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I am sorting through my journals once again. This time it is not to gain any pertinent information from them in the years that have passed. Many years have passed. I have kept journals for many of those years. I have moved many times over the past fifty plus years. The journals I have kept have moved with me. The movers made note of the heftiness of the boxes housing my dense and numerous journals.

I write. I process. I create in my journals. They are my quiet space, my safe space. I give words flight that describe all the good, bad, ugly, mysterious, and almost always sacred in my life.

Even though I write a lot of words, I know pictures are worth 1,000 words. So I include pictures, both drawn and photographed in my journals.  The first year birthday of #1 grandson…

 

Holy pilgrimages taken in 2000 to Italy and Chartres and Paris, France.

 

…and some of the first words written on 9-11 –the attack on America. I was in a professional capacity of feature writer, so there were many words written outside of my journal as well.

 

 

I particularly liked Master Mind journals. Here is a page that shows that this journal keeper did not always journal on everyday. Yet, I can read back in the journal and be inspired by the affirmations that continue throughout the book. Also, many times they are a great writing prompt for me to “tell it like it is” when I come to that page.

Their monthly calendar was an easy read – shorthand accounting for what was important in that particular month.

Their pages, however, were cardstock quality, so the journal itself was quite heavy, then multiply it by almost ten year’s worth, plus other kind of tablet and book journals, and you have to have a muscle-man lift to transport these journals…which we did from home to home, then to condo, and several apartments, and two homes again.

Something I’ve practiced in all areas of my life is the grace and ability to LET GO.

And it is now time to let go in the apartment in which this two-some abides. I have let go of enough of them that what I have left is a full dresser drawer of Master Minds journals and several book style journals on one bookcase shelf. Yet even these bookcases will not make the next move which will come anytime within the next three years, near as we can guess, and it will be to senior independent or assisted living space.

No longer is it by our carbon foot print that we are measured, but by our age, and the lessening of possessions deemed necessary.  The journal was most important to me in writing about the PRESENT time. A great tool for processing either joy or grief, and all the things that have made up my life. Just like numerous photo albums kept over the year, now facing the same minimizing process, these images and words reside in my heart. They do not need to take up space in a drawer,  hardly ever opened or a book shelf, from which they are not frequently chosen.

The tearing and shredding of paper has begun. But in the middle of it all, I had to stop and write once more on this Napkinwriter file what I would put in my journal for today:

Tearing up journals, mixed emotions, opening up to new days where I might jot down a word or two. Next year begins a new decade 2020. I will be 77 on January 2nd,  just after the new year begins. I hope the big news of the beginning of this decade is that I will be busy marketing and selling Journey Girl, Steps in Secrets and Sanctuary that I have just finished writing.

 

 

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Perhaps This is Why

Awakening the Inner Eye (Images remembered and imagined)
“All things create themselves from their own innermost reflection and none can tell how they came to do so.” – Chang Tzu
Even before there are thoughts, there are images. Each life is formed by its unique image, an image that is the essence of that life and that calls it to destiny. To discover the image, we must enter the invisible world and allow it to carry us. Intuitive images occur, we cannot make them. All we can do is get out of the way, thereby inviting them to come through.
Images are the natural language of the unconscious. Psyche is revealed through images as in dreams. Sometimes the darkest image may prove the most valuable. Consider Kafka’s cockroach in Metamorphosis or Dante’s images of hell in his Inferno. So don’t censor what images emerge. Simply remain centered in yourself and watch them with awareness.
“The intolerable image is the transformational image.” – Wallace Stevens
The soul of reflection as of writing comes through the image — what Keats called “soul-making”. Images are the language of the soul. They integrate mind, body, and soul and thereby serve a healing function. The metaphorical or symbolic image lifts the reader above the gross level to a realm of poetry where image and soul reign. This is where transformation occurs.

Source:  Lesson 3: Soul Dialogues: Getting in Touch with Your Inner Journey — Daily Om On-Line Courses

By Catherine Ann Jones

 

Perhaps, this is why I am so in love with SoulCollage. I must see it; I must do it; I must read my cards; I must make the next image. All of this does reflect my soul so accurately, I am astounded. The ones that come about that are start and surprising; indeed transformational and informative. The words that follow….I Am One Who…and My Gift to you is… the writing that pours forth from the image is the natural language of the unconscious.

Yes, even before there are thoughts — there, indeed, are images. Those who practice SoulCollage know only too well this is true.

 

 

 

I am the one who travels complicated passageways.
I am one who twists simple things into complications.
I am one who is blessed with the gift to figure things out.

What I want you to know is that your journey is guided and blessed. Travel safe, dear one.

 

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In the Alps. Photo by Susan Heffron Hajec

 

GUEST BLOG from This Place Where You Are Right Now by Hafiz

I could tell you a priceless secret about
Your real worth, clear pilgrim,

But any unkindness to yourself,
Any confusion about others,

Will keep one
from accepting the grace, the love,

The sublime freedom
Divine knowledge always offers to you.

 

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We arrived on the day of the Lilac Parade. Our three-car caravan traveling North on I-75 into Gaylord, where we stopped for lunch and a Father’s Day Celebration.

 

Then we were ferry-bound, bicycles and all for Mackinac and Dufina Cottage.

 

and, of course, the Horse Taxi ride up to the cottage.

 

 

Passing the Grand.

 

 

Up the hill…

 

Good times and ambiance in Dufina.

 

 

 

 


Puzzle solving.

 

 

 

 

 

Music, music, music.

 

Early morning view from our bedroom window.

 

 

Porch sitting and conversations.

 

 

Breakfast nook.

 

 

 

Games of Go Fish!

 

 

Outings on the Island. Bicycles!

 

Outings on the Island.

 

 

 

 

 

Ice Cream!

 

Mission Point Date with Tom

 


 

Last Night Movie Night watching The Notebook.

 


 

Once more, time to leave again.  Wonderful time.


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Today is Tom’s and my 53rd wedding anniversary. I cannot imagine any other life. I could not have imagined the life and love we have for each other the day we got married.

Early on our married life a priest said to us. ” You do not just say “I do,” once in your life at the altar. “You say it everyday of your married life together.”

He was wise and he was right and we both “I do” each day. We are blessed to have this lengthy time together and to continue to love  and take care of each other.

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We’re going back!!  This time, Laura will be there too!

 

Archive for June, 2014

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The larger plan for this blog is to “one day” collect selected stories from my soon to be fourth year of faithful posts and put them into a bound edition for my children and grandchildren….a legacy to leave behind of my thoughts, dreams, family heritage, spiritual life, fun and games, things I cherish, and “what you didn’t know” tales.

If publishing holds no larger plan for me, that will be enough.

So I must include this June  vacation time with Kathleen and Greg’s family at Dufina Cottage.  Laura was unable to come because of her work schedule, but Carl and Amy joined Tom and me for three days of adventure and fun.

Just like Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robbin, we got up each day for our adventure on Mackinac Island (they were in the Hundred Acre Woods) and we found fun and beauty everywhere and lots of good eats on our island adventures.

 

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We found playgrounds and board walks and the butterfly house.

 

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Swinging by the bridge

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Butterfly house

My butterfly

 

Butterfly House gorgeous lilies

Walking trails and scenic views.

 

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No matter the weather, we stick together!

 

No Matter the weather

Flowers and gardens abound.

Walking buddy in the Grand Hotel Gardens

 

Behind the flowers

Petal Beauty

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At the Secret Garden

Pilgrims among the lilacs.

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Morning time on the labyrinth in the Grand Hotel gardens.

Another Labyrinth, Grama

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Good eats and family fun at Dufina Cottage.

Dufina and Amy

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Piano and OnLine Time

Kathleen and Greg and Devon and Andrew and their friends were on their bikes — A LOT, thus a lack of photos of them.   They braved the windiest day EVER on Mackinac Island.

Greg  Bike Trails

Kathleen skydiving

Practicing

Devon called us to ask when we were arriving:

 

telephone callls

And then, watched for our boat to arrive.

Family Looking for Us to Arrive

The three days went by quickly. Tom and I celebrated our 49th Wedding Anniversary on Thursday night and were treated to a delicious ribs dinner by Susan and Kathleen.  Joe also ventured on very early morning bike rides and captured this beautiful sunrise over Lake Huron.

Early Morning Sky on Mackinac - Joe

 

And this photo of beautiful wife, Susan at beautiful Arch Rock!

Beautiful Susan at Beautiful Arch Rock

Yet there were times techy communication won out over the outdoors.

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But there was always…..ice cream!

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Not to forget the horses and fairy tale weddings.

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And then….it was over like the clock striking midnight….

Walking Together

But here is Amy’s “Going Back to Mommy” smile on the ferry boat!

Ferry smile

 

 

Ferry smile

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Last week, I sat awhile on the memorial bench in Lucretia’s front yard, enjoying the balmy early March seventy degree weather.

Lucretia’s front and back yards are actually gardens surrounding her home and giving enjoyment to all who pass by or pause to reflect.

I sat reflecting on our precious friendship that spawns from the 1960s, while we lived just down the street from Jude and Lucretia Thomas and we were “growing up” our family of young ones.

 

There was quite a bit to reflect on. It is still so easy to see these adults now, who are raising families of their own, as the little children they were, it seems not so long ago now. We all played together, laughed together, and were so very busy with family stuff.

 

There were the purple crocus, reaching up out of the still cold earth. The crocus to me looks so gentle, a flower of blessing and lifting of spirits. But it is also a flower of courage, for it arrives usually before winter flurries have had their last say for the year.

 

 

And so it was, one short week later a snow storm of six inches covered the Lexington Bluegrass and trees.  It never deters the crocus from arriving however.

 

 

Over time, a blessed time, the family branches grow in varied directions and increase in number and we give thanks for all the blessings on our tree. We have planted our tree in rich soil and we honor and acknowledge the deep roots of all who have come before us.

 

 

The family tree reaches ever upwards, reaching for newness, becoming one with joy and with sorrow. Our lives are shaped by all that this tree contains.

 

 

Our tree does not stand alone. It is overseen by the God in whom we trust.

 

 

 

 

A heart that holds such sorrow, only the saints can understand. Judy, and her family, ever-present in our hearts and lives.

 

 

Linking the fun and promise with the grandchild generation….bright, bright, bright.

 

 

Lucretia goes to Mother Mary, and remains Mother and Nana to family.

 

 

Another summer visitor in Lucretia’s garden.

In the Nana is contained all the ages of the woman.  Walk with her in her garden.

 

In the Garden
Jim Reeves

I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear, falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses

And He walks with me
And He talks with me
And He tells me I am His own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known

(He speaks and the sound of His voice)
(Is so sweet the birds hush their singing)
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing

And He walks with me
And He talks with me
And He tells me I am His own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known

Songwriters: C. Austin Miles
© Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Songtrust Ave
For non-commercial use only.
Data from: LyricFind

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