The Lessons of 2023

(Published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 12/29/23

By Neal Lemery

It’s the end of the year already. The year seems to have flown by, as years tend to do. I like to be reflective, to look back and wonder what I’ve learned this year, what the lessons of life have been taught to me by the many turns and twists of the road in 2023.

The ten minute rule

I’m working on a new protocol for when I’m running my errands. I’ve realized that relationships are at the core of my life, that being around others, and truly listening to them, is an essential part of life, a core value of being a community member.

And, relationships need time. They should take priority over what I think my important and busy schedule is. At the end of the day, the quality of my interactions with others is what has really mattered, and what I did today that was important was really all about relationships.

I’m learning that when I encounter someone, I need to be patient, to take time, and to truly listen. You can learn a lot about your community and about life if you simply take the time to be present, to listen, and to exercise your empathy and compassion.

When I truly listen to someone, when I focus on what they have to say, when I take a few minutes to simply “be” and not “do”, I learn a lot, and I build community. And I have ten minutes in my day for someone, if they need it. Sometimes, I need it. Friendships are our treasures, and they need to be tended to, fed with conversation, and given the nurturing that a few minutes of conversation can bring to our lives.

I do have ten minutes in my day to spare.

The other day at the store, I found myself helping a man in a wheelchair in picking up a bag of dog treats. He was grateful for the help. At the checkout, I found myself behind him, and noticed that most of his purchases were for puppies. We struck up a conversation and I learned he had a new Christmas puppy and was out shopping for the new love in his life. He laughed and smiled, happy to talk about his Christmas, and sharing his new-found joy.

I had ten minutes with him, the best and most joyful ten minutes of my day.

Unplug and start again

Technology can be my friend, allowing me to communicate and to organize, to be productive and useful, from the comfort of home, with a hot beverage to enjoy. And technology can be the source of frustration, and the onset of feelings of incompetence, ineptness, even the use of some four-letter words.

I’m less of a techie than I sometimes think I am. One of my tried and true remedies, often as a last resort, is to turn off, unplug, wait 30 seconds, and then start over. More often than not, that little break with the device seems to reset the problem device. and eliminate the problem. I suspect that more often than not, my less than perfect tech skills are the source of the problem, but my pride keeps me from being that honest with myself.

Unplug and start again seems to work in other areas of my life as well. Taking a break, going for a walk, filling up the bird feeder, or relocating myself often works wonders for the frustrations and challenges of life. I don’t apply this remedy nearly enough, but when I do, the benefits are often immediate and productive.

I’ve been reading about the Japanese practice of “forest bathing”, which is popular in other cultures as well. A walk in the woods, or on the beach seems to be cleansing, relaxing, a purge of toxic thoughts and processes. I’m adding that practice into my reliable technique of “unplug and start again”.

Restringing

My friend and I don’t see much of each other since he moved out of town for a better job. When we do meet up, we can hold down a coffee shop table for several hours. This week, he brought his guitar which had languished in his closet for seven years. We planned to restring it, giving it new life, so he could start playing it again and teach his young daughter a few songs.

We sat around my dining room table, talking up a storm as we usually do, and began to put on new strings. We cleaned up the grit and grime on the guitar, removed the old, rusty strings, and put on new shiny strings. Like a lot of relationships, we tuned up the guitar, bringing the new strings up to pitch, and letting the guitar find its new, fresh voice. The wood responded with sweetness and harmony, much like our friendship.

That guitar will teach us about the value of time and patience, too. New strings need to “settle in”, to stretch, to develop a relationship with the wood of the guitar. Playing the guitar vibrates the wood, improving the tone and “seasoning” the guitar. Those vibrations soothe my heart, too. The benefits are abundant.

Friendships need that sometimes, to be cleaned and restrung, brought up to the proper pitch, and strummed with new energy and purpose.

Looking at Ordinary Things

I’m a photographer, and am often looking for that special photo, something out of the ordinary. But I learned again this year that my best photos occurred when I didn’t think anything spectacular was happening, that what I was seeing was just “ordinary”. When I took another look, when I paused, and really looked around, what initially seemed ordinary had a special beauty, that “special something” that needed to be the subject of my camera.

