December, 2007

May you always hold the true gift of peace within your heart. Happy Holidays to everyone!

Well Progress Update

No calls this week. Activity oscillates between quite and milling around. Odd noises emanate. Industry being industry. We dwell close together yet far apart this week.

An unexpected gift on Christmas morning

We woke to about 8 inches of snow on the ground Christmas morning, which was glorious, and a bit of a challenge given that the plow would not start and one of us had to head in for work later that afternoon. Poop. Tried to turn over the engine. Nothing. Was it dead for the winter? Probably not. But maybe. Checked the battery. Lights worked. Hmmm. Tried it again. Nothing. Probably water in the gas. I hoped. Added the alcohol additive. Turned it over. Weird sound. Crap.

*Sigh*

A test.

Okay then. Well.... we could shovel the drive to the gate. From there it was pretty much downhill to the county road, and four-wheel drive would probably make it ok.

Shovel the drive. Well... on the bright side we have an actual snow shovel which is worlds above the big steel coal shovel we used to use. I looked at our pitifully worn but ever reliable 'old blue' standing dutifully by the front door.  Shoveling a quarter mile of driveway would definitely not work so good given that I've got a couple of disk issues (and I'm not referring to the fun sledding kind of disks). But, Santa did bring me a really cool pair of Cabellas boots, and wouldn't this be the perfect occasion to try them out? Yep.

My daughter went out to verify what I'd already surmised - lights worked, gas in the tank... so on. This is what families do of course, and I concede that aside from leaving various tools in the engine compartment which I, myself, might forget to leave behind, she may spot or figure out something I hadn't. Having put in a fuel pump by herself last winter, I had great hope.

She stormed into the house and flung her gloves on the table cursing something about the inferiority of the operator's manual. Sometimes she reminds so much of her Grandfather. "Do you know what it says about ignition systems?" She demands. "Do you know? It says to insert the key and turn it!" Of course I had ordered a shop manual for our Gus-Gus this summer and promptly misplaced it, where it now lies well insulated though altogether lost in its protective plastic sleeve.

I decided to trek up to the gate and have a look around. See how far it might seem to shovel that much snow - which was fortunately of the fluffy and light-weight variety. Part way to the gate I looked back on my tracks. You know... I thought to my lazy self - dreaming about a hot cup of coffee, but nevertheless enjoying the invigorating bite of a nippy December morn - there really only needs to be two tracks for the tires. And, shoot, hadn't I already smooshed down some of the snow just walking up to the gate. Yes. Yes, indeed. With a little sideways swipe, couldn't I practically clear a little trail on my way up and with a little time, clear another on the way back - sufficient for two tires? Yes, yes, I could do that.

By the time I reached the top of the drive I found a very pleasant surprise. Someone had plowed right up to our gate! And didn't even plow us in with a big old gnarly drift! Double joy!

The chug and grind of a road maintainer got my attention, and I looked over to see one idling on the Schwartz site. Good grief, had EnCana plowed us out? They had done so once before a couple of years back. And then, too, it was an unexpected and appreciated surprise. Maybe it was EnCana, maybe not. I didn't know and although I wanted to thank the driver - if in fact it had been they who had seen the possible need and plowed the road - I hesitated to ask given that it might have been a personal decision perhaps counter to official office policy back at corporate offices, and I didn't want to get anyone in trouble. We have no qualms against the folks who work for the gas industry. Many of them are our neighbors and more than a few express the same frustrations we do about the behavior of certain operators. They, like ourselves, are simply trying to feed their families. Who could possibly argue with that? What to do? A wonderful gift and no one to thank.

Sometimes the gifts we receive are of just that variety. And the nature of how we receive them often has a great deal to do with our need.  A friend once chastised me for failing to receive well. Receiving gifts is not something I'm terribly comfortable with - never really have been. This was many years ago and she had just lost her husband in a coal mine accident. Yet, she had taken a moment to give me a small gift she thought I would enjoy. Under some pitifully disguised sense of regret toward her gesture, I awkwardly accepted. I'll never forget what she said, smiling: "You know how to give, but you don't know how to receive. You need to learn how to receive." So, that's something I've worked on ever since. I try to receive graciously, and you know what? I think I'm pretty good at it, now. I've come to allow others to give to me, just as I give to others. The best gifts are given with no sense of reciprocity or anticipation of appreciation on the part of the one who gives, and even when you are the one receiving - you have to honor that.  I stood looking at the beautifully packed surface of our road thinking, this is beautiful! Who did this? No one had a need to plow to the end of the road. It was definitely a gesture of good will. Which made it cherished. And it was, unbeknownst to the giver of the gift, needed. Which made it also very appreciated.

But they left no calling card. And I can't just call up EnCana and say hey, did one of your guys plow us out? Because what if one of the mucky-mucks went sideways and some poor guy just trying to do something nice got in trouble. I asked myself, can I simply receive this gift graciously? Good grief, I may have to.

I walked further up the road checking neighbor's drives. Who the hell plowed? Santa Clause? Maybe I should just leave it at that. I really couldn't tell.

