The Eclipse--"Today is a Gift"

Cookies at Provisions/Flour City Bakery

Rochester, NY was in the path of totality for the Big Eclipse today. Hotels and campgrounds were booked; schools were closed; NY State Troopers, Monroe County Sheriffs, and Rochester Police officers were at the ready for the influx of 100,000+ additional cars carrying people. All over town museums, rec centers, and various other locations prepared for an unofficial holiday.

I opted to spend the morning at the Rochester Public Market, which was preparing for a full day of entertainment. The market is usually closed on Mondays, but here were security guards/greeters handing out the special glasses and vendors with “eclipse-oriented” goods selling their wares, food trucks lined up to serve, and a stage all set for the afternoon’s entertainment.

tray from Trina’s trinket trove

Rich H. and I had coffee and biscotti at Provisions, picked up our special glasses, and perused the vendor aisle. A fun way to spend a Monday morning! (note: photos are filtered for effect)

Shirt from Little Red Door

MelaniesMuses.com demonstrating the eclipse at various City events today. fabulous.

Spirit Week

The earliest origin of the word “cemetery” is the Sanskrit “sete” for “he lies,” like someone is just sleeping. Over the years I’ve come to believe that this is true. The body is a vessel for spirit energy, and that energy lives on. And on, and on.  I know this based on many personal experiences.

This week the topic of spirits and ghosts is rampant what with All Hallow’s Eve (Halloween,) followed by Dia de Los Muertos, followed by today, All Souls Day. I stopped at the historic and beautiful Mount Hope Cemetery this week before the windstorm tore off all the colorful leaves.

I could imagine this place as spooky with the trails winding around hills and the 150-year old tombstones covered in moss and vines.  I could also see families visiting graves and bringing flowers and candles to honor and celebrate their loved ones. This cemetery is also a solemn place for prayer and reflection and remembrance.

Six years ago today I was at my father’s side as his body took its last breath. There have been many signs since then—some of them comical—that he is still around. This fact has comforted me rather than frightened me. Look for the dark side, and you’ll find it and be fearful. Dwell in the light, and you’ll be blessed with comfort and love. The love goes on.

In an Urban Garden

September is here, and, though temps were in the 90s Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, they dropped steadily into the 50s on Saturday. On a recent warm afternoon I took a few photos of the Hamilton Street Victory Garden (the oldest community garden in the city of Rochester) before the inevitable effects of the season take hold. A program supported by the South Wedge Planning Committee, this and its sister garden on Cypress Street provided free plots for 55 families this summer. 

A Farm on a Midsummer Night

Crostini with herbed fontina and cherry tomatoes, served in the herb garden

I had the good fortune to be invited to a special dinner Saturday evening, a midsummer night’s dream of a tasting.  Held at Hurd Orchards in a vintage barn, the event showcased 21 original recipes using their abundance of fruits, vegetables, and herbs. The atmosphere was enchanting with both sides of the barn opening to setting-sun views of orchards and gardens, candles in glass jars hanging from the beams, and opulent flower arrangements on every dinner table, serving table, and any available space. With gratitude, it was magical.

The hosts pouring celebratory Champagne for a gathering of friends

Amazing home-made graham cracker with honeyed goat cheese and berries.

From one of the three centerpieces on our table

Back to Basics

Back to the beginnings of the GlynisDaily blog and transitioning into more creative expression again. For now, photos; later, written thoughts. 

These are from Village Gate, a retail/restaurant/office complex in Rochester's Neighborhood of the Arts--in fact, where NOTA began. 

Clearance

I feel like I’ve had a productive weekend. Over the past three months—at least—I have been disappointed in myself on Sunday nights for not having completed a myriad of tasks. I would have checked off some of the items on my lengthy, ongoing list, but I wouldn’t COMPLETE the list.

