SIMPLE PLEASURES AND LITTLE RITUALS

A series of essays....

A BOUNTY OF LAVENDER HARVESTED
FROM MY FRONT YARD GARDEN

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

As I sit in my writing space these days contemplating life while the scientists and scholars diligently work on a vaccine for COVID-19, I attempt to determine how most of us are coping with all of the ramifications surrounding this deadly virus. It’s been interesting listening to our ideas and observing our actions of the past several months as individuals and in group meetings via the Internet.

Most of my findings have determined that while many of us believe we are leaping forward in order to progress one or two steps ahead of the coronavirus race, we may actually be falling back, making time to listen to our hearts, and enjoying life even more.

I am speaking solely for myself when I say that it’s been an amazing journey these past several months rediscovering life’s simplest pleasures and remembering, if not creating, little daily rituals that may help to turn the world right-side up, even for a moment at a time.

Because it would be wasteful not to recognize the little things in life that make us happy, that put smiles on our faces, and accounts for that new zing in our step, I’ve found it helpful to record these instances in order to look back on them again and again. Many of these things would have been, in normal times, just checked-off on a long list of ‘things to do’ and not appreciated enough for all of the long, hard work that went into them. 

LAVENDER PLANTS KEEPING
THE BEES BUSY 

For example: Securing a pair of garden shears and a bamboo tray I stepped out to my front yard lavender garden to harvest the summer yield of flowers to be hung and dried indoors. I had fun doing a feisty little dance with the beautiful bees who lay claim to the little garden and have been spreading lavender nectar far and wide for weeks. Hopefully my neighbors enjoyed the up, down, sidestep, back-off, do-si-do dance moves displayed because of my innate fear of being stung!

THE JOY OF THE LAVENDER HARVEST

So intrigued by the various processes it takes to dry the ‘little bundles’ of lavender for future use in sachets and a multitude of recipes I make, I decided to write a poem for poetry class entitled Creating Little Rituals that includes this enjoyable task as one of my simple pleasures in life.

Creating Little Rituals

can turn the world right-side up, even 

for a moment, make sense from nonsense, 

retain a semblance of sanity within a 

chaotic world. Rise by six. Back

to bed by ten and love thy neighbor

in between, or so the story goes.

Anticipating the right moment to

harvest the lavender; creating purple

nosegays to hang from a kitchen beam

to dry, hand hewn from a straight and

sturdy tree, to be marveled at 

while sipping morning coffee at seven.

Step on a crack and break your brother’s

back; a wicked ‘little pleasure’ designed 

to appease a younger sister’s spirit and retain

her sanity. Relinquishing control as you slip 

into your lover’s warm embrace while blissful 

sleepiness soon quells the pandemonium of a 

long day. You might sit in easy pose and 

contemplate your aching muscles, age, before 

meditating. But your green cushion has disappeared 

and that’s simply the way life goes.

By: Jacqueline Hughes, 7/12/20

LITTLE NOSEGAYS HANGING FROM
THE KITCHEN BEAM

When you practice mindfulness you practice love. When you become aware of the multiple sounds and sights that surround you as you diligently wait to be released out into the wild, once again...you are practicing mindfulness. Listen to the individual songs of birds while sitting on the deck and you become one with nature. I find innocent joy in hearing the distinct rattle of the golf clubs in someone’s bag as he is walking to find his golf ball three fairways away and then, with eyes closed, picture him setting up to take his second shot. 

Be reminded of the little rituals we find comfort in. It may be reading a book to your child before bed, kissing them sweetly, and then turning off their light. Or, taking your dog for a long walk around the neighborhood after dinner, waving to neighbors at a distance, and marveling at the colorful flowerbeds that mark their hard work and dedication to beauty.

We can all nourish our souls by converting everyday routines into blessed rituals that can help heal our feeling of isolation and our struggle to find a purpose needed to retain emotional well-being in this era of coronavirus.

A LARGE PUZZLE IN THE ROOM

BEGINNING TO PUT THE
PUZZLE PIECES TOGETHER

My husband has come to the completion of our new living room bookshelves that look nothing short of amazing! He has spent hours figuring out the math, painting, constructing, securing, and marveling at how nicely they fit along a 13-foot expanse of plaster wall that was created sometime in 1941. He has found immense joy in doing what he knows best. I am so proud of him and delighted with the outcome.

