GHOSTS

 

Some people believe in ghosts.   Some people do not.  Me? I’m not sure.  As I am interested in the subject I decided to just turn my imagination loose.  Let’s see what she comes up with.

 

Ghosts?  Hmmmmmmm…… “How about a Ghost World?” she thought, a whole entity of “other beings” floating around, looking for places to alight and whisper eerie mouthings or make sudden appearances to someone in the “People World”. Yes, this would seem to be the answer.  Those people who do have visits from ghosts report a wide variety of sightings or sensations.  These visits don’t always cause trepidation, fear and trembling, but sometimes even gratitude.

 

How does a ghost decide to whom it will put in an appearance?  To someone who believes in such a phenomenon?  Or even better, to someone who has always said he does not believe in such things?  My imagination ponders the questions and decides the latter must be correct.  What satisfaction would our member of the ‘Ghost World’ derive if he was not to get a reaction of disbelief from his chosen ‘People World’ member?  The phantom chooses wisely and relishes the responses with anticipation.

 

 

Old houses are notorious for being haunted by old ghosts; perhaps an ancient being that walks through walls or becomes a transparent creature that suddenly appears at the foot of the bed where a sleeping occupant awakens from a deep sleep. “Who’s there?” he mumbles, coming awake, the hair on his arms standing straight.  There is a cold draft in the room the like of which he has never sensed before and wonders if he is afraid, or just in awe.

 

A woman drives alone at night on a foggy, lonely road and sees an apparition (how else does one describe the sighting up ahead?) hovering above the pavement.  She slows the car and suddenly notices a small cross covered in dying flowers beside the road, obviously the site of a fatal accident not too long ago. She looks again at the specter still up ahead, flickering.  It rather has the shape of a young girl.  A reminder? Of what? Then it is gone. She shudders and drives on hoping to quietly leave the desolate, eerie spot, to be safely home.

 

Children see ghosts too but never as an unfriendly or frightening specter.

 

A little boy, aged about 7, was swimming in the ocean one day.  He was a good swimmer, having been raised since birth in their seaside home and had learned the skill at a very early age.  His parents had been painstaking when teaching him the rules of water safety.  This particular day he had been happily practicing his freestyle, daydreaming a little and enjoying the mesmerizing strength of his stroke.  Suddenly something made him stop, look around and realize he had broken the two main rules of ocean swimming.  “One, do not swim out to sea, away from shore, and two, do not swim alone – ever!” he heard the memory of his father repeating this edict during his lessons.  He had forgotten all this with the abandonment of a 7 year old.  He realized his arms were tired, his breathing laboured and he was on the edge of panic.  Suddenly he felt a nudge to his shoulder.  He turned and saw a big grin in a long narrow snout, a head without a body.  He felt no fear, just gratitude that he was no longer alone.  This presence was giving him little shoves, gradually increasing to big pushes sending him body surfing expertly over the tops of the waves towards shore.  It was, he decided, a ghost dolphin, an angel-in-waiting, saving his life.  After being deposited gently on the safe sand, he turned and there was his friend doing the famous dolphin leap, well above the surface of the water, his transparent body revealing that he truly was a ghost, gradually fading away.  This wonderful haunting would stay in his memory for life.  Never again would he be foolish or thoughtless when enjoying the magic of the ocean.

 

I have enjoyed the musings of my imagination and when I come back, if I come back, I hope I return as a ghost. One who will not frighten, but give comfort where it is needed, bringing serenity and peace, love and compassion to those who are in need. No fear from this ghost, no thoughts of grief, no feelings of sorrow and loss.

 

“Good work”, I said to my imagination, “Thank you”.

 

 

 

 

Kathleen,

May 24, 2008 

DANCING WITH MY IRONING BOARD

 

For about 3 years she had been sickly, feeling ill, just plain unwell.  All during that long three year span she had worsened. She had been to first her family doctor and from there was sent to a series of specialists. Her symptoms were many and seemingly contradictory. There was pain in her muscles and bones, rashes, extreme weight loss, blisters, bouts of depression from the multiple symptoms.  All the doctors came up with different ideas and a pharmacy of prescriptions, each one hopefully to be the one to cure all this.  It didn’t happen. The drugs did some onerous things sometimes, at one point she puffed up like a little chipmunk, but didn’t gain any weight.  They operated on her, keeping her in hospital for a long time for more searching.  Still, she was sick.