Granted, I work at the store and/or writing articles at least two weekends a month, and the weather hasn’t been conducive to some of my wanna-do tasks like walking in the park or shooting photos.  If there is snow falling, and temps are in the teens, I’ll get my fresh air taking the dog out and leave icy roads and paths to those who have warmer blood than I. From Thanksgiving until the end of January I was also fighting off the flu and felt foggy and sleepy when I had a chance to rest. At any rate, this Capricorn seemed to have no extra energy to actually work on the tasks at hand.

Which brings me to this weekend. Maybe it’s the days getting longer, maybe I’ve finally cleared the flu hurdle, or maybe it was the full moon eclipse a couple of weeks ago, but I feel like things are moving forward in a lot of areas of my life. I’ve been gradually picking up speed and direction, and am making that leap from planning to doing.

Friday I got several things accomplished before getting to the office. One batch of snow hit Friday afternoon, and I shoveled the drive when I got home. Saturday I had a hair appointment, picked up a few groceries, and had the car washed. At home, I went through articles and emails I’d saved to my phone to read later while Hulu played “Tiny House Hunters.”  I watched all of these inspiring people paring down their possessions to “the things that really mattered”—and would fit into 192 square feet.

This is something on which I’ve been working for awhile, since the spring after my parents died, really. I came to Rochester with what I thought were mostly essentials to find that I don’t need all of the stuff still up in the garage. In addition, this house, funky and lovely as it is, is far more house than necessary. After Christmas I put holiday decorations in “to go” boxes in the mudroom and went through a storage closet, bathroom closet, and coat closet to thin those out.

Today I started on my bedroom closet. There were two bins and a suitcase containing seasonal and miscellaneous clothes. Memories of past lives and boyfriends went through my head as I dug through the jumble of fabrics. And socks. I already have a drawer full of socks, but here, remarkably, were more. I started four piles: garbage, general giveaway, teen shelter, and keep. At the end of this session, I put the "keep" pile into the suitcase—only because I didn’t have enough hangers. Shoe boxes went in the one bin to tidy the closet, and everything else went out to the mudroom.

Since I was on a roll, I decided to check out bins of kitchen ware in the basement, two small and one extra large. I went through these when I moved in and got rid of some things, but, now settled, I knew there was more waiting. Sure enough, I ousted the remaining cookie sheets (the one I use is enough,) several lidded casserole dishes (my crock pot and Dutch oven serve my purposes,) and the muffin pans, both regular and mini. Truly, I rarely bake, and any cupcake mission is best left to the professionals at any one of the 1,000 bakeries here in Rochester. Almost everything in these bins joined the clothes out on the porch, and only one small (18 gallon) bin went back downstairs to consider later.

So here I am tonight with a little sense of accomplishment, though there will be several more go-arounds with closets and bins before I get to tiny house level. But this is do-able. 

What are the essentials in my life? What is most important to me? When WAS the last time I actually used this or that? Which wine glasses will be the keepers, and how many of them? (lol)

All of this clearing is shaping up to stock a mega-garage sale this spring. In the meantime, what should I do with these?  

Another Year Over

As during the past year, I am finding it hard to put my thoughts in black and white today.

I’ve written 100 or more blog paragraphs in my head over these months and weeks, but my sentences and consciousness begin rambling down paths and tangents, so that nothing makes sense--just as in the rest of my life and the world in general in 2017.

This was a year of discouragement, distraction, and disillusionment. I found myself withdrawing from writing, creative pursuits, and social life, trying to feel that feeling that tells me I’m on track, but there was so much clutter and “stuff” all around. There was no energy at the end of the day.

My strategy has been to try to counter all of the negative energy—especially in social media—with positive energy: posting and sharing good news only, resuming a meditation practice, taking a course on angels and another on healing, avoiding as much political discussion as possible. And I think this has helped clear some of the fog. But it’s obvious that there is more adversity out there than ever, and I’ve recently become one of the targets in someone’s bizarre hate campaign. Fortunately, my work, reputation, and ethics speak for themselves, but there are many people who don’t know me who are swayed and brainwashed by ridiculous attacks. It’s hurtful and another needless distraction and waste of time and energy.  

