Optimistic Voices

The Waitress (Jonathan Byrd)

2011-01-18T12:10:00.003-05:00

Nothing "of substance" this morning (and who says there has to be, right?... :-) - however, today's poem from The Writer's Almanac made me think of Jonathan's amazing song... and then I only needed two more components for a blog post. No brainer - enjoy!

SONG: The Waitress by Jonathan Byrd (can't find the lyrics but YouTube video here)...

BOOK: Counter Culture: The American Coffee Shop Waitress by Candacy A. Taylor

POEM: Daily I Fall In Love With Waitresses by Elliot Fried

Daily I fall in love with waitresses
with their white bouncing name tags
KATHY MARGIE HONEY SUE
and white rubber shoes.
I love how they bend over tables
pouring coffee.
Their perky breasts hover above potatoes
like jets coming in to LAX
hang above the suburbs—
shards of broken stars.
I feel their fingers
roughened by cube steaks softened with grease
slide over me.
Their hands and lean long bodies
keep moving so...
fumbling and clattering so harmoniously
that I am left overwhelmed, quivering.
Daily I fall in love with waitresses
with their cream-cheese cool.
They tell secrets in the kitchen
and I want them.
I know them.
They press buttons creases burgers buns—
their legs are menu smooth.

They have boyfriends or husbands or children
or all.
They are french dressing worldly—
they know how ice cubes clink.
Their chipped teeth form chipped beef
and muffin syllabics.
Daily I fall in love with waitresses.
They are Thousand Island dreams
but they never stand still long enough
as they serve serve serve.

QUOTE: "When the waitress puts the dinner on the table, the old men look at the dinner. The young men look at the waitress." ~ Gelett Burgess

We'll All Meet Up Next Year (A New Year's Song) - (Deirdre Flint)

2011-01-01T23:45:00.006-05:00

Today's TUT... A Note from the Universe:

Susan, soon the new year starts, so now's a great time to:

1. Wipe the slate clean.
2. Focus upon what you really want.
3. Chart your course.

Right?

Well... only if you want to risk having to repeat these steps for the same wishes next year! Maybe this is splitting hairs, but here's an adventurous alternative:

1. Give thanks that life is... just as it is (and that it's been... just as it's been). Because of it, you're now "READY."

2. Define what you want in terms of the end result. Don't worry about the hows, or even the course. KNOW that what you want is ALREADY yours in spirit, by divine LAW, just focus on the certainty of this ownership, understand it, claim it, and "it will be on earth, as it is in heaven (spirit)."

3. LET THE UNIVERSE show you the way via your impulses and instincts that appear as you take inspired action. Don't worry that your first steps seem silly or futile. And if you don't know what to do, do anything! Go! Get busy! Do not insist on intermediary successes, only upon the end result.

2011 is going to be your year (it already is),
The Universe

It starts now, Susan! This is your year! Happy beginning of something GREAT!!!

You really are READY Susan. And your self-confidence in my intuition and wisdom is ready for you.

Don't f*cking faint! - after taking 5 months off (for erratic behavior), I have now written and uploaded three posts in as many consecutive days. No promises... but the future bodes bright - pass the shades... :-)

So... as has become my custom each January 1, I subscribe to Christine Kane's Word of the Year concept - the last month I've experienced strong and intentional vibes and was gifted with a *Phrase* of the Year - Let. It. Go. (which is similar to my Release of a few years back, but somehow different). I will not explain but I know why I chose it and how I'll apply it - I will say that it relates to #2 of The Four Agreements (on my right sidebar)... and let it go (see... already putting it into practice) at that!

We hosted a lovely and fun Open House today with friends, family and neighbors - I am exhausted yet full... mimosas segueing to coffee interspersed with healthy spinach dip, raw veggies and a few bites of cookie...