The other morning, I went outside at dawn, having noticed a pinkish sky to the east. The coming sunrise didn’t seem like much, until I stopped and waited, and looked again. There wasn’t that brilliant phosphorescent explosion on the horizon, but there was some subtle colors. I moved around, and put a Japanese maple tree covered with morning dew and the remnants of last night’s rain between me and the soft colors of the sky. Suddenly, the composition took form, with the soft colors and sparkly waterdrops becoming what I was realizing was a stellar photograph.

The lesson I took away was to wait, observe, and let the ordinary be transformed into something special.

With time and patience, something that seems unexciting, plain, even mundane, can become a moment of beauty and serenity.

As the old year fades away, I’m reminded that life so often gives us simple lessons, if we only take the time to notice.

12/28/23

Towards Purposeful Work

(published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 3/29/2023)

by Neal Lemery

“The only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle.”

____ Steve Jobs

In every job I’ve had, I’ve tried to find purpose, joy, and a sense of worth. A worth in both the task and in shaping me into a better, more skilled and knowledgeable person.

“Did I create value today, did I make it better?”

And “it” has many different meanings. Did I improve my boss’ business? Did I serve someone well? Did my work better some condition or circumstance? Did the community benefit? Did someone else benefit or grow? Did I grow? Did I develop better skills? Was there value in what I did?

On a deeper level, did I advance myself, or others? Did I advance a better idea? Did I teach? Did I learn? Did others learn? Is the world a better place for what I did today?

Now when I fill out government forms, I say I’m “retired”, but that’s a misnomer. The nearly full calendar on the refrigerator and the to do list tells me that I’m anything but “retired”. I’m busy as I want to be, and that’s the real gift of retirement. The person who schedules my life isn’t someone else in the office. It’s me. I get the final say. And, if I don’t like what I am doing, the buck stops with me. My whining won’t play well on Facebook.

I do take the occasional day off, and I sometimes stop doing something simply because it no longer brings me joy. Hopefully we all do that, and we follow Steve Jobs’ advice, feeling free to be able to move on to better ourselves and the community.

Some friends who apparently don’t know me very well ask what is there to do in a small town. I can only laugh. While we have fewer people and maybe fewer outlets for volunteers and the ability to be involved than the big city, there seems to be unlimited potential to contribute, and to change the world, at least change my village.

As Margaret Mead said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed individuals can change the world. In fact, it’s the only thing that ever has.”

If I want to be rebellious or ornery (or, to be polite, “purposeful”), I’ll engage with just a few people, and foment a different idea or a radical thought or action. It might catch fire, and thereby change things. If I want a more satisfying life, or a better community, I need to look into the mirror and take action.

As we were leaving a now regular community event that several people had recently started up, a new resident remarked, “You need to make your own culture here.” Yes, in many ways if you want something to happen, it often starts with yourself, or your determination to find what you want to do right here.

We’re here to make a difference, and the time to act on that is today.

3/29/23

Special Moments With Jim

published in the Tillamook County Pioneer

by Neal Lemery

Last week, I learned that a good college friend had passed away. He wasn’t a particularly close friend in the usual ways with college friends. We did not often keep in touch, like many friends from our past. We’d run into each other at gatherings every several years. Now I realize he was a mentor and a counselor to me, roles that were much different than the usual college classmate ways.

He had a deep impact on me in college. Jim was a sensitive guy, and instinctively knew when someone was emotionally vulnerable and hurting.

I was one of the guys Jim felt that with, and he reached out to me several times, the darkest of times. I kept my emotional life close to me, letting very few people know that I was hurting, that I needed some kindness and some compassion. Young men in our culture don’t want to appear vulnerable. American men are skilled at building walls and keeping our self-doubts and fears well hidden. Such wall building is what is expected of real American men, and of course I was expected to fit in. It’s the manly thing to do.

Jim was different. He had that ability to sense my pain, and would pull me aside, find a quiet corner and look deep into my soul.

He had that way about him, that instant trust and insight to pull out of me the dark thoughts, the self-doubts, the emotional pain that I thought I had been so clever in hiding from everyone, including myself. He could open me up and he would listen, deeply and without judgment.

Jim would normalize my feelings and give words to what I was wrestling with, repeating my fears and doubts so that I could hear what I was thinking and fearing, that I was not really crazy or on the edge of going nuts, that I was a human being who needed some compassion and friendship. I admired all of that in him, and I wanted to be much more like him, his vulnerability and his confidence in being a trustworthy and helpful man.

