Old Dogs (Bill Staines)

For my dear friend Melanie, who only yesterday lost her beloved dog Xena... <3

SONG: Old Dogs by Bill Staines

BOOK: Dog Heaven by Cynthia Rylant

POEM: I Ask Percy How I Should Live My Life by Mary Oliver (Percy being her dog)

Love, love, love, says Percy.
And hurry as fast as you can
along the shining beach, or the rubble, or the dust.

Then, go to sleep.
Give up your body heat, your beating heart.
Then, trust.

QUOTE: "You think dogs will not be in heaven? I tell you, they will be there long before any of us." ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

To Live Is to Fly (Townes Van Zandt)

I am now apologizing to myself for not blogging in two weeks - I miss it when I allow myself to skip more than a few days, not to mention it's easy to forget what happened in the meantime. I confess to having been in Roly Poly Mode... and I'm trying hard to snap out of it - in coming up for air a bit, I realize what a blessed life I lead...

Yeah, the fact my mother died mid-July is one big, fat, f*cking sadness still weighing heavy on me - I expect it will be with me forever, even as the hits to the heart come further apart. I still can't predict my reaction when I think or talk about it - sometimes I am fine... others I am inconsolable... and I imagine that's "normal" (having done some research on the grief process)...

I am finally reconciling to the fact that life does indeed go on - I have memories of good times, lots of photos and a no-regrets feeling that most only dream of. I also have amazing family and friends to hold me up during this difficult time, as I try to find my way out of the stuck place - much to be thankful for:

~ a 3+ hour cathartic lunch with my dear friend M, who I hadn't seen since before I went up to Atlanta - she lost her mom this past February, and has helped trailblaze this unknown path for me...

~ our October book club meeting, for which we read Middlesex, a wonderful book that's been on my bedside table for over a year - combine the literary stimulation with the comfort of other BookSluts (our new official name for ourselves), and I'm in "died and gone to heaven" territory...

~ saw the movie Where the Wild Things Are with my husband and two sons (my daughter was out of town that weekend), at the urging of my "baby" (21-year-old E), who remembered me reading him the book when he was but a small child - the movie was extremely enjoyable, but viewing it flanked by "my boys" was tear- and goosebump-inducing...

~ experienced a quiet Halloween, staying home and passing out candy to almost 100 trick-or-treaters, the cutest of which was a young (one-year-old, maybe?) Asian boy on his father's shoulders, dressed in a Sumo wrestler costume - my dog stood in the doorway in equal parts joy and amazement at the parade of visitors...

~ my friend Judi asked if I wanted to hear John Irving speak at a bookstore function which, with the purchase of the ticket, provided an autographed copy of his newest book (below) - it was not only great to hang out with her one-on-one (we're usually in group gatherings), but a dream-come-true to see one of my favorite authors up-close-and-personal (he's warm, he's witty... and his reading of a key passage in the book took my breath away)...

~ I presented a service at church last Sunday, revolving around the book Life Is a Verb, tying it into my mom's illness and promoting the "what would you do if you only had 37 days to live?" philosophy - I wove in some wonderful poems, played some appropriate songs and received warm, and sometimes tearful, appreciation...

~ finally got together with my dear friend Kate, to walk the Labyrinth and catch up on each other's lives these last few months - she is a cherished friend, with whom I always pick up where I left off, which can never be taken for granted...

~ participated in a Religion and Poetry workshop at the church, where I had the opportunity to share favorite Ellen Bass and Jeffrey McDaniel selections - the ensuing discussion was thought-provoking as well...

~ I have been kicking *ss in the physical fitness department for the last month, attending a BodyWorks + Abs class at the gym twice a week, and walking the 3-mile route in my neighborhood four days - on the seventh day I rest... :-) My friend Mel has kept me good company a majority of the time, but she's been out of pocket the last few weeks for one reason or another, so I'm having to self-motivate, which is always a challenge - I miss her muchly... but I'm proud to say I've risen to it, and am thoroughly entrenched in addicted mode (my legs twitch to get on the road as soon as I get out of bed each morning!)...

~ my husband and I signed up for a wellness program with a local franchise of a national chain, and have been enjoying monthly massages (part-therapeutic, part-pampering), which we've turned into Date Night, segueing to dinner afterwards - it's nice to spend time with each other in a relaxed mood, away from the house...

Days, up and down they come
Like rain on a conga drum
Forget most, remember some
But don't turn none away.
Everything is not enough
And nothin' is to much to bear.
Where you been is good and gone
All you keep is the getting there.

Beautifully said, Townes... :-)

SONG: To Live Is to Fly by Townes Van Zandt

BOOK: Last Night in Twisted River by John Irving

POEM: Sweet Darkness by David Whyte

When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone
no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.

There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb
tonight.

The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.

You must learn one thing:
the world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

QUOTE: "I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. Life is no "brief candle" for me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations." ~ George Bernard Shaw

I'm Your Man (Leonard Cohen)

I posted some of the following on Star Maker Machine (for our Early Theme)... but it's worth repeating here - I've also expounded a bit:

Oh... my... god, my husband and I saw Leonard Cohen last Saturday night and it was a religious experience (concert review here) - I admit to hyperbolic tendencies but... I swear it was the best concert I've seen in my entire life (all 55 years' worth!)...

The Songs of Leonard Cohen, his debut album, was released in December 1967... but I didn't become aware of him until a year and a half later when, as a high school sophomore, a friend played me Roberta Flack's version - I of course liked her voice... but I adored *his* songwriting, and went on a mission to find the original. I still love to tell the story of typing term papers to put myself through college... and one guy didn't have quite enough cash so he offered up his copy of New Skin for the Old Ceremony to supplement my payment - we called it even...

My husband reminded me I turned him on to Cohen's music when we started dating - Cohen Live retains a place of honor in the 5-disc CD changer in our bedroom, 33 years later. His lyrics are poetry and sex and humor all rolled into one... not to mention that sonorous, seductive voice - I'm Your Man indeed (whew!)...

We spent a ridiculous amount of money for 2 ninth-row floor seats last weekend but, for all my devotion, I'd never had the opportunity to see him live... and it was the proverbial no-brainer as he had recently returned to the stage after a 15-year absence (since his manager had embezzled all his money, about $5 million) - I swayed, I swooned, I swore (f*ck me - is this a dream?!?) as he preached to the choir, turning the many-thousand-seat arena into an intimate lounge, connecting with each of us on a generous and gracious level, grateful that we still cared enough for his music to be in attendance...

Cohen is now 75 years old... and he displays the wisdom of his age while maintaining a youthfulness of spirit - he skipped on and off the stage, in a three hour show, punctuated with only a 20-minute break somewhere in the middle. When any member of his spectacular band (everyone on the stage was wearing a suit, even the women) was performing a solo, Cohen would take off his fedora, place it over his heart and give that person his full attention. How very cool to have Sharon Robinson, his collaborator on many songs, as one of the Greek chorus of back-up singers - the other two, Hattie and Charley Webb, treated us to a stellar rendition of If It Be Your Will about 3/4 of the way through the show. Cohen's personal comments between songs, although obviously rehearsed, felt sincere... and the professionalism of musicianship was evident in every aspect - my husband and I were in tears at various points throughout the evening...

The next day, I went googling for his most recent recording, as I felt I had missed one or two, and found the Live in London 2-CD set - I of course ordered it immediately, it came yesterday and it's been wonderful to re-live the magical moments from this tour. Sometimes coming face-to-face with one's icon (even in a crowded concert hall) can not only meet but exceed one's expectations - I'm even more of a fan than I was, if that's at all possible...

SONG: I'm Your Man by Leonard Cohen

BOOK: Leonard Cohen: Hallelujah: A New Biography by Tim Footman

POEM: Book of Longing (Dear Reader) by Leonard Cohen (Los Angeles, March 22, 1998)

I can´t make the hills
The system is shot
I´m living on pills
for which I thank G-d

There´s sun in the leaves
and birds in the tree.
Nobody believes
it´s written by Thee.

