Tag Archive | Seasons

Ease into Spring

The whispers playing off the breeze
entice us to look closer 
at the bouquet of color
rising up 
from winter’s cool hands

We catch our breath
and like 
water rushing
around the rocks

we ease into spring

 

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph      

©Alexis Rose, image source: Pinterest

Moon

I believe the moon holds the secrets
of the trees whispering in the night

When I was younger
I knew it held
wishes and dreams, terror and screams

At times I’d look away
when reminded that its fullness
provided excuses for others to inflict pain

As if that rock in the sky
could provide permission; proclaim an edict
that on these nights as the season’s turn…

Then I learned that if it held the secrets in the night
It also held the truth
It’s deep craters holding the truth
safe and protected

Today when I heard the pull of the tides
and felt the expansion of emotions
I looked up at the big rock in the sky
and said
the moon is just the moon, and it is beautiful!

©Alexis Rose, photographer: Shelley Bauer from the collaboration: Of Earth and Sky

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph    

 

 

Tender Circadian Rhythm

My tender circadian rhythm
does not like to Spring forward
or Fall back.
It feels confused and lost
in the fog.
My usual disturbed and restless
sleep now has an assistant of
early a.m. risings; 4,5,6
oh, forget it, I’ll just get up!
I know it’s just for a few days
and mine is not the only complaint.
But it’s 6 a.m. and I’m wide awake
feeling that irritability song rising
to a crescendo.
I’ll stumble as I wait for my
tender circadian rhythm to remember
that it’s all okay
and part of this is
waiting for the warmth of May.

©Alexis Rose, image source Pinterest, visualizeuscom

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph    

Perspective in Minus 10 Degrees

This morning when I woke up, I thought about all the things I needed to get done today.  The list of chores, errands, and the title for a new book I am thinking about writing swirling into a nice time-managed schedule.

With my mind in full active mode, I tried to settle down and set an intention for the day. Setting an intention is something I usually do before I  get out of bed. I grabbed my phone to jot down my to-do list and to check the temperature to see how cold it was outside. I was greeted with negative 10 degrees.

That’s cold! Even for Minnesota, that’s cold! I live in the cities, not in the hinterlands.  My to-do list in my mind immediately quieted, and my intention for the day became clear. Just Be, Just Stop, Just Sit, Just Rest and Breathe!

I also gained some perspective:  My family and friends are all safe and sound living in homes with working furnaces. Our critters are indoor animals (although, I very much felt for my dog this morning when I let her out). It’s a clear day, the sun is shining bright and there is no wind. No Wind is a gift believe me!

It will do me a world of good to rest today. I have just begun to feel better after a three-month-long illness, and an Everest size mountain of stress. My Mantra since the beginning of the year is to listen to my inner self and to have trust and faith in the process. I have continued to learn not to react, but to sit, observe, and then respond. That’s a lot of introspection for 8:00 in the morning!

Minus 10 degrees can provide excellent perspective.

Disclaimer: Minnesotans tend to have a lot of chutzpah when it comes to weather. We are made of tough stuff living in the north. I wouldn’t be surprised if in a few hours when I actually do decide to run an errand or two, I’ll  hear myself say, “Meh, it’s not too bad, at least there’s no wind, and look the sun is shining.”

Take a peek at the lows that are in store for us in the next few days! I yearn for summer to see the 90’s and a few 100’s.

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph    

Transience

The past 3 1/2 years of blogging have been wonderful! I never imagined myself as a blogger. In fact, when I first began to blog I really thought blogging was largely about sharing recipes or travel pictures for family and friends. Wow, I was so wrong!  I absolutely enjoy bloggers who share recipes and travel adventures. I look forward to reading their posts and make a point to follow as many as I can. But the range of bloggers and endless topics is an amazing peek into worlds and connections that are priceless.

I didn’t think I would find myself in the niche of a mental health blogger. Maybe it’s not really a niche. Maybe my posts just fall into that category because, besides my poetry, that’s the part of my life I write about; I have the most passion to write about. The truth is, that the community here on WordPress has become a part of my healing journey.

Writing and connecting with so many other bloggers from around the world has opened my eyes to something I feel I know for sure: We want to feel happiness, we want to be seen, and we want to be heard. Whatever that looks like or feels like is completely individualized.

We have a community.  It’s open and it grows and it is inclusive. The country where we write from, the time of day or night, the topics from just a hello, to deep thoughts and feelings are welcome. People are interesting…we may not think we are, but we are! We are also transient.

