only love

Today I am trying an experiment (it SHOULD be a way of life, but it's not ... yet). For the whole day, I am planning beforehand to only stay in love - with my thoughts, my actions, my feelings. Before I speak, especially if I feel that energetic, hot stuff boil up, I'll pause for a moment and ask how I can do this in love, then act accordingly. To everyone and everything - just for today (like the Reiki Principles). Only love... I'll let you know how it goes.

three things I want to say

Dr. Vidya Anderson
1. I had my phone interview with Dr. Vidya Anderson today, in preparation for the cover story I'm doing for the High Plains Reader next week. She's coming to Fargo for the month of September, and will be doing several things, among them leading a basic meditation class, followed by an intensive. In the intensive, she's going to be able to tell us our personal mantra to use. When she was telling me all about it, first I got goosebumps down both of my legs (a sign of my hearing the Truth), then I started crying. I was very surprised at my reaction, but excited, because that is part of my next step. She will be at the Spirit Room, and the amazing part is that everything she's going to be doing is FREE!

2. I ate a cricket today. Bill videotaped it, but I don't think it recorded, so he's like laughing his head off, trying to explain that I'll just have to EAT ANOTHER ONE. It wasn't THAT bad, but I was picking little antennae out of my teeth for like 15 minutes or so. Why in the world would I eat a fried, sour cream and onion flavored cricket? Because I wanted to be brave, I wanted to do something that I'd never done before, and besides - they've got a ton of protein in them. Will I eat any more? Uhm, no.

3. I was a bitch today (you say that like it's a bad thing). Okay, so that's not a new thing, but I noticed a few things. Firstly, I was upset about a very old issue, which leads me to think "GET OVER IT," and secondly, I had a brilliant solution to this bitchy problem. Every time I notice myself feeling, thinking or saying something unkind about someone else, I will immediately stop what I'm doing and say a blessing for that person. So, it goes something like this (I'll make up the name): "Cindy, I'm sorry for being unkind. I wish you every happiness and joy in your life. Bless you." Even just typing that makes me feel calmer, more balanced and centered. Why do I bitch? Oh, I don't know - why do I eat chocolate? I know it's not good for me, but sometimes I slip, and I just do it. So part of it is thinking beforehand, then staying conscious and aware. Which leads me back to Number 1 - meditation. You'll just have to read the story in the HPR next week, but it's really pulling me to get back into the every day practice of meditation. I'm spotty, at best - I think about it a lot, but the actual act of sitting (upright - I do a TON of meditation on my back at night and in the morning, but I don't think that counts - I'm probably just still resting) is a little more elusive. But I'll try, I really will.

So those are the three things I want to say. Oh, and the joy of talking with Kari for the WHOLE day, so that by the time we came up for air, we realized we hadn't gotten out of our jammies OR taken a shower, and it was 2PM. Seriously - that is SO great, and I love her so much. So, that's it - we're off to the lakes for the day, with 2 layer gourmet brownies and blueberry cream pie and 8 ribeye steaks (yay, B12!). THEN will things calm down? I sure hope so - I feel really shelled out lately. But the air is cool, and the sun is warm, and my insides are still glowing.

downtown

It makes my heart happy, being downtown today for three hours. Oh, WITH Kari. We started at Shannalee's. I bought a "Fargo Girl" necklace and tried on a shiny black jacket that's just FABULOUS. Then we met with Phil to plan my new website - man, is that going to be slick. I even can put my blog on it, so watch for that move in the next couple of weeks. I also have a spot for all the amazing events coming up (Mag's grand opening of the Organic Cupboard, Judith Valente's visit, and Vidya Anderson's meditation month at the Spirit Room, to name just a few you will want to check out), my favorite recipes, one at a time, health that's in the news, as well as inspirational quotes, so you can visit every day and it will all be new. I can't wait. That feels really right to be available in a much broader way. Then we went to Toscana's. I had their lobster salad, and oh my - shrimp and lobster, broccoli and asparagus - sigh. Then off to Swanson's for some Oscillo for John Strand's cold, then off to visit Cindy at O'Day Cache. If you've never bought their French soap, you've simply GOT to try it - it's creamy and bubbly and just the best (and I'm usually not THAT enthusiastic about soap), then home to pick up Billy from his first day back to school.

He invited three of his buddies to come with us for our traditional first-day-of-school Dairy Queen run, and now they're all happily esconced in the back yard on the trampoline. Although I'm still really feeling totally ungrounded and drifty, it's a little more manageable today as I just wait until Kari gets settled at Luther and Erik moves into his apartment and I stay home for longer than two days. I really believe that it is all good, this restless feeling of wondering what my next step will be, what direction my life is moving in. I like to know, is that so wrong? It's silly, really, anyway, as I still have my clients and my work - none of that has changed, so I wonder what is at the heart of this feeling. I can't figure it out, anyway, so I'll just keep walking through my days and trust that everything will keep unfolding as it needs to. In the meantime I'll enjoy the shrimp and vegetable pilaf I'm putting together for dinner and letting the sun shine a little on my face.

a conversation

"I just want you to be happy, Dad."
"No one can MAKE anyone else happy, honey."
"I know. What I mean is that if I am going to say something that I know will cause you to be unhappy, I'm not going to say it."
"But don't stuff your feelings or hold them in."
"I don't, but sometimes I don't think of how my words will affect someone else. Sometimes I'm mean, or in pain, then I say hurtful things that cause pain, and I just want you to be happy."
"Oh, honey..."
"I love you so much, Dad."
"I love you, too, honey."

