Calling Forth Life's Riches

"If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself,

tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches;

for to the creator there is no poverty and no poor indifferent place."

RAINER MARIA RILKE, Letters to a Young Poet

This quote has been part of my life for decades, having pondered it off and on for years now. They were words that leapt off the page the first time I read them, the gentle chiding a spur to my heart when my daily life seemed poor, colourless, and 'same old, same old'. I'd reread the words to remind myself to quit feeling sorry for myself. To be poet enough and to use that spark of imagination to call forth life's riches in my own, very ordinary life. I began to learn to pay attention, to be in awe when something lovely startled my senses. I knew I wanted more of these rich moments to colour my life with beauty. 

How often I'd remind myself, too, of the ancient text I once memorized, "This is the day the Lord hath made, I will rejoice and be glad in it." Especially on those mornings when I wanted to roll over and pull the covers back over me. Instead, I'd pull myself out of bed with the thought, today I will wake up with vitality and good humour. I especially needed the reminder about getting on with good humour, me not being a morning person at the time. I also remembered those lovely lines I learned from the New Testament, "...whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is lovely and of good report, if there is anything worthy of praise, think on these things".

They became the benchmark of how I wanted to live and work and love—and eventually write. The joy always came, and still comes when I remember to look around....

     - To search for something, however tiny, on which my eyes can delight. So often it's right there in front of me, outside my window or front step, I don't even have to fly to Paris to catch the joy. Sometimes it's a gorgeous line in a book I'm reading that stands out. Sometimes the sighting of a single yellow leaf from a still green tree drifting to the ground can do it. So can catching the sound of children laughing and screaming in the nearby park as the sun starts to set. Or marveling at the lemon-hued marigolds still so bright in the flower beds and cawing flocks of crows settling and resettling in woodsy copses nearby at dusk.

     - To listen to music, music that is as familiar and sweet as the voice of a dear loved one—it can be a beloved old hymn that floats up with its comforting words, or a little Mozart whose music always makes me feel happy. The strains of theme music from a favourite old movie like the 1995 film Sense and Sensibility which makes me feel at peace, as comforting and comfortable as a favourite pair of old slippers. 

     - To sit at my desk and dream up something nice I can do for someone. I feel the thrill deep inside when I plan something spontaneous, immediate; something not too complicated, like a pretty card with a note sent in the mail, to surprise and lift someone's day.

     - To meet neighbours out for a walk and stand on the driveway having a wee chat in the warm sunshine as the crisp air fans our faces. Chattering, laughing, teasing—it makes me think that I'm living inside one of those delightful scenes from a Rosamunde Pilcher novel set in the English countryside.

How often the beauty is right here in front of us. I didn't really know back then until I read Rilke's quotation that I had within me the creative ability to call forth the richness in my own daily life. It makes me so grateful for those words all those years ago. They helped shape my life. I certainly hope one day I'll be able to tell Mr. Rilke how much his writings meant to me. How they helped a young woman learn to rise above the circumstances and begin to call forth her beautiful life.

"Most people do not know at all how beautiful

the world is, and how much magnificence is revealed in

the tiniest things, in some flower, in a stone,

in tree bark, or in a birch leaf."

RAINER MARIA RILKE, from Letters on Life

* * *

Before I close, I want to tell you that next Friday I'll be having a BOOK GIVEAWAY for two copies of the new anthology published by InScribe Press: Creativity & Chaos: Artistic Endeavours for Trying Times. Through inspiring stories, poems, essays, even crafts, the contributing authors share how they found creative ways to cope during their own trying times. Being on the editorial team, I had the opportunity to read the pieces before publication, and I can tell you, this book is one you'll want to read. You'll find comfort, encouragement, and hope on its pages. I'm so honoured and delighted to have a piece I wrote included—it's a personal essay entitled "A Kaleidoscope of Creativity (during a global pandemic)". In a recent interview, I shared what inspired me to write the piece and a little of my writing journey generally; if you haven't seen it, you can find the video HERE.

At the time of this writing, Amazon is offering the Kindle version for $0.99 CDN. After September 28th, paperback copies also will be available to order. So, next Friday, do come back and ENTER YOUR NAME IN THE DRAW for a chance to win one of two copies, autographed by Yours Truly. 

❦

Wishing you a beautiful weekend and Happy Autumn,

Brenda

Top Photo:

Image by susannp4 from Pixabay

Autumn blog schedule:

I post on Fridays

Little Pieces of Hope

Life is not a bed of roses;

neither is it full of thorns.

UNKNOWN

I don't suppose it's a surprise to anyone living on this planet. It doesn't take long for a person, even a child, to discover that life is not a bed of roses. Thankfully, neither is it completely full of thorns, even in the most horrid of situations. Or so I am told, as I personally haven't lived in some of the worst situations out there. But there are dear people who have lived through some and have survived some, who bear witness that, yes, there is still goodness, there is still beauty, there is still kindness in the midst of those wretched circumstances. And that brings hopefulness for any gloom-ridden day.

