After acupuncture on Monday, I drove to Granville Island to do an errand, poke about and have lunch. There was a service guy at the house and Tom was handling that so I figured that since I couldn't actually go home and nap for an hour or so that I might as well go enjoy myself.When I got home, I walked in the door and was struck by the most massive, most gorgeous bouqet of flowers that I have ever seen. Irreverent as usual my first words were "Did I die?!" I couldn't imagine who might have sent them or why and at first thought that there was no card. When I found it though I was came undone. The flowers had been sent by someone whom I had done a favour for, a favour that I had intended to be kept anonymous but the recipient wanted to say what my favour had meant to her. I am so very touched.
Yesterday, when I returned home from physio, I walked into the kitchen and there was another bouquet of flowers--sassy, bright and cheery gerberas, that have two-toned petals, orange on the front and yellow on the back. I couldn't believe the syncronicity as I had just bought myself a gift at Granville Island market...a gorgeous wood vase--with glass insert--that is stained the exact same colour orange as the flowers. With the flowers, was a vessel of homemade soup with a note saying "made with love for Zoe" and crackers for the soup. Then I found a card, that had been hand-delivered--a very authentic, risk-taking note from a somewhat estranged friend. "How rare," I thought, "for someone to take the time to write a reflective note regarding regret that a friendship has lapsed." That made me cry too.
Anyone who's known me since childhood would attest to the fact that I cry easily. I am an emoter. Happy, sad, mad, scared...you're in my vicinity...you're going to know what's going on with me, even if I am not saying anything.
It actually caused problems for me in my worklife. I remember one time, when I was working as an advertising account executive for a big agency, that there was a big meeting in the board room as the creatives pitched their ideas to help the corporate client to improve their public image. What the creatives came up with was excellent and would have worked but there was a big problem...the two clients kept saying "We can't say that. We can't say that." I guess that my disgust had shown on my face as I realized that the reason that our well-designed campaign was not going to get the go-ahead was that they actually were doing a poor job stewarding the natural resource and actually deserved the poor opinion that the public held of them.
I was pulled aside by my supervisor following the brutal meeting and she told me that I absolutely had to learn to have a better "poker face." That was close to the end of my career in high-stakes advertising and I never did develop much skill at hiding when I am not on the same page with someone. I don't value inauthenticity in others and am not so inclined to be better at hiding what I really think. Some softening has occurred over the years as I knock into sharp edges of life but if I would have to say that I am still an opinionated hard-ass, except when I am a complete and tender mushball.
It's kind of fascinating to me what has transpired over the last three days...there were two really, really tough days during which I just had to cling tenaciously to my goal of thriving my way through whatever "opportunities" the Universe was wanting to offer up. Feeling so ill and weak, I was reminded in each moment that I had to be so careful of where I would "spend" my energy.
There were three people whom I was having tricky interactions with...with two I tried my best to really listen to what they wanted and needed and did my best to remain in relationship whilst working out the contentious bits. These were both men. In the third situation I drew a very clear boundary and indicated that this person could choose either side. She chose the not agreeing to my boundary option and wished me well...I'm feeling a bit sketchy about someone saying she is "praying for me everyday" but wants nothing to do with me and really wanted to say "please don't!" but I figured I would just be adding kindling to the fiery situation and that I should just let her have the last word.
Oh, one more absolutely wonderful thing that happened yesterday...I was on my way to physio and I saw three guys outside the house that is opposite from the "meditation in action" house...ie three houses to the east of our house...two of the guys were putting the tell-tale orange plastic fencing around the trees on the boulevard. I was ecstatic for two reasons: (1) It meant that the teardown and redo would happen at the same time as opposed to after the other house and (2) that I could find out who to ask about what was going to be happening to all the plants. I walked up to the three guys and asked if any of them were or knew how to contact the contractor or owner of the property. They all just stared at me shaking their heads but when I added that I was just wondering about some of the plants in the back, one of the guys said "You show me" and we clambered over piles of rubble to get to the back...I asked about a decades old quince that I have admired each of the 18 Springs that I have walked down our back lane." "There will be garage there," he said with a slavic accent. "Oh, so I may have this?" He nodded. "And these blackberry bushes outside the lane?" He nodded. "And these cuttings from the quince, so that I can force them inside?" He said "You can have everything. Just take before April 15th. Everything come down."
Well I was beside myself! I had to zip to my physio but I phoned Kim (part owner of Petals and Pots who helps me with my garden and who was planning on coming to help me with soil amending and planting some plants) on Thursday. I told her with great glee what had just occurred and when they might be able to swing by...they actually spent a couple hours yesterday afternoon, finding treasures like two white ribes, and a grape vine, and, and, and. And the blackberries...well my kids, who were literally born in this house, have spent every August of their lives, toddling, biking, scootering, unicycling down the lane to pick blackberries. Now this will continue for them and for all the other neighbourhood kids.
When I moved into my house, there was just a widower living there and I heard that many years prior his wife and child had diedin a tragic accident. It was perhaps his wife who had planted and cared for those plants decades ago, maybe even 40 years ago. I am going to find out more about the family so that I can properly honour these gorgeous old-timey treasures.
As I write this post, it is snowing outside! It is April 1st and it is snowing. Tell me again about global warming? Bundle up dear ones and expect the unexpected.
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