HAIL! OH, HAIL!

 

HAIL! Oh, HAIL!  

April 28, 2021

One year ago today.....

The tsunami hit the California coast and prompted a lady living on the coast in Pacifica, California to exclaim that for the first time in her life the water’s edge splashed onto her glass windows and knocked on her front door. She had experienced a tsunami…..

Living in Oklahoma we may declare or groan that we just experienced another spring tornado, or rushed to take shelter from damaging winds, but we define our experiences with exclamations.   

At 8:57 p.m. on a rainy April night, I shrieked words that cannot be published nor replicated with any sense of normalcy.

It had been a grey green day in central Oklahoma, one that makes us weary and alert at the same time. My phone alerts were on, as they are in the spring time, but by evening the threat of storms had driven east and we relaxed in our safe dry homes.

On Facebook I was glued to pictures being posted of a puppy we had bought online. The house was quiet and I was anxious to meet our new dog in a few weeks.

I stepped into the kitchen to fix a hot evening tea. I had no sooner hit the start button on the microwave when I stepped to the side of the counter to reach for a spoon. In that moment an “ice ball” the size of baseball crashed through our northwest kitchen window sending glass flying. The “ice ball” hit the cupboards holding the microwave, just missing my head by a foot or two. My exclamations were not calm nor respectable, and in fact, were extremely ear-piercing.

My husband was beside me in an instant. We felt the winds and hail bust through our double panned windows, glass shards covered our floor, counters, and clothing.  Nothing had prepared us for this violent storm. No sirens. No television warnings. The ten mile black wall of ice and clouds had not been detected and thus hundreds of us in a small five-ten mile swath of land lost windows, roofs, lawn furniture and saw our cars dented beyond repair, all in the an eight minute storm. 

Leaning out our broken windows this is what we saw.

By 9:30 p.m. the neighborhood was alive with people standing in yards, rushing to check on each other, garage doors opening, lumber and plastic being dug out of storage bins, and phone calls being made to friends.  

We found enough heavy plastic to cover our two open windows for the evening, and with another roll of heavy plastic we helped neighbors across the street cover their windows. For the next week I found shards of glass under kitchen cabinets, in the nearby carpet and we felt unseeable pieces of glass in our feet. 

By daylight we were in shock to see the overall devastation of the neighborhood. Giant glass knives buried in our yards, tree limbs dug into the ground like spikes, spring leaves knocked off the limbs leaving the trees barren, garden flowers destroyed beaten to death by ice, colorful pots busted and scattered over gardens like abstract mosaics.

Bird feeder flung from a tree, broken tiles and more glass.

In the end, all I could whisper was “thank heavens no one was injured.”

Ten months later, due to the massive window and roofing losses, most of the homes in our neighborhood had been repaired, but many still show signs of the hail along the fence lines, torn screens, and a few windows still boarded up. 

Golf Gypsy's Mantra

During our time of Covid, I found time to rest, to heal, and to clear my head of cobwebs and focus on a thought, an activity, a moment.

I found in my quiet time on the golf course the need to focus. To focus on one shot at a time; to focus on my breathing, my stride, my rhythm.  The beauty of the trees filled with green leaves and the songbirds surrendered calm. Because of Covid I often played a few holes of golf, alone, and then came home. I was happy and relaxed. 

I can hear the pro say, strengthen and straighten that left arm.

Slowly, I began to piece together my thoughts. Why do I walk and enjoy walking without talking, without music, without listening to a book. The search for silence, yes, but....what was missing?

Tai Chi has been a call and a need that I have enjoyed because it requires s l o w  flowing movements.. (Slow is not part of my lifestyle. I walk hard and with purpose.)  Tai Chi is often thought of as moving meditation. After a year, then two years, then well into my third year I knew the 24 moves, but could not, absolutely could not, memorize them. I always needed the teacher to call the next step. 

In my childhood dance classes I never had that trouble, but then I could follow the steps by the beat of the music and found success. Tai chi doesn't go by beats or music. It has its own flow.

One day, my teacher suggested that my eyes follow my hands in movement, to focus on the movement. In other words, she was saying to me, don't think of what you need to do after class. Don't write a story. Don't create a grocery list while practicing Tai Chi.

    Inhale as you raise your hands, exhale as you drop them. 

Move the body as a unit.

Let the hands follow the movement of the waist (core, sacrum). 

With the thirty minutes left in class that day, I focused totally on my hands, and felt the movements of stepping by leading with the core. I had found focus but no words to describe it. 

Sleep is a solvent for most of my woes. In sleep, in rest, and in good health the answers flow like spring water bubbling up from the ground. In my writings this spring, In Search of Light, and Listening in Silence,  I found some answers.

The next day on the golf course, there was noise everywhere around me, a distracting noise but fun because some people prefer music, others like to talk, and others like to talk on their phones. My head was spinning and I wanted to leave. In a moment of grace I heard my own voice say,

"This is where I am. This is what I do. This is what I enjoy." 

So simple.

Walking to the first tee, with all of the distractions around me, I smiled. My lips synced in rhythm, "This is where I am," in a slow breath. 

As I bent to tee up the ball, I continued, "This is what I do," in a slow breath.

With both eyes on the ball, I hummed, "This is what I enjoy." 

Watching the ball fly down the middle of the fairway has its rewards. Later, even topping the ball or pulling it left, which sometimes causes me to grinned my teeth, still brings a smile to my face because 'this is what I enjoy.'

I am still practicing this mantra, and even though my golf game is no longer a practiced and steady game, I still am finding the need for this mantra. It may be age or maybe lack of practice, but my focus is most certainly lacking on the golf course and in daily life.

When I do focus and repeat the mantra, I hear no words, no music, only the birds. I am only there in that moment, surrounded by fresh air.

What could be more beautiful?

The Trails Golf Course

This is where I am.

This is what I do.

This is what I enjoy.