Thirty of One Hundred Summer Days

And just like that, the sweetest days of summer end. May and June, the soft, flowering months of the year flew by on the wings of songbirds. Here, there are clouds and rain today. It's muggy and buggy. Everything drips with moisture, big, fat water droplets on the foliage. The air and greenery hang heavy with wetness. Only a few days ago, the ground in my garden cracked from dryness after days and days of clear, beautiful, sunny weather. Most of it punctuated with soft, cool breezes. 

Things change so quickly. When I bought this place, the ground was covered with snow. I had no idea what the yard and garden looked like, except for a few places where what lay beneath peeked through. We walk through life with small glimpses of a future we cannot truly know until we are living its days and nights in the now.

I am given this day. What will I do with this gift? 

Drive into Philly and view the Mary Cassatt exhibition at the Art Museum? Clear up some debris in my garden and neaten everything up? Unpack more boxes in my new place and advance my moving in? Lose myself in the Zen of cooking and make and enjoy a fabulous meal? Watch for a break in the rain and go swimming? Call a friend and get together or talk on the phone? Write the checks for my monthly bills? Start a new book and enjoy a cup of tea while I read? Watch a movie? Pull out my paints and start a new work of art? Finish the short story I'm writing for the new anthology project? Go to Reading Terminal Market and walk among the stalls and maybe come home with something fun? Take the train to New York and surprise myself with the unexpected? All of it? Some of it? None of it? Something else?   

Pay close attention to where you stand/Before you know it, tomorrow has become yesterday,/Wandering (through life) goes so fast. Pay close attention to what you receive/Which is a hundred summer days a year,/And tomorrow is the second. (Cai Lundgren, translated by Imelda Almqvist)

I think back to the poem that inspired this writing theme and revisit some of its lines. Awareness remains the path to cultivating joy in living, to cultivating presence, to experiencing each day in all its fullness and beauty. Even if the beauty of the day is achingly painful. It may be that I spend this day in reflection, cultivating awareness. It's easy to let it slip away as the days fly by and we lose ourselves in the busy-ness of our lives. 

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Stormy

After more than a week of beautiful summer days, clouds rolled in today. Clear blue skies and sunshine peeked through every now and then, and it was muggy. From the sound of things, the predicted storms are moving through. 

I hear rain falling and sighs of relief from my garden. 

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life..

Bee Balm

A gift from a friend's garden. I enjoy watching her come to life. From four twiggy pieces in a plastic pot to a slender leafy stem with a stunning bud. I've never seen its like. And even this has changed as she continues to find her form. 

Deep green and dark pink, she opens to reveal tiny spikes in the center. What she will be tomorrow, I have no idea but I'm looking forward to her continuing growth and blossoming.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life. 

  

Can We Change a Couple of Things, Please?

There's a lot of hype tonight about the presidential debate and the campaign. Many things weigh us down spiritually. These endless political campaigns are one of those things. I wish they'd pass a law that limits political campaigns. Like to six weeks duration. Otherwise, no campaign events, no campaign speak, no premature so-called debates, no posturing ~ until mid-September before a November election. 

Nothing about this year's elections feels inspiring to me. I'd like to feel inspired by the people we look to for leadership. I also wish we'd pass some laws that limit spending on campaigns. Like each candidate gets the same budget and no donations are allowed. Take the money once spent on campaigns and use it for the public good ~ feeding and housing people, improving infrastructure, educating citizens in citizenship. 

I think these two changes would vastly improve life, general contentment, and likely the functioning of government. I have some opinions about tonight's debate. Thinks like ~ it wasn't really a debate. It felt more like ninety minutes of mudslinging, and we all got dirty. As for the rest of my opinions, I'll keep them to myself. 

It's just that I've been sitting here reflecting on it, and the evening sits uneasily on my mind.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.. 

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Wiggy Wiggy Wag Wag Woo

It's been that kind of week. Wiggy. Unexpected challenges. Changes. Small and smaller changes that confound when I'm trying just to put together a schedule I can depend on and things to look forward to. I'd really love it if I could just relax and breathe, if life could flow smoothly so that relaxing and breathing could flow smoothly.