I think of one of my sisters, and I think it will take time for healing. I haven't experienced more than being shunned by her, but other sisters have been personally mistreated and hurt, so their healing time may be longer. I just want Dad to be happy, and I think it makes him happy to be connected to ALL of his daughters, not just four. Love is more important than what happened in the past, or who did what to whom, or why (which nobody knows the answer to, anyway), and I think he is enlightened. He's kinder than I am, more forgiving and loving. I am generous and loving and nurturing like he is, but I am more like Mom when it comes to forgiveness and forgetness - I'm sort of like an elephant. It's my lesson this time around, but with Dad just staying, he is helping me, not by saying anything, just by being a shining example. Thanks, Dad - you're my hero (again, and still and always). I'm trying, really, I am. But it takes concentration, and being awake and conscious, and a willingness to come back to the changes again and again, when all you really want to do is bury your head in your pillow and go away for a while. But you can't - life keeps showing up, right there in your face, and you get to decide, in every moment, what you will do with it. Sometimes I'm proud of my actions, sometimes I'm not, but then I think next time I can do something different.

I can't believe I did it!

I deleted a whole post from today. I've never done that before, and I'm wondering what that's about. Was I being too honest, too whiny, bitchy, even? That's nothing new, but I think that I did it because I didn't want to talk about that other stuff, I want to talk about how thankful I am for so many things in my life. I want to focus my energies on those things, because that's what will grow when I do that. I am thankful for Steve, and Dad, and Kari, Erik and Bill. I'm thankful for my sweet sisters, and their husbands and children. I'm thankful for Kari, and Verena, and Eden, and Charlene - all of those wonderful women who have taken care of Mom these past years. I'm thankful for Anne and Nancy and Vivian - Mom's best friends. I'm thankful for Maggie and Melissa - my two best friends, without whose friendship I seriously don't know if I'd be alive today (and I'm not exaggerating). I'm thankful for Donna and Chitra and Julia and Marie - the fab 5, we are. I'm thankful for Barb and Maggie and Ellen and Barb and Sandee and Jodi and Katie, some of my amazing neighbors. I'm thankful for everyone at church, at the High Plains Reader (especially John), I'm thankful to all of the sweet sweet people who have come out of the woodworks since Mom died, to surround me with support and love, and I can't possibly name everyone here - the uncountable e-mails and cards and phone calls. On and on, and as I type I am slightly overwhelmed. How can I be in this huge life of abundance? How can I have lunch with everyone, coffee with everyone, e-mail and send letters to all of you whom I love so much?

So the best I can do is hold everyone in my heart, expand it so you all know you're there. Can you feel it? It's warm and beautiful, there are flowers everywhere, and green, and it's peaceful and sunny, with a slight wind in your hair. Ah - I love it here. I think I'll just stay here for the rest of the night. I'm GLAD I deleted the last posting - it was low energy, it's not really who I am, or even really how I'm feeling. THIS is real, how this feels, and I'm feeling blessed and grateful tonight, from the moist turkey and sweet green beans fresh out of the garden, to hearing Dad and Billy talking about drawing, to hearing Dad and Kari talking religion, to seeing Dad relaxed and laughing. It's all just so precious, you know? This is the real stuff - this is what matters. The other stuff? Fluff and stuff, I blow it all away and it evaporates like the mist that it is - it's not real. How I'm feeling right now? This is real, all of it, from the crying to the peace, from the frustrations and impatience to the calm and clear knowingness. It's all me, the good the bad and the ugly, encased in one crystalline being. How can that be bad? It can't. It's good, really really good. So I stay here - join me for a skinny decaf latte or just some sweet water. I'm here.

not again...

I was talking to Mom last night, and I was trying to figure out when something had happened. I told her, "It must've been before Thursday, because Dad was still alive." Mom said, "Dad wasn't the one who died." And I just looked at her, understanding slowly dawning. I started crying and crying and crying until my whole face was wet. Mom was the one who'd died. It just isn't possible. How long will it take my heart to catch up to my head? And will I dream about her every single night? Don't get me wrong - last night's dream was great. The night before? Not so great - it was sort of like she just got dumped into my dream, and she had brown splotches on her - yuck. But give me a dream with my mom, however I can haver her, any day, er, night, of the week.

