by Donna Salli | Dec 8, 2024 | Blogs
Do you sense at times that there are celestial powers watching over you? Have you felt at other times that loved ones who’ve crossed over still move invisibly around you? I’ve felt those things and wondered about them in my writing. I no doubt will again. But not today. After the recent scary hurricane season, the interminably long and divisive election, I’m in need of an infusion of lightheartedness. I expect you are, too. So today, at the start of this holiday season, and in the spirit of the poet Robert Burns and his ode “To a Mouse” (which he opened with the epigraph, “On Turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785”), I am going to tell a story of the ways of mice. It’s a reminder that we humans ought not to act as if we are the be-all and end-all—a reminder to take other creatures into account as we make decisions that impact the earth.
by Donna Salli | Oct 15, 2024 | Blogs
The spiffy young men in the photo above are my father, Oiva, and his brother, Waino. Dad is on the left. It’s not surprising that there’s a dog in the picture with them. Even the dog is beautiful and seems to be posing for the photo. Oiva (pronounced OY-vah) was a dog whisperer—he had invisible charm that every dog could sense. When I’d arrive at Mom and Dad’s with my two Maltese dogs, they would claw at the door to get in and then speed like white lightning right by Grandma in the kitchen to get to Grandpa in the great room. Mom would say, “What am I—chopped liver?” We’d hug, laughing. My pups were astute judges of character. My dear Dad has been gone for twelve years now, and I feel the loss of him every day. Missing him has made me really aware of how people keep walls and borders around themselves.
by Donna Salli | Aug 13, 2024 | Blogs
The photo at the top of this post is of my mother, Rauha, and her older sister, Ingrid. Mom is on the right. The picture was taken at Pikes Peak. My memory is that Mom and Dad were on their honeymoon. They’re all gone now—Mom, Dad, and Ingrid. But “gone” doesn’t mean gone. When I look at this picture, I feel both Mom and Ingrid so strongly, it’s as if they are with me. They were both mothers to me, in different ways. I had many mothers, growing up—my other aunts, my grandmothers, even some of our neighbor women—but I’ve been thinking, lately, about Mom and Ingrid especially. They were in some ways opposites. Watching them, I learned that there are many ways to fill the world with mother love.
by Donna Salli | Jul 12, 2024 | Blogs
When my husband Bruce and I got married, his parents gave us a clock with a stained-glass face and a silently swinging pendulum. The clock face is covered with iridescent white flowers. It’s pretty, and it did its job reliably for more than thirty years. But last October, over a period of days, the clock began to act peculiarly. As a writer, I see in the things that happen day-to-day an opportunity for discovering hidden meaning. I couldn’t help but think, What’s up with the clock? And I couldn’t help but wonder—could its odd behavior be a sign? I started trying to figure it out.
by Donna Salli | May 26, 2024 | Blogs
Occasionally, a caring presence comes to me while I sleep. He seems to be male in spirit. It’s always the same presence, and over the years, I’ve come to think he watches over me, a sort of father. The encounters seem more a vision than a dream. I’m left with a sense of the man, but the narrative details fade. Lately, I’ve been thinking about the word radius—the straight line between the center of a circle and a point along its circumference. Human lives are bounded by circles—family, community, nation, planet. I see the hate and trouble around us, and I chafe at how limited I am in my reach and my ability to lessen it. I think about my immediate sphere—my family and friends—and don’t know if I should feel happy for the closeness of it, or guilty over how small my circle is.
Recent Comments