Rest beside the weary road

You were wild once.  Don’t let them tame you.  (Isadora Duncan)

The dragonfly carried Suzy Bell high into the starry sky.  It looked like black velvet dusted with sparkling, glittering fairy lights.  Suzy Bell had never seen anything so beautiful.

All the while that Suzy Bell and the dragonfly flew along, it sang a high sweet song to her.  She couldn’t exactly hear the words, but she thought it was the best song she’d ever heard, a song that spoke of good and beautiful things, of dreams fulfilled, and wishes answered, of things she had always known about, she thought, but had forgotten..  As she listened tears came to her eyes, and flew away in the night-wind to become crystal sparks of light.

Suzy Bell, you are better than you know, far more wonderful than you could ever realize.  You are the only you that will ever be.  Without you, the world would not be complete, things that have needed, and will need to happen in the future, could never be.  The Mystery that is Everything would not be complete without you.  

Claim who you are, Suzy Bell, who you were planned and created to be for all of eternity.  Claim the essence, the Spark that is you, hold it close and never let it go.  Never doubt, no matter what challenges and hardships that you may have to face, that you are loved, that you are held, that you are cherished.  Know that there is a Love that will not let you go.

You will never “fit in,” Suzy Bell, for in order to fit in, you must let go of who you uniquely are, you would have to forget who you were created to be, worth more than all the stars and suns in the universe.  The Song that you have to sing belongs to no one else.

Reach out and claim You, Suzy Bell, and never forget who you are, with all its wonderful peculiarities and wild eccentricities.  Your phoophoonikkee is one of your greatest gifts.  Hug it tightly to you.

You are YOU, Suzy Bell.

And Suzy Bell reached out.

(The End.  Or Maybe The Beginning.)

The world is full of magic things patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.  (William Butler Yeats)

As Suzy Bell floated slowly to the forest floor, once again she was amazed to find herself dressed in different clothes.  This time it was a frilly lace dress, and — holy cow! — she seemed to have wings.  She tentatively gave them a little wiggle, and found she bounced a foot or so off the ground.  Startled, she stopped wiggling and fell back onto the ground and lay there for a moment.

Did that mean she could fly?  Was she like an angel?  Did that mean she was dead?  Could this be heaven?  Her phoophoonikkee had never done this before.

Suzy Bell got slowly to her feet and looked around.  The woods seemed very still.  There was no rustling of leaves and there was no birdsong.  She seemed to be the only living creature there.  Except — could that possibly be the wolf’s fluffy tail she saw for a moment in the brush?  But she blinked and it was gone.

Slowly she became aware that directly in front of her, the woods had begun to glow.  She saw the face of a beautiful Lady and swirling golden birds. The Lady smiled at Suzy Bell, and then, crawling slowly toward her out of the glowing light was a ginormous dragonfly.

Now ordinarily Suzy Bell would have been so terrified that she would have fainted dead away.  But she had been through so many unusual experiences lately, that this didn’t seem so extraordinary.  And when the dragonfly opened its mouth and began to speak, she was intrigued to learn that it had a high sweet voice, sort of like what she had always imagined that an angel might, rather than the rough and tough voice of the angel-in-the-moon.

Suzy Bell couldn’t really tell if the dragonfly was smiling (since it didn’t appear to have any lips), but she rather imagined that it was.  It stopped in front of her, and bowing low, it lifted one of its forepaws and suggested that Suzy Bell climb on board.  There were places that it wanted to show her, it said, places that The Lady said she needed to see.

(to be continued)

 

You are not meant to be like others.  You are not meant to fit in.  Break free from what you think you should be . . .  (Gowman)

Finding herself back in the purple tree with Alfred and Tennis Shoe, Suzy Bell heaved a huge sigh of relief, and hugged them tightly, whereupon they both woke up and started slobbering all over her and chattering at her with assorted meows and whine-barks.  She laughingly pushed them away, and took a big, long stretch.  Wow, was she ever glad to be off that old North Road; what a trip.  And how about that Angel-in-the-moon . . . Now that she thought about it, she wished she had asked the Angel about how she could be like the other kids, so she could have some friends.  Maybe home wouldn’t be so hard if she just had somebody to talk to — somebody who liked and understood her.

