Today’s Mindset

• Posted by Elizabeth Willie Towles on June 9, 2011 at 1:00pm
• View My Blog

Willie Elizabeth Towles Many things are on my mind this morning: family, friends, and the stalls that centers one’s thinking; Memorial Services that journals a life, magnifying the void when that life no longer fills an earthly body space….
And then looking out my window last night and spotting my window rabbit friend, Buster-Boo; and I’m out the door, chasing the black predators away….

4 hours ago ·

• Marti Duncan and Sherri Helms Thurman like this.
• • 

    Willie Elizabeth Towles

    Yes, those pesky crows have found Buster-Boo; this is the second night he’s been the object of their attention. Taps on the window were of short duration; I had to make a show of power. I ran outside with hands popping together, yelling like a banshee, and they took flight, some to the roof of a neighbor’s house and others to trees across the street. I stayed in my watch until each crow left my sight; I wonder if tonight will be more of the same? I might have to get out the broom and wave it around like a big gun…hmmm, wonder, too, what the neighbors will be whispering about the woman who lives in the corner house.
  • I posted these entries as a gateway into my mindset for today.
  • The Memorial Service for my friend’s husband is still very much with me, pictures only were shown of his life: as a young student, as a pilot, as a young husband with my friend at his side, and then in their later life as a couple in maturity.
  • Yet, life does go on….
  • And with my window friend, Buster-Boo, who embodies the same characteristics of Buster from last year; this year has brought me his relative with some of the same antics I found so enchanting. To see then, crows on the attack of Buster-Boo was simply too much. I’ve never seen crows actually attack a rabbit, but they made a believer out of me. I have to be vigilant in my watching. I hope that after shooing them away time and time again, they will tire of the chase and find another victim!
  • So, life does keep moving ahead, and sadness and grief has to be tempered to a letting go; to a stepping back into what’s before us….
  • Remembrance knows when and where to rest….   Elizabeth

The Memory Chair (cont’d)

The Memory Chair (cont’d)

Wednesday March 9, 2011

This is the sixth week of Life Stories class; we are mid-way in our twelve week schedule.

And all has changed!

The first clue came with stepping into the meeting room; the chairs no longer sit next to the walls, they sit close, in a circle, in the middle of the room; and when doing the body wake-up routine, and the long breath in—and out, it was as though we had turned a corner in getting to know each other.

For instance: when Dave read his story about his wife and dealing with the life-threatening disease of Cancer, it seemed so natural and easy a thing for me to grab hold of his hand while he spoke of that heart-wrenching period of their lives. We were all transported to that time, living it with him though his words…and seeing him with new eyes. We have climbed that wall of separateness and found a sense of unity.

Another shift today: stories were read out loud and fully, and although Christine and Ted chose to tell their stories, it was another subtle change, adding a depth of personal interconnecting.

Ted spoke of having a blessed life, so normal in every way, wonderful in the fact of no great tragedies, no problems that defied solving, and a marriage still solid and steady; yet this is in itself a miracle, and normal doesn’t even begin to fit the fine essence of his life.

Today was like a meeting around a large, round kitchen table, we shared our stories in ‘The Memory Chair,’ and smiles, laughs, and grins rode faces time, and time again. We settled in our new bonding like long time friends…family!

Fate was among us today…waiting for the right time to tell a story. And the story was authored by Lynnsy who wrote a tribute to each of us, also to Wrenn, our director. It was the right time, a wonderful choice of words, and the best possible ending to this morning’s Life Stories class.

 

Elizabeth

The Memory Chair

The Memory Chair

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

There are sixteen of us and we are here at the Matthews Playhouse for a class listed as: Life Stories.

The chairs form a large circle inside the ample corner room. We are a diverse group, women as well as men, and all with one connecting thread…we are labeled Seniors, as in the time of our life’s number game. In charge is a young woman, Wrenn, who evidently has great courage; she had been the leader of children’s group, and others, and now…our group, carrying a plethora of personalities, experiences, and problems that grew us and shaped our present personas.

We will meet one day a week, for a time of 1 &1/2 hrs, for the next twelve weeks, learning life stories from each other, and eventually drafting a play from one of the stories. Along the way, we’ll have a lot of laughs, oh and ah at surprises, and give hugs when touching becomes a need.

