Tag Archives: Gifts Of The Journey

Unknown's avatar

Day Nine – My Friends Can Call Me E

by

Elizabeth Harper - Times Square - December 31, 1994


December 31,1994, it’s New Year’s Eve and I am in Times Square waiting for midnight to arrive so Mayor Giuliani can drop the big crystal ball on the city that never sleeps. In 1994 no one ever called me E. I was always very adamant when asked, ” My name is Elizabeth and no, I don’t shorten it thank you very much! ” Well, I was actually more polite than that, but underneath I always thought if I wanted people to call me something else, I would have told them in my introduction.

For reasons unknown to me, some people would feel obliged to come up with nicknames for me as if Elizabeth was too much of a mouthful and I was usually okay with that as long it was not a generally recognized nickname for Elizabeth such as Liz, Beth, or Betty. I have always liked my name, but have been willing at times to accept a nickname that was more of a term of endearment and specific to me.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve mellowed a good bit in some parts of my life and what I’m willing to answer to is one of those areas. I am not quite sure when I began to feel as if E was an acceptable nickname, but my friend Patrice has called me E  for as long as I as I can remember and at some point in the eight years that I’ve known her, it’s become okay with me for my other friends to call me E as well.

Of course if you’d prefer to call me Elizabeth, I’ll always be happy with that. John doesn’t have a nickname for me and I love hearing him say my name with his darling English accent so I’m pleased that he prefers Elizabeth.

In the photograph above I am perched at the junction of two barricades that actually say, ” Police Line Do Not Cross.” When I look at this picture from 1994, it makes me think of several things, one being how easily I seem to be balanced on the barricade (I’m not sure I could pull that off now) and two, the message underneath me. I tend to read it as, there’s a line with E (me) that one does not cross … which translates in my mind to boundaries.

I can be a bit rigid with some of those boundaries and a barricade of sorts can easily come up if someone pushes too hard or crosses a line with me. For years my name was one of those areas. I was polite but firm in my corrections and pretty much insisted people address me by my proper name.

As 50 approaches, I have to admit that I may be beginning to mellow because Gary (the man who owns our village pub) keeps calling me Lizzie and I am really not bovvered by it at all. I choose to see it as a term of endearment and acceptance into my new community.

Let me add here, while I prefer Elizabeth to anything else it does make me smile when my friends call me E.

If you are late to the party and have no idea what Day Nine means … you can catch up by going here for a quick read.

PS. I just found this photograph from the same night and had to add it to show you a bit more of the city getting ready for the ball to drop. My mouth is hanging open … we’ll say in amazement, but who knows really. Sorry it’s a bit blurry, but it was a pretty big party night.

Unknown's avatar

The Big Countdown Begins – Ten

by

It may seem a bit self-indulgent to announce to the world that I have a big birthday fast approaching but turning fifty seems as if it should have some special attention paid to it. I have no clear idea of what I will be saying over the next nine days leading up to my birthday, but I plan to post a bit of something that will be quite shamelessly, all about me. That’s right, I will be posting daily right up to my birthday on September 10. I have not planned a thing in terms of topic and will write whatever comes to mind which can be my favorite kind writing and might lead to some interesting insights.

Some people enjoy having big parties to celebrate special birthdays, but I actually tend to feel a bit shy and out of place when I’m the absolute center of attention so I am pleased to be making memories with a smaller gathering of people who care about me. Can two (John and my sister Margaret) be considered a gathering?

After a detailed examination of my accomplishments over the last year, I find that some of my goals for forty-nine have not been met. I must confess that not one thing I’ve written in my forty-ninth year has gone out the door electronically or otherwise in search of a publisher. I am not sure why I have dragged my feet so badly when this has been at the top of my list for so long.

I have watched as other bloggers and writers have found their footing while juggling huge responsibilities and managed to publish while I write and research and think too much about the best way to find an audience for my work. I don’t feel jealous about their success just a bit disappointed in myself for not getting more done by now.

Watching others seems to be a life long habit with me and I tend to take a bit longer to find my footing once I’ve figured out the steps. In the photograph above, my fourteen year-old self is on the far right looking uncertain about what the group is doing or how I might join in.

I still feel like that fourteen year-old sometimes … uncertain about doing things just right even though I know now after almost fifty years of living that movement in any direction is sometimes all you need.

Unknown's avatar

My Sailor Comes Home From The Sea

by

John has been away for the last few days sailing across the English Channel with his eldest daughter and his brother, David. It is his second trip across the Channel this summer as he helped David sail his boat over to Guernsey when I went home to the US in July for a visit.