And now that she thought about home, how was she going to get back there?  Did she even want to?  When her daddy came home from losing his job, he sighed a lot and was very quiet.  And he started drinking even more and keeping to himself, and ignoring his family.  After that, she remembered doors slamming shut, arguments erupting, and her parents finally settling into a stony silence. She hated it all.

And what was she going to do about her phoophoonikkee?  Before, when things got bad, she could just imagine herself somewhere else.  Now it wasn’t working like it always had in the past; she wasn’t able to control where it took her . . .

And no sooner had that thought popped into her mind than she found herself floating in a golden forest.  Slowly she landed, coming gently down onto a mossy path.  Ahead of her . . .

(to be continued)

“It is important to remember that we all have magic inside us.  (J.K. Rowling)

We left Suzy Bell in somewhat dire straits, plodding north on the North Road upon which the wolf had set her.  She was cold, miserable, and thoroughly sick of this whole dream from which she couldn’t awaken.  The only thing that gave her any reassurance at all that she wouldn’t just freeze to death was what seemed to be the invisible presence of the wolf, who she thought now might be walking alongside her. If she turned her head just so, she could catch a glimpse of his furry tail, but that was all; he wasn’t there when she turned to look.  But now she was dressed in jeans and a warmer shirt, and that helped.  Magic, she thought.

And soon, or at least eventually, she reached a high pass in the rocky ridge she had been climbing for the last half hour or so.  Ahead of her were two huge boulders, and a moon so big that she knew it couldn’t be real.  Another reason she knew it couldn’t be the real moon was because there was no man-in-the-moon.  Instead there was an angel-in-the-moon, who looked hard at her and demanded to know why she was there.

Since Suzy Bell didn’t have any idea why she was there, she didn’t have a very good answer for the Angel, who seemed to be annoyed at Suzy Bell’s uncertain stuttering.  She or he or IT informed Suzy Bell softly, and rather sinisterly, thought Suzy Bell, that the only reason anyone came up the True North Road was to find the answer to their heart’s desire.

Suzy Bell didn’t know her heart’s desire, so she couldn’t very well ask anything about it.  She was pretty sure it had to do with having a happier home, that her parents wouldn’t fight, that her daddy wouldn’t drink, that everybody could just be normal, but that seemed like too big a question or wish.  Besides, this angel-in-the-moon didn’t seem to have too much in common with any good fairy or godmother about whom she’d ever read.  In fact, if truth be told, Suzy Bell was pretty scared of this angel-in-the-moon, and not for the first time, hoped this dream would soon be over.

After a period of impatient snorting and huffing and puffing, the angel-in-the-moon closed her eyes and then pointed a finger at Suzy Bell and muttered,  Hark!  Listen up, Suzy Bell.  The answer is: “hallelujah anyway.” 

And just like that Suzy Bell found herself back in the purple tree with Alfred and Tennis Shoe curled beside her, still sleeping . . .

(to be continued)

 

A compass, I learnt when I was surveying, it’ll point you true North from where you’re standing, but it’s got no advice about the swamps and deserts and chasms that you’ll encounter along the way.  (Abraham Lincoln)

As Suzy Bell, Alfred the long nosed dog, and Tennis Shoe the cat with no tail, dozed uneasily in the crook of the roots of the purple tree following their scary trip down the River of Tears, Suzy Bell started to dream.  She dreamed that a door opened in the tree’s trunk, and a long furry arm reached out and dragged her inside the tree.  Surprisingly, she was not alarmed in the dream, and willingly followed the arm, which seemed to be attached to — of all things to find in a tree — a wolf!  He (somehow she knew it was a “he”) led her down a long staircase, and at the bottom of the staircase, there was a door.  He grasped the knob and opened the door (how strange, she thought, that a wolf can turn a doorknob), and ahead of them, she saw a dirt trail leading through a misty valley of hills.  The wolf handed her a lantern, and motioned with his nose that she should go up that trail, heading north.  She wasn’t sure how she knew that direction was north, but she did.