 

With all these doctors doing various things, none of them talked to the others, they didn’t share their knowledge, or at least if they did, they weren’t able to put it all together.  Until one day, one doctor did see everything collectively in one explosive conclusive picture and said “You have Celiac Disease”.  She was put on a strict, wheat-free diet and almost immediately started on her way to recovery.  Now, having adjusted to her diet and her body responding like it had been given a new lease on life, which it has, she is healthy and happy and oh so grateful, which is what led to the title of this little story.

 

Talking to her on the phone the other morning she sounded particularly buoyant and I asked her what she was doing.  She laughed and said “Ironing”.  I said “Well, that’s exciting and she said “Actually, I feel so well I’m dancing with my ironing board”!               Kathleen, June 30,2008

           

WHAT IS CREATIVITY?

 

No one really knows how Creation took place.

 

Was it when God decided to use the Big Bang to bring our planet into being?

 

OR    did He toil for six days of hard work followed by a day of rest?

 

OR    did it occur by another one of the many theories?

 

So how can one really describe the true meaning of Creativity?

 

Not I.

 

Kathleen, April 2, 2008

Compromise

COMPROMISE

 

An ageing couple, having been together for so many years, is often asked “What is your secret to such a long marriage”? One of them usually answers “No secret, just compromise”, and they smile. They remember how many times they compromised about issues over the years.  Big ones, small ones but always important at the time.  Each issue could be capable of breaking the marriage if they didn’t – together – reach an agreement, and once  reached,  live up to it, working hard until this particular issue could be called resolved.  It was the law.  Oh, there were arguments, there were tears, especially if  it was a subject on which they couldn’t easily reach an agreement.  Remember the old saying “Never go to bed mad”? That should be such an easy one but  sometimes, in their case, come bed time, she would still be fuming and he would kiss her goodnight (or  try to) and then roll over and go to sleep!   Sometimes he was lucky to wake up alive! When he inevitably did, it was always cheerfully as if nothing had happened   She couldn’t live with her continuing  animosity, so they compromised.  Other times, after a rather heated discussion over a decision, perhaps regarding one of the children, he would finally say “Okay, you win”. In her mind that kind of win was not acceptable so it was time to discuss some more.  This often lasted for quite a long time but in the long run it usually came back to old faithful – compromise. In this scenario it usually resulted in a compromise between the child and the parents.

 

There is much more to a lasting marriage in this union of two people.   It takes hard work, a lot of laughter and mutual respect.

 

Oh, I almost forgot, they tell me that there has to be a lasting love involved in this process and the very best thing?  the relationship keeps on improving as they get more practice.

 

 

 

Kathleen

April 30, 2008

MY ABSENT IMAGINATION

 

 

One day – last Tuesday I think, I was having a particularly uninspiring day.  My Imagination, my friend, was not lurking around the periphery of my being, waiting for me to welcome her to join me for a day of musings and conversation.  I missed her and wondered where she had gone, unable to call her to my side with a mere blink of an eye.  I felt lonely, bereft and sad.

 

Then I realized, while I was feeling sorry for myself, she was off having fun without me.  I opened up my mind and there she was pretending to be a nosy little breeze, flitting in and out of the minds of others, just teasing. So I joined her. As we sauntered along I noticed a stranger coming towards me and suddenly he got a startled look on his face and I knew that my pesky little friend, Imagination, had jumped into his head and shown him something, and then just as quickly left him. You could see on his face that he was thinking “what was that”?, totally perplexed and I laughed. She is not a malevolent little piece of imagery and would never dump mean thoughts onto someone but whatever she made him think about for just that instant, it took him aback. Perhaps she made him imagine he was basking on a warm beach or soaring high and free on a waft of air in a glider or galloping across a beautiful desert landscape. Never mind he had never been on a horse in his life!

 

So, we carried on that way, my Imagination and I just meandering along. I saw astonished looks on several faces that day, always followed by a look of awe for a second followed by a rather sheepish grin. She had done it again, my wee friend, had amused and delighted me because she always shared with me the image she had placed in the stranger’s mind. All this fun since I had finally invited her to join me for awhile, instead of brooding because she wasn’t there. She’s not too fond of brooding.  I must remember that.