There is something within us that always seeks some “promise of hope” for New Year’s Day and the 12 months ahead. I’ve been looking back to determine what has made me happy in the past, times when I’ve felt that I was in the zone and on the Path because I’ve seen precious little of it during the past three years. That will be a guide as I move forward. I’ve already begun cleaning closets and other “out with the old” tasks to simplify my space and life--again. I wish I could be somewhere and feel settled, but I always have the feeling that I’m a fish out of water, and everything around me is temporary.

Maybe 2018 is the year I’ll find home.    

Open to everything happy and sad

SEPTEMBER 05, 2016 IN GENERAL

Open to everything happy and sad

Seeing the good when it’s all going bad

Seeing the sun when I can’t really see

Hoping the sun will at least look at me

Moby, “Slipping Away”

Today did not start out well. It’s a holiday and one of my three or four days off for September. I set my alarm for “late” after finishing a movie well after midnight last night, and was planning on a leisurely morning. My new neighbors were up bright and early, though, chatting and walking around the yards in our little strip. I grudging got up at 7:15, not being able to sleep.

I took Zsa Zsa out, and one of the new neighbors’ dogs was in “my” yard doing his thing. ZZ ignored him, and he came over and peed on her.  Yes, you read that right. The neighbor came over and apologized, but it meant I had to bathe ZZ right away. I did that, fixed our breakfast and went out the door for a walk at Durand Eastman Park.

Ahhhhh.

I did an article a few years ago—and have probably mentioned it here—on “nature therapy” in Japan.  City dwellers there pay exorbitant fees to be bussed with lots of other city dwellers to parks and forests, where they wander around, lean on trees, lie on the ground and just take in the oxygen. A few hours later, refreshed and de-stressed, they board the busses and go back home.

I step onto the trail with Moby on Pandora and put one foot in front of the other. Moby always brings up a range of emotions for me: relaxing, inspiring, nostalgic, motivating, and some of it hits notes in my soul. Today was the first time in weeks I’ve been able to chill and walk under the cool shade of these tall trees. (breathe in)

As Moby’s instrumental rocks a walking beat (breathe in) I stroll past the houses at the beginning of the trail, breakfast in the air. (breathe out) And down the hill into the woods I feel my muscles soften and begin to release some of the stress of last month. (breathe in) Earth and green leaves, and another scent of summer less identifiable. (breathe out)

“Focus on everything better today,” the lyrics whisper.  I smile at a couple walking by and a pass a couple expecting a baby.  (breathe in) Sunlight in the trees, shadows on the path, smells of daily life in the woods.  More people glide by. (breathe out) My body is now out of body—listening to the music, filling my lungs with this freshly produced air, feeling the rhythm of the songs as I step, step, step, step. (breathe in)

There are no red-winged black birds today at the bridge over the wetlands, but the reeds are thick, and I know there is life among them. (breathe out) Up the hill toward the lake, a thin jogger wearing thick glasses and a baseball cap approaches with his hand out to me in a “high five” move. Most passers-by give a nod or a smile, but he was a cyclone of energy. (breathe in) We hit our palms together, and I giggle.

I turn around at the park sign for the return trip (breathe out) and notice everyone heading in the opposite direction is smiling now, all met by the “high five” guy. What a little gift he gave with his encouragement and joy. (breathe in) I meet him again on the bridge. He is clapping and laughing as he runs this time. I put my palms together and motion toward him. (breathe out) “Thank you,” I say as we pass. He hesitates a little, grinning. I don’t think he expected a thank you.

