Sad at the moment. A good friend is having surgery tomorrow. I was surfing the web looking at flowers and plants, pondering whether to send to hospital or home, when it hit me: she could die on the table.
To clarify, this is highly, incredibly highly, unlikely. The surgery itself carries no more risk than what I imagine is average. But, these momentous events, yeah, I'm looking at you, cancer, have a way of reminding us just how tenuous our lives are.
Yet, we move on and forward. And keep living. Just as she will, I know, well beyond tomorrow.
My banana-coconut cookie dough is in the fridge as I type.
I started reading The Twelve Tribes of Hattie this morning. The first chapter was brutal and galvanizing. I put the book down and didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So I made for the kitchen, desperate for comfort.
The truth was, I wanted to do both. I need to do both. Also, to scream. My body is seriously trying to process my emotional life. Things have been going well and I believe another layer, sedimentary, is rumbling...heating up. I want to yank, but cannot find any cracks into which I can dig my fingers and pull.
Sheer rock...despite evidence of rock shear. A challenging in-between.
I hate in-between.
My monthly is coming!
(Lunar) Spring is coming!
Change of season ~ change of season ~ change of season ~ change of season ~
P.S. Flight Behavior was excellent for any Kingsolver fans out there. Thank you, Barbra.
P.P.S. Going to a show today with my honey. Thank goodness, it will be good to get out of the apartment.
The only thing keeping me from buying four more red storage cubes from Ikea was time. It was never the right time to go get 'em. Then, the other day, somehow it came up in conversation with Tiina. And we discovered that they were looking to unload just what I was looking for.
Makes me sad.
A situation with friends that keeps repeating itself. It's something that triggers a primal response...that is negative...protective. Despite the bigness of the emotions that rear up, it's not a huge thing. Nothing worth discussing, no less making a shift in the relationship. I heard myself saying out loud, to myself, something I said to Cap recently. "You don't have to understand it. It's okay not to." That helped me let it go.
Sounds more like a statement than I intend. But, I feel like my path is diverging. Curving.
The changing Season. Cap's return today (from 2 weeks in Japan...land of the rising radiation). Riding a wave on a part of the ocean of Flow that is less 'hormonal'.
I had some insomnia again last night. There is a hum of anxiety that vibrates louder once I lie down.
• Clutter.
• Improving what we eat.
• The more formal aspects of learning at home.
• Cleaning.
• Finances.
• Organization.
• Fitness.
Suddenly I don't see a path. I see myself surrounded by vertical walls with ropes dangling down. And I've got no upper body strength to speak of.
I don't feel bad...I feel a mix of surprise and disbelief and marvel. Because this place seems familiar. No. This place is familiar. I've been here before. But I'm not the same.
Take a listen. And tell me what you feel. I had an immediate and visceral reaction which manifested significantly in the physical plane. Wild. The video description over at YouTube explains the "what" of the video. The "how" and "why" and "wow" is up to you. Enjoy.
I suppose with Thoreau on my mind it was inevitable. I went for my walk this morning in the woods. I'm lucky to have this swath of trees on a bit of rocky mountain right here in town.
As the woods enveloped me, I nearly choked, the rich fecundity of the air was so qualitatively different from what was circulating through my system calling itself oxygen. These trees resuscitate me unconditionally, every time I step amongst them.
I felt a wave of gratitude. This was chased by creeping grief. I sensed an opening. Did I grab transformation or did it grab me? I whispered words which felt so sacred and then spoke them louder. The transcendental ecstasy I tap into is electrifying. The calm that pervades afterward a balm.
Again, of course, the choppy waves and red tornado clouds have passed. I'm tired...no longer rocked with stormy, sad emotion.
Enjoying the sunlight slanting warmth onto my fingers as I type.
