Breezy Bay Morning

The sun, barely ripe on the bay’s horizon, offers the promise of warmth later in the day. The morning is still cool with a hint—an afterthought, really—of remaining mist. Hugging oneself in the muted hush of dawn’s solitude, we revel in the bone-deep pleasure of having the porch almost to ourself. The only other occupant are clothesline thoughts that open their souls—slowly—as mussels do when steamed.

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I’m struck by the clarity with which my dear friend, Canadian artist Terrill Welch, has captured the moment in Breezy Bay Morning on Saturna Island, a 36 x 36 inch oil on canvas painting that offers a private view where we inhale the glory of brine-tanged air, take in the contours of the land and distant bay, and if we’re willing, allow nostalgia to sweep through us, carried by a wave of retrospection.

Perfectly set at arm’s reach, the pulley allows us to retrieve memories, much like scenes in a play. Some evocative and positive, soaked in the freshness of purifying sunlight; others flap and snap in the gust of pre-storm turbulence. Seasoned, those of us who’ve lived any life know that reminiscing is often a bittersweet experience.

The world is chaotic. The serene setting in Breezy Bay Morning on Saturna Island offers a gentle porch view.

Every clothesline tells a story—even the one in our mind’s eye. What’s yours?

© Laurie Buchanan

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A Twist on Impressionism

Avid walkers, Len, Willa, and I tend to rack up multiple miles per day and we never fail to see tracks of other various creatures who’ve been out-and-about enjoying nature too:

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During our walks I oftentimes think of the famous adage — Take nothing but memories; leave nothing but footprints. It reminds me to respect Mother Earth and all of her inhabitants.

Both tracks and memories leave impressions:

  • Tracks in the earth
  • Memories in the mind

What kind of impression have you made?

© Laurie Buchanan

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There’s a Price for Extra Baggage

When I write an article or work on a manuscript, I back it up on a USB thumb drive — a tiny data storage device. The clear housing allows me to see the inner-workings. To me it looks like an aerial view of a micro-sized warehouse with a maze of corridors, each one leading to a compartment that holds data, music, pictures, video, or software.

© 2013 Laurie Buchanan

Some Things are Definitely Worth Remembering
The information I put on my thumb drive is important enough to me that I transport it on a lanyard, much like a referee wears a whistle. I carry it with me for safekeeping until I have the opportunity to make a positive contribution — submit it for publication.

Some Things are Best Forgotten
Many of us carry memories with us that don’t contribute to our wellbeing. In fact they’re debilitating. Unlike a tiny thumb drive, they take up a vast amount of space in containers known as baggage — emotional baggage. And while we can’t actually see them, we definitely feel their weight. And the longer we carry them, the heavier they get.

© 2013 Laurie Buchanan

Let go or be dragged.” — Zen proverb

Some people overpack for trips. Are you overpacked for life?

Laurie Buchanan

Whatever you are not changing, you are choosing.”
— Laurie Buchanan

Discovering the Seven Selves     Life Harmony

© 2013 Laurie Buchanan – All Rights Reserved

Misty Water-Colored Memories

For this year’s holiday celebration we’re hosting a large group of people at our home. Some of our guests are traveling from as far away as California and Canada. We won’t exchange material gifts to mark the occasion. Rather, we’ll make memories—the best kind of gift.

When I think back over the years, very few tangible presents come rushing to the forefront of my mind. Of course I remember getting my first bicycle. And the year I got a microscope — I desperately wanted to be a mad scientist. I also remember getting white go-go boots, orange fish net stockings, and frosted Yardley lipstick.

However, I can recall with ease the feeling of this holiday, the mental pictures etched on my heart — the memories. Nat King Cole’s velvety voice crooning from the record player. Sticky hands from popcorn balls that grandma helped us make. Caroling door-to-door with the neighborhood kids.

I can remember mouth-watering aromas wafting from the kitchen where mom and grandma danced the age old two-step of food preparation. And sneaking black olives from the relish tray on the dining room table; putting one on the end of each finger and then eating them off — quick! — before I got caught.

I remember a clear sense of belonging, of being loved, and of everything being right in my world. Memories endure.

What memories have you made this holiday season?

Laurie Buchanan

Whatever you are not changing, you are choosing.”
— Laurie Buchanan

Discovering the Seven Selves     Life Harmony     Facebook

© 2012 Laurie Buchanan – All Rights Reserved

What are YOU storing for winter?

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While riding our bikes through the Heartland, we see lots (and lots!) of silos. For you city slickers who may not know what a silo is, they’re ginormous storage structures for silages and high-moisture grains used for livestock feeds.

[Discussion while bicycling]

“Len, you know that today, right now—this moment—is our life, right?”

“Yes Laurie.”

“You know how those farmers are storing food for their livestock for the winter months?”

“Yes Laurie.”

“Are you drinking it all in—tucking these memories into your heart like a treasure for this winter when it’s 40-degrees below and we can’t get outside?”

“No Laurie.”

“Well, why not?”

“Because you’re taking dozens of photographs and will show them to me over and over again. I won’t possibly be able to forget!”

“Len?”

“Laurie, if you stop pedaling one more time we’re gonna have a domestic.”

“Yes Len.”

As we came around a bend in the road we averted our eyes because right there on the side of the bike path was a farmland hussy—a topless silo!

Listen with your heart,

Laurie Buchanan

Whatever you are not changing, you are choosing.”
               – Laurie Buchanan

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Copyright © 2010 Laurie Buchanan — All Rights Reserved.