Conversation Under the Maple # 5

 

"I brought the snacks today," says Simad, setting a small ice chest on the table. "Since my cat cooks better than me, I brought store-bought mochi's."

"What's a mochi?" asks Twinkie."

"Japanese rice cakes- stuffed with ice cream--an ice cream you can eat with your fingers."

"Yum," says Harvey, "biting into the soft rice pillow filled with Mango ice cream. "My first. How many can I have?'

"Oh, there are about six a piece."

Harvey laughed. "My kind of guy."

"Harvey," says Ollie," pouring herself a cup of coffee, "how was your week? I wondered how it went after last Tuesday."

"Umpth," Harvey grunted, dropping into a chair. "You know what that Richard Bach fella said, 'If you wonder if your mission on earth is over, and you're alive, it isn't?" He placed one ankle over the other leg. "Well, Liz's was over, and mine isn't. I had been thinking of myself, not her. It makes me wonder, though, does a person know when it's time, or is our life just snuffed out?"

"Depends on your view, I guess," says Ollie. "It hurts if we think the person chose to leave us. But then it isn't much better to think their life was snuffed out without their consent. It's complicated since there are many ideas on the subject. I know it's hard when someone's physical presence is no longer with us. We miss them."

"Yeah, I suppose I will miss her forever—well, until I see her again. You know, ever since we're old enough to listen, we hear that death is the final hurrah. Our pets die, our Grandmas and Grandpas, parents even. When death comes, we are shocked. 'It's a tragedy,' we say. 'How did that happen? What did they die of?' I'm glad she didn't have to feel what I'm feeling."

"Oh Harvey," says Twinkie, "You took her pain. You were gallant to the end."

"What a dear young lady you are."

Simad pipes up: "There is a story about a famous hunchback in love with a beautiful woman. When she hesitated to marry him because of his condition, he said, 'I took it, so you didn't have to.' She married him."

"Oh wow," said Harvey, scratching his head. "You guys are something else. You know what else I did this week?"

"What?" "Tell us." "Go for it."

"You know Liz's garden has been fallow for almost two years, overgrown, a mess. I hadn't visited it until last Saturday. I stood there looking over the brambles and began to pull weeds. Among them, I found volunteer potato plants, so I dug potatoes, a wheelbarrow full of red organic potatoes.

"If you want some, I have a box in the car. And there was an oregano plant as large as the bathtub. I left it and cleared the area around it. There is spice for my spaghetti sauce—more than I will ever use. I gave some to the neighbors. I was so into cleaning that I rented a rototiller and completely cleared the area. While at the garden shop, I bought a box of wildflower seeds, except the gardener said to plant them in the spring, as they probably wouldn't winter over."

"Have your get-together in the spring, Harvey, and we will all throw seeds," said Sally. "Your kids might like that too. What a great honor to Liz."

"Better than visiting a cemetery, I'd say," says Shal. "a field of wildflowers. I wish it was spring."

"Me too."

"I'm proud of you, Harvey," says Ollie.

"Me too's," around the table.

"I'm going to hold you to it, Harvey," says Shal, "to have that gathering. I know how easy it is to lose momentum. Inspiration wanes if we don't act on it."

"I'll tell the kids this week so they can plan on it."

"What about having it before spring?" Shal suggests. "You can invite us back when the wildflowers are in bloom."

"I want to do it now." Harvey pulls out his phone and checks the calendar. "How about we do it on Saturday the 30th. No, Sunday the 31st. I don't want to interfere with Twinkie's Glass Blowing Class. You went, didn't you?"

"I did, all day Saturday. And I went back on Sunday, too. Oh, Harvey, I would love to come on that Sunday if it works for your family."

"I'll bribe them. Let's do it. I have a right to be impulsive."

"You let us know, says Ollie," Now, Twinkie, tell us about your class."

"Alan had me dipping the blow rod into the molten glass and carrying it to the table practically all day on Saturday. By the end of the day, those two pounds of glass on the end of that blowpipe felt like I was carrying an anvil, but I loved every minute. It doesn't hurt that Alan is a hunk and the nicest teacher I could ask for."

"Hum," says Ollie, "I detect more than a love of glass blowing."

"In my dreams," says Twinkie. "Everybody falls in love with Alan."

"The same with you, Twinkie."

Her cheeks glow pink.