Enjoying my lovely blue cast iron dutch oven full of chili on the stove. The chain of events: chopping, sauteing and adding onion, garlic, carrots, green-purple peppers (all from the farm) to ground turkey well-seasoned with salt, freshly ground black pepper, cumin and chili powder and then stirring in a can of black beans and a can of kidney beans and then pouring in two big cans of crushed tomatoes (one organic, one local)...aromatic, meditative, therapeutic. Slow cooking the chili for the next few hours and then letting it season overnight for common meal tomorrow.
Enjoying listening to the silence and din of the kids with O. Deep play with great friends usually involves both.
Enjoying the book I started this morning during DEAR (Drop Everything And Read): The Hunger Games.
Enjoying this picture. The kids and I washed the kitchen floor today.
I've loved trees for as long as I can remember. The redwoods found in the northwest U.S. are very special. Donna gave me this card for my birthday. It was one of my favorite gifts this year. Every time I hold it, part of me falls right into the photo and I connect to a direct line of strength, peace and breath.
photo taken by Larry Ulrich.
I don't know why I've never thought of using card photos for my blog banner before...
There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees,
A quiet house, some green and modest acres
A little way from every troubling town,
A little way from factories, schools, laments.
I would have time, I thought, and time to spare,
With only streams and birds for company.
To build out of my life a few wild stanzas.
And then it came to me, that so was death,
A little way away from everywhere.
There is a thing in me still dreams of trees,
But let it go. Homesick for moderation,
Half the world’s artists shrink or fall away.
If any find solution, let him tell it.
Meanwhile I bend my heart toward lamentation
Where, as the times implore our true involvement,
The blades of every crisis point the way.
I would it were not so, but so it is.
Who ever made music of a mild day?
The acorns have started dropping. We live amidst a few oak trees that are crane-your-neck tall. So these little suckers pack a wallop when they hit the roof of the porch which is right out my window where I type. Or the top of an air conditioner, or the driveway (any hard surface...you get the picture, or rather, the sound effect). Remarkably, I've never gotten plunked on the head by an acorn. Maybe this year's my year.
The annual falling of the acorns is a signal. The random, yet organic, bounces and beats are meditative in an ADDish sort of way. But, this morning, in my sleep deprived state I can hear the Siren of the coming season permeating the space between the beats. Getting incrementally louder and insistent.
Last night I had a dream. Notable because I can actually still remember it though the details are fast fading even as I type. (I took a few minutes to look for an image of the subway which contributed to the dilution, but I saw some interesting shots...love googling.)
I was in the NYC subway. And somehow I dropped my bag and coat onto the tracks. It was an accident of the flukey sort. The track well was dry and clean (not the track wells of my childhood) and I had a strong feeling that all could be well so easily if only I could retrieve my belongings.
I called out to a worker for help and she, in turn, called out to another worker. This second worker, also a woman, came to talk to me. She informed me it would not be as simple as I had hoped. We could hear the rumbling of oncoming trains.
I was discouraged. Then, encouraged as a train pulled into the station on another track, but then discouraged again as a train rolled in on the track my stuff was on.
The dream held such sway that I dreamt about it again later in my sleep. I was relaying what happened, that I had dropped my things onto the track, to someone. I took the situation in stride. There was clarity in the inevitability, as opposed to any sense of fatalism.
Also, as I retold the story in my next, or continued, dream, I could see in my mind's eye my things were still there, unmussed, unharmed...to be collected at any time, upon my return to the scene. Now that I am awake, I still feel this potential.
The visual aspect is really working for me. The boundaries that the colors and the boxes provide transform feeling overwhelmed by mental information to a more peaceful state.
Seeing is believing and I can literally see what is possible here.
A sad song that has gotten under my skin...laying right on my nerve endings. (I include the lyrics for those of you, who, like me, have a hard time hearing the words when listening to a song.)
A funny aside: concert audiences in Japan, in my experience (from 20 years ago), were shockingly well-behaved. Incredibly respectful and quiet. This live video clip makes it sound like things haven't changed much, I swear you could hear a pin drop during the pauses of Rachael's singing and piano playing!
