Some things are as perfectly simple as forgiveness and pie.
Yes, I said pie. Pear and apple pie to be specific.
And quiet talks with friends over sumertime drinks about hikes, walks, works, dunks, and tricks and twists.
Then we gather and stew, stir, simmer, pare, puree, and pile. And then the cooking..mmmmmm.
I've learned a few things in the past week.
I still have it in me to be fierce and dramatic over the people and things I love. That are "MINE".
And that it sometimes comes out in ways that are jerkish and not at all what I was really feeling or trying to say.
And that reconciliation and forgiveness are possible and while this may be no big deal to others, it is to me. It's part of how I am learning and being authentically in this reality and walking the walk of Love and Not Being A Selfish Jerk In the World.( It is also cracking me up how I always seem to "be learning and growing in this reality." And who ISN'T*****snark!?!) I thank my parents for another chance to practice this. And it was very abundantly grounding and nurturing to bake and then share. And to watch my dog (who watches tv when given the chance) to bark, snarl, and act like an idiot when some show was on at mom and dad's with kids singing and dancing. Cedar went balistic. And then I showed him the tv and he only balisticked a bit. He is learning a lot, too.
This has been a bit of a tough transition from running around with my head, heart, and feet in castles, cottonfields, glens and gin barns (and whisky distilleries) to home.
Which brings me back to pie and forgiveness and things that matter.
Seeing my dear Mary J. embark on her dream of camping, fishing, and peeing in her own rig without needing tupperware.
Dancing with my sisters and niece and nephew once a week. Then setting and sharing afterward.
Appreciating Sara's commitment and energy as she offers, teaches, exhorts, models, and sweats her gifts for us and with us.
Time with Turi. and Jean and Laura and Mike. And bookgroup.
Time with Jenny and her beloveds.
Time with Jenny's father who created a beautiful memorial for Fiona and Sadie of mountain slate and cedar. Going to get it and enjoying the rich connecting time with him and his new cabin home.
Time on ferry boats.

This inspired a delicious quote the other day from none other than Mary J. "Fours don't go on vacations. They have adventures!" (I'll explain this another time.) The second quote of the day "Ferries are therapy." (Needs no explaining)

More on my list of simple summer adundances-
Praying with my therapist. Being affirmed that I am not crazy-just that I feel things, often more than a few at a time and that it gets confusing because I feel so deeply.
Affirming that feelings are indicators and not the only reality. That checking in with the top three will usually give one an accurate enough picture of what is really going on. (You'd think I would have this down by now after ten years of regular therapy and the work that goes with it.)
That therapy still takes it out of me as I go in. There is something satsifying about being in that deep, quiet place where flicker calls and sighing, snuggled puppies take center stage and sirens and screaming brakes are relegated to the alley behind the theater of the consciousness.
That I can intuitively bake a pie without being aware of anything except the order of things, how it feels"right" as it is being put together, and I am aware of the love and gratitude that is energetically joining what the Source has already placed in the fruit and labor of the endeavor. And I can do this as well as some people can paint, sing, play harp, dance, or write grants.

And I don't understand how certain people in Iraq can be blowing up their OWN. To whom do these blower-uppers belong? Why do they need to cause such shattering and pain? WHY? WHY?
In goes the Magical Strings, esp. Lullabye for a Soul's Journey to the music player. Out comes the Circle of LIfe: The Heart's Journey Through the Seasons by Joyce Rupp and Macrina Wiederkrehr from the prayer library. Plugged in is my Heart and my Prayers for Peace and Healing. Pictured are my father's bright, enthusastic eyes as he plans and delights in model railroad potentialities---and quiet breathing with the garden, the trees, the flickers, and the Creator. Now that's power. And an entirely different kind of pie.
Or is it?