"I went back on Sunday because Alan was having a demonstration for tourists, and he invited me. At the demo, he introduced me as a trainee, and asked if I would explain the instruments to them and tell them how hot the furnace is, and people wanted to know if we went to the beach to collect sand."

"Do you?" asks Simad.

"No, we must buy it, as it is a special blend. Expensive, too."

"How old is that Alan fella?" asks Harvey. "Is he married?"

"No. He isn't married. I sneakily asked about his family. No wife, no kids. He's in his early thirties."

"Okay then," says Harvey.

"Thanks, Pop, for looking out for me."

"You're welcome."

"Shal, Sally, Simad, what's happening with you guys?" Ollie asks.

"Well, I'm glad I began meditating again, "Shal says. "I'm less stressed out over work. My wife said I stopped pacing the floor. I didn't even notice. 

 I did have an experience this week. You know I'm not religious. I don't want any organized events, doctrines, or dogma. But as I sat and meditated, I entered an altered state where I felt in touch with the divine. It was a feeling, not a belief. My head was light, and I drifted for the longest while. I was in space with endless possibilities around me. I understand what people mean by being spiritual, for I believe that space is where God is. And I want an artistic endeavor to be enthusiastic about, like Twinkie has, something I can sink my teeth into. I'm tired of selling things. I want to be visited by the muse."

"Be still and listen."

“Come over to my shop," said Harvey. "Look around. See if anything grabs you. I do woodworking from time to time."

"Do you have a torch?"

"Yep, I do."

“I've thought of sculpturing where you weld odds and ends together and come up with something like a college."

"Steampunk?"

"Maybe. More like free form."

"Gather some junk and come on over. We'll see what we can come up with."

"I'd like that, Harvey."

"Harvey," says Sally, "How about you give me a batch of Liz's wonderful red potatoes, and I will make an Italian potato salad for your gathering on the 31^st. It's great for an outdoor picnic since it has no mayonnaise, just oil, vinegar, and herbs, and it's best served warm."

"That would be perfect."

"And throw in some of that oregano."

"I'll bring something," says Twinkie.

"Me too says Ollie."

Simad and Shal: "I will. I will."

"Well, it's settled then," said Harvey, "I'll provide the meat, chicken, and veggie burgers."

"Okay, Simad," asks Ollie, "how about you?"

"Everyone else seems happy and I'm miserable. I'm going crazy. I have a deadline, and the closer it gets, the more uptight I get. Besides, my girlfriend is tired of me complaining about my writing. I think she wants to move on.

"When I'm in a jumble like now, meditation or affirmations just irk me. I'm stuck."

"Okay, guys, pounce on Simad." Says Ollie. "We set this up to be a support group."

 

 

 

P.S. Thanks for reading

 Here is a  brief explanation of what will occur on Jewell D' Substack.

"Conversations Under the Maple" will continue to be here, so you guys don't need to go there for them, but I will be adding content between the conversations that will be from me, not the group.

Here is the first in between post by me, not the group:

 

Build It and They Will Come

Will they?

 

If I could build a coffee shop, a hang-out place, I would. We could sit and read, talk, or get our group together, find new friends, and dare to get honest with feelings and questions on how to deal with life, the Universe, and everything. Spirituality, God, psychology, our psyche, our hearts, and our egos are all there. That’s life.

However I'm stuck on this page. But then maybe that’s the best way to meet you. Our local is worldwide. Our interests are diverse. It’s good you didn’t find me at the beginning of my tenure here on Substack, for I kept changing my plan. (If I’m painting a room, I change the color about three times too.) But now I believe I’ve settled down to a color.

Nope.

I dipped my paint brush into water into which I had dropped blobs of oil paint—remember when we did that in school? Water and oil paint don’t mix, so the paint floats on the water. Whatever you dip into the water will come out smeared with oil paint, a kaleidoscope of color. In school, we dipped jars. Here, I will dip my brush and swipe it across the page.

We will talk about whatever comes to mind, not gossip, but real stuff.  The subjects are endless. It’s all life. The mixture of colors.

I began Conversations Under the Maple on my blog, and when a reader mentioned Substack (that I didn’t know existed), I decided to check it out, and Viola’ here I am.

I will publish From Beneath the Maple Tree weekly as long as they allow me to listen in on the conversation. Interspersed between those posts will be my visit with you—as I am doing now. And I expect some input in return. Fair enough? Okay.

