Answers.. Art... and the Garden

Knowledge is Power.

We tell ourselves so often when we are stumbling for an answer to Why.."if I only knew the root of the problem..things would be better". I could fix it. I could change it. We can tell ourselves that so often, that we begin to believe that once we have the knowledge of "what it is", things will immediately be different. But nobody told us that is not entirely all there is to it.

Yes, things will be different, but once you have the knowledge..it is up to YOU how it will change. The knowledge is the stepping stone.

For four years I had been searching for an answer. Why am I in so much pain? Why don't I feel well? What is wrong with me? Doctor after doctor, test after test, and endless days of discouragement led me to endless searching for the answer, as if the answer would be the solution. All the while not knowing that once I had the answer....it was only a step. And that step is your choice in how you will make it change. In which direction, what path will you take, toward your solution?

These past few months as I had felt even worse, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. My inspiration to create Art became more and more difficult, my pain dictating my every move, and fatigue controlling my days. Then Tuesday morning an unexpected phone call came, and in ONE minute the stepping stone appeared in front of me. "You have Lupus". Stunned I hung up the phone and became quiet. I needed to process this, and realized things weren't immediately better now that I had an answer. The stepping stone was in front of me, but I was not ready to take a step. I gave myself permission to sit with it, think, and BE.

 I needed to eliminate the noise that surrounds us in the world, no TV, no phone calls, no drama....just to get to that simple state of breath. So, I spent that day and all the next outside, the one place that can make you feel better just by it's existence. The one place so easy to find perspective and balance.

I decided to listen to Me.

I felt compelled to to have my hands in the Earth, the simplicity called to me...work in the garden. Flowers needed to be planted. I needed to surround myself with color, reds and blues and purples. I needed to feel the soil in my hands.

The afternoon was spent planting. Loosening the soil and digging the holes was immediately hurting me, the pain was aggressive...but I needed to do it. My husband saw the difficulty and began doing the strenuous parts for me so that I was left with the simple pleasures of placing the flowers and plants in the earth and filling them in. Finished, we spent the rest of the day on the porch..quiet, peaceful and meditative.

The next day we spent our day driving in the mountains and then again back sitting near the garden, until I then found a sense of peace with where I was at...a sense of peace that there was a stepping stone in front of me. I had come to the state of Now. The past did not exist and the future did not exist..only the present. And I took a step forward on to the stepping stone. I made the choice to fully immerse in my healing, to listen to my intuition and my body and act accordingly and move forward. I have no expectations that it will be easy, but will strive for the best quality of life, to be easy with myself and put my needs to the forefront. I will continue with my Art on a relaxed level, because it is like breath to me, it is part of my essence.

 Breathe in. Breathe Out. Follow the Stepping Stones.

Finding Zen in the Diner ~ by Jeanne Fry

Finding Zen in the Diner

Who would have expected to stumble upon a spiritual moment in this busy lunchtime diner? On the quest to find a renovated mill, now turned Art Gallery, frustration was building as we drove in circles thinking surely the next turn would be the one that brought us to our destination. After an hour of this endless spiral pattern we decided to stop at a little diner in the downtown that was packed for the Friday lunch hour.

Almost all of the tables were filled and we were led immediately to a tiny two-seater booth in the back near the kitchen. Our waitress quickly came to greet us in a warm southern fashion and was soon off to get our iced teas and put in our order.

Now that we were waiting for our drinks and trying yet again to decipher the directions that were given to us for the old mill, I started absorbing in the activity that surrounded me. There were frosted white Plexiglas dividers between the booths adorned with small Santa Claus cling-ons that were so faded that I’m sure that they were saved year after year. Pictures of old muscle cars in plastic frames hung on the walls, and some kind of trophies lined the back counter.

Our waitress returned with the tea, smiling and laughing, and preceded to tell us that she has just received the best Christmas present she had ever gotten from a customer…a fur coat. She was so excited and proud as she told us it was a $200 coat and that all of the other waitresses wanted it for themselves. She pointed it out for us to see, lying over the back counter. From where I sat, it didn’t look like an extremely expensive coat, but it certainly made her day, and that’s all that mattered. She left us to our tea and raced off to another customer.

I started to scan the room, taking in the hustle and bustle of the lunchtime crowd. This diner was a melting pot for the city: business men in suits, middle-aged women taking a break from holiday shopping, eclectic looking twenty-somethings that were surely rising artists, construction workers, and old couples who made this stop a routine in their lives. Conversations were loud and excited and ranged from local politics to busy traffic, business to creative arts, and the economy to shopping lists. Back in the kitchen you heard the hurried clatter of dishes and laughter about stories from the night before, and that one waitress that endlessly went on about the fact that they were out of cornbread and it was only 11:30.

The activity was overwhelming, causing me to just silently sit and ponder over this diner that was probably filled with a hundred people. But instead of feeling lost in a sea of faces, it felt like a really large family get-together. My gaze kept wandering over to a man sitting at the counter, dressed in a uniform that looked like the ones that auto parts dealers wear. He was sitting alone, well, as alone as you could be here in this restaurant, and had just been served his food. His head was bowed, hands in lap, and he was praying before his meal. Slowly he prepared to eat. He seasoned his food with the small set of salt and pepper shakers ever so gingerly and rearranged his food on his plate making sure that each thing was exactly where he wanted it. He slowly cut pieces of his food and slid them into piles on his plate and laid his silverware out with the utmost care. He was seemingly unaware of the intense action that surrounded him, as if he was in his own world entirely. Watching the graceful slowness of his movements reminded me of watching a Japanese Tea Ceremony, peaceful and serene. Each bite that he took was purposeful and he chewed slowly and methodically, laying his fork down between each bite.

This man was perfectly content and purely living in the moment. He didn’t feel the need to read the newspaper while he ate or chat with the neighboring customer; instead he gave his food his focused attention.

He was Zen in the middle of chaos, and while most others were unaware of his very existence, I was aware, and thought to myself “Namaste. Whatever your appearance, I see and greet the soul in you”.

Diner culture has always intrigued me. More times than not, I choose to seek out these local spots to eat at, shunning away the fast food joints or high priced chains. There’s something special about these historic eateries.


Many have asked what my attraction is to ‘Diner Culture’, and I guess after consideration I would have to say that is makes me feel like I am close to home. I treasure the sense of diversity that can be found here, diversity much different than in other public places. In the diner you can find a conglomeration of cultures without pretense, so natural, defenses down and full of the integrity of humanness. Intrigued by watching how we as human beings interact with one another, studying character, and how we all intermingle and find a peace with others and ourselves is one of my passions.

(c) Copyright Jeanne Fry 2008

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