SONG: We'll All Meet Up Next Year (A New Year's Song) by Deirdre Flint

Time to Let Go by Cary Cooper (Cary just wrote this song a few days ago and posted it on her Facebook page - given the synchronicity, I had to include... :-)

BOOK: Writing Down Your Soul: How to Activate and Listen to the Extraordinary Voice Within by Janet Conner

POEM: begin here by Maya Stein

When the last seat is taken,
or the key has trapped in the lock,
when the rain has eviscerated your garden,
or your words have run out one by one.
When the packing is half-finished, or traffic
keeps you from your purpose,
when the bright white of your day
has paled and pixilated.
When the grocery bag rips coming up the stairs,
when the telephone bill shocks
and then flounders you,
when love has flown off course,
when your nails are ragged and wanton,
when the runway is slick and the sky sodden.
When the ache for something nameless
fans out into your bones,
when you are hungry, or lost or in need of a hand
across your eyelashes.
When it’s deadline or dilemma
or just you tripping on the stained carpet of your trouble,
begin here.

Place one leaden, obstinate foot
where you can see it.
Gather your maniacal breath,
your little windbags of lungs.
Eye only the square of sidewalk a blink away,
that quadrant of concrete mottled with the dirty
evidence of living,
and go.

When the manual for what’s broken
has been misplaced, when the view is obscured
by a restless construction site,
when your closet is an echo of castoffs.
When the bridge toll climbs and the road
down the mountain is pummeled with snow,
when your face bears little resemblance
to the person you remember,
when the field is populated with abler bodies,
when poems have been written by nimbler souls,
when no amount of squinting
delivers oasis, begin here.

Guide your defeated arms
into a small fit of swinging.
Coerce your hips into the barest
shimmy. Locate the pocket of a single,
deserted minute, its hum of insignificance,
and go.

When cheer cannot cheer you,
when crumbs cannot feed you,
when the storage space in the garage
topples from the weight.
When beauty eludes you,
when the weatherman confirms your fear,
when the doctor bears his wild news.
When you return to the bad habit,
when the current continues its brutal tackle,
when mess is your middle name,
begin here.

Climb onto your weary haunches. Lift your belly
from its mattress cave. Initiate the wholly
unremarkable act of breathing, and go.

When you have had enough.
When you have had too much.
When your fortress has not kept away the enemy,
and the walls are an abscess of rubble.
Do not fling yourself from the gangplank.
Do not hasten your disappearance
with your own cruelty.
Do not mask your ferocity with a collage of good manners.

The death’s door of your failure
is still a door.
Wrap your shaking fist around the handle.
Hear the cricket click of the latch.
And begin.

QUOTE: “There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.” ~ Louis L’Amour

We Traveled So Far (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

2010-12-31T14:00:00.005-05:00

Thanks again to all who never gave up on me these last five months, whether by active cheerleading or supportive patience - lots of reading and pondering has convinced me it's not about the "trying" but about the "being"... so I will try (ha!) to *be* more accepting of myself, in whatever form, in the future...

Time did march on since mid-July (my last wrenching post) and below is a recap of the "life before my eyes" in that abyss of emotional floundering - I would like to say I feel better now... and I do... but I also am more prepared to handle the ups and downs of the journey. Mixed Nuts, a really lame movie we watched Christmas Day with the exception of some amazing character actors (Madeline Kahn among them), had a great piece of dialogue:

"Just remember that in every pothole there is hope. Well, you see, pothole is spelled P-O-T-H-O-L-E. So if you take the P, and add it to the H, the O, and the E, and rearrange the letters... or contrariwise, you remove the O, T, and the L, you get "hope". So, just remember, in every pothole there is hope!"

:-)

Amen and blessed be - so... Top Ten Past Events, Good and Bad, to Close Out 2010:

10. I did go to Falcon Ridge this July, as I missed the 2009 festival due to Mom's illness/passing - it was amazing to reconnect with friends and music I only experience in person once a year, but are with my cyberly daily...

9. August 5 brought my 56th birthday - I can't even remember what I did, but I do recall telling everyone I didn't need presents, as I really already had everything I wanted...

8. After putting Mom's house on the market mid-April, we signed it over to buyers late-August - closure is always bittersweet and, sad as it is to think we've metaphorically and literally closed that door, we've also moved forward with our lives while keeping the memories...

7. My sister hosted a what-would-have-been-Mom’s-80th-birthday party in mid-September, attended by new and old neighbors as well as other friends - more bittersweetness ensued, as we celebrated someone who always celebrated life...

