QUAIL MUTTERINGS #51. Just Another Cog in the Wheel (July 2018)

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I drove along Main Street this morning, very slowly, wanting to observe the local businesses opening up for the day. I thought back to summers past, when I, too, would open the doors of Town Hall and sweep the steps and sidewalk leading out to Main Street, preparing for the first dance class of the morning. I reminisce quite often about the dance career I left behind two years ago, deciding to let it go after thirty-seven years – in order to make room for other things in my life. Of course, I miss it, but now I can focus more on grandchildren, my writing, and taking care of our rural property and home.

It’s not that I have copious amounts of free time on my hands, but it feels even more important now for me to pause and reflect and take time out for silence and stillness. And driving slowly along Main Street – taking stock of other’s occupations – somehow connects me to that ongoing current of livelihood. We’re all cogs in this massive wheel.

Now that my current YA manuscript about a dance studio is finished, for the moment, anyway, I’m sending query letters to literary agents seeking representation for my work. It’s not very exciting – on the computer clicking through screen after screen after screen, and logging rejections. This process saps my energy and leads to self-doubt, blurry vision, and a plethora of other rather unpleasant side effects. I know – poor me. What a sob story. Maybe I’ll start reworking another manuscript that’s been sitting a few years.

Since summer arrived, I seem to have hit some kind of wall. One that feels very foreign and a little scary. That usual “To do” voice in my head, which has been badgering me almost nonstop for practically my whole life, is much quieter now and not so insistent. Or perhaps I’m becoming hard-of-hearing as I enter into my seventh decade of life. Or just lazy? This lethargy, for lack of anything else to call it, is a bizarre new feeling. I’ve never been a procrastinator and I get things done in a timely fashion. By the way, there are down sides to this. Needing to constantly accomplish things is an exhausting, never-ending, vicious cycle, with very little down time. Once you finish one thing, and check it off your list, another one pops up in its place.

My manic work ethic is ingrained deep within me so when that inner voice became silent – I got worried. I still am. Being productive is intricately woven into my self-worth. It’s who I am. At least up until now it has been. But I’m trying to go with the flow more now while searching for any new types of hearing aids that may be out there to try. Meanwhile, I’ll meditate, wander in nature, watch the birds… They all help, but we’ll see. Let me know if you hear of anything.

 

Chi Varnado is working on a new YA novel about a dance studio. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com. You can follow us on www.Facebook.com/gnomewoodcanyon.

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #50. Another Ramble (March 2018)

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Three years old! My second grandson turned three the end of February. Where did the months and years go? By the time we get well into our second half-century of life, time whizzes by at an alarming rate. So I figure I’d better stop and take a minute to aim my lasso, in order to try to catch the moments that I don’t want to miss out on. This takes premeditated intention – so the most important things don’t slip by before it’s too late. And one of those things is spending time with the grandkids – both individually and as a group. Each one is a terrific human being with an outlook on life specifically their own. I learn a lot from each of the three.

One of my favorite things to do, when I’m with just one of them, is to be quiet and simply observe. I can almost see the wheels turning in their heads as they work through the process of discovery: building with Lego’s, filling a bucket with sand, looking at a book, re-enacting real life… It fascinates me. I’m spellbound watching them entertain themselves. I sincerely hope that they can keep this interest in learning alive, and not let boredom and a constant need of outside stimulation take over.

The young bring us new life and fresh ways of looking at things. Spring has almost arrived. Already, little squirrels are scurrying over rocks and eating the chickens’ food, in spite of getting pecked at. Lilac buds threaten to burst into bloom. Some already have and emanate intoxicating fragrances. A juvenile Red-tailed Hawk carries on throughout the day, begging his busy parents for nourishment. Sometimes he calls from a tree on the ridge or a crag in a boulder. At times, he’s on the wing, calling from above, and I always pause to acknowledge him. I feel it’s an honor to inhabit the same place and time as these sentient beings. The green grass is thriving, thanks to the recent rains and warm sunshine, filling the horses’ bellies and blanketing the canyon’s landscape.

But trees are falling, both dead and alive, demonstrating the impermanence of life. After losing a huge ancient oak, months ago, I felt a need to honor its existence instead of sawing it all up for firewood. After extensive research and networking, I contacted some expert wood workers in the San Diego area and, to make a long story short, much of the tree’s lumber has now been milled and a few bowls were turned. Two of them adorn my kitchen as graceful reminders of life’s beauty and fragility.

So again, I come back to the importance of living my life more consciously, trying to embrace what is, as best I can, and act with reverence toward all plants, animals and minerals. And attempt to consume less, in any fashion, so that all may benefit more. Here’s to you, me and us. May we all cherish the moment.

 

Chi Varnado’s memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com. You can follow us on www.Facebook.com/gnomewoodcanyon.

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #49. Begging For Water (February 2018)

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When is the rain coming? Soon, I hope. None in the foreseeable forecast though. Singular blades of grass have pushed up through the soil, thanks to the downpour that came weeks ago. But now, as dry as everything is, I’m afraid the tender young greens will just wilt and die. There goes the food supply for the local wildlife. I feel like I should do a rain dance and chant powerful pleadings to the powers that be. Or go sit on a rock and silently meditate – becoming open for ways that I might be of service to this plight.

I miss last year’s walks through the soggy creekbed. Wading through running water with grandkids in rubber boots. Watching leaves float down the current, pretending they’re boats. Witnessing the horses splay their front legs and reach down to drink from the cool, fresh spring. And then, in the evening, listening to the symphony of frogs from the pond further down the canyon.

Ribet ribet
please it, please it
may the heavens open
and bring replenishment.

May we do no harm
In the way we farm.
And not consume more
than we’re really made for.

Pass it around
everything we’ve found.
Help those in need
instead of filling our greed.

Expand our minds
and share our rides
both far and near
for all are dear.

Yeah, yeah – corny, I know. But I couldn’t help it. Sometimes I just gotta go with the flow – the stream of consciousness – if the stream of water is not available.

The nights have been chilly however. That’s why our yard looks like “White-trash America” with the car hoods up. This practice can save us literally hundreds of dollars. You see, the little wild critters – like rats, mice and squirrels – love nice warm, cozy spaces which a sheltered engine can provide. At least, by lifting the bonnets at night, we lessen the comfort of these dwellings and hopefully prevent expensive chewed-through wires and shorted-out connections. And now that the days are unseasonably warm, we lift the hoods each morning to deter the confused birds from building nests in there during the dead of winter. Yes, this is southern California. But really – it’s a little unnerving, don’t you think?

And vine-ripened tomatoes? In February? What’s that about? Yup, we’ve got that going on in our garden right now. Pretty spooky, huh?

What can each of us do to make a difference and help preserve what we still have? Mother Earth is a beautiful place. It’s where we call home and it’s all we have. Let’s nurture and do our best to sustain her. Each one of us can truly make a difference. And then it becomes the ripple effect. Just like in water.

 

Chi Varnado’s memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com. You can follow us on www.Facebook.com/gnomewoodcanyon.