Sweet Kristin called from New York last night. She's my dear soul sister from 5 years ago in Oregon. We traded readings for our birthdays. She said I've completely changed, but I'm not very patient with myself, so I need to give myself two weeks to let everything catch up and integrate. I can't do it this week, as I've got deadlines for three (count 'em, three) articles for Open Magazine and the High Plains Reader. One is on Judith Valente and Charles Raynaurd, who are going to be doing a workshop at the Presentation Prayer Center on September 14th and 15th. The other is on Dr. Vidya Anderson, who will be in Fargo the whole month of September, doing meditations, teaching work on Byron Katie, and other stuff. She'll be at the Spirit Room. I'm especially excited for both of those, because one's on writing, the other on meditation - two things that are close to my heart. Maybe that's the next step I'm walking in - writing, but something more? Writing and speaking about this integration of soul and body that's been unfolding in me for the last year, no, 5 years, no, 10 years, no, 20 years - okay, for my whole life. Isn't that what this whole thing is about? I don't know, and as usual I'm just going to let everything unfold in its natural time. It just doesn't work to push anything.

For Kristin I saw a large barge being towed down a river by a strong cable. The large barge was her huge soul, but the important piece was that it was being TOWED - she didn't have to do any work - it was taking her where she needed to go, and I suspect that's how it works for all of us. So here I sit on my own barge, looking out at the scenery, talking with Mom, in dreams and waking (at least in my dreams I get to SEE her - maybe next time I'll try to hug her), feeling awestruck at the course my life is taking - everything is different now. Everything. But I suppose deep in my core it's the same, just altered somehow, deepened, maybe. I don't know yet what it is. I guess I just have to be patient and wait to see.

Rock Lobstah

The B52's singing "Rock Lobster" - classic stuff, I'm telling ya

"We were at the beach - everybody had matching towels." Oh, that's our 2008 summer anthem, to be sure. Kari started singing it out of the blue one night, and we were all like, "Huh?" So she grabbed her computer, went on YouTube, and yup - there you go - the video itself will make your soul very happy. The link is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szhJzX0UgDM. Kari first saw it on Family Guy, then googled it and found out it was a real song by the B52's, that genius pop band that also brought you Love Shack (a favorite walking song of mine).

Check out the lady warbling, and the plastic lobsters all dancing, and the other lady dancing. Oh, there's just too much to mention here - you'll have to discover the deliciousness (and silliness) for yourselves. But trust me - if you like weird stuff (and if you're reading this blog, I know you sort of have to like weird stuff), then Rock Lobstah is the tune of the day (or the week or the summer). It's so very, very odd, but again it makes me just love us quirky humans and what we come up with.

At the Lakes

My sweet fam out on the boat

Ahh - aren't we sweet??

Me on the water - love that hat!

Erik found a 4 leaf clover! How lucky!!

At the Logging Camp

What a week! Hardly any internet access, NO phone access (unless I stood on the rail of the back deck and lifted the phone up high - very precarious!). We went to Park Rapids, Walker and Dorset - we went to the logging camp, Campanero's, 3rd Street Market, Brigid's House (they've got more magnetic peace signs for your car - I bought three - my other two got stolen!!), Reed's Sporting Good's Store, the Velvet Antler. We walked most of the way around Two Inlets Lake, saw two wild turkeys, a turtle, lots of fish (but couldn't seem to actually get them INTO the boat), and met a whole swarm of great folks. We played volleyball, soccer, made s'mores, played badminton and horseshoes, Moose farkel and Pass the Pigs. I finished my book (I won't even tell you the name - it wasn't that good), made goopy rolls, sour cream banana bars and gourmet two-layer brownies with white chocolate icing. I slept - a LOT - I listened to the wind through the tree, I cried, I breathed, I celebrated my first birthday without my mom, and wondered how I could possibly get through any more minutes without her here with me. We had lunch with Peggy and Roy at Zorbaz, then headed home. I think I've only been here for maybe 6 days since the end of May. I'm tired of running, tired of avoiding the inevitable. I wholeheartedly succumb to my life (right after we get back from Bismarck on Wednesday) - I promise.

But the lakes? Ahhhhhhh - heaven in the pines. Thank you Jennifer and Bob for a fantastic week - Two Inlets Resort ROCKS!!

Hippo Birdy Two Ewes

Hippo Birdy Two Ewes, Hippo Birdy Deer Ewe, Hippo Birdy Two Ewe! Now show the pictures of the hippopotamus, bird, and two sheep, sung to the tune of "Happy Birthday." 48 years old today, well, born at 1:21 PM 48 years ago. How can it be that I then feel younger than I did last year? And after everything that's happened this last year, it surprises me, but I guess it's just okay to feel young. We're lounging in our beautiful cabin at Two Inlets. Yesterday we went for a drive around the lake, listening to the Weathergirls sing "It's Raining Men." I jumped out and started picking wildflowers, dancing across the road, "It's raining men, YAH." Shake shake shake. The secret? To be happy, ultimately happy in every moment, whether lying on the couch looking out the window at the birch trees swaying in the wind against the clear blue sky backdrop. My soul is happy here at Two Inlets. We're looking at lake property here. I want to buy a lake place. Somewhere deep in my soul is the longing for the tranquility, the peacefulness, the quiet nature that's here. We'll see.

