M'aidez, May Day

photo by jam343

There's a springtime snowglobe swirling outside my window. The pear trees lose more tiny white petals with every gentle gust of wind, leaving behind fresh green leaves in their wake. These flower faeries swirl in the air, carpet the lawn, and dance along the street's blacktop. From a distance, they look like little marbles or those supercold ice cream pellets called Dippin' Dots.

A lone, cream-colored daffodil keeps watch in the mulch against my house, refusing to bow to her age. But she'll soon sleep until next spring. The lavender lilac bush is already in full bloom, begging me to come out and cut some branches and signaling that summer is around the corner.

Everywhere I look is green, green, green. The promise of nature is best this time of year, when everything is new and delicate, not yet wilted or withered by hot summer sun. Autumn is my favorite season, but spring holds a close second in my heart. Both are lovely because they are the gentle seasons before the extremes of southwestern Pennsylvania's snowy winters and humid summers. I like warm (not hot) days, followed by nights that ask me to pull on a sweater or a zip-up hoodie when the sun goes down. And I like explosions of color, be it the deep reds and flaming golds of maple trees in the fall, or the pale pink blossoms of cherry trees and the glowing yellow forsythia of spring. Autumn and spring embody both ends of the spectrum, at once temperate and extreme.

* * * * * * * * *

Today is May Day. May day is a pagan celebration, a day of public protests, and an international distress signal. M'aidez: French for "help me."

Today, the occasion of May Day helps me to remember what I want. For you see, I've forgotten to water my dreams.

That statement is both literal and figurative. Let me explain.

Over the past year, as I've recognized my hunger for ritual and tradition, I've begun to mark the passing of the seasons. For the Autumnal Equinox, I took a page from Jen Lemen's ritual for letting go of things that weigh me down. I wrote the names of my personal albatrosses (albatri?) on stones and leaves. The stones I tossed into a lake, and the leaves I let fly out of my moonroof as I drove along back country roads.

For the Vernal Equinox, I decided to do the opposite. Instead of focusing on what I want to lose, I looked at what I want to grow. As it was the 20th of March, I wrote a list of 20 things I want to cultivate in my life.

And then I burned the paper they were written on.

And mixed the ashes with some seeds and soil.

The seeds were old; little packets of blue cornflowers and white Shasta daisies that I got for free from a gas station, years ago. I didn't have much hope that the seeds would actually sprout, but they were all I had on hand. I was running out of daylight and time, and it was either do the rite with old seeds, or not do it at all. I decided that the symbolic act of the ritual, complete with prayer and private poetry reading, was more important than the viability of the seeds.

So I planted the seeds, put the pot near a window in my studio, and have forgotten to water them ever since. This is not only bad for the seeds, it's bad symbolism. I forgot to water what I want to cultivate in my life. Not good.

On May Day, I want, as my friend Allyson put it, "to do elaborate, lush things, like May baskets and May poles, picnics and flower crowns." But instead, I'm busy with a major project deadline and figuring out what to eat for supper. So today, the extent of my ritual will be to water my little pot of dreams, not worrying about whether or not anything physically blooms there. I welcome today as the reminder that time moves forward, nature rejuvenates itself, and there's always an opportunity to nurture my soul, symbolically or practically.

Saturday Sayings: Live aloud

photo by treyevan

I am here to live aloud.

~Emile Zola

Saturday Sayings: Most pleasures

photo by visulogik

"Most pleasures are small pleasures—a hot shower, a sunset, a bowl of good soup or a good book."

~Mary Pipher

Saturday Sayings: Happiness along the way

photo by Misserion

How did I get it ground into me that happiness is always picked up along the way and must not be sought?

~George Bernard Shaw

Practical Kindness (update on Jen Ballantyne)

Last month I wrote about Jen Ballantyne, a woman who is living bravely and honestly with stage-four colon cancer and the knowledge that she may have fewer than three years to live. One visit to her blog and you realize that Jen, also known as Jenni, tells it like it is: the fear, the pain, the confusion, and yes, even the joy.

In my last post about Jenni, I wrote about the "doctrine of substituted love" and encouraged us to bear her burdens of fear and pain. I truly believe that such metaphysical efforts translate into physical results. But it's good to go beyond the mystical and into the tangible realm. Several wonderful women, Bella at Beyond the Map,Meg Casey, and Jen Lemen are orgainizing a practical way that you can help Jenni. They are working to set up an eBay auction. A PayPal donations system is already in place. (See the donate button in the sidebar.) The money will be used to help pay for Jenni's treatment and those forms of care and pain management that will not be covered by insurance, such as acupuncture, massage, and naturopathy. The funds will also help to create a trust for her six-year-old son. These are things Jenni desperately needs, but can't afford. This is help she won't ever ask for, because she is too worried about everyone else. Get the full details on how you can help here. Donated items for the auction are being accepted until April 18, 2008. I'll post an update when the auction goes live.

A friend recently asked me how blogging ties in with my business as a freelance writer and editor. I said that this blog is a place for me to write regularly and showcase my writing style to my potential clients. Some posts, like this one, are more personal than others. Then again, even my essay-like posts usually revolve around a personal topic.

In many ways, I'm not very good at separating out the personal and the professional. My husband, who has mastered his emotions in a way that I sometimes envy and sometimes pity, reminds me that certain things are "just business." And while I try to take this to heart, that's just the problem -- I take things to heart.

I work and play with words because I love them. I tell stories -- yours, mine, and others -- because I love them -- the stories and the people in them. When I edit a manuscript for a client, I want that book to be its absolute best. I take it personally. When I write an article for a publication, I want readers to care about the issues. When I post on this blog, I want to connect with you.

Where does the personal end and the professional begin? For me, the line blurs a little more each day.

So if you're new to this blog and wonder why I'm posting about the story of a woman with colon cancer in Australia, it's because I truly believe that we're all interconnected. Our stories matter, because ultimately, they're all part of one larger story. And I always invite you to tell yours in the comments.

photo credit: icy beauty by josef.stuefer