March Madness and A Walk on the Mild Side

Tags

Adaptability, adoptee, Covid, Covid-19, labyrinth walking, Naw Ruz, Tehran, Tibet

March seems to be a month of “Anything Goes.” During this end of winter/beginning of spring, a lot happens: Change to Daylight Saving, Tax preparation, collecting seeds for spring gardening, St. Patrick’s Day, Oscar’s Night, the Ides of March. Here is Santa Fe, as we begin Spring, the weather is wildly unpredictable. One day it’s warm and sunny, the next may bring several inches of snow.

View from the Winsor Trail, Santa Fe National Forest.

In Tehran, where I lived in the 1960s, March signaled the beginning of a new Year. Naw Ruz (pronounced “No Ruse”), was, and still is, a time for festivities and exchanging gifts. It is a day recognized around the world. Occurring at the Spring Equinox, it has been celebrated for over 3,000 years. The celebration dates back to the ancient religion of Zoroastrianism.

My older son was born in Tehran right before Naw Ruz. Iranian friends and American friends who were also living in Tehran — brought flowers and presents to the house. For my first Naw Ruz, I was immersed in mothering, somewhat oblivious to everything else. Later, I would learn of the custom of the laying out of symbolic greens and leaping over a fire.

The “haft seen” table  includes seven symbolic items all starting the with an “s” sound: sabzeh, senjed, sib, seer, samanu, serkeh, and sumac. •Sabzeh (sprouted wheat grass) symbolizes rebirth and renewal; Samanu (sweet pudding) stands for affluence and fertility;  Senjed (sweet, dried lotus tree fruit) represents love. Leaping over a fire the last Wednesday before Naw Ruz allegedly brought good luck. I was too busy nursing my brand new son to set a proper haft seen table or leap over a fire, but I was fascinated to learn of these customs.

In addition to remembering Naw Ruz, I’ve recently had the unwelcome experience of coming down with Covid. Fortunately, a light case. Walking my way back to health, I was strolling about Santa Fe Plaza last week — definitely a “walk on the mild side” — when I encountered peaceful protesters walking to save Tibet. The day was beautiful, and though spectators were few in number, I felt confident that awareness was being raised. The Tibet supporters seemed a fitting welcome to the change of seasons.

Meanwhile, come rain or shine, the neighbor’s brass Samuri stands guard over my part of town.

Join Elaine on Mondays for reflections on the writing, hiking and the outdoors, Santa Fe life, and the world as seen through adoption-colored glasses. Check out her newest novel The Hand of Ganesh. Follow adoptees Clara Jordan and Dottie Benet in their  quest to find Dottie’s birthparents. Order today from Amazon or www.pocolpress.com. And thanks for reading! 

Advertisement

Troubadour for Troubled Times

Tags

Acceptance, Adaptability, Gratitude, Guitar, Jugband Music, Keeping Calm, Storytelling

John Henry MacDonald has been called “the Will Rogers of modern times.”

Today’s guest post features one of the world’s treasures, a person whose attitude toward life I’ve decided to adopt. A few years back. I met John Henry MacDonald on the hiking trail. He is a musician, philosopher, a one-of-a-kind singer songwriter, a man with a healthy attitude toward life, an outlook well suited to these Corona Virus Times. His is a philosophy that I’ve adopted.
And who is John Henry MacDonald?
In his own words: “From the streets of San Francisco to the jungles of Vietnam, from drug addiction and alcoholism and homelessness, to finding his strength and becoming a reigning figure in financial services in Austin Texas for more than 40 years, John Henry McDonald has lived many lives in one. And throughout the years he always kept a common thread: a love of folk, gospel, and blues music and a talent for telling a good story.”
A true survivor of many of life’s challenges, John Henry McDonald endeavors to tell his story of survival and hard-earned success by telling audiences about himself and about the man who saved his life. Entitled “A Guru Named Frank,” his beloved one-man show features 16 original songs wrapped around 11 vignettes and a ready encore. The stories and the songs describe his brokenness after the war, and the rite of passage McDonald undertook after meeting his guru, the man that would serve as John Henry’s guide to leading a productive and extremely successful life.

***************
“Nuts and Bolts of Calm” by John Henry
First we must wish to be calm. Then we must wish to remain so. (A decision has to be made).

A morning prayer recited.
Listing things that make us grateful.
Guided meditation.
A reading for the day.
These are all activities that still the mind. And these moments of stillness are the treasure we are seeking. Moments of calm. Priceless.
Now we’ve established that we can be calm. Next the task of remaining calm.