I'm rolling my eyes at myself.

I'd like to be able to roll with the small stressors, but there've been so many big stressors this year that I don't have much elasticity for the small ones.

But . . . I got a great haircut last week and the weather's been beautiful, so I've been enjoying the pool. I get great joy from my morning swim and the songs of birds, movement of tree branches in the breeze, and clear blue skies with or without gorgeous summer clouds. I'm getting my vitamin D these days the natural way.

I get great joy from spending time with my son. We've both been moving and have helped each other with that, have enjoyed making some meals together. This evening we baptized my new grill with a marinated flank steak. 

I get great joy from spending time with friends. I have a standing date for dinner with one every week. I have a standing date with a group of friends one evening every month. Other friends and I try to find time to get together for tea and conversation or tea and poetry. I check in with two writing groups every day and am working on a new anthology contribution with another. 

The writing groups bring joy on two fronts ~ friends and writing.

What doesn't bring me joy is the tedium of moving boxes, but I'm working on changing my mindset around that. To cultivating the joy of discovery. Opening a box, only to find something I've been wondering about or have missed. The ease I'm feeling around getting rid of things. Tedium sometimes has its benefits.

I'm not quite finding joy in putting together a new home. Stress and decision fatigue seems to be in control for now, but I'm working on changing my mindset around that too. But there's time. I'll get there.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

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Angel Numbers

When I signed in to write today, I noticed something. A number. 555. An angel number. The triple 5 sequence pops up for me frequently, usually when I least expect it. It always invites me to pause, notice, reflect, smile. I like the idea of angels all around us and that sometimes they remind us they are there.

This time it really grabbed my attention. It indicates the number of reflections that I've written since I started this blog in 2012. My life had just been through some big changes, changes that would continue for a couple of years, changes that would come around again every now and then. 

New Age writer Doreen Virtue popularized Angel Numbers in the early 2000s. She later began to study theology and withdrew her work, saying it was demonic. I don't think that casually noticing number repeats and delighting in them as uplifting messages is demonic. Perhaps if one idolizes them, a claim can be made. Of course, idolizing anything ~ money, success, power, to name a few, is a spiritual stumbling block. Numbers figure in many ancient esoteric systems, including the three Abrahamic faiths ~ Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. There are overt expressions as well as mystical expressions. Numbers can be symbolic. This quotation is attributed to St. Augustine (I was not able to find the citation. Google is not always a helpful search engine) ~ 

Numbers are the universal language given to us by the deity as confirmation of the truth.

Whatever the facts are, we find truth in many things and they don't always make sense. I'll take my Angel Numbers, especially my frequent 555 that invites me to relax and trust in the midst of big changes.  

 

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

A Little Bird Told Me

I'm in some kind of weird lull. The only time I feel happy is when I am swimming, or lying in the sun, listening to the birds sing or watching them fly around.  Even things like reading, writing, cooking, and gardening fail to hold my attention. In other news, my mother's house is now cleared out and ready to be listed. It should happen one day soon. 

The other day a gold finch came and landed on my window. Nodded his head at me as if he was trying to tell me something.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Two For the Price of One

This morning as I opened the vertical blind in the living room, I remembered that I did not write and publish yesterday. My commitment is a daily writing practice, and I do not know how the whole day and evening went by without my writing. Well, I know how it happened. I've been swimming in the mornings since the days have been so hot and the pool so crowded later in the day. I changed my pattern and the new pattern is not solid yet. I stayed at the pool longer than usual yesterday because the day was so beautiful. I pushed my time and became overheated. Over-sunned. Threw me off, and I never quite caught up with myself.

The beautiful thing is that I noticed it without judgment and committed to writing two reflections today. My inner critic gave me a break and rolled with it. Wow. Is that different.  