If you wonder how six people can gather under the maple tree for an entire afternoon one day a week, I think back to a six-month training. A group of twenty or so met for a full day twice a week for six months. Then, some of us went on to a second six-month training. And there were young people, lovers, couples, at least two engineers, a professor, a physicist, a doctor, writers, housewives, and a budding psychologist all mixed together. How did they get the time off? I don’t know. They were committed to their own life advancement.

Here, it will be easy: read for 10 minutes or so.

Ten minutes might change our lives.

I can’t wait.

Please go to 

Jewell D's Substack

(copy and paste)

 

I subscribed to Jewell D's Substack, and the moment I posted, it fell into my ebox. That was so cool, and it didn't cost me a red cent, or a blue or yellow one either, and it won't cost you. 

 

 

 

 

Here We go, Under the Maple, conversation #4

 

 

"How did your week go, guys?" Ollie asks as the entire gang comes chattering through the gate.

"Fantastic, guilt-ridden, Great, Better." All give Ollie a hug.

"Look what Twinkie brought," Simad says, finding his chair around the table. "Brownies, my favorite chocolately thing. Thanks, Twinkie," He sat down then bounced up. "Why do we always sit in the same place? Isn't that strange? Let's mix it up. Twinkie, I'm sitting in your chair."

"You're welcome, Simad." Twinkie sits her plate down, runs over, jumps on his lap, and throws her arms around his neck. You're in my chair," she says.

 Somewhat taken aback, Simad finally collects himself and says, "Why didn't I think of this sooner?"

She kisses his forehead. "You sat in my chair, you get sat upon." She pops up and runs back to her plate, rips off the plastic wrap, and places it beside the tray on the table set with coffee, tea, hot water, an ice bucket, cream, sugar, and lemons.

"Is that laced with anything, Twinkie?" asks Harvey.

"Nope, It's pure unadulterated melted chocolate, flour—you know, from scratch, regular stuff." She opens a jar and begins to dribble chocolate across the tops of the brownies.

Everyone dives in for a brownie, coffee, tea, whatever is already on the table and settles into their seats.

"Twinkie," says Harvey, "I'd expect Twinkies from you. Oh, do they make Twinkies anymore?"

"I don't think so," Twinkie says finding a chair, but I loved them as a kid—that's how I got my name. But when I learned that if you place one on a porch railing, it will still be fresh six months later. I envisioned one sitting in my stomach like a petrified rock. That stopped me. These are to thank you guys for last week. I'm unflappable today."

"How so, Twinkie? Tell us."

 "I was so anxious to tell you guys.” She sat forward in her chair, “I did as Shal suggested. I meditated every day for six days—today will be the seventh."

 "What happened?" asked Shal.

"I was miserable for the first two days. I couldn't stop thinking of a zillion other things I'd rather be doing. And then, on the third day, I got this message. It read: "Dear Twinkie, I gave you a heart, a brain, and courage. Use them." Signed, 'God'."

"Where did you find that message?" asks Harvey.

"Oh, Harvey, I didn't suddenly go bonkers and hear voices or find golden tablets. I wrote it in my notebook. It was a message from me to me—or from God. It got me thinking. I want to do what I want to do. And you know what that is?"

"No, tell us," said Ollie, sitting in her not usual chair. "This is sort of like who won the Design Challenge."

"It was sort of like that," says Twinkie. "I watched "Blown Away," the glass-blowing competition for inspiration. I've always wanted to try my hand at blowing glass. And not those little figurines you see at fairs, but the big stuff, bowls, and artwork. I thought Glass blowing was for big husky men, and I'm 5 foot 5 and what they call petite. With that show, I saw that a woman can do it. In fact, a woman won the competition.

"My arguments against it were that I thought I didn't have the strength or couldn't take the heat. I wasn't creative enough, or that I couldn't learn it. I thought my skin would dry up in front of a furnace every day, but I noticed the women had beautiful skin. Maybe it's like a sweat lodge where you sweat out the toxins—like from all those Twinkies I had as a kid--I'm strong. I can run five miles. But then there are those people who have 30 years of experience, and I'm 28 and just starting. And then there is the time and money. My roommate and I are just squeaking by working at Sacs, but I'm doing it. I found a teacher at the coast, so I'm driving over every Saturday and apprenticing under him."

"I can see it, "Twinkie's Twinkling Glass." Says Sally. "I'll commission a chandelier. Here's to you, Twinkie."

[Applause. Cheers!]

 "And you have a customer already, "says Ollie. "Who has a customer before they have a product?! Twinkie, look what you did."