6. I experienced a personal and professional dream-come-true as I hosted the amazing Dar Williams in early-October at the concert series I've coordinated for the last six years - the evening was a success on so many levels (musical, emotional, financial) and I am beyond blessed. Photo of commemorative tattoo, a few minutes after inking, above - love and thanks to Kristyn... :-)

5. Terry, a friend from book club and the gym, discovered she had ovarian and stomach cancer, and there was only a month from diagnosis to her death on November 14 - it still doesn't seem real and she is much missed...

4. After being with his company for 25 years, the week before Thanksgiving my husband received pre-notification he's being let go in mid-February (they're outsourcing his role to another country) - rather than operating from fear, we are belt-tightening where we can but also thinking positive (along with networking his many resources) that there is something better out there for his talents and experience...

3. In mid-August, I finally got serious about a weight loss program and, as of mid-December, have lost 40 pounds - I look great, feel terrific and, after successfully maintaining through the holidays, will take off another 10 or so to get to goal as well as peace of mind...

2. For the last 10 years (since my mom's second husband was killed in a car accident in March 2000), each Christmas we have traveled to South Carolina to spend time with my husband's family and Georgia to see mine - it has been rewarding but also exhausting and expensive, and this year we made the conscious decision to stay home. We resurrected old traditions (put up a tree and over-decorated) and made new ones - we of course missed being with extended family but actively embraced the holiday in our own home for the first time in a decade...

1. Tonight we will go to a party (home by midnight to honor our champagne-in-the-jacuzzi ritual) and tomorrow finds us hosting a New Year's Day Open House - my wish for 2011 for myself and my friends: inspirational music, thought-provoking literature, heart-based camaraderie and awareness/intention to appreciate and enjoy!

SONG: We Traveled So Far by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK: The Ten Things to Do When Your Life Falls Apart: An Emotional and Spiritual Handbook by Daphne Rose Kingma

POEM: crossing the border by Maya Stein

It hit her, crossing the border into Ontario. The drive from Ann Arbor
had been grey and wet, the rain coming in fat drops,
metronoming her windshield wipers. She'd settled into her seat,
like she'd done for the past 5,000 miles, reached for a stick of gum,
adjusted the radio dial, checked the battery on her cell phone.

The landscape into Windsor was flat, almost featureless,
though the bridge had been magnificent, a real piece of architecture,
the cables long and taut as ballerina legs.
But the strip malls greeted her cheerlessly,
the sky empty of welcome. She drove on, having filled up
on gas at her departure. Finally, the cornfields reappeared,
barns and silos rising out of the land again, and the first
hints of autumn announced themselves in the distant trees.

Maybe it was this particular rain, or that somehow
crossing the border had carried her even further from home,
or that the season's temporal beauty - so splashy now -
would tumble into certain bleakness and cold, but out of nowhere,
she gave the steering wheel a fresh earnest grip,
wanting to hold on to whatever it was
that was letting her go.

And yet, she realized it was time, her own muscles tired
of engaging only to leave her heart frayed so thin.
The exchange was untenable, staying rooted to a past that charmed
and even, occasionally, soothed, but no longer fed.

She had opted for the country road on her way
to the big city, but soon it became clear this wasn't a day
to get lost. The road required an oddly painful slowing. Construction
and idle drivers kept interrupting the steady pressure of her foot
against the gas pedal. The single lane made it difficult to pass.

And though she preferred these roads, their changing scenery and
unexpected finds, she saw the delay they would cost her journey,
and with reluctance, she returned to the highway's swift efficiency.

There is no easy way to cleave the heart
from loving. It does what it does impiously, inopportunely,
uncalendared and unseasoned. What she carried with her she gave
with a lack of deliberation, discretion, scurrying
to greet every opportunity to add to the pile.
But the act of filling had not made her full.

Instead, she was twitchy with worry. Emptiness and sorrow
had attached themselves to her most joyful, generous gestures.
She knew something in her was flagging, losing steam and grace.
She knew she could not puppet this theatre any longer.

