I find it so interesting that most people I know in their teens and twenties seem to be in a hurry for something. They are often heard saying, "I wish _________ would get here." or posting, "Christmas/New Year's/Saturday(you fill in the blank)____________ can't get here soon enough."They are ready for what's next, stepping on the shoulders of 'now' to stretch into the future, to get 'there'.
I remember that feeling. Looking at my life in what seemed like a 'holding pattern', I reached for any time but where I was currently found - anywhere but high school, anywhere but freshman year of college, anywhere but single, anywhere but 'here and now'. I suppose this is quite normal for that stage of life when you're invincible and the people around you will always be there.
Not now. If anything, I am finding myself more and more, whispering, "Slow down. Just pause and be still. Please wait." While I am eager for Christmas to be here - I am not ready. I do not think my heart is prepared and my focus has been elsewhere. I am being honest. Christmas also marks the last day Eldest will be at home, if all goes well at the neurologist's, for six months.
We went out to our favorite Mexican restaurant last night as a family. It is the place where we have shared an abundance of laughter and joys of our 'doing life together'. We went knowing it would be the last time for a long while that we would scrunch into one of those booths, to dip into the endless bowl of chips together (but NO double-dipping in the salsa as per Son) and to be waited on by Hector and the many 'usual' waiters who have become friends to us.
I have been too busy to really stop and think about it. It scares me sometimes how I have become quite the expert at shutting down my emotions on command. It scares me even more at the point when they unleash. I have been fortunate that I have had a million and one things to take care of and accomplish in the last week and this one or I might crumple to the floor in a pool of snot and tears and be useless. Not a good time of year to be a blubbering blob. Even now, I hear Eldest's laughter upstairs and as tears blur the words I just typed, I say to them - no, not now. His best friend has come over to help him try to stay up as long as possible - his sleep-deprived EEG is tomorrow. I will sit here in the blur of the lights of my tree and wrap up the sounds, hold them close and cherish them always.
December 21, 2011
December 19, 2011
December 18, 2011
December 17, 2011
The Honey Trees - To Be With You (Official Video)
I held the stars to light where you are
When your unfeigned heart called to me through the dark
Soaked in the sound that rose from the ground
There I could feel
I felt, I felt you near
Beautiful.
December 15, 2011
Stricken to Greater Faith
It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving and we had plans to gather at my Mom's for Thanksgiving with our side of the family. I had elected to bring the turkey and sweet potatoes so I'd been in the kitchen all morning. Hubs had gone into Eldest's room to start the waking process. Since the beginning of the semester, he had become diligent about using an alarm clock, but we often let both kids sleep in on the weekends and wake up more true to their teen nature. He opened his door and spoke into the room, "Good mornin' buddy."
Ten minutes later, I went into his room to 'sing' him awake and be silly to get him out of bed. I approached and said, "Gooood moooooornin'!" all sing-songy and Irish sounding. He appeared to be rolling towards me to stretch when I realized, as time seemed to lock into slow motion, that something was terribly wrong. His arms stretched forward and stayed there, as his eyes rolled back into his head and he lengthened stiff and contorted. He had gone into full-blown seizure.
When my voice could travel back up from the pit of my stomach I screamed for Hubs and he came running. He took one look and began to sob/pray, holding onto Son's shoulders as I ran to call 911. I didn't know what else to do with myself so I paced, clutching the phone to my ear. I was giving the information to the operator, listening to Hubs in the other room, his voice strangled with desperation. At the moment the operator asked me if Zach was breathing, I heard in the other room, 'Ooooooooh noooooooooo, HE'S NOT BREATHING!!!"
To the operator: "oh hurry! He's not breathing! (voice trembling) please hurry"
I went back into the room, still on the phone, to see him lying still. He had gone completely unconscious. Hubs backed away from him, his legs appearing to go weak as he held himself up by the door. The operator wanted me to stay on the phone but now the room was eerily quiet. The EMTs arrived and filed into the room as I sat staring at my boy. My six-foot one son, lying completely still, mouth hanging open, pale.
At the emergency room, we were having a very familiar experience: back in September, his best friend had been over the night before and when he went in to say goodbye, found him restless, unable to speak, and unresponsive. We now know he had had a seizure then, but caught the down phase. As he began to come to, he appeared as one mentally challenged: mouth open, jaw jutted, mumbling and disoriented. It was heartbreaking.
