Not everyone is happy to point out their own short comings. I don’t like it, but I do it.

I tend to wear most all my feelings on my sleeve and speak my thoughts way more often than just thinking my thoughts.

Pointing out personal short comings is one thing, pointing out how stupid or silly I feel in the world is worse.

I’ve always struggle with my lack of education and the feelings I have of being stupid. And, for the record – I am not stupid. In fact at times I am pretty smart. Still, it took me a while to accept this, realize that I am teachable, but I can still fall back into feeling quite stupid, quite easily.

Last night, I had that feeling. The “I’m a dolt” kind of feeling.

This particular time is really not that big of a deal and yet, I’m still shaking my head and the old feelings of being a goof, of being stupid have been raised in me… again.

Here is what happen.

I started a new book the other night. The book is Island by Alistair MacLeod. This is very well written. Yet, like a lot of books, this seem to take a few chapters to get into the swing of it.

Still, it had my attention and I knew it would be worth the struggle.

The struggle for me was that I couldn’t follow the story.

I would read a chapter, start to get into the story, and think, oh boy, I’ve got a great read here! Then, I turned the page, into the next chapter, and I couldn’t find the story or the characters.

It felt like I was starting a new book, but I also know that sometimes, writers take side tracks and have stories inside stories.

So, I persevered.

By the end of the chapter again, I was well into it and loving the book and the story. I kept thinking the author will tie up the loose ends soon.

Then in next chapter I’d fall again into not following the story and couldn’t for the life of me keep track of who was doing what and wondered where I had missed the connection between this chapter and the others…but, I kept reading because this chapter was interesting, and maybe the boy in the first chapter isn’t important to the girl in the second, or the man in the third.

Last night, I was half way through this book and while I really enjoyed each chapter – I could not for the life of me connect the dots as a book with a particular story.

Uhm… finally, confused and frustrated… I read the book jacket to maybe get an idea of the synopsis of the book.

What I read… “this is the best collection of short stories…”

Duh.

I only feel a little stupid.

I haven’t publicly written much about my dad for a while — but he sure is on my mind. He is true to form and not going gently into that good night we call death. But, others tell me and I’m close to believing them, that he is going.

He is one tough cookie — and while I do think every phone call I get will now be the news of his death, he continues on.

It is amazing how a body or is it the mind keeps us going, when really, everything is shutting down piece by piece. He is hardly alive. But, hardly alive is not dead.

My brother, Art is his chief cook and bottle washer — in other words – Art is doing the very hard work of caring for dad. He is my hero and while he is not doing a lot of cooking these days, as dad doesn’t eat, nor is he washing bottles; he does spend a lot of his time cleaning up.

Art is there, full time, on call, and dad is well cared for, not in pain, and safe. I can not shout high praise enough for my brother.

When I was talking to Art the other day, he brought up a very interesting idea, that I’ve been pondering on it a lot.

My dad is an atheist. He has been since his time in the war on Iwo Jima. He says that is where he “lost his faith”. All my life, my dad has talked about and just about, made a religion out of his non belief in god.

So, anyway – Art seems think that because dad believes that death is the end of everything — dad doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want it to end. He doesn’t want to end.

Art wonders, if dad thought he would be greeted by say, Grandma or some other loving presence, or if he thought his life would go on in some other fashion, maybe, just maybe, dad wouldn’t hang on to his life so hard.

I don’t believe in a god, gods or an afterlife either. I also think when we die, we die. In fact my belief or some say, lack there of, brings me great comfort.

Still, for some strange reason, this really bothers other people.

In fact while I was in NM this last time, and many times before this – I was surprised at how many “well meaning” friends of dad came to talk him into being saved with jesus or getting anointed or having last rites preformed on him. So many people — worried for his afterlife. But, none seemed to worry for his now. He has spent so much of his last life force arguing with these people. Saying NO, time and again, is exhausting. He does not want the grand blessing. He is sure he does not need saving. And yet, finding someone to talk to about his death without this god stuff is hard to find.

Dad and I had many a conversation about this when I was there but still, where are the dusters when we need them? Perhaps this is why is it so hard for him let go. Perhaps not. Who knows?

If you garden, you’ve asked this question.

How do you want your zucchini tonight?

I’ve spent the last few days in the guest/sewing room of the house. I’m cutting up orange fabric and sewing it back together.

Sometimes, I think I will make a small wall hanging, then a lap quilt — then I think, no I want to wrap myself in a huge orange blanket; cover it in orange hair, throw up on it and maybe even add a hint of pee in the corner. Too much? Sorry.

I miss Peet. I still have not be able to even say out loud that he is dead without bursting into tears.

Cutting up orange fabric helps – I think.