Suzy Bell was very reluctant to go, mostly because she was leaving Alfred and Tennis Shoe behind.  But when she turned back to voice her objections to the wolf, she found that he, the staircase, the door, the purple tree, and Alfred and Tennis Shoe had disappeared.  Another “Uh, oh” experience for Suzy Bell; she was on her own.

And very unhappy.  But since she didn’t know what else to do, she started walking north.  Now it might have been wiser for Suzy Bell to take a minute, and think this thing through, but she was understandably confused.  And besides, this was a dream, and we never behave the way we ordinarily would in a dream.

As we mentioned before, the hills were misty, and a drab brown, and there wasn’t much to see.  She trudged on, looking for some sign, some indication of why she had been sent north on this road in this featureless valley.  Now Suzy Bell, even at her young age, or maybe because of her young age, was very much a believer in magical thinking — she always watched for “signs” or coincidences or unusual things in her world as answers that would show her what to do.  And all of a sudden, one of those “signs” appeared to her — and this time, it was a real sign!  A big billboard off to her right by the trail read:  Super Sale —  North country land for sale, not for wimps!  Develop your strongest self, Buy North!!!

While Suzy Bell had zero interest in buying land, she was interested in being her strongest self, and so she went on with somewhat more enthusiasm, or at least less dragging of her feet.  It got colder and colder, and soon icy pellets of something wet started to blow.  Suzy Bell shivered, wishing she had thought to wear a coat and boots in this dream.  Plus it was getting darker and darker.  How was she going to survive a night in this harsh place?

She decided to lie down to rest for just a moment because she was so tired.  But as she lay there, shivering and sleepy, she felt a hard nudge, and startled, thought she caught a glimpse of the wolf who had started her on this journey.

She struggled to her feet and looked about, but there was no other sign of life in the bleak landscape.  Not knowing what else to do, she plodded on and on.  The road seemed so long.  Soon she wasn’t able to feel her toes anymore, and she felt cold all the way into her heart.  She stumbled, and just as she was about to despair .  .  .  .

(to be continued)

 

You must find the place inside yourself where nothing is impossible.  (Deepak Chopra)

When we last left the little girl named Suzy Bell, and her companions Alfred, the long-nosed dog, and Tennis Shoe, the cat with no tail, they were all in a pickle.  Now, in case you don’t know, to be in a “pickle” means we are in a predicament, a not-good place to be that we have to find our way out of — probably sooner rather than later.

And this was certainly true for Suzy Bell, Alfred, and Tennis Shoe.  Suzy Bell was experiencing a malfunction of the phoophoonikkee, which up until now had always allowed her to escape from any predicament or pickle in which she found herself.  And right now, Suzy Bell, Alfred, and Tennis Shoe needed a boat in a big way because she had cried so many tears that they were being washed away in a flood.

(A note to our dear readers:  in case you have been so caught up in the excitement of our story that you haven’t realized it yet, a phoophoonikkee is our imagination.  And Suzy Bell’s imagination was so big that it reached the proportions of what we shrinks like to call “dissociation” — a fancy name for a particular kind of day-dreaming.  Except that right now, it wasn’t serving her well, and that is what this story has to be about the business of fixing if Suzy Bell, Alfred, and Tennis Shoe are to survive.  So — to continue . . .)

Just as all looked lost, Suzy Bell heard a click in her head, and it surprised her so much that she stopped crying,  And when she stopped crying, she looked around, and found herself floating down a river in a boat.  Now we would like to say this was a beautiful sun-dappled river with lovely flowers and trees on the shores, but . . . uh, oh. It wasn’t. It was a big ole muddy, and kinda nasty-looking river with ugly logs floating along side the shore that could possibly be alligators.  Suzy Bell’s phoophoonikkee was obviously still malfunctioning a bit.