I found myself thinking about that transience a lot the past few days. We weave in and out of each other’s lives by virtue of a post. We cheer each other’s victory’s, good recipes, beautiful pictures, job searches, and day-to-day musings. We provide support for our health issues, our fears, our struggles, and our disappointments. We write opinions and comments, and “likes’ when we want to make sure that someone knows that they have been seen and heard.

It doesn’t really matter to me if we have been following each other for three years or three days, I find I’m invested. I have a full life outside of blogging, and I’m also a blogger. If I didn’t find a connection, I wouldn’t be doing this. I take the time to read through the posts, as I hope people take the time to read through mine. Sometimes we find a solid connection, sometimes it’s fleeting, sometimes it’s just a respectful read.

I understand the transience of social media and blogging. I understand the impermanence of people coming in and out of our lives. Some of them become our teachers, some of them become cautionary tales, some of them we find are our neighbors and we become friends. It’s a strange and wonderful world.

As I find myself thinking the last few days of bloggers who have passed away or those who have simply moved on to other things in their lives, or the ones who have cried out for help and went silent, I feel a sense of peace. For a moment in time, we have provided each other (whether your following is 1 or 10,000) with a way to be seen, be heard, and to connect.

Thank You to all who take the time to follow me!

Photo by Slava Bowman on Unsplash

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph    

 

My Tender Circadian Rhythm

My tender circadian rhythm
does not like to Fall back
or Spring forward.
It feels confused and lost
in the fog.
My usual disturbed and restless
sleep now has an assistant of
early a.m. risings; 3,4,5,6
oh, forget it, I’ll just get up!
I know it’s just for a few days
and mine is not the only complaint.
But it’s 3 a.m. and I’m wide awake
feeling that irritability song rising
to a crescendo.
I’ll stumble as I wait for my
tender circadian rhythm to remember
that it’s all okay
and part of this is
the November gray.

©Alexis Rose, image source Pinterest, visualizeuscom

Thank you for reading my books: If I Could Tell You How It Feels, and Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph    

A Tiny Tale of Two Friends

Grace and I have been friends for 41 years. We were roommates for four years, we got married around the same time, our children are fairly close in age, and we have always lived within ten minutes of each other. Although we look nothing alike, when we go out people often ask if we are sisters.

Our story began as two crazy party-all-the-time teenage roommates having adventure, after adventure, which means we have a vault of secrets that we keep safe for each other. A vault with a combination so locked down that it could never be cracked.

Then we settled down. Both of us married, had careers, children, houses, developed interests apart from each other, and navigated the nuances of life. We even collaborated on a beautiful inspirational book. I wrote poetry set to Grace’s watercolor paintings that we printed and sold locally.

As life would have it, both our daughters (who are also good friends) have gotten married within months of each other. Grace helped me pick out my mother-of-the-bride dress, and in turn, I helped Grace find the perfect dress. When we were younger, we never sat around and mused that one day we would be buying dresses for our children’s wedding together. But here we are, 41 years into our friendship and this is where we’re at in our cycle of life.

When we celebrated my daughter’s wedding in April, Grace was there with her whole family.  I was grateful, it was fabulous. I was busy talking to all the other guests but held tight to Grace’s hand whenever I saw her. Yesterday, we celebrated her beautiful daughter’s wedding. Watching my daughter walk in her wedding, and having my whole family with me, I was able to relax and enjoy this wonderful rite-of-passage our friendship was experiencing.

Ours is one of those friendships that have weathered many storms. Not the storms of strife and arguments, but the storms of life. We have been there for each other through great joy and deep sorrow. This past year, we have experienced both. But the joy of watching our daughters find their respective soulmates and marry in ceremony’s that befitted their personalities put a lot of things into perfect perspective.

As Grace and I, alone on the dance floor danced to Beat-It last night at the reception, instead of two middle-aged women, we were  18 years old again, standing in our apartment dancing with candlesticks as microphones using the windows facing the woods as our audience, knowing exactly how each other was going to move and twirl.

When we are old and live next door to each other in the assisted living home, or a tiny house community, blasting Aerosmith, Led Zeppelin, Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen and all the other bands of our youth, I’ll still look at her, and with a wink and a smile say, “A good friend will bail you out of jail, A best friend will be sitting next to you saying…damn that was fun.” 

image source: google