as so much lifeless ash.

There’s a chance I’ll never, ever know what happens to Bob. But whatever it is, at least I’ll know I did my best by him. I think that’s what I would want from my friends and loved ones. Cheer for me even if I cannot cheer for myself. Even if it turned out to be an outcome I couldn’t have, I think I’d forgive them for their misplaced hope. Wouldn’t you?

And Bob? What if he just happens to end up among the five percent of patients who survive this cancer…do you think he’ll blame me?

Friday, June 28, 2019

Star-Struck Skies

Fireflies wink across a sweaty field,
somewhere beyond absorbed in deep woods.
And then I see it: these myriad points of light 

are but reflections, as if off rippling waters, 
of star-struck skies above.


Friday, April 12, 2019

Looking Back on my First Craft Show

Wow! What an incredible—and exhausting—experience! Last weekend I showed my Shades of Autumn (leaf-covered lampshades) for the very first time at what's arguably the best craft show of them all, the American Craft Show.

I have new respect for my fellow artisans, not just for the near perfection of their craft, but also for the amount of organization and sheer work it takes to display it so elegantly. Many of them take on several of these shows a year.


 What I hope for is some good ol' word-of-mouth.

It takes a toll on an introvert like me having to be up and "out there" for a total of 27 hours over three-and-a-half days. But the rewards made it all well worthwhile: humbling praise from visitors; camaraderie with fellow exhibitors; practice with my "elevator pitch," and a few important lessons learned for future exhibitions.

Actual sales? Fewer than I'd hoped for, but exactly what I'd expected. Several visitors promised to send me their lamp dimensions for custom orders. And I'm told exhibitors are often contacted by folks who simply needed some time and inspiration before buying.

As for the future, I'd be honored to be asked back to the ACC show next year. And I'll consider other exhibitions—possible shows attracting vacation home and cabin owners. And I'll make sure my on-line presence gains some prominence.

Of course, as an introvert - both in person and virtually - what I really hope for is some good ol' word-of-mouth. And that's where you come in...

Thanks! (And if you'd like to learn more about my new occupation and see examples of my work check out my website: Shades of Autumn.)



 
 

Tuesday, April 2, 2019

Craft Show Update


Well, it's finally here; the American Craft Council's St. Paul show is this weekend. After five months of intensive work — collecting and processing leaves; producing a range of lampshades to display; creating and producing my Shades of Autumn graphics and collateral material; and designing and outfitting my booth — I think I'm ready to let go and truly enjoy this amazing experience.

If you're in the Twin Cities Metro, I hope you'll come and enjoy all the extraordinary crafts at this awesome show. And while you're there stop by my booth to say hello and see what I've been up to all this time.

MY BOOTH IS #812

Regular show dates are Apr. 5-7 (Friday through Sunday), with a special preview event the evening of Thurs., Apr. 4.

As friends of an exhibitor, you can get half-price tickets here: (This promo includes only pre-show on-line purchases and will not be honored at RiverCentre, the event venue, once the show starts.)

EVENTBRIGHT   Use promotional code MSP2019GUEST