After unloading 24 boxes filled with books that lived in the basement for almost two years, I became acutely aware of the feel of each book, the hours of one’s lifetime spent in its creation, the various authors I’ve devoted much of my reading life to, the separation of genre and how each book would fill in the spaces selected for their new life in this old house within this next phase of our lives. 

My old friends, gifts for my soul, once again surround me with their own stories, their colorful coats (jackets), while new friends sit staring out into the room and imploring me to read them next. Our 13-foot wall has become a grand piece of artwork that draws my eyes to each fine detail and begs me to run a finger down each spine while reading a title that takes me into another place and time.

THE FINISHED PROJECT

EACH SHELF IS LOVINGLY FILLED WITH OLD AND NEW FRIENDS!

Employing little rituals will help us get through this. Let’s face it...we’ve come a long way through thick and thin and, come hell and high water, I know we can ride this one out even if all it takes is becoming more aware of the simple life and routines already happening around us. When all is said and done, falling back into the total awareness of life’s simple pleasures may just be our saving grace and lead us in the right direction towards coping with our new lifestyle and the healing of our souls..

Please wear a mask anytime you are not at home or walking your dog around the neighborhood! Our lives depend on it.

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Photos Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

THE INNOCENT TOUCHED BY THE RUTHLESS HAND OF MAN

A series of essays....

“THE GOLDEN RULE“ BY NORMAN ROCKWELL
~FREEDOM, DIVERSITY, LOVE~

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Chances are extremely high that most of us, even among eighteen-year-olds and younger, have become more politically savvy within the past few years. Current events have lured our youth into arenas they had previously only hoped to enter after obtaining a college education and sorting-out their career. Too often, circumstances have forced our children to jettison their youth and face a life filled with fear, mistrust, and memories best forgotten.

Having lived in Central Florida for many years I will admit to having a good life filled with plenty of sunshine, sandy beaches that were easily accessible both to my east and west, and being able to wear my beloved sandals twelve months out of the year! Those who know me best know how important the last pleasure is to me and I’m often chastised for having them on while running outside on a quick errand on any given Southwestern Michigan winter’s day. Go figure!

MAPS THAT DEMANDED A REACTION
THEY ALWAYS SEEMED TO STRIKE IN THE EARLY MORNING HOURS!

Yes, I’ve also lived through at least eight major hurricanes with each affording us ample time to decide whether to board-up the windows and ride them out (which we did each time) or pack the most important items and move out of harm’s way for the duration. Even in seemingly uncontrolled natural conditions, we remained in control of our destiny, to a certain degree.

Chills continue to overpower me when recalling at least two major events in Florida that changed my life and the lives of many others, especially the young and the innocent, forever! 

It was what most observers would describe as a ‘little black box,’ subdued and nondescript from the outside. On the inside it was a refuge and a home to the large LGBT community of Orlando, Florida. The patrons of Pulse Nightclub considered it to be a safe haven to just be yourself, a place where you forgot about having to fit in, and a fun venue to be able to enjoy the glitz and music with friends. 

49 PRECIOUS SOULS LOST  FOREVER AT PULSE ORLANDO.
SENTENCED TO DEATH BY THE RUTHLESS HAND OF MAN......

In the early morning hours of June 12, 2016, the world was savagely turned upside down, once again, when a 29-year-old, American born, gunman decided he had the right to eliminate the future hopes and dreams of 49 young people, along with wounding 53 others, in a mass shooting at Pulse Orlando. From 2:22 a.m. to approximately 5:00 a.m., over two and a half hours of living hell transpired with many first responders saying how witnessing the carnage had changed their own lives forever.

It was the deadliest shooting by a single perpetrator in United States history until the Las Vegas Strip shooting on October 1, 2017.

Suddenly, Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, Parkland, Florida, and Broward County popped-up on our radar for all of the wrong reasons.

A Valentine’s Day Massacre for the new millennium rolled into Florida that peaceful, ‘candy heart’ kind of day when a 19-year-old former student of the school decided he could enter the premises, shoot to kill, and then walk away at his leisure. All in a days work.. He left behind him the brutal murder of 17 people (14 students and 3 staff members) and the injuring of 17 others. The images of death and suffering of our innocent youth would remain burned into our thoughts from this February 14, 2018 massacre, and gun control was being placed upon the strong shoulders of our young citizens. The first of many organized demonstrations outside the White House in Washington, D.C. began as early as February 18, 2018, four days after the shooting.