I used to be song
I used to be cock
but time is long gone
past my laughingstock

I bid you good-bye
There´s nothing to add
I´ve tried and I try
to stop going mad

I followed the course
from chaos to art
My dick was the horse
my life was the cart

I´m back at my desk
(the end of the line)
a bee in my breast
a snake in my spine

The silverware shines
that my mother left
to me when she died
fulfilled and bereft

My leash is too long
I think that I´m free
I´d leap at the young
but I´m sixty-three

I know what I want
It took many lives
I´m cured by the cunt
I´m killed by the eyes

The sorrows are real
as froth on the wave
as shit on the beach
the city´s disgrace

Who cares what I say
I´m not who I was
I´m paid what I pay
I´m always in love

The summer won´t come
´till I go to bed
The birds will return
when the dog is dead

You can´t say it right
when you touch yourself
But truth´s not advice
It is total health

The crap on my back
the piss in my face
but happy at last
in the Holy Place

You can´t go too deep
if you want to swim
where the mermaids weep
out of love for Him

I`m nothing but lust
I´m nothing but pain
I did these mistrust
but Never Again

I say what I want
for I am the Child
of G-d coming home
and His Wife gone wild

I don´t need a thing
I use what I have
a moth-eaten wing
a worm cut in half

With these I invoke
The Name to draw nigh
I´m clamped in a stock
to hold my head high

My animal howls
My angel´s upset
And deep in my bowels
the shit of regret

You can´t stop a man
from loving too much
I´m still licking stamps
from trying it once

My pen is too wet
My ink is too black
The Winner won´t get
his foot on the track

But the one like me
with light in her eye
is utterly free
to crawl or to fly

And she´ll know the path
I carved through the pain
my will cut in half
and Freedom between

I´ll meet her one day
when the time is right
for me to display
my flare in the night

for the space in space
to cough up the Word
that seals our Embrace
unharmed and unheard

And Mercy at last
for one doubled up
and tied to the mast
with the flags of love

And thank´s be to you
for helping me out
when Youth had no clue
what´s it all about

Your kindness is kind
your trueness is true
I pray that you´ll find
your Beloved, too

as I have found mine
where I´d never look:
in the threaded spine
of my Longing Book.

QUOTE: "The heart goes on cooking, sizzling like shish kebab." ~ Leonard Cohen

Life (Will Kimbrough)

John Lennon was right - Life really *is* what happens to you when you're busy making other plans (weak smile)...

Thanks to everyone who's been worried about me, and got in touch, one way or another, to let me know - your concern is justified. Hard to believe it's been almost three weeks since I posted - as I just responded to a comment from a friend, after my mom's passing I seem to be segueing from the stages of shock and numb to depression, and have been spending a lot of time in my head, processing. It's all destined for a future blog post (soon, I promise!) but, in the meantime, I wrote up most of the following the week after our September 30 book club meeting... and then never got around to uploading it - it still holds true... maybe even more so, considering my current state of mind...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your horoscope for October 6, 2009

If you keep waiting and waiting for things to happen, SUSAN, you may wake up one morning and realize that your whole life has gone by and you never did half the things that you dreamed of doing. The time to take action is now so put your plan into effect. You may need to make some compromises, but you will find that in general, people will willingly follow your lead.

...and, for the week of October 4:

LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): Change your password. Take a different way home. Ask a question you've never asked. Dream up a new nickname for yourself. Choose a new lucky number. Change the way you tell the story about an important event in your past. Make it a little more difficult for people to have you pegged. Eat a type of food you've never tried. Do the research necessary to discover why one of your opinions may be wrong. Add a new step to your grooming ritual. Feel appreciation for a person whose charms you've become numb to. Surprise yourself at least once a day.

Last week was our book club meeting, the first back together after having taken the summer off - I love this diverse, funny, kind circle of women who are wise in literature and in ways of the heart. It was my turn to host and to choose the book... and I picked Life is a Verb by Patti Digh - it's had quite an impact on me the last almost-year and I wanted to share the ephiphany-inducing collection of stories...

"In October 2003, Patti Digh’s stepfather was diagnosed with lung cancer. He died 37 days later. The timeframe made an impression on her. What emerged was a commitment to ask herself every morning: What would I be doing today if I had only 37 days left to live? The answers changed her life and led to this new kind of book. Part meditation, part how-to guide, part memoir, Life is a Verb is all heart.

Within these pages—enhanced by original artwork and wide, inviting margins ready to be written in—Digh identifies six core practices to jump-start a meaningful life: Say Yes, Trust Yourself, Slow Down, Be Generous, Speak Up, and Love More. Within this framework she supplies 37 edgy, funny, and literary life stories, each followed by a “do it now” 10-minute exercise as well as a practice to try for 37 days—and perhaps the rest of your life."

I've said that there were no regrets with my mom's passing... but there has been a minor one - I sent her this book last January after I visited and, when I was there this summer, caregiving, I had every intention of reading parts of it aloud so we could discuss. Time and energy (or rather, lack of both) intervened, and I never got around to it - so... I asked each of our bookwomen to choose a section that "spoke" to them and encapsulate it for the group - I am pleased to say everyone exceeded my expectations, and the conversation was quite stimulating, deep and, at times, emotional...

These days, I'm really trying to embrace be-here-now, seize-the-day, enjoy-the-moment mode - in fact, I made a mix of relevant songs and gave everyone a copy during our gathering. The point of the book (and my selection of it) is, in Patti's words, "about living each individual, glorious day with more intention. It was simply about saying yes, being generous, more fully inhabiting the life I have, not creating a new one."

Our menu consisted of food that made us feel "alive"... and the array was delicious and inspiring - we topped it off with dessert from B.J.'s, which I discovered a few weeks ago and declared it the best carrot cake I've ever eaten (you can really taste the nutmeg!)...

P.S. Apropos of nothing... although I've not been posting my contributions here (as I used to), I still write for the weekly-themed Star Maker Machine music blog, and last week's topic was Domestic Violence and Sexual Abuse - it was an educational and inspirational exercise in which I was proud to participate...

SONG: Life by Will Kimbrough

BOOK: The Five Secrets You Must Discover Before You Die by John B. Izzo

POEM: Following the Road by Larry Smith

I have left my wife at the airport,

flying out to help our daughter

whose baby will not eat.

And I am driving on to Kent

to hear some poets read tonight.

I don't know what to do with myself

when she leaves me like this.

An old friend has decided to

end our friendship. Another

is breaking it off with his wife.

I don't know what to say

to any of this-Life's hard.

And I say it aloud to myself,

Living is hard, and drive further

into the darkness, my headlights

only going so far.

I sense my own tense breath, this fear

we call stress, making it something else,

hiding from all that is real.

As I glide past Twin Lakes,

flat bodies of water under stars,

I hold the wheel gently, slowing my

body to the road, and know again that

this is just living, not a trauma

nor dying, but a lingering pain

reminding us that we are alive.

QUOTE: "The only dream worth having is to dream that you will live while you are alive, and die only when you are dead. To love, to be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and vulgar disparity of the life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget." ~ Arundhati Roy

If I Had a Daughter (Terri Hendrix)

(Click on the picture to view it clearly)

Today is our daughter Sarah's 28th birthday - unlike the poem below, she is not married... but the sentiment is the same ("she made it to here"). As parents, we do our very best to raise responsible, kind, smart, generous, witty and respectful children and sometimes, despite our hard work, for one reason or another, it turns out otherwise - to know that, almost three decades after her birth, our daughter is still a source of pride and blessings is more than my husband and I could hope for, much less be able to verbalize...

We hosted a party for her yesterday, at her request, at our home... and it was a joy to see her friends mingle with her office mates hanging with her boyfriend's buddies - she shone as she greeted, introduced and made everyone feel welcome in the worlds-colliding gathering. We grilled out, we played card/drinking games and we engaged in stimulating conversation - okay, there was football game watching, too!

She has not only survived but she has thrived - we did many things right... but we are also lucky to be able to call this amazing young woman our daughter...

SONG: If I Had a Daughter by Terri Hendrix

BOOK: A Short Guide to a Happy Life by Anna Quindlen

POEM: After Our Daughter's Wedding by Ellen Bass

While the remnants of cake

and half-empty champagne glasses

lay on the lawn like sunbathers lingering

in the slanting light, we left the house guests

and drove to Antonelli's pond.

On a log by the bank I sat in my flowered dress and cried.

A lone fisherman drifted by, casting his ribbon of light.

"Do you feel like you've given her away?" you asked.

But no, it was that she made it

to here, that she didn't drown in a well or die

of pneumonia or take the pills.

She wasn't crushed under the mammoth wheels of a semi

on highway 17, wasn't found lying in the alley

that night after rehearsal

when I got the time wrong.

It's animal. The egg

not eaten by a weasel. Turtles

crossing the beach, exposed in the moonlight. And we

have so few to start with.

And that long gestation—

like carrying your soul out in front of you.

All those years of feeding

and watching. The vulnerable hollow

at the back of the neck. Never knowing

what could pick them off—a seagull

swooping down for a clam.

Our most basic imperative:

for them to survive.

And there's never been a moment

we could count on it.

