chains and daisy chains

For two days I have been unable to write. I don't know what has been hanging over me, but it was a struggle to stay positive, to go out, to be productive. I can think of many reasons I could attribute it to, but I don't think any is particularly accurate, it is simply how it was. So I looked after myself, I baked carrot cakes, chocolate cakes, I cuddled Zacchi, I rested.

Now, nearing the end of Good Friday, I am feeling much much better.

Last Sunday, Palm Sunday, Zacchi and I joined the procession from down in the lower part of our parish - at a tiny little church where men sit under the trees and play cards every day, about 20 minutes walk from home - up the hill to the church in the piazza here.

I am not Catholic, and the "Stations of the Cross" are not part of what I do. But I live here, and so I did. Walking down to the little church was nice. Others greeted me, asked if I was going to the procession. There was no surprise or disapproval of Zacchi coming too. Dogs are a part of the community too.

Outside the little church was a table with many large branches and baskets of smaller branches of olive trees. These were blessed in a short ceremony, then distributed. They stay in the home all year, and should anyone have an argument, then a twig or leaf is offered to to make the peace. Quite literally, here you offer an olive branch. I have mine too, one given by a friend explaining the tradition, and the one I took from the basket and carried home in the procession.

Children in their white gowns carried palms, and led the way. The priest from Madagascar - I agree with the woman who said "He's not like a priest, he's more like a friend" - followed, wearing a splendid red gown. Men took it in turns to carry the loud speaker on a pole, and somehow I imagined that to be the cross.

The first station of the cross was at a little madonna in the countryside, one of the many you find often where you least expect them. After that one, there seemed to be no particular reason for the places we stopped at. I decided to photograph something at each spot. So Zacchi and I have our own "stations of the cross" from nature.

One of these was a patch of daisies. I love daisies. And daisy chains. I wonder how many many hours I spent as a child, connecting daisies? Daisies represent all that is simple and good. And hope, and happiness. From daisy chains, we can move to the paper dolls, cut so they are all holding hands. I have always seen these paper dolls as a symbol of unity, youth of the world joining together.

As we approached our village (in the photo, on the hillside) I found a poppy growing among the stones on the edge of the road. It is too early for poppies to bloom. This is the first. Poppies are for peace. I think it is never too early for poppies. And if they have to be artificial ones until the real ones grow, we can live with that too.


This morning I received an angry email. The writer was justifiably angry, angry about what is happening in the world. I didn't answer until a few minutes ago. This is a (slightly edited) part of what I wrote.

It has been an interesting day.

I understand your anger, and I believe we should only be angry if we use that anger to bring about change. When I read your email I was not in a good space to respond. For two days I have felt that something was hanging over me, something was not right. I still don't know what caused it, there have been many things happen that are sad, but I don't think any of them were the cause. But while I was feeling like that I couldn't think clearly and I couldn't write.

Then from reading your email I read another which contained ... (writing) about torture of doctors who refused to drug athletes to perform better. Yesterday I read about an escape through the wall from East Germany, costing the life of a daughter.

I started to read my homepage, stuff.co.nz world news, and it was all too much. I felt completely unable to deal with any of it. I had to go out, to find myself again. Because when I am lost, I am of no use to anyone.

It took me a lot of time and a few tears to find myself. But I am back. And for now, I choose not to deal with the bigger things, because I am not ready. I have some personal grief that I must work through first. And then, I will start by remembering to smile.

And if I smile, people will smile back, I will feel lighter, they will feel lighter. Maybe they will smile at someone else. Maybe they wont yell, when they go into their houses. Maybe, just maybe, my smile will start a chain reaction.

And as I wrote that email, sent it off to another country, I remembered the daisies I had seen down below. If it were not after ten at night I would go down and pick them, and find a child to make daisy chains with, and then maybe go for a walk and smile a little, then a lot... and maybe, even probably, I would have made a difference in the world today.