Do you believe in dreams? Ask me three years ago and I am not sure of the answer to that one. Younger Me might have said, yes, of course. Three years ago Me? Not so sure. Me? Today? Equivocal resounding Yes.
I write this from my new home (for now). My home in a town that was a name only 8 years ago when we first started passing through this area. 5 years ago when we first stopped in it. 3 years ago when my brother settled in 'just down the road". Today, when we now live here. Dreams, they are funny things how they settle into our skin and soul and call and call until we listen.
Dreams, not the ones of sleep, but the ones of Action, never look as we think they should. Never wear the robes we imagine they will. But once put into Action and let go, they become what they are.
I wonder sometimes if it is Dreaming or just listening to what the Universe is actually saying to us. I cannot really know, new to this again but I want to believe that in the listening, we are finding our way.
I asked about a year ago for a new way; a way out, in and around it all. I wanted something New and Better. I wanted what we all want, It All. Define as you will, it looks different for each of us. It is not the first time I have asked, Oh, no, not the first. I think I ask a lot. Maybe more than others.
The thing is, when you ask, well, Ms/Mr/Mrs Universe can answer in spades. This time we were ready so we packed our Selves and cast iron and toys boxes and stuff of life and followed the signs.
For a few weeks now I have come out of sleep at 4:30 a.m. knowing exactly where I am, not disoriented but just awake. And I have thought so much about this, this Dreaming, this Asking. Pinch. Pinch me, again. It still feels like vacation, all those spots we drove and drove to, striving to get away from it all, away from that which was not Us but that which we wanted To Be.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
And Then....
A few days later when I resume the writing of this post...
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
One power outage when NOTHING worked out here in the country, not even 911... (not as drastic as that sounds, it was only for 8 hours)...
One experience of a food and farm conference where Everyone, farmer or eater, spoke the same language I have been trying to articulate for years in a deadened Suburban area...
One day later after we had my folks here to scope out homes and property...
Three days after intense orientation in my newest job setting, barrage of information, union negotiations of which I have zero experience, system changes, people changes, all changes...
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I can still say the same thing. My breathe catches when I see pine trees on the long drive home from these long days of orientation to new things. My mind slows as I realize that I have time to breathe here. My smile lifts as the girl at the check out stand asks me about my day.
Utopia does not exist. It is a dangerous thing to play with the idea that there is a more perfect place to be in the Universe than the one you are Now. But when you give up the perfect, embrace the idea that the Dreaming is a good thing and also a thing to Follow...
Life as is changes; Dinner still needs to get to the table, jobs still need to be done and cars still break down at the most inopportune of times. But you? You feel lighter, looser, happier and more capable.
Let me rephrase, Not You. I. I feel those things.
And that makes me feel like sharing for the first time in a long time.
Hello, from our new Home. :) Glad to be back
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Saturday, December 31, 2011
An appendectomy and Adieu
Our 17th anniversary started with a sponge bath. A very thorough sponge bath. Not a sexy role playing thing, it was a bath of necessity.
As I helped Tim wash away 2 days of hospital funk, scrubbed his hair, his scruff, I thought "So this is what they mean about sickness and health". I told him that thought.
We've been together a long time, almost half of our lives. We're weathered together, our skin, our souls. We've come through.
I had his ring on my necklace for two days, he gave it to me pre-op, a quick exchange before they took him up for an emergent appendectomy. It is a major minor surgery, usually quick if not painless. But still my heart hit my throat when I saw him on the gurney, spoke with the surgeon, watched them wheel him away, sat in the stuffy waiting room.
I signed onto the caring for others almost the same year we came together. I've been doing both for a very long time now. I can say when the two intersect, it may not be my strong point. It is one thing to care for a stranger for 45 minutes and then walk away. Quite another when it is someone you love, when that someone is your spouse.
He is on the mend. A bit of a surly and anxious patient but home and on the mend. He walks strighter by the half hour, things seem to be righting, the surgeon was pleased with the simplicity of a sometimes complex surgery. The boys welcomed him home, all shouts and questions, happy that their daddy only lost something inside his tummy.
We've postponed our leaving all with well wishes and little issue, folks sending healing thoughts and prayers, friends bringing funny gag gifts that even made the surgeon laugh.
(That's a ceramic Lassie. She has a new appendix for Tim in her mouth. Clever sweet friends)
Weathering another storm, this one quick and hard, waking to a New Year's Eve day hard, bright and hot. All clear.
I wish I could tell you about how Tim saved me this night 17 years ago but the details are a little compromising. He was there though...kissed me, bundled me up and took me home, let me use his toothbrush...the first of maybe what is a 1000 times now. We've not been apart since. Distance at times, struggle at times but the relationship? Right there.
That night when I used his toothbrush I was, ah, seeing things. I was in his bathroom brushing my teeth when I glanced into the mirror and there I was, about 89 years old; not Me young but Me old, so old. And that's when I knew. I was right where I was meant to be. A big thing to realize at 19 but unavoidable in a way.