QUOTE: "Suddenly, through birthing a daughter, a woman finds herself face to face not only with an infant, a little girl, a woman-to-be, but also with her own unresolved conflicts from the past and her hopes and dreams for the future.... As though experiencing an earthquake, mothers of daughters may find their lives shifted, their deep feelings unearthed, the balance struck in all relationships once again off kilter." ~ Elizabeth Debold and Idelisse Malave

Ma-Me-O Beach (Joan Armatrading)

Was it really only 48 hours I was gone? - amazing the tricks time can play on us...

As noted previously, my husband and I celebrated our 33rd wedding anniversary last week - actually, the date of our union was September 18... but the celebration took place the last few days, as we decided to check into a hotel on the Ft. Lauderdale beach as a well-deserved and long-overdue getaway...

Since I spent the majority of my summer taking care of mom, and then the last month at home attempting to catch up from being away, I had forgotten how much I'd missed being outside... in the sun... particularly at the beach - my husband and I have now vowed to do this at least once a month, even if for only one night. There's much to be said for the curative powers of the ocean, an overload of sights, smells, sounds, sensations and salty tastes - I am tan, I am relaxed and, most importantly, I feel that I am on my way to a self-healing of great magnitude...

It has been a most difficult year, as I was reminded often over the last few days, remembering back to August 2008 when we took the family beach vacation Mom had always wanted, which would be our Last Hurrah, since she went on 24/7 oxygen a few weeks later - I segued from being a mess as I watched her decline... to experiencing the redemption of aiding in her peaceful passage...

I just felt so aware and flexible and receptive during this time off - what could have been a problem... wasn't... because I didn't allow it (room changes, husband's behavior, inclement weather). It all happened for a reason, and I took delight in whatever came my way (the trade-off of a larger room for one with a balcony, letting go of expectations and rediscovering the prose of two of my favorite authors: Pat Conroy and Anna Quindlen)...

I slept... a lot... I woke up to watch two glorious sunrises... and then went back to sleep... I stretched... I walked (some days twice!)... I gave and received love... I had my favorite meal (calamari and a dirty martini)... I reclined on a rented beach chair under the shade of a fluttering umbrella... or not, when I wanted to bake in the sun's rays... I wore my mom's bathing suit... I felt more limber and thin and self-confident and, yes, even beautiful than I have in a while...

I immersed, literally and figuratively, in the reconnection with my husband... as well as solitude and serenity - may this be the start of a new year of health and gratitude and acceptance... in my relationships with family and friends... and for myself...

SONG: Ma-Me-O Beach by Joan Armatrading

BOOK: Rise and Shine by Anna Quindlen

POEM: All My Body Calls by David Whyte

All my body calls

for something in this sleeping

earth

we call the spirit.

But how

from lifted arms

where stars run through fingers

and the night is like sand

do I breathe a fragrance of its wisdom
do I call its name

or listen to the drops
that trickle down to earth

and hear

life being given

not only through the moving hands of the forest

but through the hand that reaches in

the dark unmoving regions of the chest

and uncovers slowly

the enormous

indistinct

shape of the ocean.

QUOTE: "Don't grow up too quickly, lest you forget how much you love the beach." ~ Michelle Held

Peace Like a River (traditional)

Today is my 33rd wedding anniversary - for three hours, I had my air ducts cleaned out. Lest you think that is a metaphor for... something else... I assure you, it is the literal truth - we have been on a straightening/cleaning jag (motivated by a party we're giving next weekend) and that was one of the things on our To Do List. Later tonight I intend to invoke the metaphor as well - our evening is low-key because we are headed to a hotel on the beach for two nights mid-week for our actual celebration (more on that as it gets closer... :-)

I've spent the day re-evaluating what's kept us going these 3+ decades - my daughter told me earlier that she didn't think she'd ever get married because we are the only people she knows who have stuck it out, while everyone else is divorcing, some even multiple times. I told her that it shouldn't discourage her, and that we have had just as many troubles as everyone else - the risk is the reward, and the leap of faith is the longevity... that we just keep getting up and doing it again... amen (to quote Jackson Browne)...

My husband makes me crazy... and he makes he feel adored - he is frustrating... and he is flattering. He is honest, even when I don't want to hear it... and I know I can trust his words and his actions (how many people in our lives can we say that about?!?) - he is intuitive, which is sometimes annoying but mostly a blessing. For my birthday last month, he wrote in my card: "Another year of challenges and you keep on going with class and dignity! I not only love you but admire you!" - sigh...

Tomorrow will be two months since my mom's passing... and one month since I've been back home in Florida - I'm beginning to move past the numbness and into question/overanalyzing mode. I've been lucky to have some good friends who will listen to my process without judgement and I'm finally feeling... dare I say it?... peace - I still miss mom and I still cry a good bit... but I know I am a better person for the experience...

Last Sunday was Water Sunday at our UU church - the format is that people bring water from (or use tap water that symbolizes) their summer vacation or travels. It's a lovely ceremony, and one in which I usually participate... but all I could think of was that I spent mid-May through mid-July refilling mom's oxygen tank twice a day with distilled water... and I knew I couldn't verbalize that without falling apart - water as a life force was quite literal in my case...

After the service, I was speaking with an older woman from the congregation who spent her summer at various doctor's offices - she too had refrained from the public ritual of sharing. We decided to ask the interim minister if she could "officiate" while we privately poured water into the community bowl and spoke our tearful intentions - it was quite cathartic... and, yes... even peaceful...

By the way, the ending hymn of our church service was Peace Like a River and, when I got home and turned on our local folk and acoustic radio show at 2 p.m., it was the first song the DJ played - meant-to-be... :-)

SONG: Peace Like a River (traditional)

BOOK: The Pat Conroy Cookbook: Recipes and Stories of My Life by Pat Conroy with Suzanne Williamson Pollak

POEM: The Waltz We Were Born For by Walter McDonald

Wind chimes ping and tangle on the patio.

In gusty winds this wild, sparrow hawks hover

and bob, always the crash of indigo

hosannas dangling on strings. My wife ties copper

to turquoise from deserts, and bits of steel

from engines I tear down. She strings them all

like laces of babies' shoes when the squeal

of their play made joyful noise in the hall.

Her voice is more modest than moonlight,

like pearl drops she wears in her lobes.

My hands find the face of my bride.

I stretch her skin smooth and see bone.

Our children bring children to bless her, her face

more weathered than mine. What matters

is timeless, dazzling devotion—not rain,

not Eden gardenias, but cactus in drought,

not just moons of deep sleep, not sunlight or stars,

not the blue, but the darkness beyond.

QUOTE(S): "Love is the river of life in the world." ~ Henry Ward Beecher

"As I make my way around this life, I look for signs and baubles and charms and amulets and secret texts that there is a meaning and significance to human life that is under the control of some great moderating force. I like the glimpses of sorcery and fantasy that sometimes enter the human arena at the oddest, most unexpected times." ~ Pat Conroy

The Only Way (Mark Erelli)

Because we remember... and rebuild... and continue to visualize peace:

9/11 marked with mourning and a spirit of service
By SUZANNE MA
Associated Press Writer

September 11, 2009

Cold rain mixed with tears as mourners collected under umbrellas and a dreary sky Friday to mark the eighth anniversary of the Sept. 11 attacks with old rituals and a new purpose - honoring the spirit of those who rushed forward to help.

Skies were gray in New York City, at the Pentagon and at the crash site of United Airlines Flight 93 in a Shanksville, Pa., field, where now-familiar ceremonies honored the nearly 3,000 people who were lost. Friday was also the first time the anniversary was observed as a national day of service, following an order signed this year by President Barack Obama.

The rest of the story can be found here...

SONG: The Only Way by Mark Erelli

BOOK: On That Day: A Book of Hope for Children by Andrea Patel

POEM: We Have Not Come to Take Prisoners by Hafiz

We have not come here to take prisoners,

But to surrender ever more deeply

To freedom and joy.

We have not come into this exquisite world

To hold ourselves hostage from love.

Run my dear,

From anything

That may not strengthen

Your precious budding wings.

Run like hell my dear,

From anyone likely

To put a sharp knife

Into the sacred, tender vision

Of your beautiful heart.

We have a duty to befriend

Those aspects of obedience

That stand outside of our house

And shout to our reason

"O please, O please,

Come out and play."

For we have not come here to take prisoners

Or to confine our wondrous spirits,

But to experience ever and ever more deeply

Our divine courage, freedom and

Light!

QUOTE: "When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it ... always." ~ Mahatma Gandhi

Revolution 9 (The Beatles)

Something I read today:

09/09/09: Today is the 252nd day of the year. When added together, those three numbers equal... 9. This is the last time there will be single digits in the month, day and year for the next 1001 years.

You can read about the many significances of the number 9 here...

Today also would have been mom's 79th birthday - she was born in 1930, which always made it easy to do the math and figure out how old she was...