I've spent the last few months being mindful around being kinder to myself. There's been a lot of change and a lot of stress. Outer circumstances have not always been kind, so my inner circumstances need to be. It's the loving thing to do. There's unexpected treasure in this, for ourselves and for others. When we are kinder and more loving to ourselves, we can be kinder and more loving toward others. It's something the world can use a little more of these days.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Catbird on a Hot Tin Roof

I tend to fall into a reverie when I swim on these beautiful summer days. The sky, the clouds, the breezes moving the branches of trees. Birdsong and birds flying through the air, landing on the fence, in trees, on the ground. Today a catbird landed on the peak of the roof, stood proudly there at the pinnacle and sang her beautiful song.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life. 

Fresca Deliciosa

The fridge is pretty empty. I could use a trip to the store. Coming home from the pool, I noticed the containers all needed water. It's hot and dry. As I moved through the garden with the watering can, it occurred to me that the kale and lettuce I'd been nurturing in containers are edible. Well ready to harvest. So I made a salad of my own lettuce for lunch today. Some of my own kale, dill and basil. There was half an avocado in the fridge and a little feta, some pickled red onion. With a little olive oil and champagne vinegar, it was a good salad. Refreshing. 

And there was something about most of it coming from my own garden that felt good.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life. 

Days Filled with Radiance

The sun stands still for three days, three long days filled with radiance. The ground is dry and dusty. Flowers wait to be planted, but the ground is too hard and I'm watering the large pots twice a day. Beautiful, peach colored coneflowers ~ I had no idea there are peach colored coneflowers. I'd hoped for some pink in the garden; there's so much yellow there. But they work. They work beautifully. It is one of the surprises of this garden.

 

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.  

The Gift

An early morning swim at the beginning of a busy day prompted me to rush out my front door. I almost did not look down. 

I'm glad I did.

A vase of flowers, there on the porch, greeted me with,

Good Morning.

I do not know who brought them, or who they are from. There was no card. I brought them in and put them on the table, went for my swim and then attended to the busy-ness of the day. Tonight I walked into the house and looked at them sitting on the table. Amidst a sea of moving chaos, this gift feels like something solid. Grace.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

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Nearing Solstice

The rising solar energy nears its crescendo. It's a journey we've been on since midwinter and the winter solstice. I think about my own journey during these months. It seems to have been at odds with the rising energy. Or maybe that's just faulty perception. I need to think about this.

What does loss open the way to?

To something new rising.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

 

Energy to Write

It's that time again. The time in the summer writing project when I realize I've committed to writing every day and begin to feel a little bit rebellious. It's the same kind of thing that happens when starting a new diet, or a new exercise program, or when committing to something else new. Habits are hard to develop or change. 

Some writers suggest setting a time and showing up every day at that time to write. Other writers suggest writing a consistent number of words or pages each day. I haven't figured out how to do that. It's enough of a challenge to start showing up every day. I like to write in the morning. If I wait til the evening, it's much harder to focus.  

This year is challenging with the move. My usual writing cues are gone, and the new cues have not yet developed. I feel like I'm floating in the air rather than feeling grounded. I notice that this isn't unique to my writing life. With months-long waits for furniture, boxes to unpack, decisions to make around what will fit in the new place and what won't, figuring out how to set up a new kitchen, nothing about home feels grounded. 

And yet, when I sit down at the keyboard and begin to type, I remember myself as a writer. Something, finally, feels familiar. 

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

 

Spending and Saving

These days I'm noticing what is spent.

A shrub, just outside my fence, produces fragrant blossoms in spring. They're now dry and browning, and what once was a lovely, lilting backdrop in my writing view looks leggy and is mixed with a tangle of weeds coming up through the spaces in the foliage. I'll be pulling out my hedge trimmers and taking it down to the fence line. Again.

I folded the daffodil leaves over and rubber banded them weeks ago. They'd dropped with a rainstorm and no longer were standing upright. Took up too much of the planting room. Dry and brown, having sucked up nutrients from the soil, they are ready to be clipped away.  

The rose bush seems to offer one flowering. My mother's bump-out rose bushes produce all summer, pushing away the spent blossoms as new buds form and flower, filling the air with fragrance. I haven't grown roses before, so I'm not sure what to do with this, beyond some reading for now. They may require dead-heading.