We then spent the next four hours by his side at the hospital, watching him being poked, prodded, stuck and bled. A young, inexperienced nurse couldn't find a vein for his I.V. and proceeded to stick him three different times, at one point drawing blood that went everywhere. This Mama Bear wanted to climb over the bed and tell her to 'practice' on me first and that if she poked him again, she would have to deal with me. He was back to being coherent but weak, tired, and nauseous. Tests were inconclusive. There was no explanation for this occurrence. He had endured two of what they now call tonic-clonic seizures. He was told he couldn't drive and that we had to get him to a neurologist. That is happening tomorrow.
We had actually experienced this same story seventeen and a half years ago when Eldest was 8 months old. He had his first febrile seizure due to a fever induced by an ear infection. I walked past his bedroom in the little upstairs area of our townhouse and heard this baby make an unusual squeal. When I went in to check on him, he has completely arched, like the wooden limb of a bow. I lifted him out of his crib and he did not flinch. This began a pattern of seizures if his fever reached 102 or over until he was about four-years-old. This is actually very normal. Many children experience febrile seizures. It is not normal when it is your child, no matter how old they are.
This was that precious baby on the day after his first seizure. I could not put him down and I didn't take my eyes off of him.
This all comes at such an inopportune time, right before he is to leave for a six-month stretch of training and mission opportunity to the Ukraine and Turkey. I have been wrestling with this. He has been wanting to do this since last spring. And now this uncertainty. If that wasn't enough, this threatened to strike fear. FEAR. We felt it every morning as we approached his bedroom door to wake him up. Then I remembered:
God is NOT a God of fear. What was I shown as I wandered around in complete darkness on a Texas shore? Instead of fear, He said 'TRUST' and it was what He asked of me over and over and over back then, but I know that it was meant for the duration of my days, not just those thirteen days on the road.
For God has not given us a spirit of fearfulness, but one of power, love, and sound judgment.
2 Timothy 1:7
He brought back to my mind the healing I have experienced, and the faith that I had to have that it was real. He would do it again. So I grabbed hold of faith. He would not have another one. This was GONE.
But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.
James 1:6
I will NOT waver. It isn't as if I haven't been tempted to let doubt creep in my thoughts. Quite the contrary, but each time I remind myself that I will stand firm. I will tie myself to the helm of this ship, endure the battering torrent, but will NOT doubt. God has this. I trust it to be so.
Ten minutes later, I went into his room to 'sing' him awake and be silly to get him out of bed. I approached and said, "Gooood moooooornin'!" all sing-songy and Irish sounding. He appeared to be rolling towards me to stretch when I realized, as time seemed to lock into slow motion, that something was terribly wrong. His arms stretched forward and stayed there, as his eyes rolled back into his head and he lengthened stiff and contorted. He had gone into full-blown seizure.
When my voice could travel back up from the pit of my stomach I screamed for Hubs and he came running. He took one look and began to sob/pray, holding onto Son's shoulders as I ran to call 911. I didn't know what else to do with myself so I paced, clutching the phone to my ear. I was giving the information to the operator, listening to Hubs in the other room, his voice strangled with desperation. At the moment the operator asked me if Zach was breathing, I heard in the other room, 'Ooooooooh noooooooooo, HE'S NOT BREATHING!!!"
To the operator: "oh hurry! He's not breathing! (voice trembling) please hurry"
I went back into the room, still on the phone, to see him lying still. He had gone completely unconscious. Hubs backed away from him, his legs appearing to go weak as he held himself up by the door. The operator wanted me to stay on the phone but now the room was eerily quiet. The EMTs arrived and filed into the room as I sat staring at my boy. My six-foot one son, lying completely still, mouth hanging open, pale.
At the emergency room, we were having a very familiar experience: back in September, his best friend had been over the night before and when he went in to say goodbye, found him restless, unable to speak, and unresponsive. We now know he had had a seizure then, but caught the down phase. As he began to come to, he appeared as one mentally challenged: mouth open, jaw jutted, mumbling and disoriented. It was heartbreaking.