We're leaving for Park Rapids, heading for Brigid's House to hug Brenda and Jeanne (I hope they're there). I hope Brenda's dog is there - she cuddlelicious. Then off to rent a speedboat so we can go tubing. Bill met a new friend, Jack, the son of the owners of this resort. We'll ask Jack to come along, too. Sitting here on the deck sipping gunpowder green tea, feeling the slight breeze lift my hair a little, not worrying about anything except the fact that Kari, Bill and Brian played in the forest yesterday and think they played in poison ivy, of which I'm highly allergic to, so I'm just stating that it wasn't, and leave it at that. We can do that, right?

So, I close off on my birth day, knowing that last year at this time Billy and I were heading for Bismarck to spend my birthday with my mommy and daddy. They said they hadn't spent a birthday with a daughter in several years, and I said I didn't want to spend it anywhere else. I wonder if Dad will call me today? I know he remembers, but I just don't know if he'll actually call me. It's okay if he doesn't. I know he's glad I was born. I am, too. Happy Birthday, all you lovely Leos!!!

it's a party

I baked the gourmet two layer chocolate brownies with white drizzle frosting in the afternoon, put on the curried chicken cacciattore to simmer, then cut up the ingredients for the couscous with mint and parsley and grape tomatoes. My back hurt so I needlepointed (of course I did) for a little while. Dad got the pou pous ready (you've just got to keep saying that name - Hawaiian for little sandwiches), then worked on his crossword puzzle. I tried a puzzle the other day, got about 10 answers, found out the next day about half of those were wrong - I give up. Tony came first, followed by Tim, then John. Five men, including Dad and Bill, and me. We drank a little wine (okay, I made up cocktails for Billy and me - club soda and cranberry juice) and laughed around the island. They sat while I served the beet, pear, goat cheese and walnut salad, then ate that while I fixed the couscous. We ate and ate, talking mostly about politics, the Olympics, work. Billy lasted through most of it, then disappeared to play Club Penguin on Dad's computer.

I watched Dad throughout the night, talking easily and knowledgeably about every subject, switching subjects and keeping up, no matter what. He's amazing. He was so alive, so animated, so energized. I love that we could have this dinner party. It wasn't that hard, setting the table, dusting off the old ice bucket (that really kicky aluminum kind from the 60's) and setting out the alcohol.

The men were all sweet, taking turns talking, being respectful and fun. One's a lawyer, one's a salesman, one's a pharmacist, all neighbors and friends. Two are bachelors, and one's wife was away, helping her sister in another state. What do I want to say? That Dad I and talked about not being able to sleep very well, or get things done. We talked about how we miss Mom, and we just don't know how we're doing, or how we're supposed to get back to "normal." I told him I feel like I'm underwater some of the time, and I can see everyone else up there on the surface, but sometimes I go deeply under, and it's thick, and I fuzzy, and I can't hear or see anyone very well. It's kind of the same, but really altered and different. Then I surface, and it's sort of back to normal. Until I get pushed back under the water again. See, you're separate, but it's not dark, just different. But when we can have a party like last Thursday, we both feel alive again, like somehow, just for those brief hours, everything is okay.

I haven't slowed down too much to grieve, but I noticed that I was getting charley horses in the night in my legs, and that was odd. Then I read that if you cry a lot, you can get dehydrated and get charley horses. Now isn't that something? So maybe I AM grieving, but it's sporadic, off and on throughout the days. I pulled open the top drawer in the dresser in the basement at Dad's, and found Mom's library card from Bismarck. I ran my fingers lightly over her familiar signature, and whispered, "Mommy." That's Bill's bookmark for "A Wrinkle in Time" so every time I open the book, I trace her signature and whisper her name. It brings me comfort, at the same time makes me cry. God, I still miss her so much. But we DID have a party, and life IS going on, and it IS beautiful, breathtaking beautiful, and I'm loving every single second and moment of it - it's all just so beautiful, to hold Steve's hand, rub Bill's warm back, hug Kari and hold her tightly, kiss Dad's soft beard. It's all so very, very good, isn't it?

the hurt puppy returns

I'm needlepointing Mom's last piece she gave me of hers, and I'm dreading that last stitch - there won't be any more of that connection with her. I look at my right thumbnail - there is still a dob of nail polish left from the manicure I got the morning she died. I don't want to lose that, either. I've missed a phone call, so I retrieve my messages.

"Hi honey, it's me, Mom - it's 3 o'clock, and I just called to see how you were doing. Just know that I love you love you and we'll talk later. Bye bye." An old message, sent the week before she went into the hospital for the last time.

Don't EVER hit 4 - it repeats the message. Again and again. Three times. I can't see from my crying. A little squeak escapes from my mouth, and I remember Bill thinking my cries were from a hurt puppy. I smile a little, but I really thought this was getting better. I hadn't cried like this in a while. God, I miss her - will that EVER go away? That longing, that hurt? I can't understand all of this. I sense that it will float back and forth.

