RDP: dead

I want to move out my planted pots from the front but they’re not dead yet. I live in the banana belt of Ontario and we’ve barely had any frost compared the rest of Canada who has been experiencing snow already.

We had an uncomfortably warm fall and because of that the colours weren’t spectacular. You need frosty nights to make the colours come ablaze. Now it’s mostly yellows which is still very pretty against a blue sky…. when we get a blue sky. The Copper Beech is just a starting to turn metallic copper.

In a sheltered cubby by my front door I still have flowers; lobelia, straggly petunias and some hardy herbs. It’s time to move them out and empty the pots so they don’t crack over the winter but it’s still too pretty. When the snow flies they are taken away and replaced by garbage bins. It’s the easier place to shovel them out of the snow. (groan)

There are plenty of dead plants in the garden to cut back. I like that. I like the garden ending for the year then getting covered with snow, hiding it for months. I wouldn’t want to keep it going all year: my enthusiasm wanes by the end of August.

The second load of firewood is at the end of my driveway; dead trees to heat my house. That’s another seasonal job I really like doing; putting away firewood. I can’t do much on one day but I chip away at it a little bit every day and feel really good about myself for doing it. A lot of satisfaction and a lot of warmth.

This is the season of Dying if you follow a natural seasonal lifestyle. This is the season of Death. We celebrate it and mock it on Halloween.

I’m going to the nursing home to see my Aunt this morning but she is not dying. I don’t think she’s even near death unless her heart gives out. But that is not necessarily a good thing. No one would want this for themselves. Most people would rather be dead.

This afternoon is going to be at least partially sunny. I hope to cut back dead plants and stack dead wood. We have not had many sunny days and there’s more rain on the way. I wish I had enough energy to do more but I’m only good for an hour or two. The sunny days are few a far between so I’ll do as much as I possibly can.

Soon I’ll be losing all sun on my house. It’s already below a row of cedars most of the day and setting much earlier. In another month I’ll be bringing out the seasonal lights to light up the early gloom. Pre-Christmas lights.

But we’re not dead yet.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/10/30/rdp-tuesday-dead/

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SoCS: Bonehead

Today’s prompt is ‘bone’. I’m loosing my stream of consciousness by fluctuating between. “I’m a bonehead.” and “I have no bones to pick.”

So we’ll start with I’m a bonehead. (I am not! Always challenge yourself when you put yourself down) But I am a bit of a bonehead because I haven’t written for a couple of weeks.

Last week the prompt was ‘can’ and, ironically I didn’t write because I spent so much time in the can. Not successfully, I had the worst bout of constipation ever. I wasn’t going to write about it.

How, you might say, does a vegetarian who eats plenty of fibre get constipated? Good question. I cried that out many times. Good thing I live alone so I could suffer loudly. I’m sure God got tired of my pleading and just turned me off.

The last time this happened, a few years ago, I had eaten a bunch of stale dry-roasted cashews.  This time I ate a bunch of stale dry-roasted pistachios.

Anyway, See? I’m a bonehead because I did write about it. Embarrassing, and now everyone thinks I had the flu because I wasn’t going to say I’m in pain from not pooping.

Onward to ‘I have no bone to pick’. I’m not stewing over any alleged slights at the time. Oh, they’re out there but I have chewed all the flavour out of the them and moved the monkey mind over to ‘live and let live’. I guess I’ve picked those bones clean.

Until the next judgemental mind feast.

I don’t care about any of that; I can poop and all is right with the world.

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https://lindaghill.com/2018/10/26/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-27-18/

My History with Pot

Yesterday was a wonderful day here in Canada. There were celebrations in the parks, the newspapers headlined this historic day, there was joy on so many faces; marijuana is legal!  I’m so happy. This has been a long time coming.

Here is my story of my relationship with weed.

I tried it too young, for sure I would not want any kids turning to it at the age of 15, however, in those days it wasn’t anywhere near as potent as it is now. It was low potency leaf, you rarely found a ‘flower’.

On the weekend we would pool our babysitting money and allowance to buy a ‘dime bag’. $10 worth of weed. We would smoke it wherever somebody’s parent were away or go to the park, Edwards Gardens was a favourite. I never did it in the school week. I remember once someone lured me into sharing a joint during a break period and I was so paranoid that someone would know I swore I would never do it again and I never did.

Many years later I was at a factory job and someone lured me into smoking a joint during lunch break. The same thing happened: I was so anxious I swore I would ever do that again and I never did. There are a lot of people who are on their job high but not me. There are a lot of people who drive high but I do not.

But I haven’t smoked pot all these 50 years I’ve been wishing it was legal.  When I was young and travelled a lot I would only do it if it was around, I didn’t want to spend my money on it unless I went in with a friend for the weekend. Travelling in other countries with pot is downright dangerous so I didn’t do that.

In my early 20’s I drank alcohol a lot more and I mean a lot more. I would drink until I got drunk: I could not stop once I started. I woke up sick and remembered things I’d wished I could forget. When I met my husband, he pointed out that it was disgusting, not fun.

I didn’t start smoking regularly until I was a married and working at mundane jobs. At that time I didn’t understand what emotional abuse was (he didn’t hit me) so it helped keep the relationship somewhat calm. It became my reward for making it through another day.