While I do this, I am listening to an audio book.

Us by David Nichols is a harmless book about an average man whose wife wants a divorce after their one child reaches the age of 18. He of course doesn’t see it coming and I of course find the wife selfish and the son an asshole.

But, it’s an easy listen and I like the voice of the guy reading it.

I also just finished reading Larry’s Party by Carol Shields.

In a weird way the two books are very similar. Both are about regular men — nothing special about either. Both are just novels of the ‘day in a life’ variety. He was born, he lived, and he died type of story. The author fills in a few blanks here and there, but really not much happens and tomorrow still comes.

Not every book has to be about a prize winner, hero, or the movers and shakers of the world. I suspect that more of us, tend to thrive on the day to day dramas and joys.

Right now, I find getting through the day to be good enough.

Today I was thinking that I could give a book report. I’ve read three books recently and could report on them.

I also thought I could write about the orange quilt I am in the process of making.

Then again I could write about our garden and brag about all the great veg we’re getting from it.

I could… but I’m not going to.

I’m going to let another day go by without posting.

We had good news yesterday and took full advantage. The fire in our area was deemed 100% contained, and while we are thrilled, I’ll do the happy dance when the fire is declared out. Still, contained is good news. I hope soon, we will look back on this, as part of history during our first six months of living in Sechelt.

It was nice to see the community come together during this time. Volunteers helping and supporting each other and the fire fighters, in different ways including keeping each other up to date with news. Volunteers prepared meals and funds were set up for the family of fire fighter John Phare, who lost his life last week fighting this fire.

The sky is, at times, blue again, and we can still smell smoke every once in a while. I started going on walks again, but my breathing is laboured, so I don’t go far, but I am able to pick blackberries for the freezer when I do go out.

The big and fun news for yesterday, was that Ken and I finally launched Pearl.

Ken built this rowing boat over the last couple of years and I have to say, she’s a beaut!
A long time ago, I made a business cards for Ken with the tag line… “if you can afford to wait for quality.” That tag line is perfect in describing Ken’s work as a craftsman.

He never seems to hurry on any project, and he always makes something so incredibly gorgeous, that the wait has always been worth it.

We put Pearl in the inlet yesterday. We rowed up and across from where the fire burned. It was the first time we saw any of the damage. There was still a bit of smoke among the burned trees, but it was more wifty than the big bellows we have become used to.

We also saw such wonders in the ocean as huge white jelly fish, that looked like big (really big) poached eggs.

We had a nice day and look forward to many more days on the water in Pearl.

Are we getting back to normal? No – with no orange kitty in the house, we don’t know anything about normal.

July 14, 1900 – Pearl was born.

Pearl was my Grandma and truthfully, I believe she is the reason I am whole.

July 14th is also Bastille Day and the French celebrate with song and drink.

When my Grandma was older, she lived in an assisted living home, and one July 14th, they gathered together to sing and celebrate Bastille Day in the afternoon.

When the singing was over, my Grandma said, “that was the worse birthday party I ever had. I didn’t even get a cake!”

Of course there was a huge party planned for her later in the evening, but I think being a true Hudson… well, the world should stop when one of us has a birthday — screw other celebrations!

I sure miss her.

Pearl in 1941

If you go for a walk with a dog, you take a plastic bag so you can pick up his poop.

If you live where we live, and you go for a walk; you take a plastic bag for an entirely different reason!

Me, me, me, me… It seems all I talk about is me.

I truly appreciate all the support, friendship, and love that has come my way this last month. It would have been unbearable without you who listened and loved me, as I ranted, raged and cried.

It has been rough. Thank you!

And now…enough… bring on the turn around. Yang needs to fold back on itself.

Today, not only do I want to, and need to — most importantly — I am ready to, raise my head, open my heart, and look outward.

Enough about me. How are you?

“It is not a sign of good health to be well adjusted to a sick society.” —Krishnamurti

Subjective Well-being (SWB) is a term psychologist use to measure how individuals and whole societies are doing.

To be well in hard times is not always appropriate.

People should be sad in sad times. And right now, I am so very sad.

I also know that as an addict – I can wallow in my sadness — not only wallow, but go deeper into it, and in no time, make it all about me. I can forget all the reasons I’m sad, and just stay sad.

But, as a teacher and practitioner – I’ve learned again, and again, that what ever I’m feeling right now, will change.  Drama, trauma, joys and celebrations are constant.

For me, the practice of tai chi, qigong, and going for long walks are what shift not only my physicality, but my mental, and emotional state.

And that is why… sometimes I choose not to practice. Sometimes I want to wallow in sadness.

Sometimes, I don’t want to move on.

The hardest part of any practice for me is the stepping into it —
especially when I know it will help.