Tamara Willems

who knows where the trembling stops…

A day that begins in reflection of two wondrous things,
that touch my morning
one of which is this,  from Frederick Buechner,

“The life that I touch for good or ill will touch another life, and that in turn another, until who knows where the trembling stops or in what far place my touch will be felt.” 

and the other
a reminder of a pretty wonderful gift of kindness that I received on this day,
two years ago
from two lovely, thoughtful people
the gift, a small painting, one of two that I dearly treasure
in the bottom corner a simple B, to remind me of the artist
and very kind hearts
I fear as though I would ruin the integrity of this piece by trying to take a photo
so let me instead describe to you
this painting,
a young girl on a swing
a flower in her hair
she stands on the swing, in a lovely magenta-ish pinky dress
with the most wonderful stripy colourful legs
against the gorgeous shades of blue and turquoise of the sky
she is in motion, she is untethered
she is free
she is to me
the loveliest expression
and it is this, that she continues to

Friday mornings, most times you will find me,
walking in gratitude and yes, just as often then
in the afternoon
in gratitude
this is how I celebrate
right now at this very moment as I sit to put down some thoughts
one of my fish has positioned himself, facing me
just at the surface of the water
and he seems to be serenading me in
silent song
above to the left one of the baby cardinals has snuggled into the snowball bush
and there he sits, rather peacefully
periodically we both turn our heads to check on one another
to my far right the blue jays flutter in one after another
snatching up the monkey nuts
from the mailbox
where I leave them
and a wee small chipmunk, cheeks full, travels across the barbecue table
stopping briefly to make sure the coast is clear
I’ve just finished a soul-nourishing tour of the gardens with my love
where we talk about all the things we could move,
or trim, or plant
where we suggest, and I hesitate,  letting things change
other than
of their own will
and then, my favourite part,
where we finish
not changing or doing,  a single
a rustle in the grass, and a little toad hops over our toes
we marvel at the amazing myriad of  bees, in every different size
and variation of colours
just as we are coming back to the house
a humming bird stops right in front of us
checking to see if the trumpet vine is yet open
for business
(not yet)

it’s the simplest things that bring me complete and absolute
ironing my husband’s shirt
straightening his tie
smoothing out a crease,
before a kiss good-bye
a quiet sit outside to watch the baby cardinals
in the bird bath
a nice cup of tea

I wonder if you will tire of the stories of my garden
and this,  my way of talking to
lost in my own state of
I look at the same things, I marvel at the same things
but every day they appear to me as new
every day they never cease to amaze,
every day
I feel so fortunate in this life
to so easily find and recognize
to live with gratitude and

I cultivate here
as all of this comes from
and all of this, of the outside world
I do believe,  feel enough peace in my presence to
be here
and that to me is a pretty spectacular thing

this is what I want to put into the world
into a world of h*te speech and politics
a world of intolerance and cruelty
of ignorance and selfishness
a busy world
where the love of power tries so hard to overtake the power of

these instead are the ripples I wish to create


and if indeed you follow me here, in my telling
of my every ordinary day

I will hope then, that it is here
in this way
my own gentle touch

who knows where the trembling stops…  ♥


Leave a Comment