My client yesterday looked at me carefully and said, "There's something different about you." I didn't say anything. "How's your mother?" she asked. "She died," I said. "That's it," she replied. "You're softer, gentler, deeper, changed."

I think everything changes us, don't you? Whether it's a "good" relationship or a "bad" one. Everything that we connect with, for however short or long, changes us, like different paints introduced onto the canvas. Even if it's just a dab of green, right there, under her leg - that's what I saw that made me buy the huge Earl Linderman painting, "The Kiss." Just that little dab of green - it moved me.

But Mom isn't just a dab of green - she's the whole blue backdrop of my sky, the canvas on which everything else is painted, she's the water in the river, and everything flows IN her, she's the wind that carries everything across the sky. She's my heartbeat that keeps the rest of my body alive. She's that constant, alive or dead. I know that. I think that's why the puppy still hurts.

the flying cat

I look out my window. Jack has a toy airplane on a stick in his mouth (the stick part), and is running around in a circle. All of a sudden he lifts off the ground and starts flying. I'm amazed, but no one believes me when I tell them. Oh, Jack is our beautiful cat, by the way. He wants to fly, he wants to do this thing so intensely, that nothing will stop him. And it FEELS real to me.

I wake up, and think about the dream, and think, "Wow, Susie, that's really weird," then I look deeper. Jack symbolizes amazing power, beauty, and spirituality to me. So that's that part of me. To be mesmerized by the thought of flight (higher soul evolution) and to be focused on it as your goal, feels pretty right. I'm a little concerned that it's just a little toy airplane, but no worries - Jack still flies, so do I, even if we think we're limited down here by whatever we feel is limiting us.

I haven't slept well the last two nights - it's this intense energy shifting, all around me. I feel it - it's a mass lifting off, it feels like. The light separating from everything else. We're all walking permanently into this new land where the scary, bad, violent, angry energies just can't exist. I feel like I look at all that stuff as through a glass that can't break. There's that scary monster, foaming at the mouth, scratching at the glass, screaming, but I don't feel anything. It feels wide open inside of me now, and I'm calm. I don't care about much of anything, and not in a bad way (as I explain it to Melissa), but I'm not pushing anything, and I'm not looking for anything - I just AM right now, and that's a really peaceful place to be. My thoughts are that that was all there really was BEFORE, even if I couldn't recognize it. I was just so used to pushing and thinking and making things happen that I didn't know how to just sit and let life lead me in the "right" directions. Now I've got my divine GPS system, and it's working perfectly. I still can't see what's up ahead, that final destination, where I'm going, but I trust. And I've got my teeth on that stick that's attached to the plane that will lift me up so I can fly. But anyway, Jack the cat was having a REALLY good time in my dream, so happy to be flying. Me, too.

Why Rye? (why not?)

Kim e-mailed. She misses me, I miss her. Shirley and I are going to do lunch. I miss her. But I want to needlepoint and watch movies and cook. I thought I was getting "better" about getting out, and I suppose I should just be gentle with myself (as Mom suggests) and not over-analyze it too much.

Bill and I stand in the kitchen this afternoon. "Bill, do you know how to bake bread?"
"Nope."
"Do you want to help me?"
"Sure."
We get out the BIG white bowl, the rye flour and rolled oats, the whole wheat flour and blackstrap molasses, salt and yeast. We mix the yeast and water, then add the salt, butter and whole wheat flour. It fluffs up tantalizingly in the next 50 minutes. We add the rolled oats and rye flour, then let it rise. I am almost halfway done with my last needlepoint picture that Mom couldn't do because of her macular degeneration. I have watched all three of my Netflix movies, and am now making my way through all of the 2005 Spiritual Cinema movies. Lord help me.

We punch down the dough, then let it rise for another 50 minutes. It's still rising - a VERY good sign. I've never gotten any bread attempts to rise. Now we cut it carefully into fourths and shape them into loaves, then let them rest one last time. Good. They're pretty fluffy. Into the oven for an hour. As soon as the buzzer rang, I had one loaf out on the counter, gently touching my hands on and off to cut the three thick slices. Steam rises off the whole loaf as I spread butter on top, then the honey so that it runs over the sides. I hand them to Steve and Bill, and I take a big bite out of my slice. Warm, soft, chewy. This is heaven, I think, and I need as much heaven as I can get.

I hop onto Steve's lap and give him a huge kiss. When we stop, I say, "and she bakes bread, too!"

