May | 2022 | Paths Taken

The world is in turmoil.
Ukraine is being destroyed – men fight and die while women and children flee.
Closer to home, children went to school eager and carefree – but were stalked by terror and death.
Families and communities grieve -will nothing change?
I think the pandemic is over – and then there is another variant, another wave.
How does one cope with the headlines and the newscasts?

I try to reframe my days with the simplicity and beauty that Tara Shannon presents through Rabbit and Bear.©Tara Shannon
“What’s the matter, Rabbit? asked Bear
“I feel anxious . . . like the ground is falling away under my feet,” said Rabbit.
“What do you see around you? asked Bear.
Rabbit paused. ” . . .I see you, and the sky, the trees, flowers, birds and grass.”
“What do you hear? asked Bear.
“Your voice, the birds singing, the rustling of the leaves as the wind blows through, and the sound of water flowing in the stream,” said Rabbit.
“What can you smell and taste? asked Bear.
“The flowers and this lovely cup of tea you made for me, said Rabbit.
Now . . . what do you feel? asked Bear.
“The ground, solid under my feet.” said Rabbit, “and love. I feel loved.”
©Tara Shannon 2022

I stepped outside. I looked and listened and smelled the world in my backyard.

I saw the natural world where wild strawberries still bloom and birds still sing while building nests. The earth smelled clean and glowed after a cleansing rain.
The earth will dry again, and my fears and worries will return, but for now they have been washed away.

Thank you, Bear, for your advice to Rabbit.

On Facebook I recently read a poem by Donna Ashworth that touched my heart. This is the first verse.

When someone has gone,

you can bring them back

for just a little while

by talking them into life

by painting a picture with your memories and your words

breathing their essence back into existence

for just a few moments.

Image and text by Donna Ashworth

May is my favourite month. It flood me with memories and fills my heart with joy as the world revives. It takes me back to my childhood on the farm when May meant new calves and piglets and cows turned out to pasture. Winter clothes were set aside, and my brother and I went fishing in the brook.

May means Mother’s Day. As a child all I could offer were the purple violets picked in the pasture, but they were always proudly placed in a little juice glass. My appreciation grew ever stronger, and I was fortunate to have my mother nearby for many years. She is now prominent among my May memories. This picture was taken in 2002. I was with Mom when she proudly accepted the Dutch medal on my father’s behalf.

My husband and I were married in May, and each anniversary abounds with reflection and memories. Scrapbooks bulge with photos, but I respect my husband’s preference for no online presence. I’ll only say this year’s close-to-home adventure included covered bridges.