change – By Alanna Pass

The Zen of Purpose

One of my favorite sayings comes from the bible Ecclesiastes 3:1-8…

“To everything a season and a time for every purpose under heaven…”

As the year winds down and daylight wanes with winter, I start thinking more about my purpose in life. Purpose gives one reason to get up in the morning. It’s a use of time that contributes to others, yourself, and/or the earth. Having purpose is less subject to change than having goals. Goals are embedded within purpose. For example, if my purpose is to be a writer, publishing a book might be a goal. One of my purposes is to help the environment. A goal to accomplish that is to establish a native plant garden on my property which I’m currently working on.

Purpose can be multifaceted and can change with life stages. Before it was fairly simple- survive my middle school teaching job, be a good mother, and hang onto my creative outlets as best I could in the process. Living a purposeful life has become murkier as I’ve retired and my son is raised and out of the house. I am more in control of my life than before so it’s up to my discretion to figure it out rather than have it be molded by outside circumstances. This can be a daunting task and I’ve had to be intentional about it.

Now as I age I set my purpose to maintain my health, stay connected to nature, stay connected with family and friends, help with environmental causes, and keep my many creative pursuits going while sharing them with others. I post a little diagram of purpose along with some goals on my dry-erase board so it is easily seen and adjusted if need be (I’m one of those people that needs a visual).

Life is complicated. When I feel lost my visual acts as my GPS, keeps me on track ,and my spirit grounded. It answers that question- uh, what exactly am I doing here?

Illustrations by the author

Please also check out my bog on sustainability at onesweetearth.blog

The Orchard by my House is Gone

Uncategorized

An excavator appears at the hazelnut orchard down at the corner. It begins to push the orderly rows of nut trees down effortlessly shoving their abused bodies into great piles- a mass grave of sort. After some acreage of trees is leveled, the towering piles are lit on fire. The fires burn on into the night, great tepees of combustion throwing sparks and smoke into the sky visible from my kitchen windows. It takes about 10 days to burn the five acres of trees to ash.

It was a scene of mass destruction like a battlefield – wisps of smoke dotting the landscape when the fighting was finally completed, the troops in retreat, the dead removed. All that remains now are tractor tracks crisscrossed in a field of ashen mud.

In the leafy months, the five acres of hazelnut trees offered a dark, cool refuge. Beneath their crowns, the soil was swept clean like a pioneer cabin dirt floor. Thus the orchard was an ideal place to play in the heat of mid-day. My young son would ride his bike among the trees while I walked the dogs off-leash. I would play hide-and-go-seek with them. The dogs would experience a moment of panic when they noticed me missing and then gallop back to proudly sniff out my still form hiding behind the trunk of a tree. On moonlit nights the orchard was especially good for spooky walks, the deep shadows creating mysterious passages to explore.

We were trespassing of course. The property belonged to a farmer who later I was told had the trees removed as they were diseased and well beyond their prime production years. They were his to take whether the neighbors grieved or not.

I sigh. The trees in that orchard had been steadfast neighbors for going on 30 years of my residence in this house. I miss them just as I miss the once quiet roads and the woodlands that have been cut down for the vineyards that now cover the rolling hills in their place.

Change follows me like a shadow that blocks the sun. It comes and goes at will through a door with no lock. The fires of the orchard’s demise still burn in my memory. Sky now meets ground unfettered where the orchard once stood. The hills in the distance are oddly naked. I light a candle at my table to keep myself steady.

Authors note: It’s been a time of great change these last few years for all of us. Covid, climate change, social and political divides have all taken a toll. Then there are the changes we face in our everyday life How do we cope? I write, meditate, make art, listen to music, and light a candle every evening.

Notes From A Tripod

ARTifacts, Poetry, Uncategorized

(Another take on my knee injury a couple posts back…)

The doctor reviews my MRI and informs me it’s a wear injury- a polite way of saying you’re getting old. The cartilage in my knee has worn thin from age and a simple turned ankle on a hike tore the meniscus which led to a stress fracture to the head of my femur. “Stay off your knee for 4 months, non-weight bearing- crutches. Watch that left hip. It shows low bone density. Don’t gain weight. We’ll go from there. No surgery, no easy fixes. See you after the first of the year.” Appointment concludes. Crabby surgeon departs. I remain in a state of shock.

What the doctor didn’t tell me is how to cope with this loss, this massive change in my life- no walking and no clear path to recovery, no dangling hope. All he sees is the injury and not the humanity surrounding it. The quick fix laparoscopic surgery I expected disintegrated into months of recovery with no clear resolution. My world shrinks from a universe to the size of an orange. Will I get to walk or hike with my friends again? Will I ever again see the tips of my cross-country skis cut through sparking snow?

Every day humans are faced with diagnoses, injuries, and other nasty things that upend their lives instantly. It can be a lonely path to navigate. Every day you’ve got to stave off the demons and keep on going, reframe your life, lower your expectations. For me being a highly creative person and very goal-oriented, this is a challenge. My big native plant garden project? – canceled until further notice. Travel? I don’t think so. Grocery shopping, housework? NO. Cook?- barely. This is my first major injury in six decades of living. I am such a beginner

After weeks of flapping my wings against my cage, I’ve had to revise my life.

Focus on what I can do…

Get a new doctor (check)

Write

Draw

Read

Watch movies

Sing

Play guitar

Swim

Ride my bike

Get outside

Clean out some drawers

Breathe

Meditate

I have to remember to ask for help (hard).
I have to permit myself to pamper myself- hire a housekeeper, get a massage, buy audiobooks, get a therapist. (hard)
Be humble- I just ordered a wheelchair as my back aches from weeks of crutches.
I have to allow myself some days of just being pathetic even though I know things could be worse. (easy)

I emerged from the doctor’s office that day feeling my mortality diminished

but still, I felt a pulse

and I had to drive home to beat traffic.