The dill is dying to flower. And it will die when it does, so I keep nipping away any flowers that form. The sage seems to be at the end of its flowering. The peonies are done. The iris are done. Thinking about how to keep that part of the flower bed looking fresh while staying true to its cycles and seasons. 

Even as I notice what is spent, I notice the new life that pushes through. Up through the peony and iris foliage comes another flower. It is fierce in its growth and ready to flower. My neighbor tells me she did not plant them, that they are a gift of the birds. Her flower bed, which abuts mine and is separated by a low fence, is filled with them. They play well with the coneflower, she says. My irises have migrated to her flower bed. Flowers may not respect boundaries. And that may be a good thing. She has planted her bee balm in a pot. I have mine in one as well. I read that they drop a million seeds. I can see the flower bed becoming home to the three plants and there are other things I'd like to plant there. 

Ultimately, I'll let them have their way. I can always plant more of what I want in containers. I have a new respect for the word as they contain the spearmint that, otherwise, would run rampant through any free spaces in the bed and probably crowd out other things. I hear that lemon balm behaves the same way. It's now planted in two pots and seems to have spread overnight.

The lettuce is restored. The kale makes a beautiful potted plant as well as being good eating. I'd never thought to have used it decoratively if my bunnies hadn't shown me the detriment to having it in the ground in my garden. As I think of it, children's stories come to life in my experience. I'm still noticing the patterns of light here. Still, really, just playing with the garden, as we get to know each other. 

The summer days move relentlessly forward, tomorrow becoming yesterday too quickly. Already two weeks have passed of these 100 summer days. Wasn't it just yesterday that I first read the poem? 

 Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life. 

The Summer Writing Projects, created in 2018, are series that can be read as single works. Begin here ~

The Summer of Self Love      https://kateknodel.blogspot.com/2018/06/the-summer-of-self-love.html

Into the Beams    https://kateknodel.blogspot.com/2018/10/into-beams.html 

Beauty in the Night: Meditations in the Dark Time of the Year     https://kateknodel.blogspot.com/2018/11/

The Great Summer Writing Retreat of 2019     https://kateknodel.blogspot.com/2019/06/only-mama-duck-knows.html

Days of Accidental Beauty     https://kateknodel.blogspot.com/2020/07/days-of-accidental-beauty.html

A Hundred Days of Happiness    https://kateknodel.blogspot.com/2021/05/a-hundred-days-of-happiness.html

Creating Space: Three Months of Showing Up for What's Showing Up     https://kateknodel.blogspot.com/2022/06/creating-space-and-showing-up-for-whats.html

The Green Wilderness     https://kateknodel.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-green-wilderness.html

 

Sweet Taste of Summer

The weekend I promised myself begins with sleeping myself out. I've not been sleeping well since I moved and wonder if the disruption has disrupted my sleep. Or if it's something else. It's a beautiful day and I long to be outdoors, and I will be, but I also want to do a few things around the house. So I move from space to space, doing a little here, doing a little there. The sheets are in to wash, two shelves in my closet are organized, the bathroom cabinet has the beginnings of organization. As I find more things to go there, they have somewhere to go. The dishwasher is emptied and the dishes that have been waiting are stacked neatly there. The dish drainer is empty and refilled with fresh dishes. Ice cube trays are refilled. Cherries drain in my pottery berry bowl. 

A sweet taste of summer.

I have a list for the store and new bags for trash and things to donate. I set a mental note to clear all the surfaces and put things away before opening a new box. To put away what I packed in tote bags for the move. This drove my daughter crazy.

"You have too many tote bags, Mom. Let's get them down to ten," she said.

"No way," I thought to myself. I may even have said it. With my eyes if not with my voice.

I like to organize things in tote bags. I have all my important documents in one. If there's a fire, I know which bag to grab in the crisis. I have all the workshops I lead organized in tote bags. When it's time to go, I know which bag to grab as I head out the door. My grocery bags are neatly folded in a tote bag. My extra tote bags are neatly folded in another. It works for me. 