I don't know if we'll make it to that vision in the mirror together, wizened old ones. But the last 2 days, the last 17 years actually, well, they are just proof that I would like to.
Happy anniversary, MCD. Glad you are okay.
Good night, 2011. Hello, 2012.
All the lighter for the loss of an appendix.
As I helped Tim wash away 2 days of hospital funk, scrubbed his hair, his scruff, I thought "So this is what they mean about sickness and health". I told him that thought.
We've been together a long time, almost half of our lives. We're weathered together, our skin, our souls. We've come through.
I had his ring on my necklace for two days, he gave it to me pre-op, a quick exchange before they took him up for an emergent appendectomy. It is a major minor surgery, usually quick if not painless. But still my heart hit my throat when I saw him on the gurney, spoke with the surgeon, watched them wheel him away, sat in the stuffy waiting room.
I signed onto the caring for others almost the same year we came together. I've been doing both for a very long time now. I can say when the two intersect, it may not be my strong point. It is one thing to care for a stranger for 45 minutes and then walk away. Quite another when it is someone you love, when that someone is your spouse.
He is on the mend. A bit of a surly and anxious patient but home and on the mend. He walks strighter by the half hour, things seem to be righting, the surgeon was pleased with the simplicity of a sometimes complex surgery. The boys welcomed him home, all shouts and questions, happy that their daddy only lost something inside his tummy.
We've postponed our leaving all with well wishes and little issue, folks sending healing thoughts and prayers, friends bringing funny gag gifts that even made the surgeon laugh.
(That's a ceramic Lassie. She has a new appendix for Tim in her mouth. Clever sweet friends)
Weathering another storm, this one quick and hard, waking to a New Year's Eve day hard, bright and hot. All clear.
I wish I could tell you about how Tim saved me this night 17 years ago but the details are a little compromising. He was there though...kissed me, bundled me up and took me home, let me use his toothbrush...the first of maybe what is a 1000 times now. We've not been apart since. Distance at times, struggle at times but the relationship? Right there.
That night when I used his toothbrush I was, ah, seeing things. I was in his bathroom brushing my teeth when I glanced into the mirror and there I was, about 89 years old; not Me young but Me old, so old. And that's when I knew. I was right where I was meant to be. A big thing to realize at 19 but unavoidable in a way.
I don't know if we'll make it to that vision in the mirror together, wizened old ones. But the last 2 days, the last 17 years actually, well, they are just proof that I would like to.
Happy anniversary, MCD. Glad you are okay.
Good night, 2011. Hello, 2012.
All the lighter for the loss of an appendix.
Thursday, December 08, 2011
Inked
Bones knit themselves in the most beautiful of ways. When you fracture a bone it is apart, the strongest part of your body. It repairs the damage first by laying a new structure, a filigree really. Over time that delicate web fills itself in and becomes what is called a callus. The callus is never really the bone it was before, it is never as elegant, never as joined. But that callus marks that spot, where that bone fractured, bears the mark until the bone is dust again. I think sometimes that human souls are the same. Human souls can fracture but they heal…by building a network…and filling it in with a callus. Forever marked but whole in a new way.
I spent a weekend with some fantastically beautiful women and finished it by building a new structure on my body. I took some time for myself and ended up coming home marked forever in a way I feel completely comfortable with. There was a moment when I went breathless, sitting in that chair in that parlor, feeling the deep stinging pull of the needles and the question formed in my mind… What does this mean to me? But then I let it go because it is what it is.
I did yoga in a room that gazed out over what has been called a meatgrinder sea. On this day it was not, it was flat and yet not. The wind would sail across it and smooth it and push it and ripple it and then throw it but a gentle throw, nothing like I know. Nothing like my sea. I was in a room with women I had come to adore in 24 hours and shared what I find to be a most scared experience, the practice of yoga. There is something that happens when you breath in unison, you become a tribe.
I think humans souls knit themselves like fractures…possibly if they are lucky, possibly if they are strong, possibly if… but no, that is wrong. We live and breathe and so we heal and that is really the only possibility. It is what it is.
One of the amazing things about the human body is its complexity and its ferocity when it is in need of healing. My fascination with this process makes me what I am, it is why I do what I do. But forever I will turn to breathing in unison and chanting a mantra in a safe space as my healing choice for the soul. When you chant you lose all boundary of Self because if you didn't, well, you would just feel ridiculous. Those moments shared, chanting with women I love sealed a conviction I have long held true, one I find hard to articulate as maybe all truths are.
And so I went on that Monday to a man named Lee and asked him to put that seal on me, where I can see it. In a way it felt like the most fitting healing despite infliction. And now home again, I glance down and I am happy for the moments that led to this. And ready for the next moments.
When the Universe speaks and if you want to listen, you just do. And then you smile, rub some ointment on your healing wrists and go along.
I spent a weekend with some fantastically beautiful women and finished it by building a new structure on my body. I took some time for myself and ended up coming home marked forever in a way I feel completely comfortable with. There was a moment when I went breathless, sitting in that chair in that parlor, feeling the deep stinging pull of the needles and the question formed in my mind… What does this mean to me? But then I let it go because it is what it is.