He had that gift, and I often saw him use his skills and his humanity to help others, to guide people into self-understanding and to find their passions and place in adult life. Not one to seek adulation, he did this work quietly, always protecting privacy and avoiding gossip. He was a trust builder and a healer, and practiced his skills on the fringes of college life, places where the walking wounded would go to seek out anonymity.

Jim went on to do other great things in his life. An overseas study trip took him to the Middle East where he became involved in charity and economic development work. He returned to campus, to change his major to international business. He went back to the Middle East, where he devoted his life to economic development and helping the needy, making a profound difference in the lives of others, being the Good American in a region where that was a rarity. He did well, because he was kind and charitable, because people could trust him, and because he lived what he believed about people.

We didn’t need to be in regular communication with each other, or meet at all the reunions. I knew Jim would be there for me if I needed him, and that he was still having his “Jim Moments” with people on the other side of the world.

I found myself following his example in my own work, reaching out and engaging people in their dark moments, having those quiet conversations and going deep into their emotional lives, offering respect and cultivating compassion and mutual positive regard. And in that work, I found the blessings that such work gives a person, the rewards of making a difference, by being a kindly, truthworthy friend and an advocate for decency and understanding.

In such moments, I’d chuckle to myself, realizing I was following Jim’s footsteps, that I was in the middle of a “Jim Moment”, that his teachings to me had been a profound and vital lesson, one of the most important lessons I’d learned in college. I’d ask myself, “What would Jim do?” in this situation. That would open the door for some productive conversations and effective steps forward.

I’m mourning Jim’s death today, and wondering how best to remember him, to continue on with his legacy. I’m realizing it is in those “Jim Moments” that he came back to me, when I would again feel his big hugs of friendship and compassion. This world needs more of those “Jim Moments”, when we open our hearts to someone, to truly listen and suspend our judgments, when we are accepting and open to others’ pain, when we can practice empathy, and help develop a plan on moving forward.

Jim will live on in such kind acts, and in the bonds that are made with others in times of uncertainty, confusion and self-doubt. I’m comforted by knowing that, and, more importantly, by getting out into the world, being more aware, and carrying on with Jim’s mission, and his “Jim Moments”.

1/20/2023

Each of Us Can Be a Force for Change

by Neal Lemery

(published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 8/3/2022)

We are in the midst of change. We’ve always been in transition, growing and evolving, but these times seem even more energized and challenging. Big challenges are all around us: the post-pandemic world, climate change, economic, social and political uncertainties. How many of us work and get an education, how we socialize, how we look at our world and our own expectations are in flux. How do we deal with all that?

I often don’t handle change well. I like stability, predictability, the certainty that the demands of tomorrow will be comfortingly just like the demands of yesterday and today. But that’s not realistic, and we are all compelled to adapt and move into uncharted and often uncomfortable new territory. I’ll resist that, and want to stay in my rut, the old patterns and ways of navigating through life as comfortable as a pair of broken in shoes.

Yet, I see that much does need to change. Like most of us, I’m conflicted, wanting some things to change, but then not wanting change. I struggle with that continuing conflict, that debate with myself about what needs to change and what we need to go back to. After some inner conflict and self-talk, I mostly resolve those internal conflicts with myself by being a champion and voice for real reform, a recommitment to finding solutions, and doing things differently.

“It can be tempting to focus on all that is not working – the challenges, hurdles, and injustices. Good times can feel fleeting, like momentary distractions from the real work of life, which is more struggle and heartbreak than satisfaction and happiness.” — Dan Rather

I’m dissatisfied in leaving the role of change maker, of rabble rouser, of being the dissenting voice that advocates new thinking, to the politicians, the theologians, and those who simply seem to be just wanting to make a lot of noise. All of us should take on that role, and raise the voice of the reformer, the change maker. As citizens, isn’t that our duty? If I don’t become the actor, the instigator, the loud voice, then don’t I lose the right to complain?

“Change will not come if we wait for another person. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for. We are the change that we seek.” — Barack Obama.

My rant isn’t just about political reform, about rewriting public policy and revitalizing our institutions to be the change makers. The work, and arguably the most important work, lies within ourselves and in the relationships we build in our communities. The work is one on one, deeply personal, and demanding of our own energies and skills.