The road was wide and clear. Somehow, the rain seemed less
rigorous here, and she turned off her wipers in time
to see the city rise into view, skyscrapers pushing into the clouds.
It would be a lie to say that she was healed, heart full as an udder again.
But I can tell you she was precisely where she needed to be, even
in her brokenness, and she would know where to go
from here.

QUOTE: “Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.” ~ Theodore Roosevelt

Prayer for My Friends (Terri Hendrix)

2010-12-30T11:25:00.002-05:00

I am in process of attempting to "get unstuck" - I promise a more detailed, personal and catch-up entry tomorrow... but, in the meantime, here is what I put together, but never posted, for Thanksgiving. Deepest gratitude and boundless thanks to those who have loved me, supported me and reached out... even when I pushed away - you will never know how much it means...

DailyOM
November 25, 2010
Being Truly Thankful
Beyond Counting Blessings

When we are in the state of thankfulness, we are in a higher state of awareness, gratitude at our doorstep. Often when we practice being thankful, we go through the process of counting our blessings, acknowledging the wonderful people, things and places that make up our reality. While it is fine to be grateful for the good fortune we have accumulated, true thankfulness stems from a powerful comprehension of the gift of simply being alive, and when we feel it, we feel it regardless of our circumstances. In this deep state of gratitude, we recognize the purity of the experience of being, in and of itself, and our thankfulness is part and parcel of our awareness that we are one with this great mystery that is life.

It is difficult for most of us to access this level of consciousness as we are very caught up in the ups and downs of our individual experiences in the world. The thing to remember about the world, though, is that it ebbs and flows, expands and contracts, gives and takes, and is by its very nature somewhat unreliable. If we only feel gratitude when it serves our desires, this is not true thankfulness. No one is exempt from the twists and turns of fate, which may, at any time, take the possessions, situations, and people we love away from us. Ironically, it is sometimes this kind of loss that awakens us to a thankfulness that goes deeper than just being grateful when things go our way. Illness and near-miss accidents can also serve as wake-up calls to the deeper realization that we are truly lucky to be alive.

We do not have to wait to be shaken to experience this state of being truly thankful for our lives. Tuning in to our breath and making an effort to be fully present for a set period of time each day can do wonders for our ability to connect with true gratitude. We can also awaken ourselves with the intention to be more aware of the unconditional generosity of the life force that flows through us regardless of our circumstances.

And yesterday's StoryPeople lesson:
Rules for a successful holiday:
1. Get together with the family
2. Relive old times
3. Get out before it blows

SONG: Prayer for My Friends by Terri Hendrix

BOOK: The 7 Great Prayers: For a Lifetime of Hope and Blessings by Paul McManus and Tracey McManus

POEM: Thanks by W. S. Merwin

Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water thanking it
smiling by the windows looking out
in our directions

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you

over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks we are saying thank you
in the faces of the officials and the rich
and of all who will never change
we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

QUOTE: “Thank everyone who calls out your faults, your anger, your impatience, your egotism; do this consciously, voluntarily." ~ Jean Toomer

Disorder in the House (Warren Zevon)

2010-07-19T23:59:00.007-04:00

I am still here, although it's been three months since I've checked in with my blog - I'd like to say I'm okay... but that would not be true. July 19 is the one-year anniversary of my mom's passing - I have spent the last two months re-tracing my steps as to what I was doing this time last year (caregiving since mid-May). Today feels like a destination of sorts, of raw grief and the beginnings of healing - I have allowed myself minor meltdowns in these last 24 hours but, as soon as I hit Publish Post, I will get in the jacuzzi and weep until I am empty...

Today also marks eight years since Dave Carter died - I am exhausted, I am sad, I am bone-weary... and I leave for Falcon Ridge (by way of Boston) in a few hours. I will only get a few hours sleep - it is now 5 a.m. although, for clarity's sake, this post is dated yesterday to honor The Day of the Dead...

I had grand plans for this post, and it has fizzled along with my energy level - my annual festival beckons, and with it a promise of rejuvenation and regrouping and renewal. I have to snap out of this emotional chaos, and surrounding myself with music friends is a lovely first step - Mom and Dave would want it that way... and I trust them to lead me on the path to, as my friend Myra says, "the new normal" (sigh)...