So Suzy Bell decided, with urging from Alfred and Tennis Shoe, who didn’t like the looks of this situation at all, to make for shore.  And so they all paddled and paddled, until they were finally able to jump out of the boat and wade to dry ground — which they did pretty fast, in case those loggy-looking things actually were alligators.

The land where they found themselves was pretty strange, too.  Purple trees with furry tops.  Flowers that grew upside down so that the blooms were on the bottom.  Hills that went sideways instead of up and down.  And they could hear lots of animal-y noises that they didn’t much like the sounds of either.

There was a little voice in Suzy Bell’s head that told her that maybe she had better just sit down in a safe place, and think this whole thing over.  And so she did.  She found a little sheltered nook in the roots of one of the purple trees, and the three of them nestled in, and even though they were a little scared of this place, they were so tired from all their adventures that they drifted off to sleep.

And Suzy Bell dreamed . . .  And what she dreamed was this.

(to be continued)

 

 

The world of reality has its limits; the world of imagination is boundless.  (Jean-Jacques Rousseau)

If you happened to check in yesterday, you will have found a new piece called An Unnamed Story.  It is the beginning of a series about a little girl named Suzy Bell, who at one time, at least, has lived inside all of us.  Maybe it’s been so long ago that you’ve forgotten her, but maybe not.  And if you have (forgotten her, that is) maybe something in An Unnamed Story will remind you.  It is a story about imagination, about childhood, about possibility.

Following are some reminders that might possibly tweak your memory:

The world is full of magic things patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.  (William Butler Yeats)

Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.  (E.B. White)

You were wild once.  Don’t let them tame you.  (Isadora Duncan)

You are not meant to be like others.  You are not meant to fit in.  Break free from who you think you should be, and become childlike again.  (Vince Gowmon)

It is important to remember that we all have magic inside us.  (J.K.Rowling)

You must find the place inside yourself where nothing is impossible. (Deepak Chopra)

I am just a child who has never grown up.  I still keep asking these ‘how’ and ‘why’ questions.   Occasionally, I find an answer.  (Stephen Hawking)

The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge, but imagination.  (Albert Einstein)

Those who struggle to fit in are well-equipped to lead us to a new and positive world.  (Vince Gowmon)

I invite you to stop by Rest Beside the Weary Road occasionally to see what Suzy Bell is up to.  Her life up until the time that we get to know her has been fraught with a lot of unknowns and some occasional terrors.  Just like us all.

And if you have any ideas about Suzy, feel free to share ’em!

 

Someday you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.  (Gowman)

Once upon a time very long ago and in a land far away, or maybe it was just next door, lived a little girl who had a very large phoophoonikkee.  No one knew why it was so large but they did know that it made her do very strange things.

The Nice-Friendly-Sweet-Smart Little Girl’s name was Suzy Bell.

Suzy Bell lived in a purple house with red shutters and a crooked stovepipe.  Apple trees bent low over the house, and often Suzy Bell could hear them whisper to her at night.  She had a fat dog with a long nose named Alfred, and a striped cat with no tail named Tennis Shoe.  And she had NO friends, even though she was nice-friendly-sweet-and-smart.  She had no friends because they all made fun of her large phoophoonikkee and the strange things that it made her do.

If you’re wondering right now what these strange things were, we can tell you that Suzy Bell had the ability, with the help of her large phoophoonikkee, to transport herself to anywhere in the world she wanted to go.  She could be a boy instead of a girl.  She could fly.  She could be a movie star.  Or the President!

She could do all sorts of wildly improbable, fantastical, unbelievable, very strange things.

If her mother cried, or if her father drank too much and yelled, or if her friends mocked her, Suzy Bell’s phoophoonikkee started to grow.  And it grew, and it grew, and it grew until it was so large that Suzy Bell started to slowly float up to the ceiling, and then she would pop right out of the roof.  She was always very careful to take Alfred and Tennis Shoe with her because they were her only friends and because she loved them so much.