 

 

Kathleen

April 22, 2008 

 

 

DEFINITION OF MAGIC

                     MAGIC

 

M               magic can come from inventive people                        

                  OR is created by a natural phenomenon

  such as the full moon or exquisite

  beauty sprung from Mother Earth.

 

 

A               can be an Arrangement between faeries

  and elves to bring the concept of

  magic to mere humans who need a spurt

  of enlightenment. Only faeries and

  their cohorts can provide this type

  of magic.

 

G               is for Goodness, for humour, for love,

  for happiness bestowed upon us in most

  unusual ways You will feel it – the

                                        magic.

 

 

I               depicts the Inspiration bestowed on us

  when the magic engulfs us – suddenly

  with wisdom.  Where does it come from?

  that is the magic.

 

C              is Contentment known only to those who

  allow the magic of the universe into

  our hearts.  We know who we are and

  are grateful.

 

                        Kathleen, April 2, 2008

NEW MEMBER OF THE FAMILY

 

 

1. NEW  MEMBER OF THE FAMILY

 I am the newest member of our family. In two days I will be  8 months old.  I prefer not to be called “a Special Needs Child”, a cliché so often used to explain my differences.  I am  special though – special in that:

-         I was a complete surprise when I was born (not that kind of a surprise, of course they knew I was coming!)

-         at first the miracle of me  was bewildering to my Mom and Dad and all the family members gathered ‘round

-         the urgency of my medical condition outweighed all the other problems and  everyone had  to be accepting of me first, taking care of my immediate needs, knowing they would  learn the many caregiver requirements they would all face later.

 And we did it, our family, the  whole family.

 First I was sent to Children’s Hospital in Vancouver where I stayed, with my Mom and Dad and other family members by  my side for quite a long time, then home, first to the hospital here and then home-home (being where I was going to live with my parents and my brothers).  What a day that was for us all – talk about challenges.

 There has been much for my parents  to study,  new roles for them to learn, those of doctor, nurse, constant caregiver, 24/7.  Boy, for such a tiny being, I am a lot of work. They had to juggle the feelings of  my  brothers, especially the youngest by facing his bewilderment and at the same time calming him by understanding his fears.  After all, the baby sister he wanted so badly did not turn out exactly as he had expected.  He hadn’t known, of course,  that so much of Mom and Dad’s and big brother’s time would be taken up looking after me instead of lavishing the attention on him to which he had been accustomed.  In spite of this he loves me a lot.

 Our job is just beginning.  My first heart surgery (actually the second, the first having been done when I was only two days old) has just been done, a major undertaking by so many caring professionals .  We are rejoicing at this knowing it will make me stronger and healthier and better able to cope with more procedures in the future;  how many times we don’t know but we do know we will all  be up to the demands, for by then we will have had lots of practice.

  It has been difficult and exciting with new challenges and revelations every day,  new medical problems to new relationships with the people I am learning to  recognize as belonging to me.  When I smile at them with love they get all excited and fuss over me and I adore them.  I also have grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, just the greatest support group ever.

 Now they are all waiting patiently and anxiously for me to recover and return home-home.   
   

 Yes, I am indeed ‘special’ and my name is Grace.

 

April 10, 2008

Kathleen

 

 

MY ANNOYED IMAGINATION

MY ANNOYED IMAGINATION

 

My friend, called Imagination, is a part of me and occupies an exciting corner of my psyche.  We have become close since I first realized I have her.  She has developed into an important part of my life, taking me on little side trips of discovery wherever it pleases us both at the time.  Still, she does not like to be ignored, as I have recently been doing, and she is annoyed. How do I know this? She disappears, simply goes away and hides and I miss her.

 

It has come to this – I think we had better explore her irritation, not a very pleasant endeavor, but everyone experiences a little angst from time to time and she wants to share hers with me. So….here we go on a wee investigative trip, into her huffiness; let’s see what bugs her.