Victims of this mass shooting ranged in age from 14 to 49 years old.

We should all remember these names:

Emma González, Alfonso Calderon, Sarah Chadwick, Jaclyn Corin, Ryan Deitsch, David Hogg, Cameron Kasky, and Alex Wind.

These are the names of our future. 

These are the names of the teen survivors who instantly became activists of Students Against Gun Violence and organizers of marches for gun control and co-founders of the gun-control advocacy group Never Again MSD (Marjory Stoneman Douglas). Their battle cry: “We can’t let fear consume us,” and this is why Parkland activists won't give up! They are today’s critics of politicians who are supported by the National Rifle Association; they may serve as tomorrow’s leaders fighting for a better, safer world.

STUDENTS PROTEST GUN VIOLENCE OUTSIDE OF THE WHITE HOUSE
ON FEBRUARY 18, 2018

Courtesy of Lorie Shaull

I am reminded of the phrase: What doesn’t kill us will only make us stronger. 

There is a good chance that a certain percentage of the survivors of these callous shootings will go on to hold political positions one day in order to encourage reform and remain in control of their own destiny. What the vulnerable, young people of both Pulse Orlando and the high school students in Parkland were made to endure will live with each individual survivor for the rest of their life. This is a burden no one would legitimately wish upon their children. And yet, it has happened more than we care to think about in this country, alone.

My young grandchildren are reasoning on their own the consequences of the coronavirus in their lifetime; this includes the loss of a major portion of their last school year and whether or not it will be a responsible move to return to classes this fall. Wearing a mask over your nose and mouth in public has become the newest version of throwing on a baseball cap before exiting the back door to go play with your friends. Their biggest fear is not when they can get together with their friends but instead, if they do get together, even with precautions, could they still bring the virus home to their own family.

THE SYMBOL OF PULSE ORLANDO WILL
ALWAYS BE ETCHED INTO MY MIND

As badly as I don’t want them to have to grow-up so soon, I’m afraid that this simplistic way of thinking has been left behind by the wayside months ago. So, when I see them playing video games or perfecting no-handed back flips on the trampoline these days, I’m encouraged by this reputed normalcy and my heart swells with love and happiness!

Never, never will we forget the martyrdom our youth has been left to deal with in the form of needlessly losing friends or family due to the lack of outlined gun control laws being initiated and followed; being guided by a narcissistic president who never intended to help make life more tolerable for anyone other than himself; not being able to express their true selves due to lack of understanding and blatant discrimination; having to leave childhood behind at a very early age, and dealing with the consequences of a world-wide pandemic with seemingly no end in sight!

Surviving a few storms in life will help to make us stronger. Managing the heartaches witnessed by many young people today is equivalent to them surviving a raging hurricane every single day, for life. I pray they emerge stronger from all of their suffering and that they help to make brave new decisions and laws that will improve everyone’s life in the years to come. Lesson learned: Be mindful of the gathering of the innocent wronged. Their diligence will strike fear in the savage heart.

Be safe. Stay healthy. Wear a mask in public. Hug your children, daily.

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

WRITING THE WAVE FORWARD ON A FIELD OF LOVE

A series of essays....

PASSING THROUGH THE EVERGREEN CANOPY THAT GENTLY FRAMES
AND SEPARATES THE FIELD FROM THE FENNVILLE CEMETERY

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

While I was speaking with my sister, not blood related, rather heart and soul infused, during our weekly walk together, I mentioned how my posts (essays) published each Thursday tend to sink back into the dark hallways of Washington D.C. and the acute negativity of the current administration. This subject matter used to be among my ‘go to’ topics when I was at a loss for other ideas. It is now, as for many of us, the foremost topic of conversation and concern. So, from various angles, I have broached this subject almost every week. I attribute some of this to my year of studies at Indiana University South Bend (IUSB) and the journalism classes I had taken while there.

After transferring to Michigan State University my sophomore year, my preferred style of writing slid into the prose category and was occasionally accompanied by a serious dollop of my love of photography which often served to compliment my stories.

Writing poetry was my original love and my first published piece happened while in high school when the local newspaper printed my poem about the ‘meaning of time’ I’d written for English class. It helped to clarify for me that I was headed in the right direction.             