I don't know if this is good or not - Steve says it's fine, healing for me to just hang out here and watch movies, needlepoint, and bake. I think maybe he's just appreciating having good food all the time AND the laundry done. Why rye oatmeal bread? Why not? It's raining, and chilly, and tomorrow I may make soup. Why? Why not?

that darn river in Egypt again

Kari and I sit across from each other in the front room.
"I can see myself in not only you and Dad, but both sets of grandparents," Kari starts out.
"How so?" I ask back.
"I'm like you AND Grammy AND Leora - we all nurture and take care of everybody else."
Okay - I can take that much honesty - it's true, a part of my core - nurturing. That's not so bad, is it?
"And we talk about how we're feeling so much that we don't FEEL any of it."
Owie - it's getting a little close, I'm not liking that sentence much, but I continue on.
"I spelunk into the deepest recesses of my soul and bring back that information so maybe it can help others in some way. Help them understand themselves, if they've been through what I'm going through, or it may help them in the future. It's a good way to deflect any of the painful stuff away from me, because I can detach and look at it analytically, as in 'now I'm feeling extreme pain that Mom's died. How can I write about it for others?' "
So aren't I doing that now? Aren't I just writing about it all again? Okay, then, I'll make you a deal. I'll pretend, sincerely pretend, that nobody's out there, and I'm just typing these words in here for myself. Please don't comment to me if I've talked about the pain I'm feeling around Mom's death. Happy about my recipe for curried chicken fricassee? Sure - please let me know. But maybe I can do this honesty thing, this FEELING thing (ouch - just the word makes my insides tense up).

This isn't a new thing, not wanting to EXPERIENCE my feelings, it's just second nature, after all these years. So, what I want to say today is that Bill and I rode our bikes to McDonald's to redeem his free ice cream cone coupon, and when he'd gotten it, we went outside to sit on the curb by our bikes. We looked up at the sky and saw white streaks of feather clouds, over smeared patches of lighter white ones, next to ball-like pure white ones. My eyes kept looking from left to right, up to down, and I told him about seeing clouds with Grammy in the hospital, and suggesting that that's what heaven looks like - a big blue sky with puffy white clouds, and how she'd cried, tired and sad, and whispered, "I was thinking the same thing."

There are so many things I remember as I walk through my days. How I was sitting by the phone when I was 13, all grown up, and Dad came with his camera, and wanted a picture taken of Mom and me, and I just sat there with this grim little smirk on my face, and Mom came up behind me and put her hand on the back of the chair, looking lovingly down at me, and I just sat there, not even looking at her, kind of bugged that they'd both put me out like that, wanting a picture - how corny was that? Now I look at that picture, and I think how mean I was to Mom sometimes, how dismissing, how uninterested in her life I was when I was younger. And I know, that's just normal, at age 13, or whenever, but still, I remember these things, and I wish I was always kind to her, and I know that's not possible, so maybe I can use that knowledge and look at my own family now, and strive to be kinder, always, to them. Taking the time to not only 'pose' with them, but to wrap my arms around them, throw back my head and laugh, happy just to be with them. That is what I'm thinking about today.

a death in the family

Kari and I headed north on 5th Street and saw the crowd gathered. Two parents, two grandparents, three small children, all gathered around, to witness the end, and send the beloved member of the family off onto the next adventure. We stopped, touched, just a bit, to watch the intimate scene. BRRRRRRRRR, the chainsaw cut off another branch, then another. They fell with a hollow thud on the ground. Again and again, until just the stump remained, the family all still gathered around, solemnly watching the end of the life with their beloved tree. With deep breaths, we look at each other and walk on, slowly shaking our heads with the scene we have just witnessed.

the phoenix rising out of the ashes

I've completed yet another long Trans-Atlantic flight, and I'm proud of myself for completing the plane trip. "It wasn't that bad," I told myself proudly. Then I looked down at my body. On the whole front of my left thigh, traveling down my leg is a huge tattoo of a phoenix in flight, rising out of the ashes. On my whole right arm is the same tattoo, and a small tattoo on my lower belly, on the left side. At first I'm intrigued, mesmerized, fascinated, then I'm totally freaked out. TWO HUGE TATTOOS ON MY WHOLE BODY? I'm scared - they're permanent, what am I going to do with those things on me for the rest of my life? I'm scared. I like the little one on my belly (I can't remember what it looks like)... then I wake up.

Now, I don't know dream analysis all that well, but I know that the phoenix and the peacock are both the same, in mythology. They symbolize newness rising out of the dead, transformation, renewal. But man oh man, on almost my ENTIRE body? Phew - that was intense, I'm not even going to lie. Couple that with an almost sleepless night, and you have a laser-focused day of walking the razor's edge, reality-wise. Phoenix? Any thoughts? Or is it just me that thinks it means something? Brightly colored phoenixes, their graceful feathers swirling around them, their flame red bodies sleek and muscular, their beaks screaming in silence. What oh what? I just don't know.

Mom's alive - no, wait...crap

I was lying on the floor at 912, and Steve looks up. "Mom's back," he says, and I jump up and run to the door. She's on her walker, but walking with a little lift in her step. Dad's behind her. "I need to get away for a little bit," Dad tells me, so I tell him I'll stay with Mom. I'll be glad to. I've missed her. I'm excited, relieved, happy. I walk over and hug her, hold on to her, feel her solid in my arms, then...