There are plants in the garden waiting to be dug into the flower bed. Plants waiting to be planted in containers. It seems as if everything is waiting for me to do something. Fortunately, my things are patient. Still, I feel the pressure. Get it done. Get it done. Get it done. I war with myself. Most of me wants to move through this part of things contemplatively. To notice what new birds land in my garden, to watch the critters eat the grass, which new flowers are coming up in the flower bed. There are still surprises. To make sure I'm noticing when the dill begins to flower and snip that away. I still want to harvest fresh dill for my meals. The basil will begin to flower soon, and I want to have space to notice. 

The morning glories begin to peek over their container. Soon they'll grow from sprout to vine and stretch themselves out along the fence before blooming. I will enjoy having someone wish me a good morning again. 

Inside, on the windowsill, the orchids continue to bud, blossom, and gather their flowers for what seems an endless show. It's almost a shock when they fall. The succulents aren't doing so well. I'll research which houseplants prefer indirect light. Sometime, when there's time, and space, I'll make some changes. 

It's midday, and half my garden is in full sun, half in shade. That seems to be the way with my garden, It's just that different parts of the garden are in sun or shade in different parts of the day. There's always a shady spot in which to sit and read, or a sunny spot if I want that.

The sky is clear and bright blue. Yesterday's storm brought milder temperatures. It's past noon and only 79 degrees. I slept through the cool of the early morning. I'd like to get up and enjoy that tomorrow. There's a breeze and everything green is caught up in it. I imagine it brushing up against the herbs and filling my garden with fragrance. 

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Thunder and Lightning Bugs

They hang heavy and dark on the early evening sky.

Storm clouds.

Weather radar shows deep bands 

Green with yellow and red centers.

Rain falls as I drive across the bridge.

Fat drops on the windshield.

Fast drops on the windshield.

Fast dropping temperatures.

The afternoon's high eighties fall

High sixties by nightfall.

Skies clear and lightning bugs rise.

The sun sinks behind the trees.

Red center in a lavender sky.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

 

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Brightly Painted Day

I drove down to Philly today to help my son move some of his things to his new spot. It's interesting how parallel our journeys are this year. He's got a great place that ticks a lot of things on his list, as do I, and we both traded size for location. We're both happy with our choices. Both figuring out how to set up our space and make everything fit. He's ahead of me with his couch. Mine won't be delivered until October. 

We stopped in for lunch at a cute taco joint on the corner, really a triangular spit of land in a five-points intersection. Brightly painted, small menu, delicious food, they make their tortillas on site. Took it back to his place and tried out his new table. He's got one of these convertible, multi-use pieces that is a coffee table, dining table with stools, desk, and storage piece. Perfect for his small spot. Not my cup of tea, but it suits him to a tee.

I drove to Bryn Mawr for a meeting and met a friend for dinner. More tacos at a sweet little local place. I love places that express the character of neighborhoods. More and more disappear from Philly as investors buy up property and raise the rents. 

Tomorrow is another day I'm out and about, and I've reserved the weekend for myself. A few more of those days-with-no-demand that I need so badly to reconnect with myself after a tough year. I had two good weeks in January, and then moved through a cascade of unexpected twists and turns that life sometimes throws at us.

I take a big exhale, look out the window at the last bit of light and the branches of trees moving against it with the breeze. Fireflies dot the near view of the garden.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.  

 

A Day to Myself

Most of my days over the last few months have been dedicated to others. Others' agendas, others' needs, others' convenience. I wonder how many of us move through life with this dynamic. Or have streams of time when others' concerns are prioritized. 

I took a day today to breathe. To move slowly. To be still.

I need a few more like it.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

 

Channeling Wendell Berry

The days have been achingly beautiful with big skies that seem to go on forever, crystalline blue and clear, or with big puffy white clouds or ribbons of cloud. 

The days have been cool and breezy. Sunny and mild. 

The days have been busy and beckon me outdoors to swim, garden, enjoy a beautiful meal with my daughter visiting from Chicago, my son who is local, and the two together. A rare treat.