Every day since her passing has been hard... and it whams me over the head at the most obvious of times (seeing a woman with a portable oxygen tank at the grocery store... the thirtysomething episode when Michael realizes his dad is dying... mom's birthday today) - other times it creeps up for no apparent reason... yet the tears, heartache and melancholy are the same...

Immediately after mom's passing, my husband said that it was impossible to imagine Life Without Connie, the matriarch, a larger-than-life figure who kept our family together in the bad times and good - each day that goes by has me questioning... floundering... scrambling to re-find my equilibrium... which will *never* be the same...

Scenes of the last two months of her life play out in my brain and, much as I have touted the "no regrets" philosophy, I do wonder if I could have said, done and thought things differently - then I realize that, since I can't go back, I can only use the experience to affect and affirm my actions/reactions from here on out...

I miss you so much, mom - Happy Birthday...

SONG: Revolution 9 by The Beatles

BOOK: 9 Things You Simply Must Do to Succeed in Love and Life: A Psychologist Learns from His Patients What Really Works and What Doesn't by Dr. Henry Cloud

POEM: After Fifty Years by Gil Broxon

I walked among the Grave Markers,

Near my old home town,

And I saw a number of

Old friends.

John: Killed in world war two,

Buckey, Tooter,

And Teenie.

All were childhood pals.

There was Ann's mother, And

Verna Karhryn's Mother and

father. Uncle Levi, Aunt Sally,

And Mr. Smith. I saw Uncle

Charlie—And so many others

That brought fleeting Memories

of other days.

Then I came to the plot,

That Mama had bought for herself.
Suddenly the world was still,

Except for a bird

That was singing.

Once again I heard

Mama say to me,"Son, when I die.

Take me home!"

I think that they were glad,

That I came and walked among

Their headstones,

And remembered

Each of them,

As they used to be.

I think that they were glad,

That I came all alone,

And did not disturb

The bird

That was singing.

QUOTE: "We're meant to lose the people we love. How else are we supposed to know how important they are?" ~ The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Three Women (Carrie Newcomer)

How amazing to think I've been back almost three weeks... and haven't posted in almost two weeks - overwhelmed and sensory-overloaded and crazed, oh my!

M just offered up A Challenge!, which I'll rise to in the next day or so - in the meantime, I wanted to mention a most lovely evening at my friend Nancy's a few nights ago. I appreciated The Circle of Life theme... and it was nice to celebrate a few friends' August and September births as well as honor mom's passing - thanks to all for allowing me a chance to talk about the experience, even for a bit... and with more than a few tears...

I loved everyone's contributions (Sandy's Gibran, Alisa's P.D. Eastman, Judi's poems, one of which is reprinted below) - I also reference the perfect book Susan P. gifted me with (she had no idea we used to use that song in our pre-K graduation video, oh so many years ago, in my preschool director life). I brought a few photo albums as well as Mom's plastic tiara (which many of you will recall I had on a pillow on her couch back in Georgia before bringing it home to rest on a shelf in my curio cabinet) - the feelings are still fresh and the grief process at this level is new to me. I don't want to segue into "business as usual" and gloss over what is real and deep and ongoing - I cherish my women friends, their importance being one of the many legacies from my mom...

The below essay came to me in a forward, unattributed - it suits...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GIRLS IN MY CIRCLE

When I was little, I used to believe in the concept of one best friend, and then I started to become a woman. And then I found out that if you allow your heart to open up, God would show you the best in many friends.

One friend is needed when you're going through things with your man. Another friend is needed when you're going through things with your mom. Another will sit beside you in the bleachers as you delight in your children and their activities. Another when you want to shop, share, heal, hurt, joke, or just be. One friend will say, 'Let's cry together,' another , 'Let's fight together,' another , 'Let's walk away together.'

One friend will meet your spiritual need, another your shoe fetish, another your love for movies, another will be with you in your season of confusion, another will be your clarifier, another the wind beneath your wings.

But whatever their assignment in your life, on whatever the occasion, on whatever the day, or wherever you need them to meet you with their gym shoes on and hair pulled back, or to hold you back from making a complete fool of yourself... those are your best friends.

It may all be wrapped up in one woman, but for many, it's wrapped up in several... one from 7th grade, one from high school, several from the college years, a couple from old jobs, on some days your mother, on some days your neighbor, on others, your sisters, and on some days, your daughters.

Thanks for being in my circle.

SONG: Three Women by Carrie Newcomer (scroll down to page 17)

BOOK: Forever Young by Bob Dylan, Paul Rogers (illustrator)

POEM: Just Lying on the Grass at Blackwater by Mary Oliver

I think sometimes of the possible glamour of death -

that it might be wonderful to be

lost and happy inside the green grass -

or to be the green grass! -

or, maybe the pink rose, or the blue iris,

or the affable daisy, or the twirled vine

looping its way skyward – that I might be perfectly peaceful

to be the shining lake, or the hurrying, athletic river,

or the dark shoulders of the trees

where the thrush each evening weeps himself into an ecstasy.

I lie down in the fields of goldenrod, and everlasting.

Who could find me?

My thoughts simplify. I have not done a thousand things

or a hundred things but, perhaps, a few.

As for wondering about answers that are not available except

in books, though all my childhood I was sent there

to find them, I have learned

to leave all that behind

as in summer I take off my shoes and my socks,

my jacket, my hat, and go on

happier, through the fields. The little sparrow

with the pink beak

calls out, over and over, so simply – not to me

but to the whole world. All afternoon

I grow wiser, listening to him,

soft, small, nameless fellow at the top of some weed,

enjoying his life. If you can sing, do it. If not,

even silence can feel, to the world, like happiness,

like praise,

from the pool of shade you have found beneath the everlasting.

QUOTE(S): “If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.” ~ Tom Stoppard

"Friendship is a combination of art and craft. The craft part is in knowing how to give and how to take. The art part is in knowing when, and the the whole process only works when no one is keeping track." - E. L. Konigsburg

Summerday (Dar Williams)

Can't believe it's taken me over a week to get around to posting my review of Dar's show at Eddie's Attic in Atlanta Saturday, August 15 - then again, it's not like I've been sitting around eating bon-bons. In the last nine days, I've driven a 16 ft. Budget rental truck across state lines (686 miles/15 hours from Georgia to Florida), transitioned my youngest child back to college and reclaimed my home from three-months-of-bachelorhood status - then there's my concert series planning, of which I'm woefully behind!

Dar was with the same keyboard player (Bryn, a young man) as last time, as well as a multi-instrumentalist (Jordan, a young woman), and both added lovely embellishment in the form of harmony and musicianship - her setlist spanned her career, and she played a few we don't get to hear that often (Calling the Moon, If I Wrote You, The Hudson). She was funny, she was bright, she was *on* - her husband Michael and son Stephen were there... and Dar announced that Michael is heading out this week to Ethiopia to pick up their newly-adopted daughter (she had told me last November but, since it was said in confidence, as opposed to from the stage this time, I kept quiet...... :-)

Stephen Kellogg (minus the Sixers, who many of us remember from Falcon Ridge a few years ago) was adorable as the opening act and I loved hearing his well-crafted songs in stripped-down singer-songwriter mode - he was only alloted 4 tunes, but he absolutely won over the crowd and appeared to sell a good many CDs at the break between shows!

The Dar show was all I hoped for and more - I had e-mailed through her management earlier that week, requesting Blue Light of the Flame for mom. Dar did a most lovely job, prefacing it with some really sweet words about mom having been there last November "with her smile and her oxygen" - she then dedicated the song to Connie, Susan and her family. She also said some nice things about me and my concert series, but seriously, as soon as she starts talking, my heart begins pounding, the blood rushes to my ears and I can't hear a thing - however, somewhere in there she did say "I love Susan Moss"... I swear!

I adore the fact that Dar's stories are never the same, no matter how many times I've seen her - so entertaining... and it was fun to experience it through Kevin, my sister's boyfriend (as it was his first time seeing her) and Julia, my sister's 12-year-old daughter, who is indeed now The Babysitter...

So... Dar came out for an encore and said, "this is a request from someone who's not here to someone who is here, who I will not name"... and started telling the story of how she sang Over the Rainbow with the New York Gay Men's Chorus a few years ago (telling a funny story about Dorothy's braids vs. pigtails), and did the most gorgeous rendition of the song, adding a "Pete Seeger community inclusive spin" (her words) of "if happy little bluebirds fly, why can't you and I?" - when she finished, she looked right at me and said, "that was from sharon goldberg" (thanks, sharong)...