I wake up. Sh**. It felt so real, but it's just a dream. A crappy crappy dream. I wasn't expecting this in my line of strange and deep and vividly real dreams. I don't WANT these kind of dreams - have something taken away, then think you have it back. It's just not fair. I'd do anything for Mom - I DID do everything for her. I don't have any regrets, and I know it was time. I don't expect any more than that, because the whole last year was a HUGE, inexplicable gift to all of us. So why the dream? Do I need a little housecleaning? Maybe - it took place in my childhood house (again), so there are probably unresolved issues.

I feel like I'm taking care of everyone right now, trying to get Erik on his feet, trying to help Kari get organized for her fall move into the seminary, trying to help Steve figure everything out, trying to help Dad get his sea legs. Actually, Bill and I are the same as always - he's like my little rock, what I count on for stability, like my lighthouse in the dark sea. He's always shining. Now, I don't mean to insinuate that I lean on him too much, or more than I should, for an 8 year old. No, I'm a good mother - I cuddle him, make him his "hamwiches" (ham sandwiches), read him Harry Potter (we finished "Deathly Hallows" last night, so we're all done!), stay with him at night until I hear his deep, even breaths. I listen to him when he talks, and I care about what he is saying.

We rode our bikes last night, and that's the first of the summer. I have regrets, summer regrets, of things I wanted to do, but never got the time. I'd wake up in the morning, at 6AM and think, "I should get my sports bra and walking pants on and go for a walk," then I'd continue to stare out the window for another hour until I could pull myself downstairs for my cup of green tea. But last night was stunningly beautiful out - no humidity, cool, slight breeze. I forced myself to put on tennies and went for a little walk, dragging my aging Spikey along. Then Bill said, "Let's go for a bike ride." Steve said no and went inside, but I said, "YES," and told Billy to get his shoes on. It felt good - this movement, even if I felt exhausted and rode with my eyes half-closed. This morning, at 6AM, those same eyes opened, and I knew I was up for the day. So, without making too big of a deal, I put on my sports bra and walking shorts, slipped into my running shoes, and quietly headed out the door.

Mom may NOT be alive, and this may suck for a while, but I'm doing it, I am. I'm breathing through the heaviness, and the grief, which is a physical thing, by the way. And I'm returning into the center of my one, beautiful, precious life. It's slow work, and there's no end date on it, no exact time that I can mark on my calendar and say, "Okay, so THAT'S when it will all be over." But I'm used to that, because spiritual issues don't have deadlines or timelines - they're done when they're done, after you've moved through them, walked where you need to walk to. And I'm okay, I'm more than okay, I'm just fine, and everything is all right. Really. It's all just so... lifelike.

kissing Davy Jones

ah, these wild dreams. I kissed Davy Jones (on the cheek, thank you). He looked just like he did in the late 60's, circa "The Monkees," etc. Dark hair, dark eyes, short, but oh, so cute - you just wanted to pinch his cheeks. I was probably taller than he was, even when I was 12, in the height of my infatuation. Marilyn Ives and I would play "girlfriends" in the basement at 912, preening in front of the mirror for hours, getting ready for our dates. Mine (of course) was Davy Jones, Marilyn's dreamboat? Elvis Presley. I couldn't see the attraction, but probably neither could she for Davy Jones.

Why Davy Jones? Remember the President of the United States liked me (not George W. - this other President was dark, tall, and really kind of cute). These dreams, these dreams. Kari says if you dream of a childhood sweetheart you're overwhelmed in the present moment, and are hearkening toward simpler times. Uh, that could be, let me see... overwhelmed right now? I'm not overworked, to be sure, but I still feel tired a lot, and can't get up much enthusiasm for much of anything, like I'm walking around in a dream. I told Kari today that I'll probably start grieving in the fall, after everything calms down. What does grieving mean, anyway? Aren't I just doing that right now, while I'm living? I don't think it's a separate thing from life, like religion or spirituality - okay, NOW I'll be a good person and go to church. No, you LIVE your spirituality, your LIFE is your religion, or a mirror of who you are. Maybe that's what these times are about - mirroring who I am back to me. Then who in the world is that? Someone's who taken of a lot of people in her life, and is now feeling a little tired, worn out, like a shell that's been scooped pretty clean of its inside meat. What do I need, then (besides obviously kissing Davy Jones?), right now? Cooking and baking soothes me, as well as decluttering and reading and watching movies. Spending time with Bill and Kari. Not much else. I look forward to having a lot of enthusiasm again, of being effervescent. I feel more like flat club soda at the moment, not that you could really tell, as I can muster up a heck of a lot of enthusiasm for the required 5 or 10 minutes that you'd see me, but then I'd lapse back into silence. I just don't like anyone thinking I'm a sad sack, because I'm not. I'm just found a little deeper these days - you have to look a little harder to find me. Not that I'm hiding, mind you - just a little further back into myself.

