Between Raindrops

Hampstead Heath

Hello, sweet friends.

I hope the end of 

November has been

treating you well.

In my last post I

wrote about the black

cloud that's been with

me this autumn, and

many of you very

generously shared

coping strategies for

blowing that cloud

away.

Thank you.

Hampstead Cemetery

I was so touched,

particularly by one

of the anonymous

comments, to which I

had no way of giving

a direct response.

Thank you.

The day after I released

those thoughts into the

blogosphere, my family

boarded an airplane to

visit some dear relatives

for the week of our 

Thanksgiving holiday.

Big Ben

Though our destination

is actually known for

its black clouds, my own 

made few appearances.

And while the clouds

I've penned are simply

emotional ones, I noticed

something about the real

clouds while visiting that 

made my heart sing.

And me, think.

The White Tower

In London, when the

sun breaks through the

clouds, people don't 

just take note ~

Oh look, there's the sun.

Oh, no.

They revel.

Hampstead Heath

Hats and scarves come

off, the parks fill with

parents and children,

dogs and scooters,

elderly folks taking a

stroll and business 

people on their lunch 

breaks.

They do not take it

for granted.

Parliament

By the same token, 

they don't let the rain

clouds stop them from

getting on with it,

either.

Whether it is walking

to the store, walking the

dog, running for the 

bus or just running for

sport.

Knightsbridge

Why do both of these

scenarios resonate 

with me?

Because in life, like a

holiday in London, there

will be rain clouds

and there will be

sunshine.

Hampstead High Street

The key is to revel in those

moments of sunshine-y

joy, rather than fret about

the inevitable clouds.

And when those clouds

appear?

We have to get on with it.

{Keep calm and 

carry on, 

remember?}

Life doesn't halt for

sadness or black clouds.

And we shouldn't, either.

Humanity will not be
cast down.  We are going on
swinging bravely forward along
the grand high road and already
behind the distant mountains
is the promise of the sun.

~ Winston Churchill

xo

Suzanne

PS:  I'll share more of my

holiday pics in my next few

posts.  Until then, I'm in

catch up mode :)

PPS:  The winner of the 

sweet oil painting giveaway

from Hello Lovely is #12,
Elizabeth, who writes
as Busy Biz.  Congrats!

Carry On and A Give Away

Keep your face always

toward the sunshine ~

and shadows will

fall

behind

you.

~ Walt Whitman

Ever had a season in

life where things like

sadness, challenges

or defeat seemed to

hover like a dark cloud

just above you?

Distracted by the noise

of everyday life, you

forget about the cloud,

until, in a quiet moment,

you look up.....

Yep, there it is.

I've had an autumn

like that.

It's taken conscious

effort to turn my face

to the sunshine with 

that black cloud in

the way.

Last week, when

I felt particularly

disheartened, I had a

little talk with myself.

Self,

I admonished,

this dreary cloud

is going to be here

for a while.  You

can't change that.

What you can change

is how you are going

to deal with it.

I thought about this

advice I'd given myself.

And I thought some more.

Then it came to me:

I need a motto.

A mantra.

A pin prick of sunshine

to focus on through

the dark cloud.

It was election day and

I had pinned on a cute

red and white button on

my jacket collar, along

with a tiny U.S. flag.

Keep Calm and Carry On.

Perfect.

Now, when I feel the

cool shadow of that

cloud passing overhead,

I think of my motto.

I also like to close my

eyes for a second or two

and say a small prayer.

Or, like I do in 

Savasana, at the end of 

yoga class, I picture a

favorite, peaceful place,

and a sense of serenity

embraces me like a

soft blanket.

The ocean appears

frequently in these

reflections.

Which is why I recently

acquired the most

tranquil little oil painting

from my talented friend 
Michele, whose inspiration
and verve can be found on
her blog, Hello, Lovely.

Looking at this tiny slice of

heaven reminds me to

keep my face towards the

sunshine.....

and carry on.

Michele sent me a second

painting to give away to one

of you.  To enter the giveaway,

simply follow her blog, then

leave me a comment letting 

me know that you did.  I will 
draw the lucky winner's 
name after Thanksgiving.

How do you cope, when

the clouds roll in?

I'd love to know.

xo

Suzanne

Life.....Lived.