The changes you and I can make can start with a conversation at the post office, with the gas station attendant, with a small group activity where we are deep in a community-building event. It can be seeing a need in the community for something and then taking leadership to fill that need. There is so much talent and passion in our community and it often becomes unleashed by the work of a single person. Often, it’s not limited by money, but by our own willingness to step up and get something done.

The true power lies in the individual and the small group. “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed it is the only thing that ever has.” —Margaret Mead.

Want to change things up? Want to make a difference? Want to revitalize your community? Then have those encounters at the post office, the grocery store, the community event. Gather a group for coffee and have those deep conversations, the ones where everyone walks away with a to do list and a motivation to make some changes. Ask the tough questions, and seek out the meaningful conversations. Organize, motivate, daydream. Learn the skills you need to work on solutions.

Educate yourself. Imagine what may seem is impossible and take on those first few tentative steps. Be persistent, stubborn, and focused. Be outspoken, and speak your truth. Surround yourself with like-minded people and be determined. Know that you are called to leadership, to be the instrument of real change.

You will make a difference. You will be the change you want to see in the world.

8/3/2022

Pruning Time

By Neal Lemery

(Published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 1/26/2022

The recent sunny weather gave me good reasons to get outside and start my early spring pruning chores. That work includes a lot of social and personal pruning, as well as the work in the garden.

I have a long list, starting with eliminating some of the clutter and debris in my life, how the community can be improved, as well as taking a long look at the grapes that I had neglected to fully prune last year.

I’m motivated to sharpen my garden clippers, both literally and figuratively, because I’m seeing a lot of community pruning of our lives, our social institutions, and our daily work in these times of the pandemic. We are challenged by quarantines, other public health concerns and responding to economic challenges. Giving these community challenges a critical eye is a healthy step forward to improving our lives, and having a positive response to these challenging times.

“Here we are, and what are we going to do about it?”, a friend recently asked me.

The results of that pruning, that reorganization and revitalization are already apparent. Stagnant institutions are being revived, people are becoming more engaged, and new ideas are finding fertile ground. And, practices and attitudes that aren’t helping to improve our lives are being pruned away, to the betterment of all of us. Community life is on a rebound.

As a gardener, I know that pruning away the dead, the diseased and the overlapping branches of plants improves their health, and stimulates them to be more vibrant, more productive plants. Pruning opens up a plant for more exposure to the sun, and is a proven way to invigorate older plants. I’ve recently learned that when I’m planting a shrub or tree, I should be also pruning the roots, which stimulates the plant and ensures its success in its new surroundings.

Such practices should be applied to our work in the community.

“In nature, every plant eventually is pruned in some manner. It may be a simple matter of low branches being shaded by higher ones resulting in the formation of a collar around the base of the branch restricting the flow of moisture and nutrients. Eventually the leaves wither and die and the branch then drops off in a high wind or storm. Often, tender new branches of small plants are broken off by wild animals in their quest for food. In the long run, a plant growing naturally assumes the shape that allows it to make the best use of light in a given location and climate. All one needs to do to appreciate a plant’s ability to adapt itself to a location is to walk into a wilderness and see the beauty of natural growing plants.” (Douglas Welch)

I’m trying to apply those gardening principles to my own life by exploring new ideas, cleaning out some old time-wasting and stale activities and projects in my life, and finding new ways to improve our community life. Like any pruning job, my personal and community pruning involves taking a hard look at the structure, having a plan of what things should look like when I’m done, and getting tough on eliminating disease and the superfluous, the stuff that gets in the way of vigorous and fertile growth.

The thoughtful gardener takes the long view of where one’s garden needs to be . By having a long term vision, and taking some bold steps with one’s clippers, as well as the occasional saw, transformation occurs. The needed change will soon produce obvious benefits, with the plant (and our community relationships) becoming healthier, more vibrant.

I struggle with change, and healthy pruning is one of the key tools we have to bring about needed growth in our relationships and our community. Recent stories in the Pioneer and other media tell of how people are instigating change and revitalizing our community. We are taking on new ways of how we work, go to school, raise our kids, and care for each other. These changes are the subjects of deep and sometimes hard conversations. Yet, changes are coming. Indeed, many of them are already here.