Having moved to Orlando, Florida in 1997 to follow my husband and his employment in the construction world, I wrote several pieces for the Orlando Sentinel that were published in the travel section. I continued to work on a fiction novel that began as my third child but was already morphing into adolescence, a teenager, if not young adulthood, by this time. Once again, I contemplate the subject of ‘time.’  It always has a way of pushing, pushing forward whether you want it to or not.

In September of 2013 I began writing my current Blog, Moving On...2020, which ceremoniously (with a few clicks on my iPad keys) changes to accommodate each passing year. I am now in my seventh year and Moving On...2020, originally a travel blog, currently pulls so much more from my inner sanctum and allows me to go on wild excursions between the dark depths of my being to posting a poem or two that lovingly hover around my heart and soul.

Following along my journey which includes my writing, travel, and photography, it was always in the stars that we would return to Michigan one day. In August of 2018, we did just that and settled in a pretty little house in Kalamazoo. Constant renovation seems to be the current theme of our lives at this point. It keeps us active and looking forward to what awaits us around each corner.

When I heard the story about John Van Voorhees and Joan Donaldson of Pleasant Hill Organic Blueberry Farm in Fennville, Michigan, and saw how so many people were making pilgrimages there recently, I had to follow my journalistic nose, camera in hand, and check this story out for myself.

Honoring their son, Mateo Donaldson, who had completed a tour of duty in Afghanistan, this loving, hardworking couple chose a four-acre field on their farm and filled it to the brim with dramatic blue cornflowers, rich shades of red and pink poppies, and dainty white daisies that tend to dance at the feet of their taller blooming counterparts. 

Sadly, after Mateo returned home he suffered from PTSD and, eventually, took his own life...

Mateo and his brother had been the dedicated bee keepers on this quaint yet flourishing organic farm since their high school days, and to remember their son they decided to feed the pollinators by planting bee and butterfly friendly plants of red, white, and blue.

FENNVILLE CEMETERY WITH
VIEW OF POPPY FIELD IN THE DISTANCE

MATEO’S GRAVESITE

Mateo is buried in the Fennville Cemetery and Is just two-hundred feet away from this stunning memorial field on the Pleasant Hill Blueberry Farm next door. I’m almost certain he sneaks a peak at the patriotic waves of flowering color that his parents lovingly share with us each season and smiles down on everyone who has found solace and comfort through their unselfish efforts. 

Besides the natural beauty of this enormous project, I immediately experienced inner peace, extreme joy, and comforting hope upon entering through the evergreen canopy that gently frames and separates the field from the cemetery. The first glimpse was such a ‘mindfulness’ moment for me where nothing else existed but this sprawling carpet of love that seemed to stretch out to the horizon. 

HELPING TO FEED THE POLLINATORS

And then I began swaying with the brightly colored flowers as the breeze touched my face, my hair. Its soft, gentle notes created an ethereal rhythm and melody that complimented our dance that felt almost too perfect for this imperfect world we live in; so heavenly and spiritual compared to everything that is happening within our socially deprived pandemic routines.

That’s when the camera was unsheathed and everything impossible became possible in the eye of the lens. Snapping away, I was only inches from the bee drinking its cornflower fill, trying hard to find the perfect poppy to shoot in portrait mode when each poppy was born perfect, and drifting along the designated path sandwiched between the blue sky and heaven on earth!

I want to thank John and Joan for so many things! Thank you for providing organic farming to the public for over forty years; thank you for loving your son with all of your heart; thank you for sharing that love with those of us who feel so nurtured by it; thank you for helping to comfort other soldiers living with PTSD who are trying to find their own inner peace, and thank you for giving the bees and butterflies a home, even temporarily, to buzz and drink and flit through the air like earthbound fairies protecting their domain.

I am sharing with you, my readers, some of the many photos taken at the Pleasant Hill Blueberry Farm this week. I hope they provide you with as much joy by seeing them as I felt while taking them. Life can be such a beautiful adventure; a marvelous journey!

Stay safe and stay healthy. Please wear a mask while out in public.

NATURE’S OWN FIREWORKS!
AN EXPLOSION OF RED, WHITE, & BLUE...
HAVE A SAFE AND HAPPY 4TH OF JULY.