SONG: Disorder in the House by Warren Zevon

BOOK: The Shadow Effect: Illuminating the Hidden Power of Your True Self by Deepak Chopra, Marianne Williamson, Debbie Ford

POEM: The Wind Blows Through the Doors of My Heart by Deborah Digges

The wind blows
through the doors of my heart.
It scatters my sheet music
that climbs like waves from the piano, free of the keys.
Now the notes stripped, black butterflies,
flattened against the screens.
The wind through my heart
blows all my candles out.
In my heart and its rooms is dark and windy.
From the mantle smashes birds' nests, teacups
full of stars as the wind winds round,
a mist of sorts that rises and bends and blows
or is blown through the rooms of my heart
that shatters the windows,
rakes the bedsheets as though someone
had just made love. And my dresses
they are lifted like brides come to rest
on the bedstead, crucifixes,
dresses tangled in trees in the rooms
of my heart. To save them
I've thrown flowers to fields,
so that someone would pick them up
and know where they came from.
Come the bees now clinging to flowered curtains.
Off with the clothesline pinning anything, my mother's trousseau.
It is not for me to say what is this wind
or how it came to blow through the rooms of my heart.
Wing after wing, through the rooms of the dead
the wind does not blow. Nor the basement, no wheezing,
no wind choking the cobwebs in our hair.
It is cool here, quiet, a quilt spread on soil.
But we will never lie down again.

QUOTE: "Like cars in amusement parks, our direction is often determined through collisions." ~ Yahia Lababidi

To Whom It May Concern (John Wesley Harding)

2010-04-26T18:05:00.000-04:00

Today's Note from the Universe:

Wake up, Susan! Remember what excites you. Think of these things, those friends, and the adventures that can be yours. Focus. Care. Fantasize. Imagine. It's all so near. Speak as if you're ready. Paste new pictures in your scrapbook, on your vision board, and around your home and office. Physically prepare for the changes that you wish to experience in your life. You've done this before. You know it works. You're due for an encore. It's time to amaze. That's why you're there.

And it's why I'm here,
The Universe

Wake up, Susan! Remember! Do what you know to do! It's all so near.

Impossible to believe it has been almost a month since I last posted - I'm well (thanks for asking... :-) but insanely busy... and I won't bore you with a laundry list of reasons/excuses I've been incommunicado...

Today's note above... as well as the poem below, posted on the Life is a Verb website last week, inspired me to check in here to say I miss writing and will try to do better - in the meantime, enjoy today's ode to the written word!

SONG: To Whom It May Concern by John Wesley Harding

BOOK: A Book of One's Own: People and Their Diaries by Thomas Mallon

POEM: don’t forget to write by maya stein

while you are piecing together the map of your life,
stepping as nimbly as you can out of the mulch
of your thoughts, the busy traffic of your heart,
while you attempt grace and magic and the blessing of
your soft, surrendered kiss, while you are fathoming the stretch
you will need for the wide and rocky jungle of your own happiness,
while you are hunkering down to a piece of dark bread
and the odd, welcome relief of hunger,
don’t forget to write.

write this day, its too-early morning and the birdsong
you cursed into your pillow. write the way the dog
looked at you as forlornly as your own shadow.
write this blanket, this cup of coffee, the irreverent
clatter of the neighbor’s lawnmower. write the bees
that bend forever to their task. write the July heat
and the laps in the town pool that cleave you from
this earth, the over-solid grip you have on everything.
write this hour, tired and awake all at once, the distractions
you can make of breakfast or a calculator or the remote control
lying flaccid on the living room couch.

write the dead mosquito on the bathroom floor, the small
clot of blood on your forearm. write the careful arrangement
of the bed linens, the yellow of the walls, the way the
garden hose snakes around the back porch where old boxes
are bending under their own weight and where spiders
have begun to take control of the tomato plants.

write your white legs and your short pants and
the constellations imprinted on your skin. write
the dusty sex toys in the bedside bureau, the silvery
condom packages nearing their expiration dates.
write the wet sound of love in the middle of the night.

write the blackberry bush and its sour fruit,
the mailman in his cheerful hat,
the neighbor who confuses you with someone else,
calls you a name that’s not yours, write the feeling
of lost identity and disappointment and some letter
you’re perennially hoping for.

write the words for failure. write the words for hope.
write the tightrope dangling above the canyon,
and down below, the electric water furious and free.

write green. write violet. write blazing orange.
write the smell of grapefruit skin, the eyelash
on a cheekbone, the hand you hold in the dark.
write the first, honest paragraphs of sunrise.
write everything, or nothing, but don’t forget to write.