"It will take a while, Sally, before I produce a reasonable piece. I have a lot to learn."

"I know, but you got started. I'm proud of you."

"The idea," says Shal, "is to begin wherever you are. When a gardener told John F. Kennedy that the tree he wanted planted would take 100 years to mature, Kennedy said, "Then you better plant it now."

"Is that tree still there?"

"I don't know."

"So, says Shal, how did everyone else do?"

"I completely zoned out one day," says Simad. "After writing until about midnight, I collapsed into bed with all meditation forgotten, then felt guilty the next day."

"Hey," says Ollie," don't beat yourself up. Just take a step back and regroup. We aren't saints, you know."

"I meditated the next day."

"There you go."

"Well," says Harvey, "I didn't do so well. It was painful. Every time I sat down, I thought of Liz."

"Oh Harvey," says Sally, "how long has it been?"

"Liz died two years ago on October 2."

"I'm so sorry you must go through that, Harvey," says Sally.

They could see he was beginning to tear up, and led by Ollie, the group gathered around his chair. Everyone put their arms around him, around each other, and genuinely wanted to take away Harvey's pain.

When they released him and each other, Harvey had tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I nev-er- cri-ed that day. I was too angry to cry. I loved her."

"We are here for you, Harvey, "Ollie said when they were seated.

"I know you guys try to stay upbeat," Harvey leaned his forehead into his palm. "I didn't want to bring you guys down."

"Nobody stays upbeat when they're hurting Harvey. We're here for all our feelings, not just the happy ones. Yes, we emphasize looking on the bright side,  but, Harvey, all feelings are important, and we want the sharing to be whatever is going on in our lives. I would love to hear about Liz. How about if you introduce her to us."

"Yes, I would like that. After a while, my friends and family stopped talking about her. It's as though they forgot her or don't want to remember, and it seems they want me to do so as well. Let it go...and you know this stupid thing about closure? Well, it's a damn lie." 

"Oh, Harvey, we never forget about the people we love. To this day, I miss my mom. I ask her advice every couple of days. Of course, she usually says what she said when I was a kid. 'I trust you. You'll figure it out.'"

People chuckled, even Harvey, who blew his nose with a big honk.

The groups almost laughed but stifled themselves.

"All the sweetness of Liz's family went straight into Liz. That's in contrast to me being a big lummox."

"You aren't a lummox, Harvey," said Twinkie, 'You're a big teddy bear."

"That's what Liz said. She was the light of my life; at 60, her light went out, just like that. One day, it was on, the next day off. You know how you come home after work? 'Hi Honey, I'm home.' I went to her office, and she wasn't there, but I knew the next place to look, the garden. In those days, she was hauling in cucumbers by the bucketful’s. I found her on the ground like she had decided to nap among the carrots. When I realized she was gone, I yelled until the neighbors heard me and came to my aid. The coroner said she had a heart attack. I didn't know she had a bad heart. I thought her heart was the grandest thing about her. Well, she was pretty, too. And a good mom and a good wife. I believe in soul mates, for she was mine."

"I'm glad you found yours, Harvey."

"It isn't fair, is it?" says Shal," Sometimes it seems as though the sweet ones leave early and the ornery ones stick around until the last cow comes home."

"When I see Liz, I will ask her if her cow came home."

"I'd like to hear her answer," says Sally. "Harvey, do you see your kids?"

"Yeah, I see them a couple times a year. They're busy. They love their pop, but it has been different since Liz died. We're careful like we're glass."

"Maybe you could have a ceremony of some sort when you get together, somehow honor their mother and your wife, and let people talk about her, not just like at a funeral." Simad offered.

"Would you guys come?"

"Yeah, of course, you betcha." Everyone agreed.

"We'll have a barbecue in my backyard," said Harvey.

"What say, I put on some music, and we dance a bit. I heard Liz Gilbert say that after losing her soul mate, she dances every morning to ease the hurt and honor her mate."

"Let's do it." Says Harvey, hoisting himself from his chair and offering his hand to Twinkie, who takes it, jumps from her chair, and begins whirling around the yard. "I love you. Harvey." She says, "Come on, let's boogie."

 

The conversation continues...#4

 

Brownies are served

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Hello Everybody,

Look for this post this coming Tuesday September 12. However if you want a head start over everybody else, I posted it on Substack, you can see it there. I couldn't wait to see what happens next.

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