As we were leaving, I was approached by Carolyn, Dar's tour manager who said, "are you Susan? - Dar wants to see you"... and led us behind a curtain where we could hug and chat - really, it was amazing. I had brought her a book Mari and I had given mom for her 70th birthday... and we both signed it again for Dar - amazing night (and much love and thanks to my sister for reserving the table and allowing me to be their fourth!)...

SONG: Summerday by Dar Williams

BOOK: Winter Grief, Summer Grace: Returning to Life After a Loved One Dies by James E. Miller

POEM: Photograph of My Mother as a Young Girl by Dana Gioia

She wasn't looking

when they took this picture:

sitting on the grass

in her bare feet

wearing a cotton dress,

she stares off to the side

watching something on the lawn

the camera didn't catch.

What was it?

A ladybug? A flower?

Judging from her expression,

possibly nothing at all,

or else

the lawn was like a mirror,

and she sat watching herself,

wondering who she was

and how she came to be there

sitting in this backyard,

wearing a cheap, white dress,

imagining that tomorrow

would be like all her yesterdays,

while her parents chatted

and watched, as I do

years later,

too distantly to interfere.

QUOTE: "Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language." ~ Henry James

Truckin' (The Grateful Dead)

"What a long strange trip it's been" indeed - where to begin?!?

When last we left our She-ra, she was getting ready to drive a 10 ft. rental truck across state lines - au contraire. Melanie came with me in an attempt to exchange the larger one we used for Mari's move for smaller, but they didn't have a 10 ft. in stock so we had to keep the 16 ft. - I was trying not to freak out, and decided to paraphrase my standard adage: One Mile At a Time...

We were blessed from the start, as Mel found a small silver dragonfly charm in the cupholder (now on a chain around my neck)... which made me decide to wear my new silver dragonfly earrings from Stephen (a birthday gift Melanie had brought up) - then later in the journey we were stopped at a gas station and Melanie laughed and said, "wait until you see what's on the side of the U-Haul truck pulling out". It was the logo pictured above - thanks, Dave (and maybe now... thanks, mom... since her passing date is the same as his, seven years later)...

After the first 30 minutes of driving, I was really enjoying it... and teased that I was going to go back to school to learn to be a truck driver - instead of Rosie the Riveter I'd be Susie the Trucker... which Mel amended to Susie the Mothertrucker... :-)

We had quite a Road Buddy adventure ("isn't that what you would call it?"), logging 686 miles in 15 hours, arriving home about 4 a.m. Tuesday - I am grateful for her company, her conversation and her ability to tune in radio stations with strong signals *and* playing MKOM (My Kind of Music). Long live Diet Dr. Pepper and Sun Chips, Pumpkin Spice Cappuccino and Hostess Coconut Crumb Mini Donuts - Cracker Barrel and Red Lobster rock too!

Since returning home, I've kept busy unloading the truck, moving things around from room to room, straightening and cleaning, getting Eric packed up to return to college, relocating Rob's stuff into Eric's vacant room, etc. - I've been on a mission to de-bachelorize this house!

Mom's belongings are being incorporated into my own eclectic design plan and things look really good - I went to church yesterday, spent the afternoon listening to Michael Stock's show and catching up on some e-mail... and it feels nice to be getting back into a routine...

SONG: Truckin' by The Grateful Dead

BOOK: Everything You Will Ever Need To Know To Start Driving A Big Truck Or How I Became A Professional Tourist by Steve Richards

POEM: Keys by Nancy Henry

When things got hard

I used to drive and keep on driving—

once to North Carolina

once to Arizona—

I'm through with all that now, I hope.

The last time was years ago.

But oh, how I would drive

and keep on driving!

The universe around me

all well in my control;

anything I wanted on the radio,

the air blasting hot or cold;

sobbing as loudly as I cared to sob,

screaming as loudly as I needed to scream.

I would live on apples and black coffee,

shower at truck stops,

sleep curled up

in the cozy back seat I loved.

The last time, I left at 3 a.m.

By New York state,

I stopped screaming;

by Tulsa

I stopped sobbing;

by the time I pulled into Flagstaff

I was thinking

about the Canyon,

I was so empty.

Thinking about the canyon

I was.

I sat on the rim at dawn,

let all the colors fill me.

It was cold. I saw my breath

like steam from a soup pot.

I saw small fossils in the gravel.

I saw how much world there was

how much darkness

could be swept out

by the sun.

QUOTE: "There is more credit and satisfaction in being a first-rate truck driver than a tenth-rate executive." ~ B. C. Forbes

Isn't It Nice to Be Home Again (James Taylor)

I have three blog posts floating around in my head which won't see the light of day for another 48+ hours - I'm leaving mom's later this morning, driving a 10 ft. rental truck over state lines from Flowery Branch, Georgia to South Florida (thank you, Mel, for flying up and keeping me company on the way home... :-)

More later - wish me luck now!

QUOTE: “I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.” ~ Maya Angelou

You've Got to Have Friends (Bette Midler)

Entirely too much going on this week to post anything of substance - realtors and moving trucks and estate accounts, oh my!

Will attempt to do justice to the life I am lucky to call my own, both here in Flowery Branch, Georgia... and soon to be returning to South Florida - in the meantime, I've been working on the following (since before mom passed, actually)... and wanted to scatter the seeds now... :-)

TUT: A Note From the Universe (7/16/09)

Every single minute of every single day, they're there, Susan. They may be hidden behind circumstances, people, or light poles. Challenges, closed doors, or lost keys. Camouflaged, dovetailed, or whispering. Purring, kissing, or hissing. But more often than not they're laying about in the open, under a clear blue sky, in plain view. Absolutely. Guaranteed. You'd throttle me otherwise. 10,000 reasons to be happy.

Jumanji, baby -

The Universe

Susan, how many do you see now??

SONG: You've Got to Have Friends by Bette Midler

BOOK: Vital Friends: The People You Can't Afford to Live Without by Tom Rath

POEM: When My Mind is Still by Paul Beattie

When my mind is still and alone with the beating of my heart,

I remember things too easily forgotten:

The purity of early love,

The maturity of unselfish love that asks --

desires -- nothing but another's good,

The idealism that has persisted through all the tempest of life.

When my mind is still and alone with the beating of my heart,

I can find a quiet assurance, an inner peace, in the core of my being.

It can face the doubt, the loneliness, the anxiety,

Can accept these harsh realities and can even grow

Because of these challenges to my essential being.

When my mind is still and alone with the beating of my heart,

I can sense my basic humanity,

And then I know that all men and women are my brothers and sisters.

Nothing but my own fear and distrust can separate me from the love of friends.

If I can trust others, accept them, enjoy them,

Then my life shall surely be richer and more full.

If I can accept others, this will help them to be more truly themselves,

And they will be more able to accept me.

When my mind is still and alone with the beating of my heart,

I know how much life has given me:

The history of the race, friends and family,

The opportunity to work, the chance to build myself.

Then wells within me the urge to live more abundantly,

With greater trust and joy,

With more profound seriousness and earnest service,

And yet more calmly at the heart of life.

QUOTE: "Good friends and excellent teachers -stick close to them! Wealth and power are fleeting dreams but wise words perfume the world for ages." ~ Ryokan

Loving Hands (Christine Kane)

From: The Universe

To: ozwoman321

Sent: Wed, Aug 5, 2009 12:50 pm

Subject: Your TUT Adventurers Birthday Wish!!!

Happy Birrrrthday to Youuuu,

Happy Birrrrthday to Youuuu,

Happy Birrrrthday Dear Susan,

Happy Birrrrthday to Youuuu!

A few years back, not so long ago, heaven and earth erupted into a major celebration with the news of your impending adventure into this very time and space. You see, someone like Susan doesn't come along all that often. In fact, there's never been a single one like you, nor is there ever ANY possibility that another will come again. You're an Angel among us. Someone, whose eyes see what no others will EVER see, whose ears hear what no others will EVER hear, and whose perspective and feelings will NEVER, ever be duplicated. Without YOU, the Universe, and ALL THAT IS, would be sadly less than it is.

Quite simply:

You're the kind of person, Susan,

Who's hard to forget,

A one-in-a-million

To the people you've met.

Your friends are as varied

As the places you go,

And they all want to tell you

In case you don't know:

That you make a big difference

In the lives that you touch,

By taking so little

And giving so much!

Susan, you are so AWESOME! For your birthday, friends and angels from every corner of the Universe, including buddies you didn't know you had, will be with you to wish you the HAPPIEST of days and an exciting new year in time and space. You won't be alone!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Susan!

P.S. - Susan, this is going to be YOUR year!!

"And it always starts here"... to quote Dar Williams - oh... little did I know what an amazing day it would turn out to be... :-)

The original plan was for my sister to come over yesterday so we could continue our clearing and cleaning of mom's house - "are you sure you want to work on your birthday?", Mari asked... and I said yes because, quite frankly, I anticipated the alternative of having a big pity party for poor li'l ole me and spending my birthday *alone*.