Today, we wore name tags and were paired with another classmate. In turn, we asked each other questions and answered them out loud. Questions like: Your name? Do you have a nickname? What is your favorite color…and why? Why did you join this class? And do you have anything you’d like to share with the group? Needless to say, it was the last question that opened the flood gates of remembrance…only eight people got to participate. It seems when given a chance to have our say…we seniors really have our say. Next week the remaining eight will have their turn.

I was paired with Terry, who I soon learned had asked to partner with me, I agreed, not knowing there was more behind the asking. We exchanged names and small talk before being center stage for our questioning period. When I asked about nicknames, she said she had been called Willie, which is part of my name, and also that she was a writer. As she talked, I found many commons that we shared. Strangers upon meeting, but within a matter of quick minutes, we felt kinship by our past. After dealing with debilitating health problems for the last 10 months, this was my first attempt at stepping back into my life; and Terry seemed put in place by knowing Hands.

The class went by so quickly that I remember only a handful of names from today’s gathering: Ted, who wrote under his name tag, Donald Duck; he gave us a Quack, Quack to validate his note, Barbara, who said her stories would be coming next week, Julia, whose ready smile lit up her face; and Sandy who said she had been wanting to do something for a long time, and with a mischievous look in her eyes, she pulled up a sleeve and on the soft underside of her left arm a message read: Have Faith and Breathe…. Elizabeth

The Memory Chair

The Memory Chair (cont’d)

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

This is our second week of Life Stories class and we are still wearing our name tags; this may go on for quite a while, remember, most of our members have reached what has been called that ‘golden’ stage in life: ‘Seniors.’

We are still working on the introductory phase and Wrenn got right into it. She probably had nightmares of her weekly schedule forever being a week behind, and on the 12^th week as the last class ended and we walked out, one by one, she would be standing at the door saying, “but we didn’t get to the best part…acting!”

So we got started on the last eight members’ question and answer session. Many things came to light: when Dave was asked his name, he had to look down at his name tag, it was turned backwards and he had to flip it over, “Dave,” he finally said. Of course, we all laughed with him. We found out Hess is our Nature Man, he said being outside was a passion of his, and also, cooking. Don told us he is writing about his life. And Jane revealed she joined the class because she loved to talk…and always wanted to be ‘a drama queen.’ Doesn’t every class need one? Barbara’s favorite color is purple…and one other thing she and I have in common…hats…she had on a cute black one.

Wrenn asked for volunteers to do a short skit about a lady driver running a red light and being stopped by a policeman. It was a class act with Lynnsy, the driver, and Carolyn, being the cop. Needless to say, a lot of the ad-lib answers sent us into gales of laughter. What we came away with was: never drive when drinking, even if you deny it; always have your glasses on if you need them to see; and never answer the question, Where are your glasses? by saying, “I don’t know.” And also, try to keep your driver’s license up to date. It was her lucky day: Lynnsy received only a warning.

We were then divided into groups of four to read our assignment about childhood stories and to select one story for the writer to read out loud to the group. And of course, we ran over the time limit…but most of us stayed. After hearing the stories, Wrenn said we had possibilities and she could already see certain scenes being played out on our big Play Date.

We were given our assignment for next week and then dismissed in quick order.

The hero of the day was Don…with his most important question, “Where’s the food?”

Elizabeth (Willie) Towles

The Memory Chair

The Memory Chair (cont’d)

Wednesday, February, 16, 2011

This is our third week of Life Stories class. We are still in the ‘getting to know you’ stage, and like the week before, most of us put on our name tags before finding a seat. It is obvious that we are attaining a cohesive balance because lots of talk goes on as we wait for Wrenn to begin the class.

Once we’ve loosened the kinks from our bodies, and tested our vocal cords for sound (Ho, Ho, Ha, Ha Ha), we get down to business. And of course, one of those business duties was to reacquaint ourselves with ‘The Master Bard’ himself: Shakespeare! We get to throw his words of insult at each other with nary a thought of consequences…how long has it been since a person could do that and still keep one’s head?

Today was Improvisation Day: Hess, Barbara, and Julia acted out a skit that involved a man taking a woman and a five year old child out to lunch. Of which, Julia, playing the child, upstaged the scene by putting her feet on the table, wanting things her way…or no way…and as you might expect, the power of a five year old child almost always comes out the winner.