Even though I was back in Cornwall and could have gone with him when he left for the return last Thursday, I opted to stay home and get some down time before my sister Margaret arrives on Friday. Okay, I did have a coffee catch up with Tina after my run one morning and a lovely girls night out dinner with Jean and Helen, two local ladies from the village who are killer quiz players. Plus, I spent some time picking berries and making my very first blackberry jam which John loved, but I am still not too sure about so although I was pretty busy, I did keep a fairly relaxed schedule here on my own.

John came back late yesterday having jumped ship at a port close enough to catch the train to within five miles of home. It turns out he was only home for one night as we are driving to meet up with the boat in nearby Fowey in a little while where he will rejoin David along with his daughter to sail the boat on to Falmouth in the morning. I am once again passing on the sailing experience. It’s not that I don’t enjoy sailing because I do, but I dislike being in a small space with other people for most overnight experiences. This was definitely an issue during my time in the army and one I am glad I have some control over now.

I have such empathy for the 33 miners in Chile who are “2700 feet underground in a space the side of a large living room.” If it were me, I would be eating those antidepressants they’re sending down by the fistful and to top it all off some of those poor men have to lose weight to even fit through the two foot wide exit tunnel. Gracious! I cannot imagine the nightmares they must be having. I wonder what I would do to make it through the four months they say it might take to reach them. Can you imagine it … four months underground, limited contact with the outside world, and the stress of such a small space. I want to hear their stories when they reach the surface … don’t you.

Unknown's avatar

I’ve Been Here Before – St Michael’s Mount

by

I just spent far too long putting this post together only to have it disappear so I’m afraid you will have to make do with a shorter version as I have blackberries in the kitchen calling to me to turn them into jam.

When I knew David and Steven were coming to Cornwall, I suggested we pay a visit to St Michael’s Mount and as they were going to be here on a Sunday, we made a plan to attend the Sunday service.

To reach the church you must cross the cobblestone path you see in the photograph above.

This is easy enough as Steven demonstrates above until the tide comes in.

Here you can see the exterior of the church nestled with the castle around it. I took this on an earlier visit.

I managed to snap a discreet photo just before the service began. After the service David photographed a few of the stained glass windows with two shown below.

David is in the photo below with Marazion in the background.

Can you see the tide coming in the photograph below? People are hurrying to get across.

Below is a another look at the water and people … it’s partly under water now.

You can see a close-up of what the stone path looks like as the water spills over it. John took this of me in 2008 and I altered it a bit for this post.