However, because of something that happened about midnight on the cusp of my birthday, I e-mailed Mari first thing yesterday morning with a change of plans... and I'm so glad I did - who knew the sort of magical day that would unfold? (rhetorical question)...

Actually, my celebration began Tuesday afternoon when I received a birthday card, in the mail, from mom's (and now my) friend Rose (who actually lives just across the street) - about 11 p.m. I received an e-card from my friend Eileen...

A bit after midnight (on August 5, my actual birthday) I somehow got the urge to clean out a drawer in mom's liquor cabinet - Mari and I had already gone through it last week, and I knew it was mostly filled with cocktail napkins and votive candles... but the urge for organization was there and I succumbed. Imagine my surprise when I found about 10 bookmarks in the back left corner, one of which was decorated with beautiful flowers and the following text: "Today's your birthday and I celebrate the journey of your life!". I am absolutely convinced I was led to find the bookmark as a Happy Birthday message from mom - signs are everywhere, if you pay attention...

I was up at 8 a.m. for exercise class, and dropped my sister an e-mail that I had changed my mind and would prefer a day off and to myself, if it was okay with her - the phone rang at 8:30 and it was mom's friend Claire, wishing me a happy birthday. I did a quick e-mail check before leaving the house and had birthday notes from Nancy and Mari - as soon as I got in the car with Ann and Diane (mom's friends), they both wished me a happy birthday, and Diane gave me a present of a lovely stemmed candleholder, with a purple votive included. Everyone in class wished me a happy birthday, and Ann and Diane took me out for brunch at Einstein's Bagels afterwards - at this point with mom's friends, I feel as if I'm living the movie Steel Magnolias (and yes, there is a Shirley MacLaine character... :-)

I came home to a package at the front door from sweet Melanie and, as I walked in to unwrap its contents, my cell phone started ringing - it was my dear friend Fred who, although we've e-mailed, I hadn't spoken with the entire time I've been here... and we chatted for close to an hour. I had no sooner hung up than I received a voicemail and text from my brother Brad and a voicemail from my daughter Sarah - I was finally able to open the package from Melanie (she reused the box and Atlanta Journal-Constitution page in which I had sent El Toro - inside joke), and it was a card with the most beautiful sentiment, and an "Are you a good witch or a bad witch?" Oz figurine, with Dorothy, Glinda and the Wicked Witch of the West...

Then the mail carrier rang the bell, with a package from Eileen: another lovely card, two books (one novel, one children's) and a few magnets - Mari called then, and we talked a while... and I did another e-mail check and found dear blog comments from Catherine, Amy, sharon, Kate and Michele...

My son Eric called and, as soon as I hung up with him, the phone rang again and it was my son Rob - I had every intention of taking a long, hot bath... and a nap... and curling up with a good novel... but the day had flown by... so instead, I squeezed in a shower, watched Oprah and read the lovely children's book from Eileen (noted below)...

I called Eileen, Nancy and Melanie to chat - left voicemails with all three, and ended up talking with the first two a bit later (by this point, my phone had died, so Melanie and Nick... and Susan P!... left a message while it was charging)...

My dear husband called and we talked a bit... and Rose phoned... and my friend Dan called (he didn't know it was my birthday but he invited me to a get-together with a few friends Sunday evening) - Amy had posted my birthday to the Dar-list, and a few people wrote on- and off-list to wish me a happy one. Received an e-mail from my brother's girlfriend Donna and an e-card from my sister's boyfriend Kevin - happy, happy, happy!

A bit before 9 p.m. I cooked a Kashi roasted vegetable thin crust pizza, poured a glass of pinot grigio and segued into folk dork persona by watching the PBS Great Performances show of Pete Seeger's 90th Birthday Celebration from Madison Square Garden - what a perfect way to celebrate my own!

During a break (it is fundraising week after all), I lit a candle and placed it on top of a piece of cake I had defrosted (after mom's funeral, I hid the remaining desserts in the freezer) - Nancy had sung to me earlier on the phone... and I thought of our call fondly as I blew out the candle. My wish had already come true, as it was the most Perfect birthday I'd had in quite a while - glad I trusted my instinct, so as to allow it unfold as it was meant...

"It's those magic little moments you never have to understand, wondering if it's luck or loving hands" - indeed... :-)

SONG: Loving Hands by Christine Kane (scroll about halfway down)

BOOK: Zen Shorts by Jon J Muth

POEM: If to Say It Once by Gregory Orr

If to say it once

And once only, then still

To say: Yes.

And say it complete,

Say it as if the word

Filled the whole moment

With its absolute saying.

Later for “but,”

Later for “if.”

Now

Only the single syllable

That is the beloved,

That is the world.

QUOTE: "What is laid down, ordered, factual is never enough to embrace the whole truth: life always spills over the rim of every cup." ~ Boris Pasternak

I Can't Drive 55 (Sammy Hagar)

FREE WILL ASTROLOGY
Rob Brezsny
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): If you really knew how much you were loved, you would never cry again. A sublime relaxation would flood your nervous system, freeing you to see the beautiful secrets that your chronic fear has hidden from you. If you knew how much the world longs for your genius to bloom in its full glory, the peace that filled you would ensure you could not fail. You'd face every trial with eager equanimity. You would always know exactly what to do because your intuition would tell you in a myriad of subtle ways. And get this: A glimpse of this glory will soon be available to you.

Today is my 55th birthday - how in the f*ck did that happen?!? I continue to say that I feel 19 until I pass a mirror and think, "who is that old woman?" - my outside definitely does not match my inside... :-)

Not sure what the day bodes, especially since I'm still at mom's and not surrounded by my own loved ones: family and friends - there will be time for celebration when I return (plus my brother, sister and niece are taking me out for a birthday lunch Saturday to mom's favorite restaurant)... but, in the meantime, I'm just glad to have logged another year on the planet... and am already plotting as to how to make these next 365 days productive, peaceful and pro-active!

SONG: I Can't Drive 55 by Sammy Hagar

BOOK: What Your Birthday Reveals About You: 366 Days of Astonishingly Accurate Revelations About Your Future, Your Secrets, and Your Strengths by Phyllis Vega

POEM: You See I Want A Lot by Rainer Maria Rilke

What do you want?
You see, I want a lot.
Perhaps I want everything:
the darkness that comes with every infinite fall
and the shivering blaze of every step up.

So many live on and want nothing,
and are raised to the rank of prince
by the slippery easy of their light judgments.

But what you love to see are faces
that do work and feel thirst.

You love most of all those who need you
as they need a crowbar or a hoe.

You have not grown old, and it's not too late
to dive into your increasing depths
where life calmly gives out its own secret.

QUOTE: “The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it.” ~ J. M. Barrie

The Indescribable Wow (Sam Phillips)

DailyOM
July 29, 2009
An Instant Vacation
Relaxing at Home

Throughout our lives, most of us are led to believe that relaxation is best pursued outside of the home. As a result, we spend months anticipating weeklong vacations, seldom fully appreciating the leisure time we are blessed with on a more regular basis. It is possible, however, to reexperience the same utterly relaxed state you slip into while on holiday within your home’s walls. The feelings of serenity you enjoy during a vacation are a product of your outlook rather than your locale. You give yourself permission to enjoy yourself and unwind while on vacation. Granting yourself the same privilege while at home allows you to experience complete relaxation, even when surrounded by routine.

Our homes can be distracting places as most survival tasks are addressed there. Reviving the tranquility you felt on holiday is as easy as creating an atmosphere that helps you relax. First, divest yourself of the notion that messes must be cleaned up immediately and reaffirm that relaxation is as vital as physical nourishment. Then, set the mood. Music that reminds you of a beloved vacation destination can put you in a vacation mind-set. The exotic flavor of a tropical beverage or the spiciness a favorite ethnic dish can transport you to a more restful mental space. Finally, put aside your projects and commit to doing only what you consider truly pleasurable. Your responsibilities will wait as you put up your feet and revel in peacefulness that comes from within.

If you find it difficult to ignore the temptation to simply fall back into your usual schedule, consider that relaxation should occupy a prominent place on your to-do list. You deserve to take "you time" and to care for yourself, even during life’s busy periods. While you may not always be able to get away from it all, you can still nurture yourself and regain your peace of mind.