The next skit, the players were: Ted, Sandy, Mardell, and Me. The story was of a daddy, a six year old child, and a conjurer, who is trying to bring back a runaway wife with a dose of voodoo enticement. And once again, our class members really got into the background scene: the barking of dogs and the clucking of hens most likely could be heard clear up to St. John Street. In fact they were deep into their role as the skit ended with the child’s mind still caught up with the mysterious lady, Odella.

The next order of business was: dividing into groups of five to read our stories of teenage memories and to then select one story and act it out. There would be three improvisational skits to perform.

The room buzzed with voices, a laugh here and there, paper shuffling occasionally…and a body prowling in and out around the group—Wrenn.

Finally, decision time came. Barbara’s story of a family in chaos, Marti’s story of teenage discovery (what takes place in New York, stays in New York), and Lynnsy’s ongoing memory of A call to Love, were presented with actors that fell right into their roles. Great job!

The mind-catching words today came from Marti’s teenage tale (a bit of coughing here). “Well…maybe the second cigarette will be a little better…”

Elizabeth

The Memory Chair

The Memory Chair

 

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

There are sixteen of us and we are here at the Matthews Playhouse for a class listed as: Life Stories.

The chairs form a large circle inside the ample corner room. We are a diverse group, women as well as men, and all with one connecting thread…we are labeled Seniors, as in the time of our life’s number game. In charge is a young woman, Wrenn, who evidently has great courage; she had been the leader of children’s group, and others, and now…our group, carrying a plethora of personalities, experiences, and problems that grew us and shaped our present personas.

We will meet one day a week, for a time of 1 &1/2 hrs, for the next twelve weeks, learning life stories from each other, and eventually drafting a play from one of the stories. Along the way, we’ll have a lot of laughs, oh and ah at surprises, and give hugs when touching becomes a need.

Today, we wore name tags and were paired with another classmate. In turn, we asked each other questions and answered them out loud. Questions like: Your name? Do you have a nickname? What is your favorite color…and why? Why did you join this class? And do you have anything you’d like to share with the group? Needless to say, it was the last question that opened the flood gates of remembrance…only eight people got to participate. It seems when given a chance to have our say…we seniors really have our say. Next week the remaining eight will have their turn.

I was paired with Terry, who I soon learned had asked to partner with me, I agreed, not knowing there was more behind the asking. We exchanged names and small talk before being center stage for our questioning period. When I asked about nicknames, she said she had been called Willie, which is part of my name, and also that she was a writer. As she talked, I found many commons that we shared. Strangers upon meeting, but within a matter of quick minutes, we felt kinship by our past. After dealing with debilitating health problems for the last 10 months, this was my first attempt at stepping back into my life; and Terry seemed put in place by knowing Hands.

The class went by so quickly that I remember only a handful of names from today’s gathering: Ted, who wrote under his name tag, Donald Duck; he gave us a Quack, Quack to validate his note, Barbara, who said her stories would be coming next week, Julia, whose ready smile lit up her face; and Sandy who said she had been wanting to do something for a long time, and with a mischievous look in her eyes, she pulled up a sleeve and on the soft underside of her left arm a message read: Have Faith and Breathe…. Elizabeth

A Gathering of Thoughts

A Gathering of Thoughts

During these last few months while dealing with health issues, other unsettling worries have plagued my mind: the fear of my creative side seemingly to have taken leave without notice, the inspiration that I once took for granted, no longer a resident inside my head, and the joy of racing to the computer to jot down a quick mind-scene was something I did in my past. Fears! They grew with each passing month; doubts…a word now much too familiar. The only easing of this dilemma came in the local newspaper a couple of weeks ago. The article stated that when one is experiencing digestive problems, it is associated with food and food is the basic thing that sustains life. When this situation is present, it is a mind-body involvement like no other health issue and all daily worries fall aside while the mind is held hostage to the moment. I grabbed that thought. Maybe…all was not yet lost!

And then, last week, it happened. My husband, John, and I were on our way to Chapel Hill Memorial Hospital for a final test, and as I stared out the car window, my mind suddenly came alive! I pulled a notebook from a small luggage bag, lifted the pen from the wire spiral coil …and wrote!

