Sometimes it becomes apparent to me just how important it is to be tender. Tender to myself and tender to those around me. I had a little dose of tender yesterday for myself and it went a long way.
It was late in the day and I was at the Seminar Haus. I called up my hostess whose home is just up the street to see if she would like to take a stroll. She was just about to head out to walk down the street to buy some honey from the local forester who also keeps bees. You see, it is my understanding that each village or community has its own forester to look after the woods. The forester in Wettenbostel lives in a big beautiful home, typical German large brick home. So she asked me to join her for a stroll there. I hopped on a bicycle, rode to her house and then we walked down the road to get the honey. When we arrived we greeted the foresters wife and I said my German… “Hallo” and smiled… after which point I have no idea what is being said in the conversation between her and my hostess. We retrieved the honey nonetheless. A beautiful golden Wettenbostel flavor. Then we went back to her house and made a cake. Poppy seed. Sugar free… sweetened with honey. A joy for me as I do not eat refined sugar. And it was just… fun. To bake a little. Separate a few egg whites, seeing the butter mixing into the batter. A little tenderness that I had not treated myself to in a long time. Companionship in the kitchen and baking. And some nice tea. A rooibus tea. Yum!
After the ingredients for the cake were happily finding their way together, I snuck into the front room and found my way to the grand piano. Ah! What a love! I took piano lessons as a kid and there has always been somethings about connection with the keys of the piano for me. I can still imagine and feel the grand piano upstairs in my piano teacher`s living room when I was a child. As I began to play their piano I realized that my fingers were starved… starved for the delicate touch and feeling of connecting with the keys, feeling the weight and the strength as the notes are plucked… and ah the feeling of the pedal on my feet… the damper pedal… connecting the sounds of the notes fluidly together. Feeling the melody unfold beneath my fingers. It was like the little child in me who used to love playing the piano was in need of some attention. So I played for a little bit. After not playing for so many years, my repertoire is limited… but it was lovely just the same.
In receiving these little bits of tenderness it became apparent just how much I was in need of the them… and that it is essential that I keep my heart open for little ways to delicately tend to that need. Essentially really. It’s a need for something… like to be connected to something delicate and sweet… that is almost like the fabric of my being. As I nurtured that in me I saw the other things that were crying for attention. Painting. I have not painted for a long time and have been very hard on myself. But somewhere, something in me is crying to tend to that need. It can be quite easy to just go on my day working, doing what I need to do, tending to the basics of this life here Wettenbostel ignoring or denying that which I need or crave. But it is a survived life rather than a life where I really get to see and be me. So I see those little things that I need and the quality and beauty connected to them.
Last night we had a party at the Seminar Haus. It was our hosts 65 birthday. He jokingly called it his retirement party. I was curious how it would go as I tend to be prone to panic when groups of people collect. Surprisingly I felt reasonably…grounded. Groups of our hosts friends came and along with them musical instruments. So we had two different bands playing music until deep in the night. It has been my habit of late to sneak away and hide when social activities come to call… but the excitement of live music set up in the “Little Dojo” called to me much more clearly than any nervousness or anxiety. Not that I did not have some. Yes, of course I did! But I also danced and shook my groove thing and had a pretty good time.
And now it is the day after. Funny I almost feel like I have a hangover even though I don´t drink anymore. I woke up feeling a little heavy, reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort of my room uncertain of all the voices and many people joining in the kitchen for the informal day after breakfast. I took some lovely comfort this morning reading from A Course in Miracles. Sometimes there is nothing like being connected to the spirit of God and that ultimate feeling of home to find ones way in the day. And in that way… it is so good to be at home. Tender.
Gypsy Woman 