Early Saturday morning

as my husband and I

headed to spin class,

we stepped into the

garage and were greeted

by the chilly dawn air.

Wow, it's really cold,

he said.

Piling into our SUV,

he fired her up and

the radio came to life,

40's music drifting

cheerily around us.

{Our daughter's choice

of stations when she drives, 

to keep her calm and

centered.}

It was the WWII classic,

It's Been A Long, Long Time.

Imagine our GI's,

freezing in a fox hole

in Europe, listening

to this, 

my hubby

mused.

Imagine how grateful

they were for.....

everything,

when they got back

home, 

I added.

The greatest generation,

we both agreed.

Hot cups of coffee,

hot showers,

home-cooked meals,

hugging your loved ones;

all the things that we

take for granted, that

they never, ever 

would again.

When they returned, this

humble generation, many

never speaking about their

experiences over there,

proceeded to go to college

in numbers not seen before.

They raised families, started

businesses, and continued

to serve our nation in many

ways, for the rest of their lives.

Uncle Bill and Gigi, about 1921

My Great-Uncle Bill,

{my Gigi's brother}

was one of them.

After serving, Uncle Bill went to 

school on the GI bill and then 

on to law school, eventually

opening a small practice

of his own.

Uncle Bill in Europe

He and my Aunt Helen

lived a quiet life in a

 modest Cape Cod house

in Cleveland, Ohio.

As a youth, I'm told, he

was restless and yearned

for a bigger, fancier life than

what he had as the son of

a railroad man in Cleveland.

Uncle Bill as a boy.

But after The War, he saw

everything differently.

  

He was grateful.  

He was content.

Uncle Bill only lived to be 62.

 But I like to think, after his 

experiences in WWII,

 that he really, really

lived

those years.

Shouldn't we all?

xo

Suzanne

PS:  So grateful to

those who served,

and to those who

continue to serve,

this Veteran's Day.

All images from Gigi's

family album or my own.

The Shift

A week or so ago I

wrote about the concept

of sabi ~ the simple

beauty found in the 

worn and imperfect.

But long before we

are sabi women or men,

we are fresh-faced 

girls and boys.

We run barefoot.

We sing loudly.

We laugh and cry without

worrying what others think.

We wear what makes
us happy!

If moms and dads don't

comb our hair or remind

us to brush our teeth, we

run wild and don't give

it another thought.

Until one day.

Something shifts.

Something changes.

Like Adam and Eve

in the Garden of Eden,

we are suddenly aware

of our bodies, and that

first innocence ~ that

not worrying what others

think of our appearance

or how loud or silly or

sad we might appear ~

goes away.

For some, it's when

school starts and other

children tease.

For some, it happens

as a tween or teen, when

puberty first enters 

the scene.

I thought about this

as I collected towels

for the wash from my kids'

bathroom yesterday.  I had to

navigate around a lot

of things whose presence

announced loud and

clear,

I care about how

I look.

The tweezers.

The hair smoothing serum.

The cologne.

The mineral powder.

I smiled.

It doesn't seem that long

ago that I kept a chart

to encourage their hygiene

habits with gold stars, or

I had to cajole my son

to take a shower.

Not any more.

There are days when I can

tell that one of them is

feeling self-conscious

about their hair or their

skin or the way a piece

of clothing fits and I wish

fervently that they were

still okay running around

in mismatched socks, or

letting go with their funny

laughter, or creeping into

my lap when they felt

insecure.

But as all of us have

done, they've crossed that

invisible bridge that

leads from freedom from

caring to.....awareness.

They've made the shift.

Imagine what the world

would be like if we were

able to stay in that first,

carefree state, forever?

Someday they'll re-live
those unaware, free days
when they have children
of their own.  I like to
imagine my son braiding
his daughter's wet hair
as she fidgets, or my daughter 
trying to get her son to floss : )
But most of all, I like to think of 
them enjoying all the belly 
laughs, the tiny bare feet, 
the cuddles and the consoling.

I sure have.

Happy November,

dear friends!

xo

Suzanne

PS:  Thanks to my
sister-in-law for sharing
these Instagram pics of my
nieces and nephew.  Lucky
for her, the shift is still far
out on the horizon : )