I’ve missed: letting my eyes look toward the horizon, noting the tree limbs bared of their leaves, skeletal in their silhouettes, the ground blanketed with winter debris of crushed leaves, broken branches, and endless clutter left by animals and humans. Ahead a long stretch of highway maps our way as we travel. I’ve missed this comfortable silence inside the car, and the soft drone of tires against the pavement; the rush of a car or truck as it passes; together, they free my mind to take in all the groundswell on either side of the roadway. I see Nature in its truest form: the fallen dead trees here and there, and odd shaped rocks tossed like misguided markers across the terrain. Now and then, signs bear witness to being in unfamiliar territory: Flower Patch, And More, Sit & Sip Café, and then, propped against a small wooden shack, I spot a thick cardboard sign with bold black uneven lettering, Deer Corn Sold Inside.

Outside, the clouds hang low, masking the hour of the day, giving a sense of quieting time.

I’ve missed seeing snatches of houses through an unexpected break of the dense forests, smoke rising up from hidden chimneys and sitting momentarily just above the tree-line; all clues that this is a peopled area. I’ve missed the different nuances that define one region from another: a farmhouse off in the distance, rust spots on a barn giving its tin roof a bit of character. Here and there, silos, with parasitic vines climbing their round walls, sit a short distance from the main houses. I’ve missed the sight of small churches that dot the roadside, and the wooden crosses planted atop a cleared hill, along with horses and cattle grazing behind fenced plots of land.

It is widely stated that writing is a solitary endeavor, but for me the crowding of my mind is like having company…welcome visitors that stir and delight my soul!

Elizabeth Towles   Dec. 27, 2010

When I Was Young

This is a poem that chronicles my life, and during my journey, I was given a moment in time to reflect on my path. I hope to move continually ahead, and with a smile in place to greet the next phrase…. This poem is in a short contest (7 days) Aug.3 /Aug 20, and I would appreciate a read and vote if you feel so moved. http://www.bookrix.com/_title-en-elizabeth-towles-when-i-was-young

Thanks, as always. Elizabeth

The ‘Walks of My Mind’ on Writing

Please join me at Bookrix Blog.  The site http://blog.bookrix.com/  The ‘Walks of My Mind’ on Writing

Thanks, Elizabeth

A Window Friend

While dealing with a troubling health issue, and still in the process of solution seeking, I have found a window friend this spring and summer. For several years now, rabbits have inhabited our yard, and also along a neighbor’s property that borders one side of our driveway. This area is in full view of one of my bedroom windows. In the past, all the rabbits behaved as ‘normal’ rabbit inhabitants might, in that, they would graze in a spot, move on to another location, their heads mostly lowered to the grass, and their bodies held in an elongated manner with feet covered, ears still or twitching…but always the core of them non-revealing…intact. However, this year, we’ve been GIVEN a different type of rabbit. You noticed I said given…because, in all aspects, this year, a rabbit has shown up who defies all the heretofore perceptions of how a rabbit should go about his ramblings. So much so, that, John and I have named this rabbit, Buster. When foraging for a meal, he settles in a spot to munch for a while, then, as if on some silent cue, he stops eating and spreads his feet out from his body like a dog who is resting after a hard chase on a hot day. Buster will be flat to the ground and his body almost disappears into the grass, the ears sometimes will be the only give-away of his presence. And, then again, as if an invisible alarm sounds, he will pop up and resume his grazing.
Another thing that makes Buster so unique: we’ve spotted him, in our back yard enclosure (he eased under the wood fence), rolled up like a big fur ball, still, no ears showing, no feet showing, and for all the world, looking like a thrown fat hair ball that landed in the grass. John and I came to the conclusion that he was sleeping (I’ve never seen how rabbits look when asleep, so this was merely speculation on our part). While in this balled frame, he remains still, as when resting with all fours extended, and then…his inner clock brings him back to being; and he picks up his foraging with an air of seemingly uninterrupted meal time. He has caught our attention and we now look for him in the early mornings and late afternoons. He appears during the time when light has given over to a softness easy on the eyes, and the day’s extreme heat has lifted away. I feel a gift with his presence, a glimpse into a world I had no knowledge of until he informed me. This morning Buster was in our front yard when John went out to get the paper. John spoke to him (I learned he didn’t call him by name because I am really the one who named him), and Buster simply continued to munch, slanting only his eyes to note an awareness of John’s presence.
In the days to come, I will be watching Buster and enjoying his antics until it is time for him to go to wherever rabbits go for the winter.
It will be spring before the rabbits show themselves again, but this time, I’ll be in search of that elusive creature who has filled this season with such a delightful interlude…I’ll be hoping for the likeness of this year’s gift…a relative of Buster. Elizabeth