 

First and foremost of course is the fact that some people insist they have no imagination at all.  Of course they do, they just don’t know how to relax and invite her into their hearts.  She’s waiting there, for the asking, to take them on journeys and adventures, to broaden their minds and bestow such joy if they would only pay attention and welcome her.

 

Her sadness deepens as she focuses her thoughts on me and my neglect.  She stamps her little foot and says “Look at me – recognize me, because I am a part of you!”  Suddenly there is quiet all around us – “I think I have been heard” she says. Yes, she has and I know her feelings are directed mostly at me for ignoring her and thinking, even temporarily, that I don’t need what she has to offer. It is time to welcome her back. “Don’t be unhappy” I say. “I will take your hand and I will join you for a journey of your choice. We will laugh and play and remember the important things in life”. And we did – her moodiness dissipated and we soared together, carefree in our abandonment, for that is her greatest offering, the freedom to imagine our most wonderful dreams.

 

Tomorrow is another day and being the human that I am, I will probably forget her again, incur her wrath once more. But I am wiser now and I will quickly recognize her presence anew and we will again explore our universe together.

 

We all have this wonderful companion called Imagination and have only to welcome her into our hearts.

 

 

Kathleen

March 2008

I AM A GARDEN

I AM A GARDEN

 

I am a garden, a flower garden, at least that’s what I call myself.  Real gardens look at me with disdain, even pity. “You’re not a garden, you are just a bunch of wild flowers, grown from seed thrown willy nilly by some child years ago.  Hmmph.  That’s what you are and what you will remain”.

 

My feelings are not hurt by these remarks – in fact I smile and all my flowers smile and bob their heads in the sun.  We are a wild and carefree patch of space, a group of diverse and beautiful blossoms.  Being wild, my blooms are not limited to one brief time of explosion, but diverse, one following the other in a wild array of colour and substance that glows in the sunshine.

 

I shall live on as long as there is rain and sun to sustain my life. My flowers will turn up their faces to greet the elements and bend in submission when the forces are great, only to spring back again to bob their heads in joy when all is calm.

 

 

 

Kathleen,

Feb.26, 2008

I AM A TREE

I am dying.  It is lonely here now.  I am the last in my group.  Once I was so proud, so tall, so regal. My branches were strong – swaying with the strongest onslaught of wind and rain, firm against the soft, heavy burden of snow. Let me tell you what happened.  I was invaded by a multitude of parasitic creatures called (no, I cannot even bear to say the name, it is so repulsive to me). I was not alone in this attack high in the desert hills; all my fellow pines suffered the same fate.  At first I didn’t even notice the discolouration of my needles, it was so slight, didn’t notice that my beautiful inner trunk had begun to crumble.  Next came the continuing change to my needles, the rusty red, the identifying colour of the disease.  They continued to darken, to weaken, clinging for a long time to my branches, reluctant to leave the security of my sturdy limbs. Except these branches are not so sturdy anymore, it is not so easy for the needles to cling, so they drop, silently, sadly, permanently. So this is the process of a dying tree – many dying trees, thousands of us succumbing to the evil blight; left high and dry, presenting to the world a harsh, dry cacophony of red-rust across acres of sadness.   This is not generally known, but we trees communicate with each other by a soft rustling or shushing, a conversation of sorts.  What I am understanding is that we could have been restored to health simply by the occurrence of cold – very cold weather over a fairly brief period of time.  Nature chose not to grant this – perhaps it is her way of starting over, getting rid of the old and replacing us with new, vibrant seeds to grow into strong vibrant trees. All of this of course presents only the conclusions the other trees and I have reached because we have no way of truly knowing the real reason for our collective demise after so many years of healthy growth, regal bearing and supremacy in the forest.  All that is gone now and I am preparing to die. BUT just watch – my rebirth will take place. One day it will be very silent in the forest. Suddenly there will be a small pop, a tiny noise – a seed in a cone has been  warmed by the spring sun and struggles to break free, to nestle into the warm earth.  That will be me, being reborn as a new beginning pine tree. It will take many years to return my fellow trees and I to our previous glory – It will happen but it will be slow.  The next time you go for a walk or a hike in the hills, tread gently and lightly and give me a chance to establish my roots, to sink deeply into the mother earth and I will flourish and grow and be a Ponderosa Pine once again.