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

All Photos Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

FINDING ONE’S VOICE IN 2020

A series of essays....

CITY OF BALTIMORE IS BEING PRAISED FOR PEACEFUL PROTESTS

COURTESY OF WBFF



....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

I believe that one of the most difficult things to achieve as an adult is the act of finding your voice within this world, especially when so many others are attempting to drown out your voice with their own. 

To find one’s voice may be discovering your own distinctive style or vision of artistic expression. Expressing yourself within written words that can be enjoyed and appreciated by others may mean that you have found your voice as a writer. The joy of capturing selective moments in life by understanding the importance of light, reflection, angles, and shadows is taking the time to find your voice by perfecting the optimum use of a camera lens via photography. Many budding musical artists, writers attempt to find their voices by flocking to Nashville in the hope of redefining their lives and providing themselves with an inspirational key to uncovering personal music potential.

Let’s say that a shocking or frightening experience has shaken you to the core and it may take time for you to regain the ability to speak, find your voice, once again. 

Losing my voice during public recitation or speaking, even within smaller groups, because of extreme nervousness, will always plague me to a certain degree; at least until I feel more confident and comfortable within a given situation. You would think that at my age I would have outgrown this common fear years ago. Unfortunately, I have not. Maybe it’s my way of keeping myself on my toes, however, it can become quite infuriating at times.

This past Tuesday, yet another primary election day, more and more people were fighting to retain their voices by overpowering the blatant attempts of voter suppression that funneled voters through reduced numbers of polling places and locked the doors right at 6:00 o’clock. Pounding on the glass windows and doors, Kentucky voters were granted an additional half hour extension by a judge due to the pleas made by Charles Booker and Amy McGrath, the two Democratic Senatorial primary candidates.

Not only are voters working on finding their voices in a crazy, unlawful attempt at shutting down their Constitutional right to vote, but the candidates themselves are exercising a strong youthful attempt at finding their own voices within a sea of cheap Twitter endorsements. Madison Cawthorn, a 24-year-old (turning 25 in August) political newcomer, defeated Lynda Bennett, a realtor and President Trump's endorsed candidate, in the North Carolina GOP congressional primary for the seat vacated by the President's chief of staff, Mark Meadows. 

If elected in November, Cawthorn would become the youngest member in Congress, a title currently held by Democratic Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York, now 30-years-old, who won on Tuesday and looks set to get some new progressive backup in New York’s congressional delegation next year. Youthful energy and ideas are flowing into Washington D.C. with each election, hopefully eradicating, or at least staunching, old ideas and bringing in new voices for bi-partisan collaboration in the future.

It’s time to talk Black Lives Matter, BLM, and what the importance of this movement means to all of us now that the White choke-hold on Black lives has reached a new level of notoriety and the Black communities are finding their voices in mass numbers. The work of deep-seated, sustainable change remains the hardest work there is. Systemic racism for centuries has, indeed, left an indelible mark on our society. I deeply believe that we must make the best of this opportunity, afforded us by the unabashed killing of a black man, to find our voices and fight for the rights of people of all races, colors, and with the ideals brought forth by the birth of this nation. 

We are moving forward and turning our baby steps into giant ones as more people are working together and marching peacefully forward in a joint, intellectual effort towards opening huge cracks in the wall that surrounds Blacks and the history of slavery in this country. For way too many people...it can be eye opening. Unfortunately, history textbooks are diluted and weak when it comes to depicting an accurate history of minority groups that have suffered the loss of identity and land, respect and life, along with their inalienable rights at the hands of our (their) own government.

Are we looking at a new era of progress? Or, will we be disappointed by the lack of empathy for others, once again? No one knows for sure. However, this time around feels different to me; more substantial, calculated, and hopeful with each peaceful protest march in so many cities and small towns across the country and with each verbal dispute against brute police force and acts of brutality, change is in the air. 

People are finding their own voice in 2020. We’re not hiding behind the shortcomings of our politicians or bypassing important opportunities to speak our hearts and minds. The movement to change what is wrong and make it right has definitely begun and I, for one, am looking forward to it with all the excitement and energy I can muster.

Please stay safe. Stay healthy. Wear your mask in public. Recognize the truth.

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

A SENSE OF EQUALITY BETWEEN ALL LIVING THINGS

A series of essays....

