Cartwheels ... Just Because

While walking along the seawall, I noticed a young bikini-clad woman performing a cartwheel on the beach.  This reminded me of an old photo taken at another local beach where my toddler daughter is cartwheeling naked on the sand.  A simple pleasure, done ... just because.  I got to thinking - when had I last executed a cartwheel?  How old was I?  Most likely in my twenties, three decades ago.  Where was I and who was I with?  What if on that day, someone had said, "Vera, this is the last time you will experience the joy of doing a cartwheel." Would I have laughed at the absurdity of that statement?  Would I have thought the person crazy?  Would I have then made a conscious effort to continue incorporating cartwheels into my life?  As I continued walking, I decided that another cartwheel was long overdue.  Arriving home, I placed my hands firmly on the grass, then swung my legs up and over.  It was not very graceful but it was a cartwheel nonetheless.  I am sure that my granddaughter will happily practise with me.

Bittersweet Day

Sitting here in the dark.  Well after midnight now.  Writing by the light of two small candles glowing beside my son's picture on the shelf. Earlier this evening, enjoying a leisurely family dinner here.  With everyone pitching in.  A few hours later, the girls, their husbands, the baby, and my friend all going home.  Now still experiencing that familiar bittersweet state.  Pleasure tinged with sadness.  Present from the planning and preparation right through to the clean up.  Lingering in my heart long after.  Every time.  Recognizing it earlier this afternoon.  While walking along the river trail.  The notion, "My heart breaks many times a day," presenting itself.  Aptly describing ones such as this.

Day of the Dead

An intriguing festival.  Day of the Dead.  Countries around the world celebrating memories of their deceased family and friends today. National holiday for some.  Creating altars with offerings of food and symbolic tokens for departed spirits.  Visiting relatives' graves, candles and flowers in hand.  Reciting funny stories, dancing, and eating sugar skulls.   Slight variations on the same theme depending on where it is being celebrated.   However, the overriding sentiment the same. Predominantly festive atmosphere full of colour and life.  In stark contrast to the prevailing attitude to death here in this part of the world. Primarily one of fear and separation.  Imagining immersion in a culture joyfully celebrating this day.  With such a healthy perspective. Receiving such pleasure just thinking about it.

Beauty in Dying

Fall equinox.  A new season begins.  Fresh crisp apples.  Juice droplets spraying out with every bite.  The comfort of a favourite sweater. Providing warmth against the cooler air.  Leaves soon to be piled high. Perfect for jumping into.  Moments of pure pleasure.  The most poignant aspect of fall, however, lying in its colours.  Those brilliant hues of oranges, yellows and reds.  Leaves embarking on the last leg of their journey.  Glorious to behold.  Impressed by the magnificence of this transformation.  Reviving a long held awareness that beauty can be found in dying.