“Cal?” Thalia whispered. “Have you put a kink in our cord?”
“What?” Calliope squinted and shrugged.
“Urania?” Thalia persisted. “Have you plugged our pipes?”
“Most certainly not!” The Muse of Determination replied.
“Well then why on earth are we wholly without wit, wisdom, or words to share?” Thalia quietly questioned her fellow muses.
“We are?” Cal and Nia looked at one another.
“Looks like Typist is typing words to me,” said Calliope.
“Me too,” said Nia.
“Oh… Something from nothing,” Thalia relaxed the clench of her jaw. “Whew!”
A word from Typist:
There is a doe nosing for treats underneath leaf debris outside my window. She looks thin. I wonder if she has a fawn hidden nearby?
Henrietta snuffles in her sleep — cozy on my bed.
And my companion, the wall clock, ticks its comforting tock.
This morning I picked up a book that a friend sent me almost a year ago. I’ve transferred What’s in the Way Is the Way from one stack of books to another…
Oh! Another doe just appeared!
… and today I was ready to learn more about what Mary O’Malley has to say. The chapter where I left my bookmark talks about fear. The author offers a list of eight spells (perceptions that are not true) that keep us separate.
I am separate from Life.
Life is not safe.
I must control Life.
I must do it right.
I am not doing it right enough.
Because I am not doing it right, I am wrong.
I am unlovable.
I am all alone.
Over the weekend, between naps and trips to the bathroom, my storyteller was raising a ruckus with I am not doing it right enough and I am all alone… even though I know both of those are untrue.
There are does and dogs, friends and family… all of you who hear me…
Why is it so easy to forget?
*Thanks RB for the book. It’s speaking to me loud and clear.
As we go through tough times, most of the time we feel that we are alone and that no one understands the pain that we feel. It's part of self pity that we experience as a human. It doesn't make it a bad thing, just a human thing. We know that we have caring people in our life but that doesn't always make it easier. You are feeling what you are feeling and there is nothing wrong with that. Much love to you Gail.
Luckily you can’t hear me sing here on Substack. The words from typist/paintist/wordist sparked a memory of The Sound of Music:
Doe, a deer, a female deer
Ray, a drop of golden sun
Me, a name I call myself
Far, a long long way to run
So, a needle pulling thread
La, a note that follows So
Tea, a drink with jam and bread
And it brings us back to Do.
Besides reading about two does, I’m sure I heard soft voices. A dedicated effort to share life lessons from wise perspectives. Repetition of lessons -a sure fire way to prevent forgetting. Gail’s comments about parts of her immediate environment - Henrietta, the two does, a tick-tock clock, remembering which friend gave what book.
A feeling not unlike watching the older glass spheres containing a winter scene and teeny flakes for snow. Upside down then upright again resembling lazy, falling snow. Softly, beautifully.
No doe outside my window, but a raccoon just crossed our patio to peek through the glass of our kitchen door. Our pooch, Izzie, ever watchful, charged the door and sent the bandit packing! Presence of a different flavor.
My intent, though circuitous, was to note and honor the privilege I feel sitting amidst these warm, loving exchanges with Gail. So much I’m hearing and learning about loving kindness.