We then spent the next four hours by his side at the hospital, watching him being poked, prodded, stuck and bled. A young, inexperienced nurse couldn't find a vein for his I.V. and proceeded to stick him three different times, at one point drawing blood that went everywhere. This Mama Bear wanted to climb over the bed and tell her to 'practice' on me first and that if she poked him again, she would have to deal with me. He was back to being coherent but weak, tired, and nauseous. Tests were inconclusive. There was no explanation for this occurrence. He had endured two of what they now call tonic-clonic seizures. He was told he couldn't drive and that we had to get him to a neurologist. That is happening tomorrow.
We had actually experienced this same story seventeen and a half years ago when Eldest was 8 months old. He had his first febrile seizure due to a fever induced by an ear infection. I walked past his bedroom in the little upstairs area of our townhouse and heard this baby make an unusual squeal. When I went in to check on him, he has completely arched, like the wooden limb of a bow. I lifted him out of his crib and he did not flinch. This began a pattern of seizures if his fever reached 102 or over until he was about four-years-old. This is actually very normal. Many children experience febrile seizures. It is not normal when it is your child, no matter how old they are.
This all comes at such an inopportune time, right before he is to leave for a six-month stretch of training and mission opportunity to the Ukraine and Turkey. I have been wrestling with this. He has been wanting to do this since last spring. And now this uncertainty. If that wasn't enough, this threatened to strike fear. FEAR. We felt it every morning as we approached his bedroom door to wake him up. Then I remembered:
God is NOT a God of fear. What was I shown as I wandered around in complete darkness on a Texas shore? Instead of fear, He said 'TRUST' and it was what He asked of me over and over and over back then, but I know that it was meant for the duration of my days, not just those thirteen days on the road.
For God has not given us a spirit of fearfulness, but one of power, love, and sound judgment.
2 Timothy 1:7
He brought back to my mind the healing I have experienced, and the faith that I had to have that it was real. He would do it again. So I grabbed hold of faith. He would not have another one. This was GONE.
But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.
James 1:6
I will NOT waver. It isn't as if I haven't been tempted to let doubt creep in my thoughts. Quite the contrary, but each time I remind myself that I will stand firm. I will tie myself to the helm of this ship, endure the battering torrent, but will NOT doubt. God has this. I trust it to be so.
My Favorite Things
Julie Andrews made the song "My Favorite Things" famous, and it is a reminder to think on the beautiful things of the season that have nothing to do with the commercialized mayhem the world has made of Christmas. If I wrote the song, here are some of the things I would have included:
The scent of Orange and Clove
This has to be my favorite smell at Christmas. I keep a small pot filled with water, orange slices and cloves to warm and permeate the house with this heady scent.
Christmas lights
One of my favorite things to do when I finally get everything decorated is to pour a nice warm beverage and just sit and stare at the tree, letting my eyes get all squinty so that the lights blur and shimmer. It is especially pretty when you put the old-fashioned silver tinsel on it and it looks like the whole tree sparkles.
Tinsel
Yes, we still use this tree accessory. I have such fond memories of tinsel as a child. We would go to my Granny's and run around the center stairway, creating electricity and then getting 'zapped' with the tinsel as it reached out its silvery fingers towards us. The dining room, kitchen, hallway and living room wrapped around to form a square - a perfect runway for us cousins to get sock-footed and have wild times and laughter zipping around to pass the tree coated in shimmery waterfalls of tinsel. There was a time when I 'insisted' on our tree being all designer, 'matchy-matchy' boring with all white lights and coordinating ribbon and glass globes, but no more. I abandoned that ridiculous notion thankfully years ago, when my kids were still young and I remembered what I loved most about trees growing up - colored lights, big bulbs (we do these sometimes), the hodgepodge of ornaments, many of them handcrafted by me-you know the ones: cottonball popcicle stick snowmen and spray-painted macaroni creations, and tinsel...gobs of tinsel. So we went back to the 'old-fashioned' looking tree and everyone is ecstatic. I'm happy that they're happy.
Baileys Original Irish Cream
THIS is the quintessential taste of the holiday season to me. For a delightful warm beverage, add this to coffee and aaaaaahhhhh....