I look around, and see that I’m not the only one out in the yard with my clippers, pruning away the dead, the misshapen, the cluttered shrubs in the yard, and the parts of our social fabric that need revitalized. We gardeners are a persistent bunch, and recognize that pruning is an ever-present task on our to-do lists. We can have sometimes heated discussions on how we should tend our community gardens, our institutions, and how we interact with each other. Our commitment to positive change, to effective pruning, is one of our great strengths, an aspect of our lives that we should celebrate with enthusiasm.

In those conversations, we can all grow and change, and become better gardeners of our community and our lives.

Small Things

by Neal Lemery

published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 1/19/2022

We live in a complicated and interconnected world, a world where a volcanic eruption in the South Pacific creates sound we can hear, alters our air pressure, and sends tsunami waves up our beaches and rivers. Natural and political forces from other places affect our lives, requiring us to respond and alter our lives. We can search data bases and communicate effortlessly with people all over the world. The enormity of all of that is often overwhelming. It is easy to feel insignificant, ineffective, the problems of our lives too big to handle.

Yet, it is the small things in our lives that are often the most important and the most transformative.

I’m joining others this week in donating blood. Being part of the Red Cross blood drive in my town has been something new for me, part of my efforts during the pandemic to do something meaningful for others in need. I’ve learned it is good for me, too, helping me to feel part of something bigger, making a difference, even saving lives. I feel involved and I feel I’m acting for the common good.

Recently, I couldn’t help but overhear part of a conversation between good friends who were digging deep into sobriety and personal accountability. There was a sharing of experiences and the giving of heartfelt advice and encouragement. I tried to give them their privacy, yet I felt the energy of their friendship, their mutual respect for each other and their friendship, and their passion for improving lives and building a community based on knowledge and mutual positive regard. Those golden conversations occur a lot, I think, the sharing of experience and wisdom, the love for a friend, building up rather than condemnation and rejoicing in the misfortunes of others.

That experience reminded me of the deep conversations on addiction I had with a son, one on one, digging in deep to the heart of the dilemmas and questions we both had. We loved each other, we trusted each other, and we both wanted to move on with our lives and deal with the elephant in the living room: addiction. We were both tired of feeling angry and not finding resolution, both wanting to be loved and to give love. I cherished those hard conversations with him.

When he invited me to his AA meeting, proudly introducing me to the group, I experienced the trust everyone there had with each other, and their passion for changing their lives. I felt my relationship with my son change then, and I grew. Part of that growth was painful, and included recognizing some uncomfortable, hard truths about me. That recognition, I have come to realize, is part of my own growing and changing.

Such work may seem like small talk, small work that doesn’t make much of a difference in the world. Yet it does. Such conversations, such truth telling and empowering changes lives. A changed life changes other lives and changes our communities. Hope and faith find their voices and people find the strength to change.

The storms in our lives often give us renewed faith and strength to endure and to change. Dolly Parton reminds us “storms make trees take deeper roots.” By believing in ourselves and our own and collective goodness, we gain strength, we become the healthier giant trees in the forest that is our community.

We live now in the midst of many storms, the pandemic, drug addictions, violence and thievery, houselessness, depression, and other situations that often seem to defy solutions and relief. Yet, we endure, we cope, and we often move into solutions and remedies that we may not have previously imagined. The pandemic is teaching us that there is much work to be done to realize our dreams and to heal the wounds that now need our attention.

The work that needs to be done is often silent. Confucius reminds us, “a seed grows with no sound, but a tree falls with huge noise. Destruction has noise but creation is quiet. This is the power of silence … grow silently.”

We are a resourceful community, and our successes in coping and managing often go uncelebrated. Yet, like the quiet conversations one has chanced to overhear, that work goes on and changes lives.

1/19/2022

Filling Up the New Calendar

By Neal Lemery

(published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 12/28/21

The new calendar on the wall is fresh and clean. So far, there are only a few events are there. It is a fresh start to a new year.

The normal daily routine will return after all the winter holiday events come to an end. Life will soon begin filling up all that empty space. I’ll miss the blissfully quiet winter evenings of the week between Christmas and New Year’s, with shoes off, wrapped in a cozy blanket, with a good book and a cup of holiday tea. With the “to do” pre-holiday list mostly crossed off, I’m free to do what I darn well please, without a pressing agenda. It is a rare week of few expectations.