One day, maybe it was yesterday or last Tuesday, Suzy Bell had a Very Bad Day.  She failed her spelling test.  When she got home, she found her parents yelling at each other because her father had lost his job, and when he left, she knew he would come home in the way that she hated the most.  Her mother cried and went to her room.

And Suzy Bell’s phoophoonikkee started to grow.  She grabbed Alfred and Tennis Shoe before she started to float up to the ceiling, and she was very glad because she wanted to go far away.  But this time, something different and Very Strange happened.  Suzy Bell’s phoophoonikkee was not acting the way it always had in the past.

Suzy Bell, clutching her two best friends in the world tightly to her chest, her eyes shut, impatiently waiting to float away, suddenly realized that NOTHING HAPPENED!!!  Nothing happened.  Suzy Bell repeated shutting and opening her eyes . . . nothing!

Panicked, she began to cry great big alligator tears.  She cried and cried and cried.  So MUCH did Suzy Bell cry that her tears were making bigger and bigger puddles on the floor.  So much water!  Soon she began to float and still she held her two best friends tightly.  Her eyes grew wide with fright when she realized that she COULDN’T SWIM!!!!  She cried out,  “Oh, I WISH I HAD A BOAT!!!”

(to be continued)

The most valuable thing we can do for the psyche occasionally is to let it rest, wander . . . Not try to do or be anything.  (May Sarton)

Oh, rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing.

One of the hardest things I think I have ever tried to do is to be “retired.”  It is going on five years now since I retired from my professional life of teaching and practice, and I still don’t know what to make of it, this business of retirement.  I have prayed for opportunities to be of service somehow, to still “give back,” to Do.  And what always comes, is to be here now, in this moment, Being.  What a surprise this has been to me, not because I don’t believe it, (and in fact have preached it to both students and patients), but because I still evidently haven’t learned it.

Being.

There is an old saying that we teach most what we need to learn, and I guess even the fact that I’m writing a blog called Rest Beside the Weary Road means I haven’t learned the art of “resting” too well.

But if the lyrics of that beautiful old song are to be believed, it is in resting that we are able to hear the angels sing, that we gain access to that beauty, that wisdom, that peace.

We aren’t called to those things at which we are already good, I’ve learned, but rather to those things that we have neglected, that have never had enough  chance for life.

Maybe someday I will have done enough Being that I can go do some more Doing again, but that day is not today.  Even as I sit in my darkenened living room looking out into the last vestiges of what was a brilliant sunset, I can imagine the faint sound of angel-song.  And maybe if I sit quietly and wait, it will become louder.  And clearer.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens . . . When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I’m feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don’t feel so bad. (from The Sound of Music)

White plates and cups, clean-gleaming, ringed with blue lines and feathery, faery dust; wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust of friendly bread.  (Brooke)

Rupert Brooke, a soldier in World War I, wrote the poem excerpted above.  In the midst of the hellhole of the trenches, it helped him to think of the things, the people, the places that he loved.  He said that it kept him sane in the midst of unspeakable horror.

For those of us who are experiencing physical pain or emotional stress today, thinking of those things that we love is a way of centering ourselves in all that is most real to us.  For me, it is probably the most satisfying way of meditating, of calming myself.  Of prayer.  Of gratitude.  Of peace.

We often can’t control the seemingly fated conditions of our lives, nor can we sometimes turn aside from the destiny that seems to seek us out.  But we can always choose to control the things about which we think.  If, like me, you tend to be a tad obsessive, and/or have an overly active imagination, your thoughts can easily get away from you.  We can catastrophize, awfulize, imagine all manner of dreadful or fearful things.  As an effective way of dealing with this, I don’t know a better way than centering yourself on all that you most love.

The crisp, clean scent of rosemary . . . The wind rustling through the leaves . . . Sunlight through a blue glass bottle . . . A warm puppy . . . Great wooly sheep . . . A cherry nut ice cream cone . . . The sound of water flowing over rocks . . . Warm bedroom slippers . . . Drifting fields of lavender. . .