Pipe Cleaners
Strange? Yes, I know. We have a tradition that is rather odd - we play a rousing game of ring the pipe cleaner hoop on the Christmas tree before adorning it with ornaments. This tradition was borne years ago when the kids were elementary age and Courtney had made some pipe cleaner hoops to put on the tree. One evening, before ornaments made it on the tree, Zach began tossing them on the tree to see how high he could get them and a tradition was begun. Since then, once we get the tree up and the lights on, we compete to see who can get their hoops highest on the 8 foot tree. We have had to adjust over the last few years as Zach has grown and now towers over the other three of us but we make it happen, and we make it zany. It's the crazy fun that counts.
These are a few of my favorite things.
December 14, 2011
The Many Colors of Grief
On the day of Karle's funeral, it had been one of those bright, fall days where the atmosphere crackles with the mix of cool air and warm sun. It was surreal, feeling my heart of gray mocked by blatant 'perfect' weather. It was the kind of day Karle would have loved though. I had cried when I'd heard the news, and new tears surfaced as I sat through the funeral and then again when they played a recording of his voice giving the eulogy for his wife so many years ago. This grief was the color of rainwater falling down in sheets with the sun breaking through.
As I left the funeral I decided to just drive. I didn't know where. I had to keep moving. I cannot describe the sensation. It was like simultaneously watching a movie of myself while I was in it. I rolled along the winding roads, top down remembering when Karle had had a convertible and would drive it this way long after most people would have closed it up for a warmer ride.
I hadn't been to a funeral since my solo road trip in '09. A familiar grief blasted through me, searing white heat as the echoing memory of that mournful sob of long ago came all the way from the deep recesses of the past and out of my mouth before I knew what was happening. That sob. The one that clung to me for the better part of my drive home, was here in my lungs and my throat, and it forced me to pull over. I had to bend over at the waist. It wrenched me from somewhere submerged, contracting my whole body forward. I had to hold onto myself in an effort to hold it together, but there was no containing this wail. It came from that place back there on the long road home. It wasn't enclosed within the confines of walls and roof, but peeled from my anguish long and loud, nonetheless. This grief the color of blinding light. I can not see past it and I do not understand.
Finally, a flash of grief, warm but sad. I had started to pull out the Christmas decorations. My ipod was docked and playing songs on shuffle, not quite ready yet for the heralding of the holiday music. I walked into the foyer carrying a box full of trinkets and heard this:
We played this at my Aunt Cathy's funeral, in November of '08. Again, blindsided. I closed my eyes and saw her face. Of course music would make me think of her. It was one of the many things that connected us. This grief was the color of the pulsing orange glow of highway lights, the way they flash through your darkness and then are gone.
As I left the funeral I decided to just drive. I didn't know where. I had to keep moving. I cannot describe the sensation. It was like simultaneously watching a movie of myself while I was in it. I rolled along the winding roads, top down remembering when Karle had had a convertible and would drive it this way long after most people would have closed it up for a warmer ride.
I hadn't been to a funeral since my solo road trip in '09. A familiar grief blasted through me, searing white heat as the echoing memory of that mournful sob of long ago came all the way from the deep recesses of the past and out of my mouth before I knew what was happening. That sob. The one that clung to me for the better part of my drive home, was here in my lungs and my throat, and it forced me to pull over. I had to bend over at the waist. It wrenched me from somewhere submerged, contracting my whole body forward. I had to hold onto myself in an effort to hold it together, but there was no containing this wail. It came from that place back there on the long road home. It wasn't enclosed within the confines of walls and roof, but peeled from my anguish long and loud, nonetheless. This grief the color of blinding light. I can not see past it and I do not understand.
Finally, a flash of grief, warm but sad. I had started to pull out the Christmas decorations. My ipod was docked and playing songs on shuffle, not quite ready yet for the heralding of the holiday music. I walked into the foyer carrying a box full of trinkets and heard this:
We played this at my Aunt Cathy's funeral, in November of '08. Again, blindsided. I closed my eyes and saw her face. Of course music would make me think of her. It was one of the many things that connected us. This grief was the color of the pulsing orange glow of highway lights, the way they flash through your darkness and then are gone.
December 13, 2011
This Eagle Can Now Soar
I had mentioned that I broke away from my technological fast last month upon hearing of a loss that blindsided me. On November 3rd, my dear friend, Natalie called to tell me our former principal had passed away. He's the principal I had worked with the longest - over ten years. He was young - early fifties.
