I’ll be rowing in an online race on Sunday, along with my husband. We can’t use our Hydrow rowing machine because everyone is required to use a Concept2 rower. So, this afternoon my husband borrowed two Concept2 machines from the rowing club’s boathouse, which didn’t inconvenience anyone because the boathouse is unheated and does not get much use over the winter. He set them up in our basement, on either side of the Hydrow.

Two old Concept2 rowing machines and a new Hydrow.

They are older models, and when he came home with them, he cheerfully announced, “Dinosaurs are roaming the earth.”

We practiced on the “dinosaurs” for awhile this evening and got them adjusted as best we could. Even though they are old and creaky compared to our nice new Hydrow, I can’t really complain because we are fortunate to be able to compete in this race. In a normal year, it would be held in Boston without any online racing. So, we are both grateful for the opportunity, even if our basement now feels a bit like Jurassic Park.

Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to “give this planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.” Visit her site to find more Nurturing Thursday posts and a list of frequent contributors.

While I was browsing recently through images online, looking for some new pictures I could upload to the library for my art display, a photo of a winding path through a forest caught my eye.

Winding path through a forest.

(Photo credit: Jyri Tiusanen)

Instead of a descriptive title about the forest or path, the caption was “Detour,” which I particularly liked. In our busy modern world, it’s helpful to be reminded that self-nurturing and connecting with nature are not about scrutinizing the to-do list to see where a forest hike can fit into the schedule. We may do better simply to go with the flow of the occasional random detour.

Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to “give this planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.” Visit her site to find more Nurturing Thursday posts and a list of frequent contributors.

After several weeks in winter’s frigid depths, I woke this morning to find bright sunshine and melting snow. To match the light, airy feeling that it inspired, I chose an image for my art display that featured a sunrise over the calm waters of a pond in springtime.

Sunrise over a still pond.

The sunrise photo reminded me of the imaginary pond in Channelwood, the tiny village where I send my stressed-out younger selves to relax. It wasn’t the same area where Peter had been skimming stones in a June blog entry, but it could easily have been another view of the pond. I took a deep breath and pictured myself there, breathing in the fresh air.

Peter and his usual companions were nowhere to be seen. When I turned to the right, I noticed a little girl who looked comfortable in a light cloth poncho over a navy blue dress, with knee socks and penny loafers. She hadn’t been among the visitors to Channelwood before today, but she was immediately recognizable as my seven-year-old past self.

“Well, hello there, Ponch,” I greeted her cheerfully, giving her a nickname just for the fun of it. “What a beautiful morning it is.”

“Mom always wants me to wear the poncho when the temperature is between 60 and 70 Fah-ren-heit,” she informed me, with the last word in a singsong tone, as if enjoying the sound. “And if it’s colder, then I have to wear a coat. The thermometer in the window wasn’t quite at the 60 mark when I came outside, but Mom didn’t notice. And she won’t, either, because she was too busy complaining again about Dad getting a convertible. That’s why I came here, so I wouldn’t have to listen to that. I like the convertible because it’s such a pretty sky blue, and it’s fun when we go to the beach. I want them to quit arguing.”

I found myself wishing I could return to those days of innocence while, at the same time, feeling sorry for my younger self because I knew they weren’t going to last much longer.

“They love you very much and want to take good care of you,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “even if you have to wear a coat sometimes. And when you grow up, that doesn’t mean life has to be a struggle, doing everything on your own. There will be kind people who can help when you need it, because the world is full of them. You just have to look.”

Although I wasn’t entirely sure whether I was trying to convince Ponch or myself, she smiled a little before turning aside to gaze out over the pond—and I felt better too.

I have no cats, but couldn’t resist posting these words of “Cat Wisdom” for Nurturing Thursday when I came across them. Definitely helpful for staying grounded in the depths of winter, especially in a year when it seems like there’s not much better to do but nap beside a sunny window like a cat. Enjoy!

