Small town summer feels nostalgic and safe. In my version of small town summer, there are bees working, firepits smoking, and the sound of birds and grass and bugs. Small town summer also has chunks of history - little fragments, like old fences and sheds in yards of houses that have been remodelled, which are still linked to the summers of the fifties and forties and thirties, when your grandparents were young, and they had one summer dress and two pair of trousers. Small town summer is going barefoot on the prickly grass, and slow stillness in the afternoons.

Summer Doze.

Hello & tid-bits.

Summer is here, or so it seems, green buds opening up, fruit trees blooming, scent of lilac, barbeque, cut grass, ozone, and the neighbour's pot, huge bumblebees blundering around - I catch these colours and smells and am intoxicated by a summer mood. I feel my little heart dancing with a new kind of joy - a joy that is "cancer free!!!" and so very grateful for living.

I've been away. I did a 14 hour drive to Vancouver and back with my sis-in-law to find an apartment, which we did, it's all lovely with blue, yellow, purple, and red paint, lots of windows, and most importantly allows us to keep our dog, Ares.

Life lately has been a bundle of joy, excitement, anxiety, hopefulness, fear, and anticipation. Our little house just went up for sale yesterday, and our fingers are crossed. I found out I got into grad school. We will be moving, sometime. So many things.

But anyway, I haven't stopped writing, or forgotten about this blog. I hope to get back to it now.

Threads.

Wow, it is one of those mornings where the sky is gloomy, but the birds are still singing. I have the upstairs window open a crack and a fresh breeze is filtering in. Life is like weather. It's unpredictable, really. You can make a forecast, but in the end you have to wait and see what the day actually brings. That's where I'm at in life right now. I still have symptoms of bladder cancer, and have been to the doctor and it is not an infection, so I fear the worst, but in reality I know my odds are actually low that it will recur. And I just can't know - not until my next test.

So, one thing I have been doing to remain in the moment is practicing meditation. It's amazing how a few minutes of it can really clear the mind. I love to visualize, even just visualizing the breath. And the other thing is music. I have been happily working on some super strange (for me) songs and feel excited. When I came from the doctor yesterday, all I wanted to do was be upstairs working on my songs.

What a thread of beauty and solace music has been for me throughout my entire life. I am so grateful for it! Can you relate? What are the threads in your life that seem to have kept things strung together for you over the years?

breathing life.

There is a whirling that you do in life sometimes, when you have to work hard to get through it. This whirling brings up a restless jumble of your desires and steadiness that unforeseen circumstances can cause to teeter, and you get the quick sensation that this moment truly is all that you have. You don't know about tomorrow, really you don't. You can plan and predict but there is no life there, there is only life right now in each short breath.

April Snow

It's a regular winter storm out there, with blowing snow and whiteness. I must be so used to it, because it doesn't bother me. It's forgivable for the way it temporarily covers all the spring drabness in a blanket of purity. It does kind of suck knowing that my dad has to be out plowing the roads when it hits where they live, though. As for me, I'm super-spoiled lately and don't ever have to go far if I don't want, so today it'll just be a quick grocery store jaunt and over to the arts centre where I volunteer on Thursdays. And right now, I get to enjoy the beautiful swirling from the upstairs window, in my cozy sweater and my mom's old knitted slipper socks.

I don't even know why I'm posting this right now. Maybe I just want connection to the outside world, and I like the feel of my fingers on the keyboard. I guess those are reasons enough. Alas, I will listen to Ani's song "Soft Shoulder" and finish my coffee.

Still Moments.

Today there is sunshine on brown streets and my anxiety is back. Life is a million things at once: anticipating my next screening in a month, preparing the big move to Vancouver, and the seemingly endless tasks, uncertainty, fear, and excitement that goes with all of it.

Right now, I am reminded of why I began this blog. It's about living and engaging in the moment, it's here for me to sink myself into my writing and let that be enough because it usually is. It's about enjoying life and it's wildness, even when things are scary and unsure, it's about feeling all the feelings, instead of numbing them. And when I can do that, I get stronger, I realize that I can get through whatever life brings. I realize that I can plan, but that life is unexpected - that's what makes life painful, but it's also what makes it so precious and endearing. Writing helps ease the anxiety - it brings me back to the feeling workshop I used to give at my old job - it's a healthy way of coping with an emotion.

So now I'm looking out at the sun on the street and how it is drying up the dirty snowbanks in the fronts of the neighbours' yards. Crinkly brown, bud-less shrubs and trees loom around three white houses. A bald man in jeans walks by, sun gleaming on his head. I hear the deep breathing of my dog in the room. And for this moment there is only stillness.