QUOTE: "By living well, by observing as you live, by reading well and observing as you read, you have fed your Most Original Self. By training yourself in writing, by repetitious exercise, imitation, good example, you have made a clean, well-lighted place to keep the Muse. You have given her, him, it, or whatever, room to turn around in. And through training, you have relaxed yourself enough not to stare discourteously when inspiration comes into the room." ~ Ray Bradbury

One Week (Barenaked Ladies)

2010-03-28T22:45:00.003-04:00

So... when last we left our She-Ra, she had undergone a brain shift, such that she was determined to make better choices, one day at a time, until she began to take feeling and looking better for granted - I am pleased to say that, after one week, I am on the right track (pun semi-intended... :-)

Beginning last Saturday, I have accomplished the following... every single day:

~ eaten very mindfully and healthfully, mostly from my list of Brain Foods

~ not eaten after 9 p.m.

~ cut out almost all sugar from my diet, except the natural sugar found in fruit

~ consumed at least a half-gallon of water, sometimes more

~ taken my medications/supplements: blood pressure, thyroid, multi-vitamin, Calcium, Vitamin D, fish oil caplets, low-dosage aspirin

~ walked 40 minutes (then taken the dog out for another 10 minutes)

~ stretched after walking

So far, I have lost 3 pounds - it's a start. What is even more important is that I have more color in my skin, bounce in my step and clarity in my brain - Week 2 started yesterday, and I'm excited about continuing the momentum!

SONG: One Week by Barenaked Ladies

BOOK: You'll See It When You Believe It: The Way to Your Personal Transformation by Wayne W. Dyer

POEM: The Necessary Brevity of Pleasures by Samuel Hazo

Prolonged, they slacken into pain
or sadness in accordance with the law
of apples.
One apple satisfies.
Two apples cloy.
Three apples
glut.
Call it a tug-of-war between enough and more
than enough, between sufficiency
and greed, between the stay-at-homers
and globe-trotting see-the-worlders.
Like lovers seeking heaven in excess,
the hopelessly insatiable forget
how passion sharpens appetites
that gross indulgence numbs.
Result?
The haves have not
what all the have-nots have
since much of having is the need
to have.
Even my dog
knows that - and more than that.
He slumbers in a moon of sunlight,
scratches his twitches and itches
in measure, savors every bite
of grub with equal gratitude
and stays determinedly in place
unless what's suddenly exciting
happens.
Viewing mere change
as threatening, he relishes a few
undoubtable and proven pleasures
to enjoy each day in sequence
and with canine moderation.
They're there for him in waiting,
and he never wears them out.

QUOTE: “The moments of happiness we enjoy take us by surprise. It is not that we seize them, but that they seize us.” ~ Ashley Montagu

Brane Ded, Body MT (David Stocker)

2010-03-20T15:30:00.003-04:00

You must all be tired of reading about my Epiphany du jour... whereupon I have a life-changing, light bulb moment... and swear I'm going to do everything *the right way* from now on... only to find I have fallen off the proverbial wagon yet again - this one's different... I swear!

I was having a relaxed Friday evening, curled up with What Not to Wear (a guilty pleasure) and then my book (a Tabitha King novel) - at 11, I happened to turn the TV back on, began to scroll through the channels and ran across a program on PBS: Change Your Brain, Change Your Body. Dr. Amen (gotta love that name) himself was lecturing on the various steps in which we can bring about change, based on his new book (of course) and, naturally, I know most of this stuff - I take fish oil caplets and Vitamin D supplements... I realize broccoli is better for me than donuts... I am aware I should exercise on a regular basis...

