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Sally W. Paradysz writes from the cabin she built in the woods of her Bucks County, Pennsylvania home. Currently, she is working on a memoir, and works as a private spiritual counselor. She won Honorable Mention for an inspirational story in the Writer’s Digest 78th Annual Writing Competition in 2009, was a finalist in the Salem Literary Festival in 2010, and published a non-fiction story in 11:11 magazine. Her essay, "Tool-belt Spirituality" appears among those of such other authors as Gloria Steinem and Jimmy Carter in the collection 65 Things to Do When You Retire.
Visit Sally's website and blog.
My Italian Scooter
Sally W. Paradysz
(April, 2013, Featured Author)
My Italian scooter sits empty in my front yard. It is new, shiny, and red. Dragon Red. I grab my helmet, asking myself how much trouble can I get into? I’m 67 years old for heaven’s sake. I can fall off or someone could hit me with a car. That’s it!
My friends and family rolled their eyes as I told them of my new purchase but I didn’t mind, for once. Yes I cared about their opinions and their concern and love for me, but not whether they approved. I was excited, trying not to feel the fear they were (gently) shoving in my face. It was a new adventure - one which held promise for the years to come.
Yanking on my helmet and taking the time to fasten the complicated chin strap, I grab my keys and head out the door. Oh for the love of God. Where the hell is it? It was here a minute ago. I look around the yard and the driveway. Maybe I’m losing my grip and forgot I left it in the barn so it would stay clean.
I walk quickly toward my small barn out back, reach for the door handles and swing them open. No scooter. Hands on hips, I stare at the vacant space I had cleared for it. Something is wrong in here, I tell myself. It’s too quiet. Way too quiet. No creaks or groans, no scurrying mice feet. Nothing. I raise my hand to push my hair back, an age-old habit. I feel my helmet. Yeesh, I growl. No wonder it’s so damn quiet in here. Chances are I’ll never hear the car that’s coming to hit me from behind with this dumb thing on my head.
I take it off and brush my hair back, then walk outside again to look. Nothing.
It’s gone. Stolen or borrowed, it doesn’t matter. It is gone.
Feeling increasingly weary I sit down at the door of the barn. I am tired and feeling cynical. Why would someone need to steal my scooter? To make their life better? People are going on and on with their list of insufferable desires these days, without caring for the needs of others. Seems like ego and greed to me.
I know I am getting older, but wiser as well, I hope. Time has been good to me. I’m in excellent health except for my damn back, and I’m still sharp and quick in my mind. I’ve taken opportunities that have come my way, choices by the dozen that have worked out well. Within these options I realize that none were good or bad, only effective or ineffective.
I sit here for hours as the sky changes from light blue to a deep scarlet, interrupted only by the promise of dusk. Within my solitude I become available to feel the powerful and profound needs of others, as well as my own. I observe myself from a distance without judgment, wondering if I will forgive regardless of my own loss. My Red Dragon.
Naked in my honesty I realize that this moment contains all the answers to my spirituality: Love, compassion, judgment, and ego. These attachments are the mainstay of my life. Elbert Hubbard said, “There is no failure except in no longer trying.” Will my life be over when I stop trying, or am I only failing myself? Am I being forced to examine my need for attachment only to discover I can’t give up this scooter? Perhaps I am.
I sit there for a few more moments thinking about my life. I’ve walked some hard paths to get to this point and I’m still willing and eager to take steps forward. Yes I get scared - down to the deepest part of my soul scared - but feeling the fear and working my way through it regardless, has been the key for me. If I let my reservations stop me then I’m not trusting God to take me to the larger arena of life. There has been a plan for me since the day I was born and it’s up to me to ask for the eyes with which to see it.
Looking around I’m thankful for this home, this barn, my writing cabin back in the woods, and the synergy of the birds, the trees, and the animals that walk on this land. My land. Together we learn of life, together we learn of love.
Dragging my chair back into the barn, I stretch to ease out the aches and stiffness of my old body and close the door behind me. I walk slowly toward the screened porch at the back of my house, helmet in hand. Rounding the corner, I see my Red Dragon. RIGHT WHERE I LEFT IT. I remember now. What a hoot!
Oh hell, I’m really not that old, I tell myself as I climb on.
The
Top Ten ...
Women Who Have Made
a Difference
(And their quotations)
(April, 2013)
Sally W. Paradysz
1. “Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent.”
Eleanor Roosevelt (American stateswoman)
2. “The trouble with being in the rat race is that even if you win, you’re still a rat.” Lily Tomlin (American actress)
3. “Good communication is as stimulating as black coffee, and just as hard to sleep after." Anne Morrow Lindbergh (American writer & aviator)
4. “I have enough for this life. If there is no other life, then this one has been enough to make it worth being born, myself a human being.” Pearl S. Buck (American writer & humanitarian)
5. “One is not born a woman, one becomes one.” Simone De Beauvoir (French writer & philosopher)
6. “Cherish forever what makes you unique, ‘cuz you’re really a yawn if it goes!" Bette Midler (American entertainer)
7. “And the trouble is, if you don’t risk anything, you risk even more.”