I did yoga in a room that gazed out over what has been called a meatgrinder sea. On this day it was not, it was flat and yet not. The wind would sail across it and smooth it and push it and ripple it and then throw it but a gentle throw, nothing like I know. Nothing like my sea. I was in a room with women I had come to adore in 24 hours and shared what I find to be a most scared experience, the practice of yoga. There is something that happens when you breath in unison, you become a tribe.
I think humans souls knit themselves like fractures…possibly if they are lucky, possibly if they are strong, possibly if… but no, that is wrong. We live and breathe and so we heal and that is really the only possibility. It is what it is.
One of the amazing things about the human body is its complexity and its ferocity when it is in need of healing. My fascination with this process makes me what I am, it is why I do what I do. But forever I will turn to breathing in unison and chanting a mantra in a safe space as my healing choice for the soul. When you chant you lose all boundary of Self because if you didn't, well, you would just feel ridiculous. Those moments shared, chanting with women I love sealed a conviction I have long held true, one I find hard to articulate as maybe all truths are.
And so I went on that Monday to a man named Lee and asked him to put that seal on me, where I can see it. In a way it felt like the most fitting healing despite infliction. And now home again, I glance down and I am happy for the moments that led to this. And ready for the next moments.
When the Universe speaks and if you want to listen, you just do. And then you smile, rub some ointment on your healing wrists and go along.
Monday, November 14, 2011
MIA
I don't mean to be MIA. I don't want to be MIA. I do that thing where I write blog posts in my head or make comments on some of the amazing writing that I get to read every so often. But it does not translate, the words to page or rather screen.
I spend a lot of time working lately. It crept in, the hours incresing as they had to. In a way I decided I wanted to practice a little, anticipating that I might have to actually go 'for real' full time. First it was three days, then I added a fourth day and now it is five. Funny how time can creep away so easily, so quickly, given readily. I have not been angry or upset about the change, it feels right to be working this way, testing myself. But it does leave very little time for anything else.
Anything else; blogging falls into that category. I love words but spend hours tapping our patient care documentation, it is not fancy stuff and the obligation sometimes sends my wrists into a spiral of stiffness and pain and I realize it bleeds me of the desire to tap out more for myself. But then I read something from last year, something like this and it makes me realize.
I love this space for many reasons but those reasons have taken a backseat of late. I have little time to read and connect and comment and engage in this realm. But I know it will be here, when the time comes for me to be here. And I want to keep placing words here because when I glance back into my own lives and words here, it connects me somehow. It is truly the height of Me-ness, to put words here for Me. But I kinda' feel like that is okay too.
Insta-life. I love it.
In the mean time I am holding onto to the tether that Twitter and Instagram have become. As the time comes for packing and rearranging our lives and (gulp) big big moves, it is nice to have a place to reach out and find you all.
And as for the move? It all came through so far. The job, slated at part time with benefits for all of us, the timeline we needed. A trip North to find a place to lay our heads is in order. Holidays are in order with the whole family coming down to gather one more time.
But I am going to go through with 365 though. It looks like we will be picking up the moving van on December 31st, figure that will make a great last photo for a year that is shaping up to have been one somewhat light on words but packed full of actions.
no Halloween recaps this year but here is a glimpse
On my bday last month. Pretty happy.
I spend a lot of time working lately. It crept in, the hours incresing as they had to. In a way I decided I wanted to practice a little, anticipating that I might have to actually go 'for real' full time. First it was three days, then I added a fourth day and now it is five. Funny how time can creep away so easily, so quickly, given readily. I have not been angry or upset about the change, it feels right to be working this way, testing myself. But it does leave very little time for anything else.
Anything else; blogging falls into that category. I love words but spend hours tapping our patient care documentation, it is not fancy stuff and the obligation sometimes sends my wrists into a spiral of stiffness and pain and I realize it bleeds me of the desire to tap out more for myself. But then I read something from last year, something like this and it makes me realize.
I love this space for many reasons but those reasons have taken a backseat of late. I have little time to read and connect and comment and engage in this realm. But I know it will be here, when the time comes for me to be here. And I want to keep placing words here because when I glance back into my own lives and words here, it connects me somehow. It is truly the height of Me-ness, to put words here for Me. But I kinda' feel like that is okay too.
Insta-life. I love it.
In the mean time I am holding onto to the tether that Twitter and Instagram have become. As the time comes for packing and rearranging our lives and (gulp) big big moves, it is nice to have a place to reach out and find you all.
And as for the move? It all came through so far. The job, slated at part time with benefits for all of us, the timeline we needed. A trip North to find a place to lay our heads is in order. Holidays are in order with the whole family coming down to gather one more time.
But I am going to go through with 365 though. It looks like we will be picking up the moving van on December 31st, figure that will make a great last photo for a year that is shaping up to have been one somewhat light on words but packed full of actions.
no Halloween recaps this year but here is a glimpse
On my bday last month. Pretty happy.
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