A woman walking a greyhound (breathe in) asks me if I’ve seen a fawn along the path that someone told her about. No, I haven’t, but we chat briefly about the wildlife and greyhounds. I continue up the hill with my music. (breathe out)

I needed this. This has been one of the most difficult years, and it is most certainly—finally—turning around. I am fortunate, (breathe in blessings) but this has not come without pain and trust and faith. I am still processing all that has happened, but by October I should certainly be in a better place mentally, emotionally, and most other “--allys,” too.  (breathe out gratitude)

“It’s all a mystery, let it come and let it be,” sings the haunting song by Blackmill in my ears. Up the hill I push the pace. Let it all come at me. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. (breathe in) Life is a balance, an ebb and flow. Patience, faith, determination. I reach the top of the hill, feeling the physical release of the last of the negative energy. (breathe out) Let it be.  

Untitled BW

MAY 15, 2016 IN GENERAL

Without elaborating in a public forum, this is a dark time for me. It is difficult to write and difficult to shoot. This is not a matter of “changing my thoughts” or an “attitude adjustment.”  I’m tired. 

Too Many Scattered Thoughts

DECEMBER 13, 2015 IN GENERAL

I’ve been trying to write for several weeks. I thought that once I got to where I was going it would all be okay. I could regain my focus on tasks at hand and move ahead. Without relaying all the laborious details, these weeks have been somewhat disappointing and even distressing. 

Today's photos were taken ages ago when we had a couple of days of snow. The sunrises here are beautiful, and I photograph them regularly. Truly, the weather has been amazing, so that is positive.

Right now my “to do” list is still full, and there are things that I HAVE to finish today. I’ll write a real blog entry when I’m in a better mood, a better frame of mind. This afternoon the water outside is calm, reflecting the grey, broken clouds. I’ll enjoy the quiet evening, make a phone call or two and push through the must-do tasks on the list.   

Back to the Future

NOVEMBER 08, 2015 IN GENERAL

“Scattering pieces of me in towns all over the place. A trail of crumbs dotting the map from everywhere we've left to everywhere we go. And they don't make any pictures when I connect dots. They are random like the stars littering the sky at night.”   Brian James, Zombie Blondes

Last week on Facebook a friend was feeling a little nostalgic dropping off her old house keys as her family moved to a new home. I’ve been there, too. I’m trying to wind this effort up, hoping to at least take the final pieces out of storage by the end of the week, even if they have to go into the garage for now. The house is still in disaster mode with my landlord’s newly acquired house contents pushed to the perimeters and my boxes and bins and suitcases waiting for the furniture.

But otherwise, there is so much “flow” with this move, a strange mixture of excitement about developing my work and making a home and an ease and comfort in revisiting old routines and places. “All of life comes to me with ease, joy and glory,” per Access Consciousness.

For many years—and I know I’ve mentioned this at some point—I walked through Webster Park on Sunday mornings, sun and snow. So on this chilly 43 degree morning I had the opportunity to try it again after nine years away.  Parts of Holt Road are unrecognizable because of housing development, but the park is the park, thankfully. There is a new playground at the entrance, but Zsa Zsa and I meandered the loop along the creek, out to the lake, then up and down the hill. This was new for ZZ. She’s not a walker, but she is a trooper and gave it all she had. I ended up carrying her for about half the time, which was fine.  As I walked, snapping photos with my phone, I wondered how many times I’d photographed the same scenes in decades past on film. I’ll have to look for those images to compare. 

So beautiful, this quiet time along the creek, shushing through leaves in fresh, clear air. I missed Sunday walks in Oregon and Ohio, and now I’m back, recharging my soul for the next week—and weeks to come. 

The Long and Winding Road

OCTOBER 25, 2015 IN GENERAL

Some people see their paths clearly. Everything is laid out in front of them, their compasses point north, and they’re off and running. Other people—like myself—seem to have less direction or clarity or a path that is at least partially covered in vines or fog. Maybe it all feels right sometimes. Things fall into place, and people show up exactly at the time they’re needed. One contact or project or tidbit pushes you along in the Universal Flow. I’ve been there.