His story is a tragic one but should be told. His story makes me believe in the truest of loves between two people that were meant to be. Just before I started working at Baldwin - maybe just a couple of years before, he had lost his wife in an accident. They had all been in the car on 4th of July weekend with their three very young children. His wife had taken off her seat belt to turn around and help one of the kids in the backseat, as mothers often do. They were in stop-and-go traffic and the situation didn't seem dangerous at all. Suddenly they were hit from behind and she was launched through the windshield, killing her instantly. He was left to raise his three children alone.
When he spoke of her, his voice and face changed. His love for her was ever present. During my time at Baldwin, we talked sporadically and mostly about travel and raising kids. His mention of Melody wasn't often, the pain of that loss still evident.
He was really never the same after he lost his beloved. It seemed his path wandered in search of something, anything, that would fill that void, and nothing did. Not for long. He tried to marry again, but that wasn't enough and it didn't last.
His health began to slide near the end of his time at our school. Choices, both his and others', wore on him, suffering that took its toll and showed in weariness of spirit. At the beginning of the school year, I had heard he had a minor heart attack. On November 3rd his longing heart, broken but still beating pulsed its last. He drifted off to sleep and never woke up. His son found him when he came home from work. He left three grown children and a granddaughter. I believe that he had gone long enough trying to live with only half of his heart. The other half was very much alive and waiting for him in heaven. His funeral took place on her birthday.
That was Karle in death. In life he was a generous person, kind and fun-loving. He was an 'out of the box' thinker, and a schemer of the 'big picture'. I will always remember the water fights he took part in on the last days of school, the 'fish throwing' that took place, his funny ties, his blasting Alice Cooper's 'School's Out' over the intercom on one of our last days (all the kids had gone home, of course), his child-like love of snow and his absolute obsession with all things Christmas. He would put up no less than 8 to 10 trees in his house and then invite us over to ring in the holiday season. He was my secret Santa one year and the final, 'reveal' day was magical - as the time drew closer, he began sending surprises every hour. I still have all of those things, and pulled out many of the Christmas decorations this year, this time tinged in sadness.
We were the Baldwin Eagles. He was proud of our school. He collected eagles and even took a small stuffed one all the way around the world to New Zealand once when he went to visit some of our teachers there who were doing some intensive training. Now he can soar, unencumbered and with his one love. His story gives me hope in love like that.
December 12, 2011
I WILL judge this 'book' by its cover and other random prattling
This will most likely come out as a conglomerate mass of unrelated blathering, so if you are one that requires order and outline, skip right on over. This post's not for you. I ask myself, "Why post a patchwork mess of nothing?", and then I answer my own question with yet another question (does that also drive you mad?), "Why fruitcake? What is it, anyway?"
Discovery: The other night I stumbled upon a confirmed truth in that our body heat really does escape through the top of our head. Little did I know that as I shivered and froze under three layers of covers in the tundra that was my bedroom, I inadvertently conducted my own experiment in the wisdom of the pioneers and 17th century brethren who had an article of clothing worn specifically for bedtime to stay warmer in the coldest of winter nights: the nightcap. Not the liquid 'shaken, but not stirred' kind, but the actual head covering worn to keep in body heat. How did I 'discover' this? While I lay trembling, my insides quivering from the cold, I realized I had gone to bed in a hoodie (yes, I was still cold under three layers of blankets AND a hoodie - turns out the heat was put all the way down on 50something: i.e. meat locker setting). So I scooched and wiggled out of my cocoon to put my hoodie over my head. Thankfully it was dark as tar because I am sure I looked like a doof - a bundled, warm doof. In a matter of minutes, I began to thaw out and drift away into a cozy-warm state of sleep.
I do hope you will be able to change trains quickly with me. Fair warning: topics are subject to change without notice.
THIS made me laugh uncontrollably.
