April 18, 2001

Issues in and out.



Here are a few of my favorite online haunts:
[This is the site I visit to fantasize about living in Toronto again, which is almost every single day during the winter]

Jonathan Cainer's Zodiac Forecasts
[This is where I visit in the morning, when I need a positive spin on things past, present and future.]

Living Local
[This is where I go to see what Canadians are up to, sometimes I even buy things from the businesses listed there.]

Environment Canada Weather
[This is the site I visit every morning, and before every road trip during the winter]

This morning a sense of peace has stolen over me as I sit quietly drinking my morning coffee. In the lightening sky outside my window, single snowflakes drift down out of the gray sky. Each snowflake is invisible against the pearly sky, only floating coyly into view as it passes the black, bare branches of the trees.

Waiting for spring, the coldness that allows those small bits of water to float past, seems a mixed blessing. There is certainly beauty in coldness. It provides temporary relief from the pain of process and growth, giving space and time to contemplation and preparation. The soul needs such times.

Perhaps it is my own need and my own soul that allow my eyes to see the beauty of these floating flakes of snow on a quiet morning. It seems as if I am led to honor that which must now pass.

There are changes and growth in the circumstances that surround me. The turmoil in my life of late, however, is safely contained within the boundaries of body and soul. It is invisible to those around me and powerfully present in my life and theirs.

I believe I have, very nearly, passed through the winter of my soul.

If life holds for us seasons in our journey, then for many years has my path led through the frozen and pristine. The waters of my life have not flowed freely. Crystallized into rigid packages they have scattered before the winds of change and gathered in blankets.

The warmth of the spring will release the frozen waters to the waiting soil beneath. The time to awake is at hand.

However profound the change in my life, there are elements that remain constant. Life has many sustaining comforts.

The birds sing with renewed vigor.

Green emerges slowly from black and brown.

Breezes blow warm and gentle across the skin.

People do clever and silly things to themselves and one another.

And I continue to love. And this is the gift I have been granted.

With the warmer weather comes Attila"s increased absence. This requires an adjustment on my part; it goes without saying that it requires an adjustment on his. For me, life becomes more solitary and more time is available for personal interests and pursuits. Initially, I am usually at a loss as to how to fill the extra hours. That evolves rather quickly into not having enough hours in the day to pursue all my interests.

As "The Teenager" wanders slowly toward adulthood, her need of my undivided attention is ever decreasing. As more and more she comes to rely on her inner voices for guidance, she requires my tutelage less and less. Her process towards internalization and self-sufficiency is progressing rapidly now. I am well pleased.

Again, I find myself left with additional time and emotional energy, now wondrously available for my own growth and development.

Over the last few days Attila and I have been spending out time together tackling tasks that personify "many hands make light work". First, the windows at the back of the house absorbed our attention. Attila removed glass, handed it over to me to be washed, cleaned the frames and screens, received the glass back clean, and reinserted it into the frame. It was a real assembly line. Another day of window washing and the job should be done.

Another common project is dealing with bureaucracy. There are times when one wonders how the world manages to function at all for the chaos created by greed and neglect. We have had our hands full dealing with corporate behavior that borders on the criminal. However, since other innocent parties are affected we must proceed to the best possible solution with extreme caution.

Am I being vague? Yes, I am. The secrets are not mine alone to tell and so I shall not.

Top of Page

Worldly Distractions

Bare Tree Branches
We only see the dark
because there is light.

By the Easy Chair
Pavilion of Women
by Pearl S. Buck
November, 1946

Symphony No. 9 in D minor opus 125
Ludwig van Beethoven

On the Screen
Pixel magic in the form of
Fairy Art by Hughs

8:37 PM DST
Temp: 2` C
Humidity: 41%
Wind: NW 11 mph
Barometric:102.0 kPa (-)

Sunrise 6:37 AM DST
Sunset 8:09 PM DST

Page by Page: A Woman's Journal
by Maggie Turner

Canadian Maggie Turner writes and publishes poetry, photography, and a personal journal online. Her work reflects the current way of life in Canada, embracing Canada's past, present, and future in a unique portrayal of everyday life. Maggie's voice is one of the many that actively depict the rich diversity of Canadian culture.

Photography: "a term which comes from the Greek words photos (light) and graphos (drawing). A photograph is made with a camera by exposing film to light in order to create a negative. The negative is then used in the darkroom to print a photograph (positive) onto light-sensitive paper.
Source: University of Arizona Glossary

Poetry: "a form of speech or writing that harmonizes the music of its language with its subject. To read a great poem is to bring out the perfect marriage of its sound and thought in a silent or voiced performance. At least from the time of Aristotle's Poetics, drama was conceived of as a species of poetry."
Source: Creative Studios

Journal: " "Though a journal may be many things - a treasury, a storehouse, a jewelry box, a laboratory, a drafting board, a collector's cabinet, a snapshot album, a history, a travelogue..., a letter to oneself - it has some definable characteristics. It is a record, an entry-book, kept regularly, though not necessarily daily.... Some (entries) will be nearly illegible, written in the dark in the middle of the night.... Not only is it a record for oneself, but of oneself. Every memorable journal, any successful journal, is honest. Nothing sham, phony, false...." (Dorothy Lambert from Ken Macrorie's book, Writing to be Read )
A journal is a way to keep track of your thoughts about what you read... as well as what you did on any given day."
Source: Journal Writing

A Blog is an online journal created by server side software, often hosted by a commercial interest.

"The term "weblog" was coined by Jorn Barger[4] on 17 December 1997. The short form, "blog," was coined by Peter Merholz, who jokingly broke the word weblog into the phrase we blog in the sidebar of his blog in April or May 1999.[5][6][7] Shortly thereafter, Evan Williams at Pyra Labs used "blog" as both a noun and verb ("to blog," meaning "to edit one's weblog or to post to one's weblog") and devised the term "blogger" in connection with Pyra Labs' Blogger product, leading to the popularization of the terms."

Copyright 1999 - Today Maggie Turner
All rights reserved.

Privacy Policy

:: ::