Erica Jong (American writer)
8. “Don’t compromise yourself. You are all you’ve got.” Janis Joplin (American singer)
9. “I’m just going to write because I cannot help it.” Charlotte Bronte (English writer)
10. “It is easy to be independent when you’ve got money. But to be independent when you haven’t got a thing—that’s the Lord’s test.”
Mahalia Jackson (American gospel singer)
Sally W. Paradysz writes from the cabin she built in the woods of her Bucks County, Pennsylvania home. Currently, she is working on a memoir, and works as a private spiritual counselor. She won Honorable Mention for an inspirational story in the Writer’s Digest 78th Annual Writing Competition in 2009, was a finalist in the Salem Literary Festival in 2010, and published a non-fiction story in 11:11 magazine. She has an essay in the forthcoming anthology, 65 Things to do When You Retire. VisitSally's website and blog.
Poetry
ANCIENT RITUALS
Sally Paradysz
(January 2012)
Next, I heard some named penance an ancient tradition.
A struggle between senses and sense.
Lash marks bled on bare backs. Knees on scarred hardwood,
calloused and worn, bent until they screamed for relief.
Men seek to give lessons, but silence was the teacher.
Then, we are swept clean and told to go forward in purity.
Penitent, but longing still.
SILENT PAIN, SILENT LOVE
(January 2012)
Sally Paradysz
In this world where personal
commitment, with all of its
delicate forms, seems
to be shattering apart,
And unconditional and
undying love has become
nothing more than a
matter of convenience,
There are some of us still,
who find the intelligence
and passion born of living..
In some who approach their
life without analysis,
which can destroy the Whole,
There is some magic in this life,
you know, where if
you only consistently
look at the pieces,
They will just as surely
blow away in the wind
and demolish the All..
Are we becoming obsolete
within a world of
organization, rules, regulations,
in “Bud” we trust,
to borrow a phrase..
Will this magic disappear
with stick-on name tags and
clothes that make us
all look alike..
It is with this passion and
controlled arrow-like intensity,
mixed with warmth,
That I will approach the time
of day when white months
are on the wing,
And in the heat of that
summer’s evening, will let
myself be taken away,
To transcend and merge in
the Light, where such certainty
comes only once, no matter how
many lifetimes you live..
In this dance with the
universe, my eagerness gives way
to shaman-like silence,
Discarding all sense of
anything linear and spiraling toward
millions of candles,
Where my constant companion
of loneliness disappears for
the last time,
And I become consumed and out
of a world that seems
to be God-abandoned..
Never again will I live with dust
on my heart, or feel
trapped by foggy mornings,
Instead I am forever grateful
for the four billion years
Of love,
Which will help me with my
systems of balance and order
in the lifetime I have left..
I have ceased being separate
and now feel free to continue
the dance of integration…
Our Featured Author, April 2012
Sally W. Paradysz was born, raised and earned her degree in the Berkshires of New England. Sally writes memoir and fiction from the cabin she built in the woods of her Bucks County, Pennsylvania home, and it is from there that she pens a weekly blog for those searching for a breath of calm. As an advocate for the self-empowerment of women, she draws upon her own life experiences bringing the world a message of healing, love, and inspiration. Ordained into the ministry of the Assembly of the Word, founded in Quakertown, PA, Sally has provided spiritual counseling and ministerial assistance for more than two decades. She is the mother of three, grandmother of eight, and along with her housemate, Melanie, lives with their two flamboyant Maine Coon cats, Kiva and Kodi, who love their life in the woods.
Tool Belt Spirituality appears in 65 Things to Do When You Retire: 65 Notable Achievers on How to Make the ost of the Rest of Your Life.
Tool Belt Spirituality
(Featured, April 2012)
Sally W. Paradysz
Retirement is not ending a career. It is learning to redefine your self.
Every life has a story and every story has a lesson. My life’s lesson was that I had to let go of my structured existence long enough to find out where I truly belonged.
Growing up as a woodsman’s daughter from the Berkshires of New England, I worked side by side with my dad in a perfect dance between master sawyer and lumber-woman. I felt alive, equal, needed. Back then, my restrictions were defined by the measure of my own strength and will. Physically I was not as strong as my father, so he taught me the art of leverage, and with a cant hook my force became his counterpoint. I tucked that skill in my tool belt. Together, we walked the forest daily. Trees to be cut were selected carefully and with reverence. It was here that my interest in mysticism began to take seed.
As a young woman of 21, tool belt aside, I put all of my energy, all of myself, into being a wife, mom, and co-worker, accepting the limitations of those roles. Raising children is the ultimate sacrifice of self, a decision you make out of love, and I did so eagerly. I allowed my personal interests, occupations, and spirituality to become secondary. When my children all married and had families of their own, I chose to retire from those limitations. A burning ember inside me was screaming to get out. I was tired of living in a controlled environment, having my every role defined by others telling me what I must or could not do.
I had always been passionate about my spiritual growth, so from that moment forward I lived within the heart of my soul. Letting go of borders brought back my true self.