The dreams? Sure they'll continue, and I'll look at them and think "huh" and I'm grateful I don't have to take the homeopathic "calms" anymore, but I sure am looking forward to the day when I can sleep a whole 9 hours without waking up at all. That will be nice. There are a lot of things I'm wondering about these days, but gosh, it will just have to wait for another day, won't it? In the meantime, we keep cleaning up the back yard in preparation for Trin and Melissa's wedding under Sam, our beautiful silver maple. They get married this Friday - how cool is that? 8.8.08? Another first for me...

my first party

since Mom died. There were others - Carolyn's, the Mary Magdalene Party, on and on. I tried to go, I wanted to go, but something held me back, hands pushing my shoulders back down, back into the house. I still don't leave much these days. I want to walk, but by the time I finally get out of bed, usually still tired, I just can't muster the strength. Sure, I know I'd feel better, but I just can't. It's a physical limitation. But when Maggie called about her party, I just knew I could go. Michelle was there - we screamed when we saw each other - it's been 2 1/2 years. I love Michelle - she's an amazing woman. Sweet Summer was there, Tami was there - Tams, who helped me through the rough stuff two years ago, and Carol and Noreen, whom I'd just met, then Chanda and Jen later. Then Mags - who cooked the most amazing luncheon (I got her curried chicken recipe - yum!), and of course... the mead. The apple was my favorite.

It probably shouldn't mean THAT much to me, to have gone to this party, but it did - it does. I laughed for 4 hours, cumulatively longer than the last 2 months combined. And so easy, and so fun, and so ... safe. These are women I could talk to, women I trust, and Mags? Well, she's just my blood, she is - closer than one of my own sisters to me. Why? Don't know, don't care. She just is. So today I'm feeling grateful, and calm, and happier than I've felt in months - hopeful, almost. There IS lightness, there IS joy, and laughing possible, even without Mom.

I tried not to think about her on my drive home, maybe because I felt guilty to have felt happiness for those brief hours, then that familiar feeling lodged itself in my chest. But today I welcomed it as an old friend - "You may not ever leave for good, but we can be friends," and I felt the ever slightest shift in its energy. Not demanding or hard or violent, but more insistent, like a child that's hurt, just wanting you to acknowledge it, that's all. You don't need to DO anything, but just know it's there. That's this grief feeling that I have, and am housing. Is it permanent? I don't know I don't know I just don't know. All I know is today, and how I feel, and how my world looks, and right now it looks like love, perfect love. Why? Don't know don't care. Love for Steve, and Kari (she's back!) and Erik and Bill and Dad and Mom and Melissa and Mags and and and. Everyone is included, in ever-increasing rings of awareness and care, circling out of the center point of my life. Perfectly. Perfect.

I love you, Mom - P.S. we need more paper towels!

I'm restless. I don't want to slow down, so I attack each drawer and closet angrily, throwing out 4 garbage bags full of long-forgotten 'treasures.' Then I see it in a pile of important papers - a note from Kari, written in about her 10 year old hand. I love you, Mom - P.S. we need more paper towels. Perfect - I lift it out of the pile and use it to mark my place in "The Friday Night Knitting Club." I use unique notes and photographs and cards and receipts for bookmarks, makes it interesting and fun when I pick an old book up and see that I ate salmon salad and creme brulee at the country club back in 2003. This note is stunningly perfect, combining familial love with responsibilities. She loves me AND I need to buy more paper towels. And so it goes. I baked chocolate chip cookies today, can't sit still, threw out some old potholders and icky knives. I'm cold, ironic with it so hot outside. At least I think it's hot outside - I haven't been out all day. But the air conditioner's on, so that must be why my hands are so cold. The rest of me isn't cold. Then I think my thyroid's acting up, then I think I should just relax and quit worrying about my health so much. I'm fine. It's all fine, this current shift that's leaving me exhausted and irritable. I'm just not happy. It's like I'm waiting for this huge change to come, and I know when it DOES, it will be really fast, so I want to be prepared, only I don't know HOW I'm supposed to prepare, and for someone with my personality, that does create a conundrum.

So what do you do with this time? I don't know - read, cook, clean, go for walks, hug the cat. Beyond that? Kari's coming home tomorrow, gosh, it's been SO long. I miss her so much. Just to have some female energy in the house again will be a godsend. Maggie's party is tomorrow, so that will be fun to have some girl time. She's making some fabulous food, but then, she always does. This will be the 5th party I've been invited to in the past 2 weeks, the first one I'll actually be GOING to. Why? I don't know - I just can't muster up the strength to get my butt out of the house and smile. Steve's Aunt Ruth called with her sympathies over Mom, and I couldn't get Steve on the phone fast enough. I could tell she sounded disappointed that I didn't talk to her longer, but I just couldn't. You understand, don't you? It's all just too difficult sometimes, making small talk, pulling myself up out of this deep spot that my emotions are hidden in right now, to put together articulate thoughts. Too much too much. So I protect myself, stay indoors, or outdoors, picking up sticks from the tree we chopped down, planning what flowers to plant along the back fence. I don't know anymore, much about anything. I'm seeing clients, finishing up my current nutrition class, seeing some friends, but mostly? I'm just hanging out, trying to relax, calm down, hug my brain gently and tell it everything will be okay. Sometimes it believes me, and sometimes it doesn't. It just depends, sort of like everything else these days.