Kathleen Botsford

That is Enough

A cold and windy January day.  I've spent the morning with a cup of tea catching up with some of my favorite blog writers and artists.  I am struck by how easy it is to get pulled off balance sometimes.  How others lives, writing, art, can seem so much more vibrant and worthwhile than my own.

I lunched yesterday with a friend of 40 years.  A grade school and high school companion.  We shared stories of our families, our lives.  We laughed and even shed a tear or two.  We are ordinary women, wives and mothers.  Sisters and daughters.  Doing our best to live our lives with love and compassion and integrity.  Each with our unique versions of creativity.  And that is enough.  There is no need for comparison. 

We are all on our own soul journey.  Each one is as different as a midwestern snowflake in the dead of winter.  Each one just as important and vibrant and worthwhile as the next.  Each one an intimate and necessary thread in the tapestry of the lives we have been blessed to travel with. 

And that is enough.

 

The Treadmill

I had planned to get on the treadmill today.  Our trip to Italy is looming and I have let my exercise regimen fall to the way-side with cleaning, organizing, and preparing taking top priority.  I can feel it now.  Sluggish and soft, not a muscle in sight.  We have workers in our basement where the treadmill also resides.  I guess I could take the dog down and figure something out but instead I just roam around feeling all fidgety and frustrated, cleaning out cabinets and washing clothes, waiting for the workers to leave.

It is the interruptions to everyday life which have most revealed the divine mystery of which I am a part. All these interruptions presented themselves as opportunities to go beyond the normal patterns of daily life and find deeper connections than the previous safety of my physical, emotional and spiritual well being.

Henri Nouwen, Beyond the Mirror

Jeez.  I can sit here and play around with the photos of my birthday flowers some more or I can make a place for the dog, get my butt on the treadmill and contemplate Henri's prose as a conduit to physical, emotional and spiritual well being.

 or maybe watch "What not to Wear".

Hmmm......

Saturday Night

 

Another weekend at Notre Dame.  This time with no sporting events attended.  Victoria sings in the Choir at the Basilica of the Sacred Heart on Saturday evenings.  This past Saturday was her first time and she was a touch nervous.  They sang in Hebrew and Latin and she had only a few days to practice.   The girls sounded like angels, each and everyone. 

 

After Mass we celebrated one of our favorite "son's" birthday with a dinner at our usual restaurant before the kids went out to celebrate Saturday night as only college kids can.  Oh, to be young and frivolous again!  Actually, I am more than happy with my current age even with my sometimes lapses in good sense and glass or two of wine too many.

 

 He who knows he has enough is rich.

Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching

Descends the Snow

 

 

Out of the bosom of the Air,

Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,

Over the woodlands brown and bare,

Over the harvest-fields forsaken,

Silent, and soft, and slow

Descends the snow.

~H. W. Longfellow

Everything is Sacred

The nutcrackers have retired to their sleeping quarters, preparing for their next holiday assignment.  The sugar plums and candied jewels are snugly wrapped in tissue and put away also.  As I wander around my home this morning and choose which elements of the holidays to re-pack and which pieces will keep us company until spring, I am suddenly aware of a shift in consciousness.  I can choose to look at my tasks as chores that need to be done in a hurry to move on to the next thing on my to-do list.  Or I can take my time and with gentle hands caress each object with gratitude for their part in our family holiday traditions.

Each and every nutcracker has a story to tell as they have been collected one by one, over the last thirty years.  Our collection started in Germany on my first trip to Europe when I was 25.  I bought a nutcracker for myself and my mother in the medieval walled village said to be the home of the earliest nutcrackers.  My collection was handed down to my son when he was young and magically enchanted with these small and wondrous works of art.  Every year he receives another for his growing collection and all the children wait in anticipation to welcome the newest into our family.  A Chicago Bear nutcracker, a toymaker, a pirate and a blue and gold horseman (from the 4 horsemen ND football legend) are among the narrators that tell the story of his changing interests over the years.

This year a Wine-maker joined the ranks.  Stevie has grown into a young man who is learning to appreciate wine and cigars as he and his father retire to our deck after dinner anytime the weather permits in our midwestern evenings.  They don their jackets and boots and gather the cushions from the basement.  Snow and bitter cold are the only determents to their ritual.  They invite me to join them but I am happy to watch from inside a warm house as they share their stories and laughter.

Now is the time to remember that all you do is sacred

Hafiz

Tiny Cracks and St. Nick

I have just spent the last couple of hours trying to update my blog with subscription buttons and FB connections.  I am having no luck and getting extremely frustrated.  Instead of seething and gnashing my teeth and yelling at my poor dog, I am going to take a shower and maybe, just maybe put away a little more of Christmas.

I hate to see St. Nick go and most years leave some of my favorite "wintery" decorations in place til February.  I don't mind the raised eye brows when we have visitors.  Just another opportunity to exercise my "no need for approval" muscles.  It's funny how those little voices can seep into the tiniest cracks in our heads when we aren't even looking, isn't it?

Choices, Always Choices

Ok.  It's Saturday and I have lots of laundry to do to get Victoria ready to go back to school tomorrow morning.  In between loads I could

                    a.  Make some jewelry

                    b.  leisurely browse through my new books

OR.......

                     c.  Continue cleaning the library.

Guess which one wins todays attention?

Packing Light

My husband and I are planning a trip to Italy in a couple of weeks.  Rome, Venice and Florence.  I have been told I have to pack "light".  That is not good for me.  While I will pack only a black and taupe poncho, black tops, and a couple pair of pants, I have a really hard time deciding what jewelry to take.  And a bigger problem with the shoes.  I love these new heels I purchase yesterday (shhh!  it's a secret!) shopping with my daughter.  While they make me feel young and chic, I really don't have much faith in maneuvering the ancient cobblestones without breaking my neck.  The last time we were in Italy while my oldest was studying there I wore flat, sensible, walking shoes.  Yuck!  AND my luggage was filled with HEAVY jewelry to compensate.  Maybe this year I could work with more light weight scarves and a couple pair of cute shoes.  Just thinking out loud......

Ordinary Days

As the moon approaches her fullest light for the first time in this new year, the holidays  are beginning to wind down around here.  The tree is down.  The bowl game over.  New Years celebrations a recent memory.  Tori is getting ready to head back to school.  Stevie is on his way to his first college football coaching conference in San Antonio.  Alex is busy with her full schedule and Steve is de-constructing yet another room in our home to rework into a masterpiece of his own. 

I busy myself with laundry, dinner plans, cleaning and organizing with lots of side trips to my studio to play with jewelry designs and collage art.  While some days I find our routines a little old and boring, most times I welcome the time worn rhythms, knowing full well the fleeting moments of our nuclear family will suddenly disappear without a moments notice.  Boy friends and girl friends cannot be far behind as well as jobs and adventures that will entice from far away localities.   I don't spend much time thinking of the future but it is always there energetically, reminding me softly to cherish each and every boring and ordinary day.

 

Such is Life

The tree is down and my Kuan Yin fountain has again taken up residence.  There's lots of Christmas still about but getting the tree down is always the first milestone.  It is sad to see it go and yet we would not be as enchanted with it if we had more time together.  Such is life.

My husband, son and I saw War Horse last evening.  I cried through the entire movie.  I went to bed with a headache from the weeping and it still lingers long into the afternoon.  Such is life.

I was reading one of my favorite books for the umpteenth time this morning and the following except jumped from the page.

In order to keep our balance,

we need to hold the interior and exterior,

visible and invisible, known and unknown,

temporal and eternal,

ancient and new, together.

John O'Donohue

Anam Cara

Such is life.