By taking courses from the Network of Victim Assistance in Doylestown, PA, I added a new tool to my belt. I became an advocate, working for the self-empowerment of women and have advised victimized women on a hot line, and in hospitals and police stations. I’ve also provided spiritual counseling and ministerial assistance to members of my church. I feel blessed to freely offer them my help. As I set down my list of priorities, I understand how little wealth I need to live a rich life.
At 60, I decided to follow the dream of building my own house in the woods. Pushing back against society’s limitations, I worked hard alongside my crazy-cool, opera-singing contractor who showed up every morning before seven. All the while, I lived in a tiny tool shed with no heat, no water, and no indoor plumbing. I relearned how to become integrated into the natural world that surrounded me. Red-tailed hawks built a nest in the iron stanchion of the power lines nearby. Daily I compared my life to theirs as they made a home, had a family, and watched withexcitement, yet sadness, as their fledglings left the nest. And the gift that came with this unique experience was embracing my spirituality. It was time to share my passion with others.
At 65, I constructed a writing cabin at the edge of my forest. It sits proudly on its stone foundation, one that I built with my own hands. It is a tranquil setting, and one I love. In this small cottage I can be still and uncomplicated, enabling me to live in clarity and conscious choice. It's here that I developed my skills to write memoir and fiction. And from here that I’ve counseled those who come to me carrying anxieties caused by the world’s pressures. If intention determines outcome, I’ve created an environment to help them find peace.
Looking out my cabin window, I realize how much I have committed myself to respect. When I let go of limitations I found a new life of compassion for all beings, whether they be other people or the animals that live on my land. I possessed these feelings when I was younger, but can now dedicate more attention to them.
I feel blessed with my three beloved children and eight grandchildren. Our journey together is not over, and it’s my hope to help them all develop a sense of their own spirituality. I want to impart to them that during the course oftheir lives it does not matter who is right, but that they bring a piece of the light of themselves to every moment – that life is a gift and love connects us all.
Retirement is something we all look forward to, and there is so much freedom and excitement in the various choices awaiting us. For me, I live to hear the music of God’s finest whispers in every birdsong, and I am thankful for each day. I experience euphoria by living without being limited by the judgment of others.
During the Equinox, I asked myself, What does this time mean for me? My answer was that all life, including mine, is one and the same in the eyes of our Creator. It is a reminder that we all have a finite time on this earth, and it is important for me to balance the gifts I’ve been given, to take responsibility for the space I hold here, and to use my tools to make a difference within it. I feel that now I am giving in a way that enriches – rather than depletes – me.
This earth will live on after I leave. Have I lived my teaching? If my reply is no, then I must challenge myself to do better. Each morning after meditation I have the opportunity to start again, to define by example what it means to be giving from myself in a way that enhances rather than diminishes. For it is at this juncture that I hope to work even harder with what I’ve learned, for the Greater Good.
What is genuine and what is lasting is who you are. No one can take that away.
Top Ten Best
Life Experiences
(April, 2012)
by Sally W. Paradysz
I’ve had many experiences, some pleasant and some ghastly, in my many years on this planet. Some of them have involved other people and some I’ve experienced alone. Here’s my Top Ten:
10. Road trips. Cross country runs to California in my MINI are the best! Also trips to the Southwest, Glacier and Yellowstone National Parks, and of course, Maine. New England will always be my first and chosen home.
9. Owning an Italian Motor Scooter. My fire-engine red Vespa brought me joy whenever I took off down the driveway and out to the narrow winding roads of Bucks County, Pennsylvania. With a writing tablet tucked under the seat I rode for miles. Then, stopping at a lake or stream, I’d write what I felt in that moment.
8. Having my fist publishing contract. Being asked to write a spiritual essay for an upcoming anthology was an amazing high. I felt validated to call myself an author--for real.
7. Owning three Maine Coon cats. I’ve felt privileged to own such loving, outrageous angels of fur.
6. Bringing responsibility. I have long felt that I am responsible for what energy I bring to this planet and the space I occupy within it. For a decade I’ve lived in the woods and nature has shown me to be the purist light of myself at all times.
5. Finding a Spiritual Path to follow. My experience of finding a faith that fit with my personal beliefs was life changing. I learned of forgiveness and love in all of its forms, and that it was okay to own these feelings.
4. Learning that women are amazing. My chosen women family brings me boundless bundles of joy each and every moment of my days. My sister, who has always lived a distance away, holds a significant piece in this family. All of these women have taught me how to listen, and how to love each other without judgment.
3. Celebrating Life. Experiencing my life knowing that there is more than one way to celebrate it. There is no right or wrong way, only one of personal choice. To honor every day and every person in it.
2. Living in a construction shed for six months. While building our dream cottage home in the woods, I crowded into a tiny shed with two kitties and my friend, Melanie. It was Mel who gave me a glimpse into the heart of an uncommon friendship and how to grab each moment, while holding it tight.
1. Giving birth to three children. They are a light in my life, and each play an important part in my continuing story. I love them fiercely!
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