Thursday, July 13, 2017

Summer Shorts & Odd Awakenings: Touch

Meet Mrs. Weinstock, our dear, smart, and witty friend who passed away in January 2015, two months shy of her 98th birthday. She graduated from West Philly High in 1934 and earned a scholarship to attend the University of Pennsylvania where she graduated with a degree in History and Education. Told you she was smart.

There is so much I could tell you about Mildred... about her love of: family, travel and mementos, museums, theatre, dance, books, and daily routines, like downing a shot of whiskey at precisely 5 PM and savoring a spoonful of ice cream before going to bed. But instead, I'll leave you with this...

After 30 dedicated years of teaching History and English to junior high school and senior high school students in the Philadelphia public school system, Mrs. 'W' retired but never tired of jokingly reminding us every summer that...

"The best two things about teaching... are July and August."

'Mitz' (Mildred) this post is dedicated to you.

No more pencils. No more books: Summertime.
Time for summer shorts: factual stories, short in length.

An Odd Awakening: Princess and the 'Pebble'.

OW! A sharp pain runs through my back and in a snap, I'm no longer sleeping.

It's early morning, though I can't say for sure... my eyes are still closed and my brain's barely working. I try to lay still, hoping the pain will pass, when I sense something wedged between my back and the mattress.

It's a rock!... slightly larger than a pebble, the exact size of the bruise I'll be feeling tomorrow. And like the storybook princess rendered black and blue from having slept on a pea placed under some bedding, I bruise easily too.

Also easy is the explanation of "how" a rock wound up in my bed in the first place.

Long story short...

The rock was in my hand when I climbed into bed for the evening; but before setting it on the bedside table where it belongs, I must have fallen asleep, soon after my head hit the pillow. Then morning rolled around, and with some rolling of my own, my back met the stone... OW!... lodged in the mattress.

Which brings me full circle except for "why"... why was a rock in my hand from the get-go? Not wanting to sound like a total flake, I hope this next bit is not a mistake.

Long story, slightly less short...

Many call them prayers; I call them vibes and recite them both morning and night. It's my way of attempting to connect with the Universe, in seeking guidance, expressing gratitude, and sending positive energy to friends and family alive and deceased. I've been doing this for years but like so much of what we do repeatedly over time, some things get lost. For me, my words began to lose meaning.

Which may explain why some people attend church or temple, build altars, or burn candles, in order to rekindle their spirit. I chose a rock... from my collection of many... a small stone, imperfect, and soothing to touch.

Flickr / Wild Goose Chase

Without knowing it, I chose a 'wishing stone'... a stone with a continuous white line running around its circumference. Perfect for sending positive vibes and making some wishes.

According to Irish belief, if you wish something to happen... "Give it to the pebble," which simply means to whisper your request to the stone.

But I digress... much the way I did when I drifted off to sleep after saying my vibes without setting my rock on the bedside table... where it belonged.

May you always feel a sense of belonging.
And may the gentle spirit of summer be with you.

For a beautiful Irish poem / blessing written and recited by an
Irish poet priest go here.

XOX... Dyan