The days have been filled with unexpected professional demands, and this has been surprising since I've been on a bit of a sabbatical. Rest, eludes me.

The sun has set and I wait for fireflies to rise. I sit in the garden for a few minutes and my thoughts meander like neighbors grabbing the last bit of light for their evening walk.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Wendell Berry's poem, The Peace of Wild Things comes to mind as evening falls.

 

Trinity

A trinity of beautiful days ends

With soft evening breezes on the water and

Reflections on a day well lived. 

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

 

Thinking About the Day

Another beautiful day.

Preached at a friend's church.

Spent the afternoon with my daughter ~

In the gym, at the pool, out for dinner.

We took a beautiful ride along the river,

And then down the highway so

The kids can spend her last night here together,

Doing brother, sister things.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life. 

Crab Legs

 A long, gorgeous day.

A beautiful evening.

Time at the pool and

A great meal with my daughter.

I'm too tired to write much more as

Bed beckons.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Possibility

An open shelf. Something new in the corner of my living room. 

Someone came to build it this morning, and as I sit here looking at it, clean, open, ready, I can't help but think about possibility. I must confess that it's also a strange design and feels a little like an optical illusion as I look at it. 

It could be the laws of physics are playing with me this morning.

I've moved into a new place and while I usually think about the frustration of boxes, and of furniture that takes three to five months to arrive, there's also the beauty and wonder of standing on the threshold of something new. Of being able to craft a home from the ground up. 

And if a home, why not a life?

A new view, new perspective, open space, all leave space for possibility. Considering that I've got decision fatigue, I like the idea of being able to meditate with an open shelf and to reflect on what I might like to include in a new home, a new life I create here.

My daughter is visiting from Chicago. She's good at curation and at letting go of things. Already she's helped me to see a me that I haven't been able to see while buried under so many things. We spent just a little time last night going through clothes.

"Mom," her quizzical gaze focused me, "you don't need this."  

"You can do better than this," she said.

I can do better than this. 

How long do we hold onto things that keep us from doing better for ourselves? It's a worthy question.   

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Rainy Cloudy Days

It's cool this morning but the humidity is high, so the windows are closed. As I walk in my garden, I notice that everything feels sticky. The last flush of fragrance on the rose bush clings to the air. It is as if the roses burst their buds at once and now drop their petals as one. The irises are spent. The peonies have been gone for a week. Daylilies begin to open and there are buds on the dahlias. Lavender seems to blossom perennially. The petunias fill and overflow their containers. Buds begin to form on the coneflower that waits to be transplanted. The lettuce I moved to the container is restored, far from the reach of bunnies and voles. The herbs and hydrangea foliage are lush.

Lush. Everything feels lush on cloudy rainy days, as fat water droplets hang on the word of every leaf and the grass sparkles.

Tomorrow has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.   

Lemon Balm

I've been looking for a couple of months.

Today I got a call from a friend.

Is lemon balm what you wanted?

Yes.

I love the fragrance that comes up off the leaves in the breeze. I love the glorious green foliage. I love the smell and flavor in an infusion of hot water in my tea cup.

She found it at Lowe's. Brought me two plants. Abundance. They'll go in pots as soon as I can get outside to plant them. I need more potting soil. Used up my supply. The cone flower and bee balm from another friend need to be planted as well ~ coneflower in the garden bed, bee balm in a pot. It drops a million seeds. My little flower bed would become swallowed. 

Might not be a bad thing. I'll see how they grow in the pot.

A friend brought borage and French tarragon, a thin wispy sprig. It's all that came up this year. She's moving later this summer. I've enjoyed her tarragon at dinner on her patio on summer evenings.

Maybe I'll enjoy it again on mine.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

 

The Multiverse of Possible Timelines

Yesterday's experience with an attempted car theft and the flow of the day beyond it left me musing about some things. I'd been in the middle of writing yesterday's essay and musing about the wisdom in the spider and spider web that appeared in the part of my garden I'd hoped to work in. I didn't want to disturb the spider and her web and I wanted to learn the teachings of the experience. There is so much we can learn from nature, from our experiences, from our impulses, from our longings and the things that cause us to pause.