We are having a 'white elephant' exchange at my brother's house this coming Saturday so I went plunking through one of the dollar stores where nothing is over a dollar and everything is made in China. Lo and behold! They had a bin of movies! Remember: this is a dollar store. These movies probably barely made it out of the production company. There was only one copy of THIS (see above movie cover). I read the title slowly...it is so ridiculous and dumb that it took a minute for my brain to digest it. 'I Want Someone to Eat CHEESE With'?!?! First of all, although it is a myth that you can't end a sentence with a preposition, this sentence structure drives me batty!!!! Second, how the HECK did someone actually decide that THIS would be the 'brilliant' grabber to title this movie?! The plot and picture on the cover isn't much better. It's basically about an overweight guy that wants to find someone to love, get a good part, and lose weight...Sounds spellbinding, doesn't it? No - I have not watched this movie. I could be sorely mistaken and find that it is a delightful little piece of cinematic magic. I just can't get past the title and my own snorting laughter as I keep saying it over and over. I bet that poor girl 'starring' in this riveting snippet of film is rueing the day she ever signed on the dotted line for THIS one.
Yesterday my Mom called to ask if I would please run over to check and see if she had turned off her curling iron. They had gone down to visit her Dad for the day and had a V-8 moment where she realized she may have left it on (There. I am trying with great effort to get over my prepositional hang-ups.) So in keeping with the local fashion, I threw on floppy shoes and jumped in my car in my pajamas to head over to their house (we live 3.2 miles from them). Let me relieve your fevered mind: I DO NOT - repeat DO NOT go out in public with my pajama pants on (I am getting more and more comfortable with this notion...Prepositional Freedom!). I went from my garage to Mom's driveway and left caution to the wind if I might have wrecked or got stopped. Anyway, all that to say, I just had to share this whimsical flash of light and beauty:
Dad's windchime glinting in the sun.
In other news, I am keeping my little legal pad busy and conducting myself in the writerly way by jotting ideas that skitter across my cranium...yesterday I was writing and stopped for a minute to gaze out the window and glanced down at this: one of my most favorite writing utensils. This and a pen with blue ink:
I am not usually a brand snob but THIS is the brand of pencil I prefer. You needed to know this, I am sure.
(Hey - these two thoughts might actually be slightly cohesive with one another. Three cheers for one continuous train of thought!)
While in my pursuit of all things wordsmithery, I have been (and still am) seeking a place to write. This can be almost as important as what you write (unlike this current post you are reading right now that would be considered a NONexample of exemplary craft). So I will crack the door on one of my little 'islands' and show you one place that I particularly enjoy. It isn't my crisp white room overlooking the ocean, walls of windows and bookshelves scented with the salty air, but it is a lovely spot to sit and cogitate.
I called this photo 'slants and shadows'. This is my tan leather chair in the corner of my room by the window. Great place for dreaming. I especially like to squish down into the soft leather sideways and stare out the window.
Alright, after a post like this one, you have earned the right to go rest and watch fish in a fish tank or something (proven to relieve stress...). Thanks for hanging in there with me. I promise there will be more ordered thought to come.
Discovery: The other night I stumbled upon a confirmed truth in that our body heat really does escape through the top of our head. Little did I know that as I shivered and froze under three layers of covers in the tundra that was my bedroom, I inadvertently conducted my own experiment in the wisdom of the pioneers and 17th century brethren who had an article of clothing worn specifically for bedtime to stay warmer in the coldest of winter nights: the nightcap. Not the liquid 'shaken, but not stirred' kind, but the actual head covering worn to keep in body heat. How did I 'discover' this? While I lay trembling, my insides quivering from the cold, I realized I had gone to bed in a hoodie (yes, I was still cold under three layers of blankets AND a hoodie - turns out the heat was put all the way down on 50something: i.e. meat locker setting). So I scooched and wiggled out of my cocoon to put my hoodie over my head. Thankfully it was dark as tar because I am sure I looked like a doof - a bundled, warm doof. In a matter of minutes, I began to thaw out and drift away into a cozy-warm state of sleep.
I do hope you will be able to change trains quickly with me. Fair warning: topics are subject to change without notice.
THIS made me laugh uncontrollably.