Said the tree to the sky

My limb is broken

I will have to find a new way

To dance with the wind

Artwork and poetry by the author

See my other blog on sustainable living at OneSweetEarth.blog

Have a “Wanderful” New Year

Uncategorized

This curious little book caught my eye when searching for a book on spiritual practice in my local library. It was called “TheWander Society” by Keri Smith. Flipping through this book like a combination of discovering a little cache of buried treasure and opening a door into a world of mystery and intrigue.

The author stumbled upon the existence of The Wander Society quite by accident as she was perusing a used bookstore in her town. She picked up a worn copy of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass from the shelves. In it were hand notated references “WW will show you the way,” “Solvitur Ambulando,” “The Wander Society,” along with other underlinings and strange symbols in the margins.

This is a book about Keri’s subsequent research into the “Wander Society” – which actually exists, taking inspiration from the life of Walt Whitman. Then there is information on how to be a wanderer and her handwritten written underneath the type in how her practice of wandering was changing her life. Anyone can be a member- however, but there are certain requirements…….

I’m not going to spoil the fun. Go out and read the book.

I must say, this little volume sort of upended how I’ve been thinking about my life. Of course, I’ve been in one of those places where I was on the verge of being upended, like the big earthquake we have been expecting in Oregon. This was a catalyst. I have always been a doer. That’s what our culture demands of us- achievement! productivity! Branding! But maybe there is another way to look at things that is…..

much

more

sane.

At the dawn of 2019, I am going to strive to be more of being than a doer, a wanderer more than a seeker.

Wish me luck

Hope you will join me

Happy New Year to all of you. Here is a poem from my favorite poet, Mary Oliver to close out the year…..

Continue reading “Have a “Wanderful” New Year” →

When Scrolling Was Not a Verb

Poetry, Uncategorized

“The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.”
― Albert Einstein

I wake up every day still wondering about the changes in this world since I came of age…..

SCROLLING

Name, address, telephone number

Birthdate

Index finger poised I scroll down the years

Down

Down past generations xyz

Down before we were gray

And our faces etched with lines

Down when our backs were supple

And our knees strong

Continue reading “When Scrolling Was Not a Verb” →

In Praise of Autumn

Poetry, The Creative Process, Uncategorized

“I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”
― L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

“Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.”
― Albert Camus

wine-1739852_1920

The Fall Equinox has passed and I am absolutely thrilled to be deep in the autumn colors. This is the season where I am released from the obligations of tending to biomass. Living on acreage in W. Oregon we have our share. We have a big garden, an orchard, lawn and flower beds. It’s a place where plants like to grow.

The rains have begun, the garden is torn out, the flower beds are mulched for the winter, and the firewood is in and stacked. This frees up more time to concentrate on my artwork, writing, and music. I sing in a women’s choir and we are getting ready for our 40401429_1888497791198499_407333225178857472_o holiday show. Additionally, I play the bodhran, an Irish drum and am learning to play the tenor guitar. Travels are finished for the year. It’s good to be home.

Continue reading “In Praise of Autumn” →

We Matter

Uncategorized

How did it happen that the U.S. government has forgotten the well being of its own people? I watched the “March for Our Lives” rally broadcast this morning from Washington D.C. heartsick hearing the Stoneman Douglas student speakers express their pain from the mass shooting at their school. Equally heartbreaking was hearing their frustration from the lack of response from leaders who have done virtually NOTHING after the myriad of massacres that have occurred in schools and public spaces across the US in recent time. I substitute teach part-time in high schools. It’s sad that every time I walk in the door I feel I am not in a safe place anymore. Students feel that every day.

There was a pivotal point in one student’s speech where he said we should “arm teachers.” I sucked in my breath saying to myself “oh not this.” The student went on to say, however, that teachers should be well armed with pencils, paper, books and good enough salaries to teach. The crowd roared. As an educator, I know how underfunded our education system is in this country. We fund wars across the globe, give tax breaks to the rich, but neglect the safety, education, healthcare, & mental health care of our own people. WE MATTER.

If anyone can make a change in this country, these kids can. They have started a movement and I am right there with them. For now, all I could do was write a blog post & make a picture (but that’s what artist’s do).

Goodbye 2017

Poetry, Uncategorized

cat-2504739_1920

The year 2017 slunk away

Like stray cat that lost a fight

Leaving bloody tracks and tufts of fur

In its wake

The flood waters have receded

Fires still burn to the south

Refugees across the globe pray for safety

The homeless seek shelter

And the men still beat their chests in Washington

Shouting over truth

But if you are very still and listen

You can hear the sound of the peoples’ drum beats

Pulsing

Building up strength and timbre

Beneath that thin veneer of chaos

Power is as ephemeral as a passing storm

Blowing itself out with the passage of time

Give pause and consider

For 365 days the sun rose and set of its own accord

The tides ebbed and flowed

And one day in August

the moon crowned the sun king

With a corona of light

Wrapping us all in illuminated smiles

We are still here

With our lives

Our memories

Our dreams

Celebrating community

Beauty and love

Between the lines of a script

We did not write

There will be a new story

Starting tomorrow

We have the choice

to change the outcome, beginning with ourselves

And we will all be there

To feed the fire of hope

To light our way through the New Year

Of 2018

sunrise-1756274_1920

Wishing you all the best in this New Year,

Alanna

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