When I was very young before I even went to school, I remember making a space in my bed for my guardian angel. I just believed there was someone special because my mother told me so. Those were years when it was quite turbulent at home with my father when he was inebriated. I believe moving over in bed to keep that space available for my angel made me feel safe.
When I was six my GrandPapa died. I have spoken many times about my maternal grandfather. I was living with him the year he was dying. After he died, I never made room in my bed for my guardian angel for I always believed GrandPapa was always with me. I would cram for exams at the last minute too many times and just before the test, I would ask my grandfather to help me remember the answers. All through elementary school, I would close my eyes at difficult questions and see the spot on the page in my science , history or geography book…I believed GrandPapa sent me cheat sheets because so many times I did not study enough in those earlier years.
When there was thunder and lightening, I was always very scared. GrandMaman would be so calm and look out the window at the lightening. She would comfort me by telling me that GrandPapa was bowling up in heaven and that was the sound of the thunder. He was playing for money, she said, which he would send her. Perhaps she was trying to explain that her widow’s pension came from him.
I have a fan club up in heaven now, with many other relatives. But I always feel my grandfather is looking out for me and still pray or chant visualizing the face of my grandfather.
child in the night felt a nudge and made room, guardian angel
snow kissed cheek wind whispers his presence guardian angel
message from heaven first snow covers the ground guardian angel
Years ago I was a teacher’s assistant for a university course. It was a six credit, 2 semester course and one of the most challenging courses that was also a pre-requisite to stay in the programme. It was not difficult due to the academia and theories…the self-discovery and soul searching were the toughest challenges. I really enjoyed working with this professor. He had such a rich experience, having completed two masters in Thailand where he met his wife. He asked each student to purchase 3 balls. At the beginning of each class we spent ten minutes “trying” to juggle while the professor and I were taking attendance. I had to juggle too and times I missed it at school, I tried it at home. After Christmas, we were getting better and now we had to pair up with another person to juggle in pairs. The purpose of the exercise, which he told us only on the last day of classes, was to try something different, to excel outside our comfort level, to be able to laugh at ourselves, make mistakes and see that it will not destroy us. Lots of things we learned and more.
Juggling with too many things in life is another expression we use when referring to juggling. Doing too many things at the same time; unorganized, some will say if we juggle too many things. Interestingly in the true skill of juggling, you must be organized otherwise the items you juggle will fall. You have to keep your eyes open, move up to a rhythm to increase speed all by paying close attention to the task at hand. So, actually, when we say you are juggling too many things at the same time, I find we really mean you took on too much…took on more than what we bargained for, etc.
My haiku starts out thinking of my juggling experience and then I added a few thinking of my grandmother, my mother, my daughter and myself…in life in general…raising a family, working, caring for family, sports, volunteering, car pooling, studying and the list goes on. Thank goodness I did not raise my family during the age of the internet…I would have never gotten anything done…(chuckles) I would have added writing and writing poetry.
The photo below shows a street performer at Montreal’s Old Port specially at Place Jacques Cartier where cobblestone streets are lined with shops, terraces, cafés and restaurants. It is a huge tourist attraction spring, summer and fall.
I came across this cute video and since I love Pharrell Williams…well, it makes me “happy” to share this (grins) Now tell me you were NOT tapping your foot, bobbing your head and swaying those hips after hearing this and I won’t believe you:)
The Eastern Townships are graced with many lakes and mountains. Lake Massawippi is one of those lakes facing Mount Orford and home to many lodges and camps for youths and adults. It is near St-Benoit du Lac, a monastery known for its amazing cheese. What a dream place to live in a small cottage like Wordsworth’s on Lake District and writing to my heart`s content surrounded by trees, water and mountains…and nature’s creatures bidding me good morning each day and the stars winking at me at night.
brunâtre du matin roule doucement sur le lac Massawippi regard! la-haut au ciel couronne sur Mont Orford
early rise fog rolling slowly off Lake Massawippi look! up to the heavens halo on Mount Orford
To follow the mood of this prompt at Carpe Diem, our host has discussed the symbiosis of the birch tree and the mistletoe. Of course when one thinks of mistletoe, we are reminded of kissing during the Christmas holidays.
In researching a bit on the powers of the roots, I found that it is a perennial herb with saponins, the root of which is a bronchodilator and expectorant; it is used for abdominal pain, bronchitis, chest pain, colds, cough, diarrhea, oral abscesses, sore throat, tonsillitis. I can see how it is a sacred autumn flower with such properties as to cure many winter colds and bronchial infections. It truly is a beautiful flower, bell- shaped.
What an opportunity I am often faced with at Carpe Diem to learn more about nature. I am interested in herbal medicine and when I see such pretty flowers that have these qualities, my curiosity gets the better of me. Searching a bit further I wanted to find places closer to home or at least in North America. I was pleased to discover that many have named this Boneset Eupatorium japonicum flower after an American from New England, Joe-Pye who used the plant medicinally for helping people with typhus fever. In addition to its medicinal properties, both the flowers and seeds have been used in producing pink or red dye for textiles.
It is a lovely addition to any garden especially if you want to attract butterflies who love the sweet nectar of these flowers. They grow from 3 to 10 feet tall! If you want to read more click here. I found that remark about butterflies fascinating and found many photos of that exquisite meeting of butterflies and these flowers. Imagine butterflies gathering together to savour this gourmet gala!
blue clusters flora stretching tall high heavens ~ gourmet gala monarch butterflies drunk, nature’s nectar
Our host at Carpe Diem’s prompt is “A Departed Soul”. Many of the great masters of haiku wrote “death poems” about their own deaths. One of the “big five” who delivered haiku, Shiki wrote this on his deathbed:
morning dew evaporates in the early sunlight spirit climbs to the sky
@ Chevreuille
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crossing (haibun)
I love our host’s haiku because it reminds me of my GrandPapa who passed June 17th during the day. I don’t remember if it was morning but the “morning dew” makes me think of the river where we were brought up and where my grandfather died in his home.
The dove is often represented in “death” but its significance is more personal to me. In French the translation for “dove” is Colombe which is my mother’s name.
I love daisies. I feel connected to this flower as the petals represent the multiplicity of my personality. The layer of petals beneath the top layer are facets to be discovered throughout a lifetime. I remember, when working in homecare, how sad I would feel when a client passed. Weeks and months caring for a person in their homes was humbling for them and such a loss when they died. After a few years, I wrote to my supervisor that I could no longer continue working in this department for each person who died, I felt a petal from the daisy fall. If I continue, what will be left of me?
Here is my attempt in writing a haiku with this tone of “death poems”:
Tournesol dans un Jardin 