A worrisome thought has a beginning. And all of those beginnings sound something like this: “what’s going to happen to me when”… (Fill in the blank with negativity).
So it’s our job to identify the beginning of a negative thought and stop it in its tracks. You see, I control my mind, my mind does not control me.
So when a worrisome thought begins, I stop it by saying “No!!” Then I recall the morning moment of calm.
A quick prayer
Listing a gratitude
Return to the treasure of the quiet time of day.

Decide to be calm
Identify negativity
Stop it in its tracks
Repeat Repeat Repeat.

Listen to John Henry MacDonald’s song “Hold On”
https://www.dropbox.com/s/gtae3nmeup250l5/03_Hold%20On.mp3?dl=0

*********************************************************

Subscribe to Elaine Pinkerton’s website for monthly blog posts on adoption, nature, and the writing life. She is working on a suspense novel, The Hand of Ganesh, slated for publication in 2021.

 

All I need to know about life I learned from my cat.

Tags

Adaptability, adoption, Cat, Comfort, Companion Animals, Felines and Friends, Hilary Mantel, Name-choosing, New Home, Wolf Hall

A home without a cat — and a well-fed, well-petted and properly revered cat — may be a perfect home, perhaps, but how can it prove title?
– Mark Twain, Pudd’nhead Wilson

Note to readers: As you know if you’ve been reading my blog, I write about adoption and adoption-related issues. The time has come to talk about adopting a cat. Why? There’s a new four-legged friend in my life. Rescue kitty Charlie Chapman brings me such joy and laughter, I must share.

Life is hard, then you nap.

 

Several years ago, my orange tabby, Thomas Cromwell, died of feline immune deficiency. Thomas Cromwell, named after the protagonist of Hilary Mantel’s novel Wolf Hall, had seen me through a major operation, repair of an abdominal aorta aneurism. He was a wonderful nurse. I tried in vain to repay the favor. When his time came, it was a holiday weekend and the vet’s office was closed. There were emergency services, but I was reluctant to put my frail, frightened feline in a cat carrier and take him to a place that would terrify him. Keeping by him round the clock, I would wait until the vet’s office opened on Tuesday.  His friends (he was a very popular cat) visited to say goodbye. He passed away gently surrounded by the comforts of home, and I was devastated.

I knew that I would never invite another cat into my life. But…time passed and, as felines are wont to do, another kitty padded his way into my home and heart, a handsome gray and white seven-year-old. He’d won the hearts of the volunteers at Felines and Friends, and he was about to win mine.

Charlie Chapman as king of the divan

WHAT’S IN A NAME?
I’d just returned from a Viking River Cruise up the Elbe River, to the Czech Republic and  eastern Germany. Before the trip, I’d met my future pet at the local cat rescue organization Felines and Friends. I was fairly certain that he wouldn’t still be available after my return. When he was still there, I decided that an adoption was meant to be. Filling out paperwork and paying the adoption fee, I took him home.
He is called “Chapman,” said the adoption folks. Hmmmm. “OK, kiddo,” I said to my new friend. “We have to think of a new name for you.” Two weeks of trial and error—Igor, Rochester, Sidney, William, and various other identifications—and I realized that all he needed was a first name to go along with “Chapman.” Thus “Charlie Chapman.”

NO PLACE LIKE HOME:
But which part of home would my new pet inhabit? At first, Chapman spent all his time inside — yes, inside — the recliner chair. A previous cat had carved out an interior cave in this comfy old piece of furniture and Charlie Chapman would spend long hours inside it. In fact, I seldom saw him. This was not the way become a social cat, one who would interact with friends and family. I placed small pet rugs and tempting kitty beds on top of couches, chairs, and beds and yet still Chapman disappeared into the recliner.
Not to be outsmarted, I cut some material out of the innards of the chair, removing his self-styled “hammock.” Next I cleaned and brought in two cinder blocks from the back yard. After tilting the chair up, I lowered it down OVER the cinder blocks. The hiding place was gone and my little friend would now have to be out and about. Suddenly he was on armchairs, the couch, in the kitchen, and roaming around the house. I was happier being able to interact with him, and he instantly became more outgoing. Now he races around the house as if he owned the place. It’s as though he’d been born and raised here.
Charlie Chapman is a model of adaptability. He’s quickly overcoming his shadowy, underprivileged past. Even as he wins a place in my heart,  Chapman is teaching me.

Join Elaine every other Monday for musings on adoption and life.