Yesterday my Mom called to ask if I would please run over to check and see if she had turned off her curling iron. They had gone down to visit her Dad for the day and had a V-8 moment where she realized she may have left it on (There. I am trying with great effort to get over my prepositional hang-ups.) So in keeping with the local fashion, I threw on floppy shoes and jumped in my car in my pajamas to head over to their house (we live 3.2 miles from them). Let me relieve your fevered mind: I DO NOT - repeat DO NOT go out in public with my pajama pants on (I am getting more and more comfortable with this notion...Prepositional Freedom!). I went from my garage to Mom's driveway and left caution to the wind if I might have wrecked or got stopped. Anyway, all that to say, I just had to share this whimsical flash of light and beauty:
In other news, I am keeping my little legal pad busy and conducting myself in the writerly way by jotting ideas that skitter across my cranium...yesterday I was writing and stopped for a minute to gaze out the window and glanced down at this: one of my most favorite writing utensils. This and a pen with blue ink:
(Hey - these two thoughts might actually be slightly cohesive with one another. Three cheers for one continuous train of thought!)
While in my pursuit of all things wordsmithery, I have been (and still am) seeking a place to write. This can be almost as important as what you write (unlike this current post you are reading right now that would be considered a NONexample of exemplary craft). So I will crack the door on one of my little 'islands' and show you one place that I particularly enjoy. It isn't my crisp white room overlooking the ocean, walls of windows and bookshelves scented with the salty air, but it is a lovely spot to sit and cogitate.
Alright, after a post like this one, you have earned the right to go rest and watch fish in a fish tank or something (proven to relieve stress...). Thanks for hanging in there with me. I promise there will be more ordered thought to come.
December 7, 2011
Say What You Need to Say?
I am beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel on the grading and semester's end - I can't wait! Of course I am looking forward to Christmas and the break, but I can't wait to be here! With you! That in and of itself is a gift!
In the mean time, here is a double-spin of John Mayer for your evening 'chill'. Yes, I love Christmas music during this time of year, but take occasional auditory breaks from it throughout the season too. Sort of like a palette cleaning for the ears. Some of you will truly 'get' that. I am sure of it.
This came up on rotation today from my 'Favorites' option in my car. Sometimes this feature feels like a rude interruption, but at times it is a welcome change, and when 'Say' popped up, I eagerly clicked over. Although not lyrically complex, the song expresses great wisdom.
Another one, this one with a Christmas spin:
In the mean time, here is a double-spin of John Mayer for your evening 'chill'. Yes, I love Christmas music during this time of year, but take occasional auditory breaks from it throughout the season too. Sort of like a palette cleaning for the ears. Some of you will truly 'get' that. I am sure of it.
This came up on rotation today from my 'Favorites' option in my car. Sometimes this feature feels like a rude interruption, but at times it is a welcome change, and when 'Say' popped up, I eagerly clicked over. Although not lyrically complex, the song expresses great wisdom.
Another one, this one with a Christmas spin:
December 6, 2011
December 3, 2011
Tangible
I want to go where
dreams are real,
touches
are tangible
and future
is now.
Organic
palpable
pressed and overcome.
Yesterday is here
and today,
a memory.
Wild thought -
reality,
and mundane
unmentioned.
Untamed,
undone.
dreams are real,
touches
are tangible
and future
is now.
Organic
palpable
pressed and overcome.
Yesterday is here
and today,
a memory.
Wild thought -
reality,
and mundane
unmentioned.
Untamed,
undone.
Decisions Interrupted
So my hiatus from the snug confines of this virtual hammock was for a time away to reflect and make some decisions. I made a few, fragmented, pieces-parts decisions so far but I ended up breaking my technology fast a bit prematurely due to a loss and the need to be able to connect with the crew who had this loss in common with me. More on that in stories to come. There are quite a few stories to share from this small time away.
What have I been up to in the white noise of time I've been away? It has been an interesting, sorrowful, bizarre, crazy time. Here are some of the small 'nuggets':
What have I been up to in the white noise of time I've been away? It has been an interesting, sorrowful, bizarre, crazy time. Here are some of the small 'nuggets':
- I have become a puzzle-put-er-together-er...Yes. This may be an old lady kind of thing to do, but I have found it is ASTOUNDING in its benefits of being able to NOT THINK about anything but shades of color and pattern and matching curves and contours. It has been shown they help keep minds sharp and increase problem-solving. For me, I like to get lost in the pieces.
- I have nearly completed my first semester as a college professor and I love it. It has been exhausting at times, but a good tired, and I am okay with that. I did an informal evaluation along with the formal evaluation so that I could have feedback on ways to improve on the courses, and they honestly nearly made me cry. One wrote, "You are my role model." This humbles me.