So, I festered on this thing, this beautiful gift, for two days. Worrying how I could at least say thanks. Because we really did appreciate it. I had to say thanks. So much for the gracious receipt of an anonymous gift.

Eventually, I decided to call the one neighbor who seemed the most likely to have plowed - though he had no need to be out heading off to work on Christmas day, and our relationship has at times been one of tense opposition and uneasy alliance - particularly during all the gas seep crap of 2004. Could it have been him? Nah... probably not.

I'll call him anyway.

Guess what. It was him.

And I had to handle a whole new level of gratitude which I hadn't been prepared to receive. What a blessing. And a blessed lesson.

So whatever happened to the snowplow? Well, to regress... I was pausing during my scuffing operation and I heard Dad say, "Go try the plow again. It's the carburetor." I knew that if water mixed in with the gas and the fluid had gotten into the carburetor the engine wouldn't turn over. I had been hoping that the carburetor would drain on its own, the alcohol additive would mix with the gas, and if I waited long enough the engine would turn over. Did Dad really say, 'Try it again'? It's probably just my own wistful thinking. But, maybe. I'll keep scuffing just in case.

I could see Dad rolling his eyes, but immeasurably patient now that he's a spirit.  He's my guardian angel now. My old guardian angles surely celebrated their emancipation the moment he transitioned into their world. Poor guy.

Moments later I heard the faint sound of Gus' engine turning over and a loud whoop from my daughter.

I trundled back down the drive, "What the hell? Did it start?"

"Yep!" came the enthusiastic reply," I heard Grandpa say 'Go try it again.', so I did, and it started! Whoohooo!"

The dogs loaded up and off they went to plow.

So many gifts.

We hope you all received and were blessed enough to give many truly great gifts on Christmas morning, also.

Who knows?

My article reader (Mother) is down with a bad back and has been for two weeks.

Should I read the news myself? Yes. Should I make an effort to see how crazy the world is and continues to be? Yes, if for no other reason than to brace for such increasing insanity.

But should I also breath, and remember to live? Yes, and more so. To step back and reassess? Coyote and hawk both said so, and that's all the permission I need right now.

If something important came up, I'll try to mention it down the road, if it doesn't sneak up and bite me first.

Trails into the darkness, can sometimes show us how to find the light.

Late tonight I went outside to talk to Dad, the other spirits and indulge our dogs in their pre-bedtime constitutional. I talk best to the spirits outside in a natural environment. Lately life, being what it can sometimes be, has taken a lot of my time, and the blog - though updated here, has not been published on-line, driving me a month and a half behind schedule. Of course I berate myself for this. Vow to get it done tomorrow - and actually work on it, but fail to once again publish it. More stuff rolls downhill and I scramble to parry, thrust and dodge. One more week behind. Poop. And sometimes things are just overwhelming. We've been jacked around by what seems like every contractor west of the Mississippi this year and our roof still leaks. The faucet still barely runs. The truck is shot (we learned $700  later). And sometimes I take myself far too seriously. A flaw I've worked to overcome most of my life. Thank God I'm also a little loony. It brings a sense of welcome relief. But I need more therapy than I myself can offer.

My heart and my head are out of alignment.

So I stand outside and generally apologize for being such a pain in the ass. For not paying more attention. For not being more worthy. More responsible. For not having my shit together. For being human.

And guess who invited me to play?

From the northern ridge a voice rose out of the clear black, frozen night. A high yip and short howl from a coyote perhaps hunting the ridge, perhaps wandering around, looking into the night - like me; or, perhaps a shape-shifting visitor reminding me to loosen up, think about right now and enjoy this moment of simply being alive... right now.

I listened to the unbridled joy of its voice. The uplifted notes, the courageous greeting to the unknown. Or did it somehow know I was listening, appreciating, simply enjoying this rare night solo? Was it talking to me?

My spirit rose up to greet the coyote on the ridge, and I called back coyote-style.

Almost immediately, a rejoinder, accompanied by an odd sense of play and happiness on the breeze.

I barked.

The dogs looked at me like I was crazy. Yes, I am crazy. So? 'Okay', they said, 'as long as you know you're crazy.' and went on sniffing around the woodpile.

Another howl from the ridge.

Another howl from me - a longer howl, a long 'I'm talking to you' howl...

A matched reply...

I sang out with two short yips and a short howl.

A long howl and a short yip rose over the cedars, floating onto the porch.

I offered another long answer, careful to nail and carry my pitch to a rolling descent. I was saying goodnight. And thanks. Thanks for the chance to play, and just sing. And talk.

There was no reply.  Coyote had come only to remind me to relax, to find the other side of the story. To see the humor. To play.

I and the dogs went to bed. All of us refreshed.

Got my shit together - for a while.

A red-tailed hawk made its presence known to me today.  Sweeping low in front of me, it flashed its belly and under wings as if in a dip of acknowledgment.

Big picture, look at the big picture, it said. Coyote and hawk. Lighten up and look at the big picture - the long run.

Both coyote and hawk are supremely adaptable. Be flexible, they remind me.

Thank goodness so many good creatures look out for me.  Thank goodness they are here to teach. Their place is prominent in my world. They are my world. 

"Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light."

-- Roethke

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