Word-art that says "Cat Wisdom" with many words of advice such as "Always keep your feet grounded."

Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to “give this planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.” Visit her site to find more Nurturing Thursday posts and a list of frequent contributors.

To read Part 11, click here. All parts of this story are consolidated on one page here.

Breath, in. Heartbeat, slow and regular. Bringing joy into the heart. Infinite joy. Breath, out. Sending love to all. Love to the self sitting on this cushion, to the women gathered in this room, to people everywhere, to the world. Itchy shoulder, noted; gently releasing it from awareness. Breath, in…

A bell rang twice to signal the end of the meditation session. Ina opened her eyes, surprised; hadn’t she just sat down a few minutes ago? But no, daylight was streaming into the room now, and the session had started before dawn, as always.

Stacking her cushion on the shelf with the others, Ina walked through the broad stone corridor that led to the dining hall. She filled her breakfast plate with rye bread, cheese, and an apple from the serving platters on a long table beside the wall.

Ina’s usual instructor, Luz, who was wearing the striped apron of those on kitchen duty, set out another pot of porridge. There were no servants here, and never had been, according to Petra’s historical accounts—which went back hundreds of years. Everyone took turns doing the chores, with no distinctions made for status or seniority. Just yesterday, Ina had seen Mother Ocean down on her knees with a plain kerchief over her silver hair, scrubbing a latrine.

Taking a step toward the round dining tables in the center of the room, Ina saw the flash of a smile beneath Rowan’s brightly colored hat. Rowan was the chief healer, and Ina didn’t often have lessons with her; but, somewhat to Ina’s surprise, Rowan gestured for Ina to take a seat across the table.

“This morning, Ina, you’ll be going out with me,” Rowan said, handing an empty porridge bowl to an apron-clad Daphne. “I’ll show you how to find healing plants. They often grow in places you wouldn’t expect. Nature is wonderfully inventive! And although our library has many books of herb lore, nothing can take the place of hands-on knowledge.”

Ina finished her breakfast quickly and put on a light cloak over her winter dress before joining Rowan outside. Only a few days after the spring equinox, the sun was already high in the sky. Yesterday’s dusting of snow had melted almost entirely, leaving a muddy forest floor with hints of green here and there.

Moss-covered trees with leaf buds opening in a forest.

(Image credit: Guillaume Roux)

Rowan took the familiar path that led uphill beside the river. She carried a sack over her shoulder, made of a green fabric embroidered with a design of red berries. Every few minutes she stopped to put something in the sack with a few words of explanation to Ina, such as that willow bark was often used for relieving pain and that it was best harvested in the spring, after the sap started to run.

After a while, Ina’s attention began to wander. What was the point of gathering herbs, she thought, if healing could be done just as easily by magic? Why not use magic all the time—just as Ina herself did when she lit candles, now that she knew how.

She kept the question to herself at first, as she didn’t expect Rowan would want to hear it. After all, it sounded like a complaint, and Ina knew she’d likely be told that she ought to be grateful for the chance to get outdoors and enjoy the fresh air. Such as it was; the breeze felt pleasant enough, but Rowan had just gone tromping into yet another icky bog full of skunk cabbage, some of which she’d already put into the sack while cheerfully expounding on the plant’s many medicinal uses.

“What do we need herbs for, anyway?” Ina finally couldn’t help herself. “I know you can heal people just by laying hands on them, Rowan—I’ve seen you do it.”

Lifting her gaze from the murky puddle she’d been examining, Rowan calmly responded with another question. “Why did we need to eat breakfast this morning, when instead we might have used magic to draw our energy from the sun as plants do?”

Ina was still pondering her answer when Rowan, with a smile, returned to the path. Ina soon followed her up to a hilltop that was at once familiar and very different from when Ina had first seen it months ago.