I really thought I was okay
I really thought I was just fine
But when I woke this time
There was nothing to take me back to sleep
To take you off my mind this time
And I keep saying over and over and over and over again
Let it rain, let it rain
Over and over and over and over again
Let it rain, let it rain
I need to hide within a storm
So have the lightning come
And bring the winds that scream
And spill the fog all over town
And hold me in your stand still ground
And I will sink down
And you'll be washed away
You'll be washed away
Over and over and over and over again
Let it rain, let it rain
Over and over and over and over again
Let it rain, let it rain
I really thought I was okay
I really thought I was just fine
But when I woke up this time
There was nothing to take you off my mind
Over and over and over and over again
Let it rain, let it rain
Over and over and over and over again
Let it rain, let it rain
I need to hide within the storm
So have the lightning come
And bring the winds that scream
Spill the fog all over town
And break through every door
And strip away the trees and raise the rivers high
Just help me drown
And hold me in your stand still ground
And I will sink down
And you'll be washed away
You'll be washed away
I'm sending off Gem on a great baseball adventure to commemorate his first decade.
He and Cap will be road tripping through Cooperstown, Syracuse, Toronto, Niagara Falls, and Scranton. Three baseball games on three consecutive nights. In Toronto they will be seeing the Red Sox play the Blue Jays.
I love this itinerary. Gem picked Toronto as his destination and Cap and I filled in the blanks. Gem's love of baseball has grown exponentially in the last few months. He is excited for this trip.
My feelings of love, joy, and nervous tension, are reaching a crescendo tinged with undeniable bittersweet. I've never watched him drive away from me, he's never gone on a trip without me.
The kitchen is so good for transferring and transforming this type of emotional whirlwind. I made one of the kids' favorite dinners tonight: meatloaf. They were in heaven, I felt very grounded, all was good.
Now I hear them talking in their room with the night light on, sleep running a distant second to the hum coursing through their systems as they anticipate tomorrow. My pulse is quickening, too. Time to go chill.
Side note: I am very much looking forward to three days alone with Sag. Sag, who will be dealing with his own experience of being separated from his brother, and being fully aware of it, for the first time ever.
Pokemon is still going strong here. The kids have been drawing/making their own Pokemon cards (they buy cards, as well).
He's reading about World Cup soccer during a D.E.A.R. (drop everything and read) time. Sag has been reading Captain Underpants books lately and I recently started Children of God (the sequel to The Sparrow).
I am so pleased that Apollo hasn't expired during his stay with us. I cleaned his tank the other night and he is invigorated.
These are the lists the kids made for today. Notice the joker who wrote "today's date" at the top of his paper.
It's been a quiet and busy day. A pleasant hum of activity has been our background music. Sag has a sore throat I'm keeping my eye on, I'm knitting Felicity every chance I get, I'm fiddling with poetic words and phrases, and realizing that I don't have an episode of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia to watch tonight. That's okay, I have last night's Louie to carry me over.
I may be an ADDish Renaissance woman, but I'm feeling the energy of coming into my own as a Renaissance woman and am digging it.
Something kept me up tonight. I wasn't sure what it was, but I understood, simply and for sure, that I was to stay up despite the latening hour.
So I chose a catch up episode of Treme which would take me past 1am and began to watch. (It's a great show, worth checking out on DVD when it comes out if you don't have access to HBO.)
Then, just past 1:00, Gem came out of his room, tousled and mostly asleep. I walked him to the bathroom where he did his business, he asked me to turn on the sound machine, and he crawled back up into his bunk.
Seconds later, he was full on back to sleep.
You never know when something is going to click into place. Whether it's staying dry at night or staying up late for no apparent reason. I say, be open and relaxed...trust and be okay with not knowing everything.
As I propel myself through this morning I am my Air-y self. Friends are coming over in less than an hour now and I have an agenda: shower, clean the bathroom, attend to the kitchen sink, vacuum...
But equal attention goes to things like this:
closing my eyes and feeling summer.
(peach jam from the farm spooned into the mouth direct from the jar)