However, the last few years I’ve groped in the fog and hacked away with a machete. While I knew Ohio was the “right” choice I could not seem to make much headway. I felt isolated most of the time for many reasons.

Finally, though, I tuned out the desire to “make it work” and tuned into more subtle messages. I evaluated my experiences and reviewed the paths I’d taken. I went back to an old exercise of mine that asks, “What would you do if it could be anything?” and eliminated limitations, gradually putting thoughts out There about what would be ideal for me. 

I’ve learned the following:  1. what you think you want and what you’re supposed to have are not always the same things; 2. meditation is an excellent tool for filtering and calming; 3. having patience is very important; 4. focusing on lack creates lack, and focusing on abundance and blessings creates abundance and blessings; 5. it can all be frustrating and grueling, but you have to be patient; 6. and trust in a benevolent Universe/God/Spirit; 7. your gut feelings are your instincts, and if you can tune into those—as crazy as they may seem—they won’t steer you wrong; 8. patience, grasshopper, patience.

My “work” is still evolving, but my house-hunting exploits are the stuff of legends. Plan A was to purchase a house for cash and not have a mortgage payment. As soon as this was possible the market skyrocketed, greatly diminishing my choices of homes and neighborhoods. There was a cute little place near the corner on Jewel St. at Norton, however, that caught my eye in spite of there being only one exterior photo of the property. The neighborhood was marginal with a church directly across the street, but a suspicious looking multi-family across Norton that seemed to have cars generally pulling up and leaving.  

When realtor Tim opened the door, I fell in love with the house. It was everything I’d imagined: old style tiles, hardwoods, a sunroom, glass front kitchen cabinets, an attached garage, charm, reasonably priced. But would I feel safe in the neighborhood? Could I take Zsa Zsa for a walk? Did I want to zip my car in the garage and live inside looking out? There had been a shooting down the street.  I decided to make an offer anyway because it was such a nice house in good condition. Ahh, but no-go. The man told Tim that he was taking it off the market to rent to a friend of his. I wasn’t happy, but “wasn’t meant to be” kept going through my head.  

Subsequent houses went from bad to worse, including a house that was imploding because it had been built on a spring (or cave or something) and a mobile home 20 miles from the city with a ceiling that was buckling. I’d tried to wrap my head around a possible deal for a house on the water, but couldn’t get it to feel comfortable. A talk with one of my friends finally convinced me to rent instead by reminding me of the freedom I had as a tenant in Oregon and reiterating that repairs on these houses were imminent, as were Rochester’s notoriously high taxes. Oh, yes. It was coming back to me from owning my house years ago. 

My friends and I switched gears to find suitable rental properties: at least off-street parking, two bedrooms if possible, and, of course, Zsa Zsa friendly. We cruised by a few possibilities; I visited a couple of city lofts. I was making appointments and staying in my friends’ camper next to their house with my belongings in storage.  

One Sunday I simply drove around thinking, “There has to be SOMEthing. What am I missing?” which took me along the bay. I spotted one “For Rent” sign in front of a two-car garage and took down the number. When I called the next day, the landlord and I seemed to connect right away. The house was a funky, artsy-craftsy two-bedroom with the garage.  And it was right on the water. In fact, it had everything I’d asked for from the Universe at the beginning of this whole process.  BAM, Emeril style.

I imagine myself as the princess kissing frogs to get to the prince, (need I mention the trust and patience involved?) but am excited to be in a place that feels kind of like home even with my furniture in storage. I couldn’t have gotten here without help from my friends Diane & Bill, Rich, Jodi, Carol and Larry—sages, cheerleaders, voices of reason, sounding boards. I am so, so grateful for the advice, suggestions and patience as I toddled through this particular stretch.

 I’ve spent the entire day here at the house just reading, unpacking, cleaning, putting a slipcover on a chair, looking at paint swatches. Neighbor Dave mowed my little back yard. The path continues, and so will I. The fog has cleared. Tonight the moon is shining on the still water.