The wreckage of the old oak tree still lay on the stony ground, cleaved neatly in half by the lightning bolt that Ina had unwittingly brought down. Around it, winter-brown grass was giving way to bright spring growth. Rowan approached the dead wood and pointed out a fungus growing on one side.

“This has valuable healing properties,” she told Ina, “and it grows only on the largest dead oaks—those that had lived hundreds of years. So you see, this tree’s death was not wasted; Nature made good use of it, as part of the harmony of being.”

Ina took a deep breath of air that, all at once, felt wonderfully fresh and full of life. “That’s why we gather herbs and eat breakfast, too, isn’t it? Because we’re part of the harmony.”

Rowan’s smile grew much broader. “Exactly.”

Like many of us, I’ve gotten low on energy this winter and haven’t done much writing. Of course, in disorienting times like these, it is entirely natural to feel that we need more time to center and nurture ourselves. We shouldn’t feel guilty or call ourselves lazy if we don’t feel like doing much else right now, but should instead follow our instincts and seek out the quiet, restorative power of nature.

Photo of a winter sunset with gold clouds reflecting from ice.

(Image credit: Jonathan Cook-Fisher)

Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to “give this planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.” Visit her site to find more Nurturing Thursday posts and a list of frequent contributors.

Halfway through the winter, it’s cold and snowy here, and I’ve been wishing that I could curl up in a nice cozy burrow and hibernate until the world gets back to normal. Not having that ability, I have been looking for comfortable things that give the feeling of a safe, well-furnished burrow, like in all those classic children’s stories with talking animals. Here’s an image that lifted my mood recently—I hope you like it too!

Cup and pine cones with the caption "Favorite Things."

Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to “give this planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.” Visit her site to find more Nurturing Thursday posts and a list of frequent contributors.

Early this morning I was in a meeting about the features of a new web tool for my team’s work. Everything looked good, the managers who were on the call seemed happy with my input, and I felt pretty cheerful. All was right with the world.

Then I thought about another meeting I’d had last year, when this project was just getting underway. I had to present some information and felt nervous about it, worrying that I was getting things wrong and taking too much time, etc. Of course, nobody really thought I was that awful, but I let my imagination run away with me.

Today I felt much calmer and more confident. After everything that has happened over the past year, it’s getting easier to push aside those pointless little worries that once took up so much mental space.

Word-art that says "I got this."

Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to “give this planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.” Visit her site to find more Nurturing Thursday posts and a list of frequent contributors.

January 25, 2021 · 4 comments · Categories: Musings · Tags:

A few months ago, when I was browsing through the online library collection for the digital art display in my dining room, an image of a quaint faraway city captured my attention. Deep blue shadows on a stony hillside framed the city’s rooftops.

City rooftops framed by a blue-shadowed hillside.

I put it in my favorites folder, wondering, as I did so, just what I was going to do with it. Usually I try to match the image on the art display to the ambient light coming in through my windows, so that I can trick my brain into seeing it as a “window” onto a new landscape or cityscape every day.

“Maybe in the middle of winter,” I said to myself doubtfully. That blue was quite striking, but it didn’t look like any natural light that ever came into my ordinary suburban house. Sure enough, it sat in my favorites for months, without coming close to looking like a good match.

This morning I woke up to a gloomy Monday sky that couldn’t quite make up its mind whether it wanted to snow or rain, so it split the difference by leaving the ground coated in an icy bluish glaze. Something about that color looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it until I opened the art display’s app to choose an image for the day. There it was—the deep blue cityscape—just perfect!

There hasn’t been much snow in my area this winter, just a dusting on Christmas. The forecast for Monday predicts either heavy snow or rain. Ordinarily I would’ve been hoping to avoid the snow, but life seems so relaxed right now that I’d be okay with it. No reason to go anywhere, and working from home means the driveway doesn’t need to be cleared—so it’s all good, whatever happens.

Word-art that says "Let it snow."

Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to “give this planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.” Visit her site to find more Nurturing Thursday posts and a list of frequent contributors.