Elizabeth At St Michael’s Mount – 2008

You have two ways to cross as I said earlier and this trip we came back in the boat below. I wrote a post about my first church experience at St Michael’s Mount in 2008 and thought some of you might find it interesting.

~~~~~~~

Elizabeth - August 2008

Sit Down You’re Rocking The Boat

Originally posted – August 13, 2008

I have thought a good bit over the last few days about this post. What to call it and how to write it. Sometimes it can be difficult to say what is on my mind. My internal editor tends to call out from the back of the room where she sits in my head. Arms crossed over one another she has a defensive posture she likes to assume when she feels as if I’m stepping off into a place of too much controversy. She’s there now, shaking her head giving me the look that says, “ Are you sure you want to talk about this?” “ Shush, I say … get lost,” and with that I step off into the murky waters of spiritual questioning.

I don’t like church services or organized religion. I dislike anyone telling me what I must think or do in order to know God.

In England where many I’ve met consider themselves to be atheists, saying those words out loud doesn’t seem to have the same effect as it would in the bible belt part of the US where I was born. Mind you I feel that I have been to enough church services to speak from a place of experience as to why I don’t care for them. It’s pretty simple really. The only voices I hear in any house of worship are those in my head. Cynicism, skepticism, and judgement, both of others and myself tend to make so much noise that the voice of God is never present there.

So I don’t go anymore.

Recently I made an exception to my usual avoidance of church attendance when I spent an hour or so in a historic chapel attending the Sunday service. The Chapel on St. Michael’s Mount was completed in 1135, although much of it had to be rebuilt after an earthquake in 1275. I had mentioned to John that I would like to see what a service was like there when we had visited it originally a month earlier. I said it was for the experience you know … I mean how many times does one get a chance to hear scripture quoted in a place where souls have gathered for a same purpose for almost 900 years. I said I wanted to go in order to see how a Church of England service might differ from the Lutheran beliefs that I’d grown up with.

That’s what I told him and that was the truth at least in part, because the core of who I am is a woman with an insatiable curiosity. In most situations I have a strong desire to experience things firsthand, but the rest of the story is that on some level I thought in a worship service held where people have come together for hundreds of years I surely might find some whisper of God’s voice.

I wasn’t necessarily looking for direction communication as in a voice from a burning bush, but I thought just maybe …

So early one Sunday morning we made the trip to St Michael’s Mount and I took a small boat with a few strangers across the causeway. The castle and chapel are perched on an island that must be reached by boat except at low tide when a cobblestone pathway appears from the water inch by inch.

Once my feet touched dry land I was off at a brisk pace up a steep path of large uneven stones to the top of the mount to claim a seat in the tiny chapel next to the ghosts of the Benedictine Abby established on St Michael’s Mount in 966. On my way to the top I passed a group of woman who looked to be of retirement age chattering their greetings to one another and largely blocking the narrow path. “Ugh!” I thought as I nodded a tight polite smile to the four women who seemed oblivious to anyone else.

The sound of their voices stayed with me as I walked on a bit faster in an attempt to hang on to the place of stillness and contemplation I was trying to encourage in my head.

The ladies chattered on like the magpies who hang out in John’s garden as they followed behind me more quickly than I imagined they could for women with walking sticks. Suddenly, they seemed right behind me as I stood in the short aisle deciding where the best seat might be for seeing and hearing the service. Hearing them talk over the sounds of the pre-service organ music I decided on a seat as far from them as possible.

The ladies settled down as the service began and I adjusted my average-sized behind on the tiny cushion meant to provide a bit of padding. The small seats of the individual chairs were placed in tight rows possibly anticipating the crowds of people the church hoped to welcome, but the church interior remained largely empty with only fifteen to twenty people dotted round the sanctuary.

As hard as I tried to have an open mind and heart so that I might feel some spiritual connection, I could only think of the historical issues that have and still plague the religious institutions that try to minister to souls in need.

That would be me you see in the boat at the top, always questioning, but still searching. Somewhere there must be a community of people like me who are looking for something simple and honest that may only be found I think, in silence.

Don Henley, one of the members of The Eagles, a band I grew up with in the 70’s sang a song called, Sit Down You’re Rockin the Boat! These are just a couple of verses of the song so you can get the picture.

I dreamed last night

I was on the boat to heaven

By some chance

I had brought my dice along

And there I stood

And I hollered someone fade me

But the passengers they knew right from wrong

And the people all said sit down

Sit down you’re rockin the boat

The people all said sit down

Sit down you’re rockin the boat

Cause the devil will drag you under

By the sharp lapels of your checkered coat

Sit down Sit down

Sit down you’re rockin the boat

Oooh Oooh Oooh (scat)

Oooh Oooh Oooh

I suspect I’m not alone in my little boat so I’ll just keep on rowing for now.

Unknown's avatar

When Friends Come To Visit Part II- Climbing Rough Tor

by

As I continue sharing our three-day visit with friends David and Steven, I want to show you our trip to Rough Tor. David took the photo above as we struck out for Rough Tor.

John went on with ahead with Steven while I lagged behind a bit with David as he and I took time to snap a few photos along the way. The three images below were taken by John. In the one just below you can see two tiny dots in the center. ( click to enlarge )

In the image underneath you can see the tiny dots a bit better. I am the dot on the left and David is the one on the right.

Do you recognize the pile of stones below? Oh wait, there’s someone missing … look at my border at the top and you’ll see me standing on the same pile of rocks. Steven has long appreciated that photograph and wanted his photograph taken there above all else during his visit to Cornwall. Due to the fierce wind and the slipperiness of the wet rocks he had to use another stone as a stand-in.

See the rock above David’s head (he’s in the blue jacket ) … that’s the one Steven wanted to stand on.

Even I didn’t want to risk it this time, but I did slip my shoes off to climb up on the one next to it on the back side. (two photos below) Can you see the moorland pony down left of Steven … it’s a long way down from the top of the rock. (click to enlarge)