As I wrote in my morning journal today, I pondered questions around what might have been if the break in had never happened. This reminds me of those movies that plot around timelines and alternate realities. I remember a Star Trek ~ The Next Generation episode that did a great job exploring this theme. Mr. Worf is coming back from a Bat'leth competition and encounters some kind of space anomaly that threw open a multiverse of possible timelines. I remember feeling like it was one of the most expansive things I'd seen as the show explored the different Mr. Worfs that came with each timeline. There was something in there about causation related to outer circumstances that was fascinating.

It left me wondering who I might be today had this attempted car theft not happened, as well as who am I becoming because of this experience. 

Some might say, "Oh just shake it off and go on with your life," and I confess that I said that to myself a few times. But the truth is we are shaped by our inner and outer lives and it can be valuable to give some thought to how the events of our lives, and our reactions or responses to them, shape us. 

Yesterday I was in shock and moved through the rest of the day somewhat on auto pilot. I took care of the practicalities without letting myself feel. Later in the day, when I'd done all that could be done, including sweeping up the glass in the parking lot because the condo management company told me that was my responsibility, I went to the pool and got in the water for about an hour. As I slowly moved through the water with modified breast and back strokes, I looked at the movement of the water, the clouds in the sky, the airplanes that flew high above me, the branches of trees as they moved with the breeze, the lilting flight of butterflies. I emptied my mind and allowed the water to support my body. 

Then there was dinner, a bath, sleep. I rose this morning feeling a heaviness that is yet to lift. I'm noticing without judgment where I am and what I need. There are things to do today that, if I wait, will congest my week. I am thinking about what I wrote a few days ago, "Just live, and see what happens." 

Part of aliveness is awareness. It enables us to have agency in our lives. I may not be able to stop thieves or the consequences of their actions. This thing is still going to cost me at least the $500 comprehensive deductible on my auto policy. But I can think about who I am becoming as a result of this experience. Becoming is not something that requires us to surrender our power, even if sometimes we surrender to the flow of where life takes us. I'll get back to observing the spider in my garden and her web. At some point, hopefully, this nonspecific anxiety and heaviness will flow into peace again. My focus will return and I'll continue to reflect on this experience and its teachings, even if I did not choose it and it chose me

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.  

 

What the Grandmother Spider Knows

I went out to work in the garden yesterday, in the far corner I've been so far avoiding because it's hard to get to. 

When I first moved in April, daffodils were blooming and the peonies, irises, and day lilies had all come up. The flower bed had become a green paradise since the end of winter, and the snowfall that beckoned as I considered the purchase. I really didn't see what was under the snow when I made my offer.

In many ways, the garden has been a cascade of surprises. 

There are some little tufts of green with pink blossoms. I don't know what they are, but they're pretty, and they look nice with everything else. As I've been cultivating the garden, I've been working with what is, and creating something that brings in what once was, to bring about something that will be. 

I love growing herbs and decided to grow them in pots because the flower bed is small. So, in and amongst the ground plantings are herbs in containers. I've filled in the spaces around all that with some other plantings of annuals and perennials. Containers hang from the fence with a profusion of colorful annuals, and morning glories that I'm growing from seed. There may yet be moonflowers as well. 

I'd thought about putting coneflower in that wild corner, but it seems to have been claimed by a spider and her web. 

What is it that the grandmother spider knows?

The message seems to be something around when and where to stop and also something about the snare.

As I was writing this morning, the doorbell rang. A neighbor wanted to let me know that someone had smashed one of the windows on my car. It's now evening, nearly bed time, and I am just getting back to this writing. There was the call to the police, meeting the responding officer, and the detective. There was reporting the claim to my insurance company, driving the car over to the collision center, touching base with the adjuster, and receiving the rental car. It turns out that someone had tried to steal the car. They crawled in through the back window, wrenched off the cover of the steering column, messed around in there, rifled the nooks and crannies in the front of the car, and stole my auto manuals.