January and a new year are always filled with great promise and opportunity. I make a few resolutions, knowing that real change is possible, if I truly want to change and grow. I’m the one who gets to write on the calendar. Traditions and agendas are mine to follow, or change. It’s my call.

I can grump and whine about the world and what our lives are like now. Or, I can do something about it. It starts with my attitude and where I decide to put my energy. That’s intention, and I’m in charge of that. I have to want to intend to change what I don’t like, and put myself into action.

When I point a finger at something, three of my fingers point back at me. I have more than a little responsibility for how the next year unfolds for me. When I demand accountability from others, I need to be looking in the mirror, to look at where most of the fingers point.

“Be the change you want to see,” one of my inspiring role models, Mahatma Gandhi, said. I may not be able to change the world, but I can change who I am and how I live. I do have an impact on my little corner of the world. And in that, bigger changes can come. The work starts with me. That thought seems to be a universal truth.

What do I really want to see in 2022? I need to figure that out, before I start to whine and mope about the world’s state of affairs. First, change my attitude, find my intention, then develop my plan for achieving my goals, and fill up the calendar with all of my good, positive actions.

We live in community. Real change, real accomplishment only happens when there is a group that is engaged in that good work. Then there is engagement, ownership, and collective, community-focused achievement. Success comes from a collective effort, and is a community project, the energy coming from each of our individual intentions and acts, doing the work together.

One of Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s favorite Zulu proverbs was Ubuntu. “One of the sayings in our country is Ubuntu — the essence of being human. Ubuntu speaks particularly about the fact that you can’t exist as a human being in isolation. It speaks about our interconnectedness … We think of ourselves far too frequently as just individuals, separated from one another, whereas you are connected and what you do affects the whole world. When you do well, it spreads out; it is for the whole of humanity.”

I need to put more of his wisdom and determination to better society, and that spirit of Ubuntu, into my life and the life of our community.

The nearly empty calendar stares back at me, offering a challenge. I see opportunity and a challenge to move ahead in my life, and thereby change myself, my community, and the world, making it a more beautiful and creative place. There’s work to be done.

What’s on your calendar?

How’s the Family?

“They are fine, thank God. I can’t say that for my cousin, though, or my neighbor.”

The line at the check stand fell silent, the clerk pausing in her work.

“That used to be such a casual question,” she said. “Something you just said to get a conversation going. Now, that question goes to what’s in my heart today.”

Her eyes watered, and she wiped away a tear.

“I’ve lost a few relatives, my neighbor, and a couple of co-workers here,” she said. “There’s a lot of people I’m worried about, too.

The lady behind me, the one on the asking side of the question, took a deep breath and nodded.

“We’re in hard times, and I’m so grateful for my health,” she said. “But we don’t talk much about what we are all going through, with all the loss, all the uncertainty.”

“We have each other,” the clerk said. “We need to care for each other, and talk about our pain, and the grief, and all the unknowing, the value of family and friends.”

We looked at each other, nodding, smiling, sharing some deeply felt emotions that needed to be shared, realizing we were in sacred space and time.

The silence filled me up. I felt comforted, connected with people just like me — scared, fearful, and lonely. I was with my tribe, my people, my community. Simply acknowledging all that jumble of feelings was what I had been needing.

The pandemic, the isolation, the sense of disconnectedness, it is all the elephant in our community living room. We are all going through this together, and sometimes, you just need to put that into words, get it out there, and share our hearts with each other. It is what community does the best, bringing us together in love and compassion.

Published in the Tillamook County Pioneer 10/6/2021

10/6/21— by Neal Lemery

Thoughts on Creating and Harvest

–by Neal Lemery

I’m feeling stuck. I haven’t thought I’ve been creative lately. My blog lacks a new post, my writing tablet has no new sheets filled with my penciled writing, my guitar is gathering dust and is out of tune.

Despite my self-evaluation of my idleness, I realize the creative juices are still flowing, though, in different ways. I have been busy in the kitchen, turning apples from my trees into sweet packages of apple pie filling for the coming rainy days. I’m slowly simmering the last of my tomato crop into sweet tangy sauce for hearty pasta dinners, topped off with warm apple crisp. I am savoring the richness and abundance of harvest, in all its forms.

