On a quest for quiet

I just wanted quiet that day. I felt like my soul was bruised, like my skin was inside out and even the lightest of breezes on it would be painful. I had just heard that the life of my dear brother Alan would now be measured in months and I was mourning this news. Having cared for my parents in their last years, the pathway is similar to one I have walked before. As their needs and conditions change, your schedule and attention adapts to meet those needs, but you are often too busy to mourn the changes as they happen. My brother is in Manitoba. He has an illness that none of us, his family, was familiar with. Its progress has been relentless and difficult, robbing him of speech and movement and memory. I have not been there to see the steady erosion of his health. While I would not have him suffer further, the thought that there might be only months left of his physical presence here, hit me very hard. Grief has kind of an ebb and flow; sometimes overwhelming and sometimes easing and today the tide was coming in. 

I just wanted quiet..to sit on the porch and watch what was going on in the garden. There was however a tournament taking over our street and the ball diamonds across the road. Noise and traffic..an invasion. So I got in my car and left.

My son had called while I was crying and suggested a little 'baby time' might be in order. It is wonderful to have grown sons who offer their shoulders to their mother for the occasional meltdown. Grief needs to be expressed and shared... and then followed up with a snuggle from a sweet little person who is glad to see you. It helps and I am grateful.

Still, I wanted quiet. So I headed to the path by the river that leads to the pedestrian bridge. Normally this is a quiet path, but on this day there were cyclists and airplanes and boats on the river. At first I was angry, but then I thought that maybe when we cannot find external quiet, we have to find a place of internal quiet. 

" In the midst of movement and chaos, keep stillness inside of you"  - Deepak Chopra

So I decided that perhaps I did not need silence to have a place of quiet. So I forced myself to walk slowly, notice the small things and really appreciate my surroundings. 

Running Strawberry Bush presents more like a vine and you have to practically have your nose on the path to see these unique seed pods under the foliage.

Somebody gnawed a window in this mushroom to allow a glimpse of its inner structure.

When I saw this Grass Spider and his funnel web, I was awed by its architecture. I include this for Karen who finds them fascinating. I however, had no desire to make its further acquaintance.

At this time of year the forest is taking on a softer, rounder shape as vines of all sort begin to coat everything in sight. Included in this number, are One-Seeded Bur Cucumber vines with their prickled pod clusters and tightly wound tendrils.

Orange and yellow Jewelweeds are easy to find in late August, but this larger variety, also known as Himalayan Balsam is the tallest of the three and not so readily seen. 

From the pedestrian bridge I could see a solitary cormorant sunning on a rock. Maybe he wanted a little quiet too.

The view upstream included a heron fishing and a canoe just coming into view from around the bend.

White Snakeroot is blooming and something has traced a lovely pattern on its leaf. 

The meadow is fragrant with Joe Pye Weed and a variety of Goldenrods.

I saw a Great Spangled Fritillary in the meadow but it was too busy to pose. This one stopped briefly in my garden the day after.

A glimpse of blue amongst the yellow and pink in the meadow revealed Blue Lobelia, a lovely plant which I had never seen in this meadow before.

One leaves the meadow to the sound of the water in the brook.

Jack-in-the-pulpit plants have outgrown and shed their striped spring coats and these ruby fruit clusters are ready to be eaten so their seeds can be dispersed.

It was time to go home again. Did I see anything really extraordinary? Not especially. Do I still feel bruised and heart-sore? Yes. Do I feel quieter inside? Also yes. Will I need to walk tomorrow? Very likely. I guess that is why we have to 'practice' mindfulness. It does not come without working at it; a deliberate focusing of the mind in order to centre the heart and emotions. Will practice make perfect? I don't know. But maybe I will recognize sooner that I need to stop, or maybe I will be able to find that quietness more easily with time. I do know that life will continue to provide a need for it.