We were already getting into an Eastern philosophy that required giving up meat, alcohol, and drugs. We had given up meat and alcohol which I was happy to give up, but drugs was the sticking point. We both loved pot.

This went on for a few years until we decided we would give up pot and devote our lives to the Spiritual Path. And we did for years and years. But I always missed it. Never craved meat nor alcohol but I missed getting high. By now I had no connections and didn’t want to find  a biker to buy pot from. (Let me insert that ‘bikers’ were also a different sort in those days) Now it had been around 15 years. How could I go back? Sometime I would dream about smoking a joint and would wake up; phew! I didn’t give in…… yet.

One day, and this was way back in the 1980’s, they reported that the government studies had resulted in the conclusion that marijuana should be legalized. At first I was so happy I literally jumped for joy! but the next moment I realized, I still wouldn’t be ‘allowed’ to do it. That started an internal conflict. I had been so obedient, bound to duty and I was getting tired of it.

Back in those days we were cavers and went down to Tennessee and Alabama regularly. One might around a campfire someone passed me joint and I said, “I’d like to but I can’t”  He asked “why not?”. I didn’t have an answer. It wasn’t that night but shortly after I succumbed.

Then I felt like a hypocrite because I was a ‘designated speaker’, I gave half hour talks (satsang)  for our philosophy. More internal struggle. Coupled with that was my dislike for the guy I was buying it from.

(I had to laugh years later in the movie “Pineapple Express” where Seth Rogan just wants to buy some pot from his dealer, James Franco, but the dealer wants him to stay and hang out and watch movies. Rogen is politely trying to just buy it and get out. I so much related to that!)

So I quit for a few more years. Missed it for a few more years. Then we met a nice dealer who came to our house and delivered. By that time we could afford to buy bulk and not have to do this often. Besides he came with his girlfriend and we all had a nice visit.

When I had my horrible break up I used it a lot. I was a mess. Now I’m left with a habit I don’t want to give up although I don’t abuse it anymore. I use it. And now it’s legal. I grow my own and don’t have to be paranoid about someone seeing my back garden anymore.

This is wonderful!  The years of watching people drink, get drunk and think its fun or funny really made me NOT want to drink all the more. That is the more dangerouse drug. But then, I wouldn’t make a criminal out of someone who doesn’t agree with me. This is how it should be.

O, Canada! My home and Native land!

CC flag

I found the clip;

 

SoCS: precious

What do I consider precious? It sure as hell isn’t anything to do with jewelry.

My home is the most precious thing to me. I am so grateful to have my own house in the woods. Security and privacy are precious. When I see the millions of people who are homeless right now due to raging storms, tsunamis, earthquakes,  war, poverty and many more adversities I double up on gratitude for having my home. My warm, comfortable bed at night, not having to keep one eye open in case I’m attacked: these are things many people take for granted but I do not.

My time is precious to me. I am so happy to be retired I can’t even put it into words. Whenever I’m feeling a bit down I remember; at least I don’t have to work at Sobeys anymore. That job was so hard, no one knows. I remember mopping the floors at  9:30 p.m. after working my ass off all afternoon, and fighting back tears. And for a pittance! I did it to survive and that’s about all I did; survived.

I’m making more money now on my Old Age Security than I did in my hardest working months in the summer. The summers were so hard, so busy, so tiring, all could do was work there. Try to clean my house on my day off and rest up so I could make it through another few days. Now I’m so grateful to my government and to live in Canada. Sometimes I’m overwhelmed at how lucky I am.

I can’t leave out how precious my health is to me. Without it I would not be enjoying my home or anything else. I will continue to eat well and exercise because it’s the only way to keep it. I’m 65 now and I want to stay in my home as long as possible.

I never talk about my spiritual life, I don’t belong to a religion, but what I did learn from devoting so many years to study and meditation is so precious to me. Just last night, ruminating about all those things and people you ruminate about while trying to get to sleep, I thought; Thank God I learned what I learned!!!! What would I be without that knowledge and faith? Who knows. Having that internal guidance is so precious!

My family is precious to me. I didn’t have children even though I tried and tried for years. But my sister had children and they had children, all of whom are precious to me.  When I lost my home, mate and job all in one horrible day, I had my family there to help and support me. What would have happened to me without them?

I’ll leave with a quote that’s been waiting in my head. It’s from Bruce Cockburn;

“All the diamonds in the world that mean anything to me, are conjuring up by wind and sunlight sparkling on the sea.”

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https://lindaghill.com/2018/10/12/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-13-18/

SoCS; card

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oh darn. I’ve had this open for a half an hour and can’t come up with anything for ‘card’.

I really like doing the Stream of Consciousness on Saturday because its someone to talk to. Someone to talk to without having to talk. Somebody that lets me speak without giving me unsolicited advice or telling me how I ‘should’ feel.

My head is like the weather today; foggy, grey and wet. Its damn dismal.

Rather than burble on, I will show you a Christmas card I’ve had since I was 19 or 20 years old (that’s more than 40 years). I bought two and gave one to my Dad. He thought it was hilarious. I kept another and have had it as a Christmas decoration every year since. It still reminds me of my Dad; I remember him reading it and laughing.

 

Dad's Christmas card

It suits my mood today.

https://lindaghill.com/2018/10/05/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-6-18/

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/10/06/rdp-saturday-burble/