LITTLE MAMA WITH HER HUNGRY CHICKS
HAPPY IN THEIR LOFTY HOME

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

I awoke this morning to the sound of feathered wings lightly slapping on the outside of the house, about two feet up from where I lay my head down on the pillow each night. Not that the tapping was the cause for my early retreat from slumber; not at all. Actually, the gentleness of the sound was rather soothing and would surely put one to sleep in the first place. It was because I knew precisely what the sound was and how precious and meaningful it is in the grand scope and pattern of the continuation of life.

Last spring we observed a mother Robin making her home in the crook of our downspout at the corner of the living room picture window. What a mighty and persistent builder she was as she gathered materials from far and near to shape a nest worthy of a high ranking on an Architectural Digest list.

The entire time she created the magnificent structure that would eventually be used to hold her eggs during incubation until her tiny hatchlings were fledged, her dark eyes, circled by a broken white eye-ring, watched us with intense suspicion. After all, not every human or human’s structure is worthy of hosting such important guests! 

PROVENÇAL DREAMING

I always enjoyed my early routine of weeding the lavender garden that lives just below our Robin’s unique perch. The lavender scented morning air would create delicate layers of Provençal dreaming. The lingering fragrance may be what has helped draw the Robins back for another springtime venture at Chez Hughes! Anyway, my intense observation of her daily routine so near to me each day encouraged us to create a close bond. The secure sharing of maternal emotion surely brought us together as her fear of me gradually dissipated during the passing of time.

Initially, if she were in her nest working or, later, protecting her eggs, and we’d enter the front door, closing it behind us, she would swiftly fly away and lurk in the bushes around the corner until she felt all was clear and safe, once again. Soon, we were able to go in and out of the door without our lady Robin being fussed or distressed, even after her nest was filled with chirping, open-beaked offspring. 

MY FAVORITE READING SPOT

By the time her precious eggs had hatched and she was scrounging the side yard for food to feed her chicks, the friendship between us had grown tight and unbreakable. Her pecking and bobbing from several yards away soon turned into a matter of inches as she pranced her way over to the red bench that was positioned under the Japanese Red Maple tree and where I would sit and read in the dappled shade each afternoon. 

We would stare eye-to-eye for extended moments, silently speaking with one another under the graceful and elegant, reddish-purple leaves of this hardy little tree. “Has your busy day been productive, Little Mama? Hope everything is going well for your family and there’s enough to eat for everyone!” 

FORAGING FOR FOOD

SEEING EYE-TO-EYE AND COMMUNICATING
FACE-TO-FACE WITH ONE ANOTHER

In time, the spell was broken and Little Mama would retreat and continue to forage for insects and worms in order to feed her brood now chirping in the nest built high above such dangers as domestic cats, snakes, squirrels, and other birds. With any luck, the simple presence of human beings should be helpful in keeping many predators away from her chicks until the fledglings were able to fly short distances away from the cozy nest. “You have earned my trust. I am grateful for your company if it means making my babies safer. Keep weeding the lavender!” At least, that’s what I believe her side of our conversation would have been like.

When I didn’t see a Little Mama utilizing the sanctuary of our small accommodation above the downspout this season, it made me wonder why. Had we somehow failed in our duty as protector and confidant to her and other Robins choosing to share this lofty spot and willing to nest within human habitat?

Not until the mild slapping of Robin’s wings against the opposite corner of the front of the house this morning did I realize that a Little Mama had decided to move in down the block; into a different neighborhood but in the same part of town. 

I didn’t have to go check if my early morning theory was correct or not because I instinctively knew and understood what was happening on the other side of our bedroom wall. Despite COVID-19, isolation, the insanity in Washington D.C., the lack of being able to freely visit family and friends in person, the weight gain due to isolation, and every other reason we may have to be stressed-out and justifiably concerned, we are hosting important residents at our home again!

When the circle of life, or nature’s way of taking and giving back life to the earth, is broken, we lose the notion of totality, original perfection, eternity, and timelessness. The unbroken circle symbolizes the universe being sacred and devine and represents infinite nature of energy. If something dies, it gives new life to another. Our little feathered friend, or one of her offspring, has returned to us. This Little Mama will continue the important lesson of the continuity of life for the next generation to be able to understand how we are all connected and, no matter how big or small the circle is, it ends in the exact same way for all living things!

Stay safe. Stay healthy.

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved