Guilty of Self-Deception – Gift of Light and Shadow

Yes, I’m guilty.  I admit it.  I am guilty of self-dissuasion, delusion and deception. (We had a “discussion” this morning on the patio about whether or not you could put a “self” in front of any word you so desired, even if it wasn’t commonly used.)  I use the presentations in my yard and elsewhere to deliberately deceive myself, if only for a moment, that life in the world is beautiful, serene and affirming and to snap-shut the pictures of all the horror I see in the news on tv and in the papers.  I can’t help myself, so shoot me.   I find myself wondering how many other people on this earth feel the same in the face of powerlessness, outrage and disbelief at the most distressful of human acts, conditions and sentiments…….  Here is just today’s little example of how I try to deal with it all:

Life’s early morning inspirations often present themselves in unexpected ways.  Just now, I had the notion that being an amateur, while mostly I would have to consider to be a detriment in life, is actually a benefit.  For example, in the photography department, often a professional would be trained to plan out, size up, even carefully construct a pose and adjust the lighting with the help of artificial props, shading, masking and positioning.  In fact, there are a few books on the market by professional food stylists and photographers who instruct one on this.   I, on the other hand, like to walk out my door each morning and have the benefit of snapping away, merely based on a moment’s eye, and exactly what nature has presented, and driven purely by instinct.  Granted, these impulses may not be of interest to anyone but myself, but indeed they keep me moving forward in a state of wonder at the little things in life which, when juxtaposed by the reality of the world around me, can be soothing and most importantly reaffirming, even if this is a momentary indulgence of dissuasion,delusion and deception.

When I stepped outside early this morning, Cat Stevens’ song, Morning Has Broken popped into my head.  For the second year in a row, the month of August has appeared with an uncommon personality. When you get nighttime temperatures dropping into the 50s in the first week of August, things are, well, different, at least in this particular little corner of the world. My long memories of August begin with the mixed-bag syndrome born of youth’s dreaded loss of Summer cum excitement of returning to school.  Does anyone ever forget these feelings?

I hate to tell you how very old I am, but my memories of August include a backdrop of  happy shopping experience of visiting Epstein’s and getting a brand new pair of Bass tassel loafers and a selection of wool knee-sox.  Yikes.  I’d say, next to no one remembers this any more………

More than that, perhaps, August conjures up memories of burned out lawns and breathless nights when one would toss and turn and, if lucky, have at the ready a nice fan to blow hot air onto you while you tried to sleep.  These were the years before everyone spent the summer encased in their central air-conditioned homes and apartments or if lucky enough to be at the beach, slept with the windows open, listening to the waves all night and hoping they would lull you back to sleep.

Today is August 9 and this past couple of days have delivered again an early glimpse into the Fall.  I can not say this is unwelcome to man, beast and plant alike, for it gives respite to all from the wretched and unbearable heat that we have come to expect, now more commonly in July.  Perhaps the farmers though, aren’t too amused as they depend on the heat to keep their tomato, corn and pumpkin crops pushing along well through September.

The way our house is situated, we get a delightful illumination in the early morning on the patio and into the kitchen when the leaves are down, from the sunrise.  Today, I stepped out onto the patio and immediately drank in the playful dance of the sun onto some of my plantings.  This is a moment by moment enchantment as each and every stage of the play leaves a slightly different pose to try to remember.

This year, being that the Phlox are so wonderful, I am sitting here and have their fragrance wafting over to me at the table and remembering this particular fragrance vividly from my childhood.  Perhaps more than anything nowadays, I remember my Father by the mental images of his garden and my Mother standing at the sink and making stuffing for a turkey.  I can’t say why.

I can only attribute this change in August weather to the now ubiquitous and often controversial term, “Climate Change” something which hangs over us all on many a day when the political and world-events’ news of horrors being delivered from many a corner over-shadow each and every potential live in-the-moment opportunity one can find in his/her own environs.  Being one of those people who looks forward to a bonafide newspaper or two or three each and every morning, as my Dad also did, I now often open it up, page along for a moment or two and close it up as I try to squeeze that inevitable feeling of dread and helplessness as it comes creeping into my psyche and threatens to spoil all the positive impulses of the day’s gift.  I try to suppress the who, why, how questions that rush to the forefront and shut down the horrible images of the human condition….

How can God present a day in which there is such massive contradiction on this earth, I wonder to myself?  I mentally scroll through each and every pristine image I’ve seen on a Facebook feed –endless immaculate beaches from around the world, juxtaposed against all the historical wonders left from my beloved western European destinations and then think, as I did in Paris a couple of weeks ago, how could this be happening?  Is the world completely falling apart?  It’s troubling, to say the least and so, I need somewhere else to “go”……..

Well, back to my little August morning in my little oasis of the world where there are presently no humankind disasters to speak of other than the apparent, hopefully temporary, loss of my little baby bunny rabbit friend whom I have not seen for the past three days since Kit discovered her and I did a little extra mulching in the area after replanting a regenerated Hydrangea.

I am thankful that I have this little place to walk around and appreciate.  Otherwise, I’d just return to bed, pull the covers up and squeeze my eyes shut.

And so, as I float along through my day of tasks and chores, of impulses exposed and indulged, I try to remember that I must appreciate what I have and have the wisdom to know what I can not change (thank you to Reinhold Niebuhr from the Serenity Prayer):

     

and, most importantly, my faithful companion, Kit, a beautiful specimen of God’s handiwork in so many compelling ways, enjoying the morning in light and shadow along with me:

Perhaps a batch of Cinnamon Rolls would make me feel a lot better?  (Is that a rhetorical question?)  Last Saturday it was Cinnamon-Sugar Encrusted Donuts – I see a pattern here………

 photo courtesy milkandcuddles.com