It's been an exhausting few days - last week's visitation and funeral seem forever ago, plus I had Sarah here until mid-day Saturday. Sunday found me, Mari and Brad getting together for our first family dinner without mom - I continue to be amazed at how quiet the house is without her oxygen concentrator, her TV in the background and her palpable energy field. She spent all of each and every day at one corner of the couch... her "nook", as we termed it - a few days after her death, I placed a couch pillow, flat, on the empty space, and on top of that a plastic tiara from mom's 70th surprise birthday party. It stayed there to mark her place throughout the visitors, the extended family gathering, the post-funeral-mass get-together - it will remain indefinitely...

On Sunday Mari, Brad and I read aloud a copy of the will - everything will of course be split three ways, although there is not much, understandably, as mom lived on a limited income (retirement and Social Security). Once the house is sold, the proceeds will be 70/30 (the former to the three of us, the latter to her second husband's son and daughter) - there is some money in CDs and IRAs, which will also be thirded. What we thought would be the most difficult has in fact been easiest: the distribution of mom's belongings - Mari and I have spent the last two days going through the house room by room, and comparing it to the inventory I did with mom when I visited last January.

Mari recently divorced and moved into another house in her same neighborhood - money is tight and, although she's done a beautiful job of decorating, there were still three rooms with virtually nothing in them. I don't need furniture and neither does my brother... so it's comforting to know that Mari will turn the downstairs bedroom into an "homage" to mom, complete with mom's childhood bedroom furniture (a lovely maple dresser and nightstand), the Hummel latchhook rug mom crafted and mom and Ralph's framed wedding invitation - Mari will be able to use mom's dining room table and eight chairs and buffet... as well as furnish an upstairs bedroom (sporting a lighthouse wallpaper border) with mom's futon, nightstands and dresser from her and Ralph's bedroom furniture and mom's lighthouse collection (many of which Mari gave to mom over the years)...

I will be bringing home an antique washstand that was my grandmother's (my father's mom), a cherished piece with many memories, as well as a lovely baker's rack to use on the patio and many household items (linens and glassware) - Brad will get mom's wicker patio furniture, her everyday dishes and flatware, the TVs, the painting over the couch, some small appliances and mom's cutting board (which her father, who was in the linoleum business, made). We have all chosen various knick-knacks and religious paraphernalia - next week we will call in the neighbors to see what items they'd like to have to remember mom by, and then we'll donate the rest.

As I'm Executrix of the will, I've also started proceedings with the lawyer, followed up on with the funeral home to find out when we'll receive the death certificates, called the church to thank them again for doing such a beautiful job with the service - our next step is bringing in a realtor to take a look at the house and then put it on the market. A big plus in our situation is that Mari's college sweetheart/current boyfriend is in process of getting a divorce, which should be final in the next few weeks - we've discussed him renting mom's house for at least six months. He will keep the house show-ready for potential buyers... and we will have the mortgage payment/utilities covered as well as someone trustworthy staying there - win/win...

So... with all of this going on, I decided I was taking a day off today - Mari is at Six Flags with Julia and friends, Brad went back to work... and I'm going to enjoy a well-deserved "staycation" (as Mari terms it). There is still much to be done with my business brain (including massive amounts of thank you notes) but, for today, all will be put on hold while I regroup/recoup from the hard-hitting emotional drain of the last week... and the exhaustion of the last two months - as soon as I hit Publish Post, I'm going to soak in a hot bath, curl up with a good book, nap (I slept very poorly last night, unusual for me) and generally nurture myself. It's much-needed and long-overdue - then I can get back to it tomorrow with grace and style and, most importantly, energy...

Speaking of WOW, which was the jumping-off place for this post, I reprint below a paragraph from my eulogy - one week later and I still glance down at my wrist with joy and memory (love you, MOM!)...

Mom was absolutely prepared... physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually – and because she was, it helped all of us to be. Monday, as you can well imagine, was most difficult – Mari, Brad and I spent many hours with Theresa at the church and James at the funeral home, finalizing last-minute details for last night's visitation and today's mass. At the end of a very long day, the three of us headed to the local tattoo parlor in Buford and we each got a memorial inking on our wrist, with the saying “it is what it is”, which was on the bracelet my children had given her for Christmas last year and which she never took off – we also put the date of her passing, 7/19/09, as well as the word mom (which upside-down spells wow, a word she was fond of using after a bad breathing episode). It was a healing and bonding experience for us, as we begin to navigate the journey of life without Connie – what a legacy she left us, which we are passing on to our children, who will in turn pass it on to theirs.

SONG: The Indescribable Wow by Sam Phillips (yeah, I know it's the title of an album not a song!)

BOOK: What A Coincidence!: The wow! factor in synchronicity and what it means in everyday life by Susan M. Watkins

POEM: To My Mother by Wendell Berry

I was your rebellious son,
do you remember? Sometimes
I wonder if you do remember,
so complete has your forgiveness been.

So complete has your forgiveness been
I wonder sometimes if it did not
precede my wrong, and I erred,
safe found, within your love,

prepared ahead of me, the way home,
or my bed at night, so that almost
I should forgive you, who perhaps
foresaw the worst that I might do,

and forgave before I could act,
causing me to smile now, looking back,
to see how paltry was my worst,
compared to your forgiveness of it

already given. And this, then,
is the vision of that Heaven of which
we have heard, where those who love
each other have forgiven each other,

where, for that, the leaves are green,
the light a music in the air,
and all is unentangled,
and all is undismayed.

QUOTE: "We cannot live for ourselves alone. Our lives are connected by a thousand invisible threads, and along these sympathetic fibers, our actions run as causes and return to us as results." ~ Herman Melville

For a Dancer (Jackson Browne)

Today is the one week anniversary of my mom's passing - I still don't feel much like "talking"... but I will soon enough, and appreciate the patience and understanding of my friends as I navigate the noisy quiet... :-)

In the meantime, you can read mom's obituary and eulogy on her CaringBridge site - I know she would have been proud of us...

SONG: For a Dancer by Jackson Browne

BOOK: Unexpected Blessings: Finding Hope and Healing in the Face of Illness by Roxanne Black

POEM: Miracle of Bubbles by Barbara Goldberg

A woman drives to the video store

to rent a movie. It is Saturday night,

she is thinking of nothing in particular,

perhaps of how later she will pop popcorn

or hold hands with her husband and pretend

they are still in high school. On the way home

a plane drops from the sky, the wing shearing

her roof of her car, killing her instantly.

Here is a death, it could happen to any of us.

Her husband will struggle the rest of his days

to give shape to an event that does not mean

to be understood. Since memory cannot operate

without plot, he chooses the romantic — how young

she was, her lovely waist, or the ironic — if only

she had lost her keys, stopped for pizza.

At the precise moment the plane spiraled

out of control, he was lathering shampoo

into his daughter's hair, blond and fine

as cornsilk, in love with his life, his

daughter, the earth (for "cornsilk" is how

he thought of her hair), in love with the miracle

of bubbles, how they rise in a slow dance,

swell and shimmer in the steamy air, then

dissolve as though they never were.

QUOTE: "The death of someone we know always reminds us that we are still alive - perhaps for some purpose which we ought to re-examine." ~ Mignon McLaughlin

Long Goodbye (Amy Carol Webb)

Constance (Concetta) Izzo Driskell Maresco

September 9, 1930 - July 19, 2009

Mom passed away peacefully in her sleep about 7:00 this morning, July 19, 2009. We are currently in process of contacting friends and relatives and will keep everyone posted as to details of funeral arrangements as they unfold. Mari and Brad are at Mom's house now and Sue will be flying back up later today. Thanks in advance to all for your continued love, support and prayers.

Please check Mom's CaringBridge Journal and Guestbook for updates - long story short: ultimately, mom was prepared... physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually (she really did do it Her Way... :-)

P.S. Synchronistically, it's also the seventh anniversary of the death of Dave Carter - those who know me will understand the significance...

SONG: Long Goodbye by Amy Carol Webb (link to YouTube video)

BOOK: Nobody's Child: How Older Women Say Good-Bye to Their Mothers by Diane Sher Lutovich

POEM: Funeral Blues by W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

QUOTE(S): "Grief, when it comes, is nothing we expect it to be... After my mother died I received a letter from a friend in Chicago, a former Maryknoll priest, who precisely intuited what I felt. The death of a parent, he wrote, 'despite our preparation, indeed, despite our age, dislodges things deep in us, sets off reactions that surprise us and that may cut free memories and feelings that we had thought gone to ground long ago. We might, in that indeterminate period they call mourning, be in a submarine, silent on the ocean's bed, aware of the depth charges, now near and now far, buffeting us with recollections.' "~ Joan Didion

"...it's not really when you die. It's whether or not you really lived."~ Jerri Nielsen

No Place Like Om (Troubadours of Divine Bliss)

". . . love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. for those who are near you are far away, you write, and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast. And if what is near you is far away, then your vastness is already among the stars and is very great; be happy about your growth, in which of course you can't take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don't torment them with your doubts and don't frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn't be able to comprehend.

Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn't necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust. . . . Don't ask for any advice from them and don't expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it." ~ Ranier Maria Rilke "Letters to a Young Poet"

I read the above on a grace-full blog (thanks, Shannon)... and had to include in mine - this is exactly how I'm feeling on the cusp of going back home (home!) for two weeks... after having been with my ailing/aging mom for the last two months. I posted the following to Mom's CaringBridge website over the last few days - this now, more later... of course... :-)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At this point, mom seems to have stabilized enough such that (goddess willing) I'm making plans to go to the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival, a summer staple for me - this will be my 11th year!

I will be away a total of two weeks... flying from Atlanta to Ft. Lauderdale this Thursday July 16, up to Boston Tuesday July 21 (to meet up with a music friend, whereupon we will drive to the festival in upstate New York), back to Ft. Lauderdale after the festival Monday July 27 and return to Atlanta Thursday July 30.

Mari will be holding down the proverbial fort in my absence - I am beyond grateful. I also know she will need help, breaks and support... on the weekends so she can get out of the house for a few hours... and even during the week as she's working from mom's house and might need someone to sit with mom while Mari's having a particularly busy or phone-centric day. Any offer much appreciated and seriously considered - thanks in advance!

I cannot wait to see my husband, my children, my dog, my friends... and my house (my bed, my jacuzzi... even my kitchen) - it's been entirely too long (two months). It's hard not to feel twinges of guilt and/or selfishness for the getaway - however, I know I *wouldn't* even consider it, much less follow through, if mom wasn't at this plateau... and I know she is in such capable hands with Mari. We've been tag-teaming for the last few months and I am fully confident she is up to the exhausting but rewarding task - Brad is also fully on board to do whatever he can to help and support. It does take a village - we are lucky ours is so loving and far-reaching...

Thanks again to all for continued thoughts/prayers/skyward intentions/purple candles and, most importantly, your love and support - it means much... <3>

SONG: No Place Like Om by Troubadours of Divine Bliss (I can't find the lyrics online so this YouTube video of Over the Rainbow will have to do!)

BOOK: Talk Before Sleep by Elizabeth Berg

POEM: What I Believe by Michael Blumenthal

I believe there is no justice,

but that cottongrass and bunchberry

grow on the mountain.

I believe that a scorpion's sting

will kill a man,

but that his wife will remarry.

I believe that, the older we get,

the weaker the body,

but the stronger the soul.

I believe that if you roll over at night

in an empty bed,

the air consoles you.

I believe that no one is spared

the darkness,

and no one gets all of it.

I believe we all drown eventually
in a sea of our making,
but that the land belongs to someone else.

I believe in destiny.

And I believe in free will.

I believe that, when all

the clocks break,
time goes on without them.

And I believe that whatever

pulls us under,
will do so gently.

so as not to disturb anyone,

so as not to interfere

with what we believe in.

QUOTE: "It began in mystery, and it will end in mystery, but what a savage and beautiful country lies in between." ~ Diane Ackerman

La Vie En Rose (Edith Piaf)

DailyOm

July 7, 2009

Opportunity for Reflection

Hard Days

We all have days that seem endlessly difficult and hard. On these days, it is as if the odds are stacked against us and we just can’t get a break as one challenging situation follows another. We may feel like we’re standing in the ocean getting hit by wave after wave, never able to get a full breath. Sometimes it’s necessary or worth it to stay in the fray and work our way through. Other times, the best idea is to go home and take the breath we need in order to carry on.

If the only choice is to get through it, a hard day can be a great teacher. It will eventually end and we can look back on it, taking pride in the stamina, courage, and ingenuity it took to hold our ground. We may also look back and see how we could have done things differently. This knowledge will be valuable when we face hard days in the future. Trust your gut as you’re deciding whether to work through it, and know that sometimes a timely retreat is the best way to ensure a positive outcome. Getting space can remind us that external circumstances are not the whole picture. Once we catch our breath and re-center ourselves, we will be able to determine our next move. With a little perspective, we may even find the inner resources to change our attitude about what’s happening. We may begin to see that what we saw as hardships are actually opportunities. As our attitude changes for the better, our actions and the circumstances will follow suit.

Sometimes all that’s needed is a good night’s sleep. No one is immune to having a hard day and these are usually the times we can learn the most. If we can find it in our hearts to examine the day, and maybe make one small change in perception, we can ease our pain and greet the next day that much wiser.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rob Brezsny's Astrology Newsletter

July 8, 2009

LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): At the farmer's market, an escape artist performed in the middle of the street. As a crowd gawked, he had two big strong men tie him up tight in a straitjacket and 50 feet of chain. For the next 20 minutes he shimmied and contorted and bent over backwards. His face grew red and sweaty. There were no Houdini-like magic tricks. There were no puffs of smoke or magic boxes or mirrors or distracting assistants. He rarely spoke as the ordeal progressed, but in the end, after the last of the chains slipped off and he wrestled his way out of the straitjacket, he said simply, "Now I invite all of you to go home and use what I just did as a metaphor for your life." It was a supremely sexy performance, and I realized maybe it would help you with your current situation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I told a friend the other day that I need to work harder at being softer - I find myself back in that frustrated frame of mind...

As a few of you (who know my backstory) surmise, there is so much going on here emotionally with my mother, especially given our past history - we've always had a power-and-control tug-of-war relationship... mostly with her pulling and me pulling back in self-defense, trying not to get sucked in to that big mudpuddle in the middle!

Interesting to note that now, in the last few months of her life, she's still doing it - I know how powerless she must feel, unable to have much, if any, control over her life at this point... and of course she's going to try to find ways to dig in her heels, just on principle alone. I know she's grateful that I came, that I continue to stay and that I have sacrificed being with family and friends in order to facilitate her health plan - I am truly trying to do this selflessly, and with great love and respect...

It remains difficult... not just the day-to-day tasks but the emotional toll - caregiving is a thankless job, no matter how much anyone verbalizes their gratitude. My younger sister has stepped up in an *amazing* way and, if it weren't for her coming over three mornings a week so I could go to exercise class, and giving me a few nights a week respite at her house while she stays with mom, I'd have long since crossed over into exhaustion and insanity - I am beyond appreciative of her support, especially since she's juggling around a full-time job...

However, I told her the other day it sometimes feels unfairly like joint custody - she's the one who takes mom to Six Flags and orders in from the local seafood restaurant... and I'm the one who makes mom get up for school and eat her vegetables. Then I realized... that's always been our loop - I'm the responsible one (oldest) and Mari's the fun one (youngest). None of us can help the birth order nor the roles we've always played - I can waste time fretting and fuming... or I can just accept the fact that neither is better or worse... and that we actually need both for a balanced lifestyle for mom (I can be fun with my friends and Mari can be responsible with her daughter... :-)

I am at Mari's now, spending last night and tonight (can't believe how rejuvenating two nights in a row is) - since arriving late afternoon yesterday, I have: napped, eaten yummy crabcakes Mari left for me, watched Jeopardy, drunk half a glass of wine, watched a few hours of mindless TV (including Top Chef Masters), started a new-to-me Alice Hoffman novel, gotten a good night's sleep, walked 45 minutes in her neighborhood... and composed and uploaded this blog!

For my remaining time, I plan to: sun/read on the deck, do some much-needed work for my concert series on the computer, make a Target run, take a nap, watch more mindless TV, drink more wine, enjoy a jacuzzi/bath soak, get another good night's sleep... and head directly to exercise class in the morning... after which I'll return to mom's and re-grasp the baton so Mari can revel in a lovely weekend however she chooses...

Thanks, baby sister... for the opportunity to allow me to continue to learn, grow and give - we make a *great* team and I remain in awe of your maturity as well as your fun-loving spirit!

SONG: La Vie En Rose by Edith Piaf

BOOK: Shower of Heavenly Roses: Inspirational True Stories of Healing Guidance, and other Miracles, Atrributed to the Intercession of Therese of the Little Flower by Elizabeth Ficocelli

POEM: Rose Garden, Summer Solstice by Carolyn Miller

Everyone here believes that the roses
are blooming only for them, there where the air

by the formal beds is layered with the scent

of roses. From deep in their flushed and darkening hearts

pour odors of lemons and pepper, apricots, honey,

vanilla and myrrh and musk and semen, apples and quince,

raspberries and wine and ocean, the faint

scent of blood and the fragrance of death and the breath

of the life we are living now, in this place

where the roses are blooming for each of us, alone.

QUOTE: "There are some things, after all, that Sally Owens knows for certain: Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender, for luck. Fall in love whenever you can." ~ Alice Hoffman