After I slipped off my shoes, I felt much more secure climbing up the back side of the rocks below. My neglected rock climbing skills came in handy and I’m glad I was still in shape ( hah!) well, at least well enough to get as high I did below.

Yep … that’s me. The wind was wicked.

From my lofty advantage I managed to get a photo of John ( ant-sized figure in the center)  as he was taking pictures of me.

Did you find John? He’s down there with his arms outstretched. I had to step back to show you the cool impression carved out by weather on the rock .

Here’s a photo of me with Steven after I came down off the rock. I’m wet and bedraggled from wind and rain along with still being barefoot.

Steven & David

John did a bit of climbing himself.

I think by the time this one was taken John was ready to go.

I couldn’t resist finishing with David and his runaway brolly. It’s a long way down although easier than the climb up and about halfway back to the car David decided he’d had enough of the rain and decided to find his own cover. His umbrella clearly had other plans.

I’ll be back with more later if you’re interested. Sunday took us to St. Michael’s Mount for a service in a church built in the 14th century and I have some good pictures from our last day to share with you.

Unknown's avatar

When Friends Come To Visit

by

John & Elizabeth - Bedruthan Steps - August 2010

When friends come to visit you have an opportunity to see things a bit differently than you normally might. John and I have had our picture taken here before, but only on a self-timer. When my friends David and Steven arrived last Friday from Atlanta by way of London, we had a chance to see ourselves through someone else’s eyes.

I love the picture above that Steven took of us at Bedruthan Steps. You may remember that this is the spot John took me to right after I stepped off the plane in Cornwall when we first met face to face on Valentine’s Day in 2008. Below is the picture that preceded the one above where John is looking a bit sweet and bashful.

There were a series of others like this where the spontaneity could not have been captured using the self-timer on my camera and I’m glad Steven was there to snag them. We managed to squeeze a lot of the Cornish experience into their visit beginning with a lunch of pasties made by me. David took the three pasty pictures below.

Steven & David

You can’t see it very well, but Steven and David are holding up score cards giving my pasties a 10 and a 9. They were playing around, but they did eat every bite so I think they really liked them. I also made two blackberry/apple crumbles and three blackberry cobblers along with a key lime pie. Blackberries are everywhere right now and I’ve picked over fifteen pounds so far. Most of the berries are in the freezer, but I couldn’t resist making a few sweets to share with our guests.

Photo Credit - David Morris

After lunch we were off to Lanhydrock which is our closest National Trust property and perfect for a rainy day.

Photo Credit - David Morris

If you look closely into the reflection on the silver serving dish cover, you can see me with my new camera and Steven off to the right.

After a look around for some rainy day headgear (the one David is holding won’t do at all) we take a look outside to see if the rain has slowed enough to have a walk around the grounds.

We move outside to see what we can find in the gardens around Lanhydrock.

I managed to capture this leaf and the church below with my new camera with no worries about the rain as it’s waterproof, a valuable quality when living in a country where we don’t let a little rain keep us inside. (Panasonic DMC-TS2)

David is using his new Canon G11 which is the other camera I wanted. ( I know … I’m greedy when it comes to camera gear.)

Only one more shot and we’re off to our next location.

If you come back tomorrow, I’ll show you more of our journey around Cornwall.

Unknown's avatar

Change And Possibility

by

I becomes we

and then you and I

and then just you

and then just I.

~ e.e. harper

In the process of writing a post for today I think I wrote a tiny poem. I don’t write poetry and I am afraid I have not read much either so I am not even sure this could be called a poem, but here is for you to consider.

Of course I have a story that goes with it, but in looking at the words and rolling them around on my tongue I thought about all the possibilities and different stories that any of us could create from the sixteen words above.

If you come back later I’ll share one story with you … the one that inspired it.

(Having both a first and middle name that begin with E, I could not resist signing my work in the manner of a real poet.)

Unknown's avatar

Is Life Really A Cabaret – Dreaming Of Joel Grey

by

This morning I woke up suddenly, startled out of sleep after seeing Joel Grey walking along a Paris street near a flower shop like the one above. Before this morning, the only two things I knew about Joel Grey had to do with his career as a stage and screen actor and that he was the father of Jennifer Grey of Dirty Dancing fame.

Although he’s played many characters in his lifetime, he is most well-known for his role in Cabaret and is also as I just discovered, a fine photographer who based on his work, might find my photography a bit tame. As someone who dreams in color and almost always sees a deeper meaning in most of my dreams, there is far more to this dream than I can share. I try very hard to be careful when sharing stories that involve other people especially when their story is not even remotely a part of mine.

So while I wish I could reveal more, I am going to practice a bit of restraint and keep the deeper meaning of Joel Grey’s dreamy visit to myself. How about you … do you struggle with how much is too much to share either in a blog or your everyday interactions with others?

Unknown's avatar

Changing The Odds

by

At the risk of changing the odds, I am going to tell you about a contest that you might find fun to enter. There’s more to win by going over to Vision and Verb that just the great prize they’re giving away. There is a daily combination of words and images sure to make you smile, ponder, or want to share.

In the interest of sharing, I’m sending you over to have a look and hope you will consider entering the contest. You only have a few more days left before the winner is selected so you better be quick about it if you want a chance at the prize I’m hoping has my name on it. My entry is already there and if you are curious … then you can click here to see it.

Unknown's avatar

Two Tickets To Ride

by

Internet Image For War Horse

You may remember this post back in May when I told you that my sister Margaret was coming for a visit in September. I asked for some suggestions as to what you thought we might enjoy during our week in London and another in Paris. There were lots of great ideas and I’m looking forward to sharing more of what our plans include, but for now I want to tell you about our tickets to see War Horse.

When I was in Atlanta last month my friend David told me he was planning to see it and he was so excited that he had me sit down right then and look at a short video on the production. It looked so amazing that I got excited too and after talking with Margaret I ordered two tickets which arrived today. Take a look at the video on the official War Horse website and let me know what you think.

Don’t let the name stop you … go on have a look.