It was as if the day said, 

This far and no farther.

I'd been snared by a web and held fast as the day was consumed.

I confess that I'm still in shock a bit. An attempted theft of my car and the actual theft of one of my precious hundred summer days leaves me pondering the same question from this morning differently.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

 

Just Live and See What Happens

It's strange to write in a new place.

At the old place I wrote in a room dominated by windows that looked out to the east and to the south. I could see the sun rise. I could see the river. I could see the wide-open sky and canopy of trees. Eagles and great blue heron and hawks flew across my field of vision. Here, I'm on the first floor at ground level. My garden is outside my window, the only window in the space. It is practically floor-to-ceiling and faces west and north. I haven't pulled out my compass yet, from whichever box it remains hidden, but I would bet I'm sitting pretty much on the exact northwest line. 

Wherever there's a window in the house, it faces only one direction. And it's all the same direction.

I lived in the old place for nine years. I knew its habits and patterns. This is new. It feels strange, unfamiliar. And even though I chose it and chose to move, it's still weird. It's fine. But different, and different can be unsettling.

When I sat down at my kitchen table in the old place with paper and pen or my laptop, I knew it was time to write. It came easily. Now I sit down at a TV table in my living room filled with boxes instead of furniture and wonder what I'm doing. 

Oh, yes, I've sat down to write. 

I don't think. I begin to type. Or to scratch the pen across the page. It's the old discipline of write until you begin to write. Sometimes writing, "I don't know what to write," until the shift happens and the writing begins. This is a practice from writing teachers I've talked about before. 

Sometimes there will be a whole page of 

I don't know what to write.

Sometimes I'll just begin with what I'm thinking about and the writing will emerge out of that. The only time wasted is time I'm not writing.

It might be the same way of things when you move into a new place and aren't sure how to live there. Just live and see what happens. I think it might be that way with any new situation. 

Just live, and see what happens.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday

I sip tea, and nibble on a lavender vanilla scone from a local baker. There's butter from pastured cows, and a creamed lemon honey from a local beekeeper. I just unpacked the bags I carried in from my trip to the local farmer's market ~ little gems lettuce, lacinato kale, slender scallions, sugar-snap peas, and the last harvest of asparagus and strawberries. Another local baker had challah slider rolls, perfect for little burgers. 

Above me, bright blue stretches beyond what I can see, and there's not a cloud in the sky. So different from yesterday's parade of huge, puffy white clouds. Both achingly beautiful. Sunshine falls on the greens of my garden, and illuminates colorful blossoms. My garden. How wonderful it is to say that. I've not had a garden for ten years, and my new place has one that's small and manageable. Since my furniture won't arrive for months, I've been making the garden a paradise, as gardens were created to be. Sanctuary. Oasis. Space apart. The fragrance of a flowering shrub hitches a ride on the breeze and glides through my open windows.

June 1 ~ summer begins and my thoughts turn to my summer blogging project. I've been flailing wildly for a theme. Until today, I thought it might be Patterns of Disruption. There was also Table Full of Blessings. Both are stories for different posts. And, really, neither of them feel completely true for a summer of writing.

But then I read the translation of a poem that a friend posted today. She's read it on June 1 every year since her mother-in-law shared it with her when she was 19. I feel similarly gifted today. And one piece of the poem resonates for this writing ~

Pay close attention to where you stand/Before you know it, tomorrow has become yesterday,/Wandering (through life) goes so fast. Pay close attention to what you receive/Which is a hundred summer days a year,/And tomorrow is the second. (Cai Lundgren, translated by Imelda Almqvist)

 And, so, a theme is born in an unlikely way, as so many themes are born. 

Tomorrow has become yesterday. The days give us their gifts and then are gone, passed into the past, passed into memory having weaved themselves like threads in a tapestry. There's an invitation to be deeply present, to notice what's emerging, to notice what's challenging and maddening as well as what is wondrous and beautiful. Presence and noticing intensify the mundane and elevate it. The extraordinary in the ordinary.

  

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

For the full text of the poem, in Swedish and the English translation, click the link below. 

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