My hands play in the dirt as I plant tree seeds for my new bonsai project, and pot up the last of the geranium cuttings that took root this summer without my close attention. The last cucumber from the garden is harvested, and the compost bin becomes filled with the remnants of the summer garden.

There is the promise of future plantings and future abundance, and I dream of guitar chords and strumming patterns, and yearn for new ideas, new expressions to be explored.

The fall rains have begun and I sit under the eaves listening to the rain music, as snippets of poems yet to be born are caught in my journal. There can be such richness in moments of silence and “just being”.

Coffee with a friend produces a rich conversation on serious topics, the few moments of silence over our cups offering fertile territory for new writings. We plow familiar ground, allowing the soil of our friendship to become fallow, preparing for a new season of fertility.

Like the season, it is a time of both harvest and of composting, turning spent plants and the last of the summer energies into the stuff that will bring forth spring explosions and summer abundance. I am reminded that the winter ahead is simply a time of rest, renewal, and needed silence and contemplation. Winter has its own noble purpose, its own role to play in the cycle of life.

Everything has its time, its season. It is a time to be patient, to rest, and to observe.

I’m not really stuck, I’m stepping back, taking a much-needed rest, absorbing the beauty and solitude of autumn, this time of transition and rest. I take a deep breath, and simply observe. And, that is celebrating my creative spirit.

I’ve recently come across these nuggets of wisdom, and they need to sit with me, without an immediate response, as I listen to the rain replenishing the soil after the summer’s heat and drought. The falling rain is an act of renewal and faith, guiding me in my own creativity and work —

“Poetry is the art of overhearing things you didn’t know you knew.

“Whatever you are looking for is just beyond yourself.”

— David Whyte (Anglo-Irish poet)

“To make life a little better for people less fortunate than you, that’s what I think a meaningful life is. One lives not just for one’s

–Ruth Bader Ginsburg

published in the Tillamook County Pioneer 9/30/21

9/29/2021

Embracing Change

–by Neal Lemery

Change is in the air. The rains have returned, leaves are turning, and autumn is here.

Some change is welcome. Yet, I resist many changes. The old ways of thinking are comforting and soothing, predictable. I’m set in my ways, determined and often obstinate. I most always am thinking I have all the answers, I know all the facts, and I’ve always reached the proper conclusions.

People I agree with have also miraculously reached these same conclusions.

I can blame my attitude on age. But I was at least as stubborn in my younger years. Part of who I am and how I navigate life can be traced to genetics, and part on the times we live in.

This is an age of contrariness, obstinance, and too often, argument for argument’s sake. That feistiness is often wrapped in the blanket of divisive politics and thinking that one’s own theology and morality should be everyone’s correct thinking.

There should be no surprise that our sense of current affairs, that focus on egotism, has persisted throughout human history. Heated politics has always dominated our country’ public forums.

The chaos and uncertainty of the pandemic has shaken our desire for stability and “normal”. Our fears, assumptions, and problem-solving skills have been deeply shaken by the unpredictability, this “facelessness” of cause of this invisible and increasingly fatal infestation. The pandemic seems out of control. Many resist what others, often experts in the field, say are useful and life-saving practices. The issues don’t lend themselves to resolution and harmony.

All this argument increases our society’s divisiveness, making humankind’s informed responses less effective. I am reminded of Lincoln’s phrase: “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”

And, real change requires that I deeply examine my own thinking, my own analytics, and look to correct my thinking and be better informed. I need to be more of a citizen and pay less attention to my ego.

I am but one person. But I can make a difference in this world.

This change of seasons brings us new tasks and new opportunities. We are being called to action, to bring new tools and new viewpoints to old problems and old thinking.

Angela Davis writes: “I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept.”

Each of us is an instrument of change, a presence in the world for real fundamental change. It starts inside of each of us, and can then spread to friends, families, the institutions we are part of. Politics and society don’t change unless and until we as individuals change. It starts with each of us, almost on a cellular level.

The opportunity for real change is here and now. It starts with me, and with you. Now.

What we need — facts, methods, organizing, communication — are literally in our hands. Change takes time, commitment, and persistence. We each and collectively have all of this, in abundance.

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson.

9/22/2021. Published in the Tillamook County Pioneer