If you've followed this blog for any length, you know it's dedicated to the theme of living a beautiful life—focusing on what is beautiful and what gives hope in the world around us. None of us live in paradisal circumstances, at least not all the time. Sometimes life is pretty good, but when the ugly stuff gets too much in our faces, it's harder to hold onto what still adds grace to our lives. One thing I have learned over my longish life is to pray for grace... and to watch for the tiniest gifts that show up often in the smallest places. Sometimes they feel so inconsequential it's easy to overlook, but I began to practice watching for them, and I was surprised at how much beauty was out there, hiding in full view. 

When it comes to a garden..... it's not all a bed of roses either. Maybe that's why most of my floral photos are close ups, with only a few rarer panoramic views. First, I like the 'larger than life' style made famous by artist Georgia O'Keeffe who often painted her floral works in grand scale. She said if she painted a flower in a huge scale, people couldn't ignore its beauty. When it's in your face like that, it is hard to ignore, true. Second, perhaps more importantly for me, I like taking close ups because quite often the parts of the scene are nicer than the whole of it. Edmonton author/photographer Shawna Lemay once observed that close ups block out the vistas that are not lovely to look at. 

So, I focus on what's lovely and zone out what's unsightly. It's not pretending it's not there; it's just focusing on the better thing available in the moment. My sister told me about seeing a fellow online who kept bringing to the viewer's attention all the things in his yard that weren't to his personal liking, complaining about all that was wrong in it. She wondered why he focused so much on the unsightly areas when she could see so much that was pleasing.

If I were to pan the camera over my garden, you would see the same thing here, even in the height of summer when things are at their best. Some corners are quite Edenic in sensual loveliness, but alongside there are vistas in such contrast from our hoped-for dreams of a whole garden attuned in symmetry, colour, and design. As it turns out, it's just how life is sometimes. Imperfect. We don't mean to leave a reader with the idea that all is perfect in our world where we live; we're just happily focusing on what is lovely and zoning out what isn't.

In thornier times when my soul falters and frets—when my body is unwell, when my mind grows anxious for various reasons—I try to create a space that offers restfulness with something lovely to light my eyes upon. It helps me to get on with things if I can carry something beautiful in my heart. Which often means that I do close-ups in my mind, and here on my blog, of what is still lovely in some way. I tend not to offer the wide angle lens panorama, but search for what adds colour, interest, and gracefulness in the more intimate setting. And to give you, when you visit, a little respite in an upside down world. Kind of like in the mindset of the unknown author in this little verse:

I will always search for the ray of sunshine,

the lone wildflower,

the singing birds,

the brightest star,

and every other little piece of hope.

UNKNOWN

❦

Wishing you a weekend that's lovely—with as few

thorns as possible and with little pieces of hope to keep you going,

Brenda

Photo credits:

Brenda Leyland @ It's A Beautiful Life

"My Mom's Peace Rose"

Autumn blogging schedule:

I post on Fridays

The Speed of Thoughtfulness

"I like walking because it is slow, and I suspect that

the mind, like the feet, work at about three miles an hour.

If this is so, then modern life is moving faster than

the speed of thought or thoughtfulness."

REBECCA SOLNIT, Wanderlust

An early morning walk is a blessing for the whole day, so said Henry David Thoreau long ago. How true. Even though I don't always start out my day that way, it is one of those little things that still gives me a thrill when I do go. There is something about the freshness of the air at this time of day with its inviting sense of newness. It invigorates and often inspires my thoughts as I consider what I shall be about that day. It gives me a chance to pace my thoughts as I walk out those recommended ten thousand steps.

These days I don't want to rush anywhere. I don't want to be in a hurry. I want to move at the speed of thoughtfulness. Taking my time to bake a loaf of bread or prepare a meal. Even taking my time and not being impatient as I defrost the freezer. I want to relax into a good book or with dear friends over coffee. To notice the signs of the changing season. Of which there are many. Families of Canada Geese lift off from the small pond nearby as they prepare their young for their maiden flights south later in the season.  I especially notice the slight nip in the air even on a warm day and the slant of the light in the early morning and at sunset. As a young boy once quipped to poet Naomi Shihab Nye—"it gets late so early now!"

It's easy to get caught up in the rushing around, hurrying everywhere we go. When Rick and I get tied up in traffic or I get caught in a long line at the grocery store, I try to remember there isn't anything (not usually) that I need to huff and be impatient about. I feel myself relaxing into ' just being' in that moment. In whatever I'm doing.

It feels good.

I hope you have a beautiful day... where you have time to walk and live at the speed of thoughtfulness.

❦

Sending love and heart hugs,

Brenda

Photo credits:

Top Image by Summa from Pixabay