- Of the decisions I (sort of, partially) made during this time, I will divulge a few: 1) I will not be taking this blog down. Not any time soon. I may be more focused in my posts, but I'm not going away. 2) The idea of getting my doctorate has begun to jangle about in the outer limits of my brain. No definite plans as such. Just murmurings. 3) I have just about decided that my book I am going to write is going to be about sex. (*gasp*) Just mull over that one - I am not going to say more. 4) I also decided not to take down my actual hammock either. I will explain why below.
- I am nearly to the end of my journey through the Bible and I have a journal full of notes and musings, a greater appreciation for the Grand Plan, and a thousand more questions. I have stuck with it, caught up when I got behind, and I recommend it highly.
- In my decision to leave my actual hammock dangling beside the creek, I am going to take another interesting, year-long journey - this time in being still. I am going to go through a book called God in the Yard by l.l. barkat and crawl up in my hammock for an hour a day, aiming for 5-6 days a week. On the outset, it seems daunting but I feel a powerful pull to do this. Now. So as I close the year of reading at the end of December, I will then begin my quest for stillness. The great thing about this endeavor is that it does involve writing and I hope to share some of what surfaces here, from one hammock to another. You may be wondering - how will I keep this up through all kinds of weather, etc? Discipline, fortitude, rain gear, warm sleeping bag and coffee. Lots of coffee.
Come join me.
December 2, 2011
Surely You Jest
Hello World...
...or maybe hello to the few that have continued to drop by in my absence. Heard this song just the other day for the first time, and it reminded me of coming back here. A few parts of the lyrics resonate:
Traffic cars, cell phone calls, top video screams at me
Through my tender window I see a little girl, rust red minivan
She's got chocolate on her face, got little hands
And she waves at me, yeah, she smiles at me
Well, hello world, how've you been?
Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel cold as steel
Broken like I'm never gonna heal
I see a light, little hole in the little girl
Well, hello world
Every day I drive by a little white church
It's got these little white crosses like angels in the yard
Maybe I should stop on in and say a prayer
Maybe talk to God like He is there
Oh, I know He's there, yeah, I know He's there
Well, hello world, how've you been?
Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel as cold as steel
And broken like I'm never gonna heal
I see a light, little grace, little faith unfurl
Well, hello world
Sometimes I forget what living's for
And I hear my life through my front door
And I'll be there, oh, I'm home again
I see my wife, little boy, little girl
Hello world, hello world
Oh, the empty disappears
I remember why I'm here
To surrender and believe
I fall down on my knees
Oh hello world, hello world, hello world
I know, I know. I said I would get back here on the 1st. Oh, surely you jest! Those that truly know me know that I will most likely skid in on two wheels sideways. So here I am...for anyone who is still here. It is late and I am at a loss for what to say. I would have thought I'd have something more to say upon my return. So for tonight, a quiet sway back in the hammock is fitting instead.
...or maybe hello to the few that have continued to drop by in my absence. Heard this song just the other day for the first time, and it reminded me of coming back here. A few parts of the lyrics resonate:
Traffic cars, cell phone calls, top video screams at me
Through my tender window I see a little girl, rust red minivan
She's got chocolate on her face, got little hands
And she waves at me, yeah, she smiles at me
Well, hello world, how've you been?
Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel cold as steel
Broken like I'm never gonna heal
I see a light, little hole in the little girl
Well, hello world
Every day I drive by a little white church
It's got these little white crosses like angels in the yard
Maybe I should stop on in and say a prayer
Maybe talk to God like He is there
Oh, I know He's there, yeah, I know He's there
Well, hello world, how've you been?
Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel as cold as steel
And broken like I'm never gonna heal
I see a light, little grace, little faith unfurl
Well, hello world
Sometimes I forget what living's for
And I hear my life through my front door
And I'll be there, oh, I'm home again
I see my wife, little boy, little girl
Hello world, hello world
Oh, the empty disappears
I remember why I'm here
To surrender and believe
I fall down on my knees
Oh hello world, hello world, hello world
I know, I know. I said I would get back here on the 1st. Oh, surely you jest! Those that truly know me know that I will most likely skid in on two wheels sideways. So here I am...for anyone who is still here. It is late and I am at a loss for what to say. I would have thought I'd have something more to say upon my return. So for tonight, a quiet sway back in the hammock is fitting instead.
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