I wasn't particularly swayed by his definitions of brain types... but when he asked the question: what is your motivation?... I experienced mental whiplash - all these years I've attempted to sculpt my habits, my waistline and my attitude... and I've never really confronted myself with WHY...

Short-term: Falcon Ridge (late-July 2010)... and my daughter's wedding (at least a year down the road) - long-term: to see my kids grow up, get married (or not) and have children (or not). I want to be healthy for myself... but really, my family is the best reason there is - e-f*cking-piphany...

I've eaten healthy (so far), I walked my 2 1/2 miles (40 minutes)... and I am drinking enough water to float a battleship - plus... I am choosing to eliminate sugar from my diet (I can do this... :-)

SONG: Brane Ded, Body MT by David Stocker (I can't seem to find the lyrics online, but the CD, to listen to the song clip, is here)...

BOOK: Change Your Brain, Change Your Body: Use Your Brain to Get and Keep the Body You Have Always Wanted by Daniel G. Amen M.D.

POEM: The Heart of Herakles by Kenneth Rexroth
Lying under the stars,
In the summer night,
Late, while the autumn
Constellations climb the sky,
As the Cluster of Hercules
Falls down the west
I put the telescope by and watch Deneb
Move towards the zenith.
My body is asleep. Only
My eyes and brain are awake.
The stars stand around me
Like gold eyes, I can no longer
Tell where I begin and leave off.
The faint breeze in the dark pines,
And the invisible grass,
The tipping earth, the swarming stars
Have an eye that sees itself.

QUOTE: "We live in deeds, not years; In thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best." ~ Phillip James Bailey

Live Forever (Billy Joe Shaver)

2010-03-08T14:25:00.001-05:00

My husband and I saw Crazy Heart a few weeks ago - for more on the subject, see my Star Maker Machine post (and how wonderful that Jeff Bridges did indeed win the Oscar last night for Best Actor!)...

My middle child/older son got in some major trouble in late-January, which could have had substantially-tragic results... but we were all lucky, and it appears he's seen it for the big-*ss wake-up call it is... and is in process of making some definitive changes to turn his life around - the tune below, a snippet of which is sung a cappella by Robert Duvall's character in the film, made me think of Rob... and I dedicate today's post to him, sending perpetual love and continued purple candles...

SONG: Live Forever by Billy Joe Shaver

BOOK: The Fifth Agreement: A Practical Guide to Self-Mastery by don Miguel Ruiz and don Jose Ruiz

POEM: no one expects you to save the world by Maya Stein

The headlines are begging for your help. Thousands needing homes, food.
But here, your own children, like inexpert stilt-walkers, flirt too often
with obstacles in the street. It’s no wonder you keep eyes glued
to them. The demands of love, or a job, the hard winter reining you in -
it takes all your muscle to keep your own life upright. And though you know
what you have is fortune compared to the great rift that earthquake left,
and the aftershocks continuing to destroy so much, somehow
that same fortune paralyzes, obstructs you with a heavy, gloomy guilt.
But no one expects you to save the world, no matter what you plan.
Sometimes the best thing we can do is to love everything we can.

QUOTE(S): “Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending." ~ Anonymous

“Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That’s why it’s a comfort to go hand in hand.” ~ Emily Kimbrough

"It doesn't matter what people tell you. It doesn't matter what they might say. Sometimes you have to leave home. Sometimes, running away means you're headed in the exact right direction." ~ Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic

I've Just Seen a Face (The Beatles)

2010-03-04T18:30:00.009-05:00

My friend request message, sent over the last day and a half: "It's officially The Apocalypse - I've joined Facebook!" - loosely translated: "What in the f*ck did I just do?!?" I finally signed up so that I could view my daughter's Europe pictures and live vicariously through her experience - I never envisioned quite such a headfirst tumble down the rabbit hole...

I have been fighting Facebook kicking and screaming for years - my main defense/objection has been... if I can't keep up with the "real people" in my life (and I'm always in overwhelmed mode), how in the world can I made the time to connect/reconnect with friends all over the country/world... not to mention acquaintances from my past?

I have a MySpace account (begun in December 2007) but, really, it's in the name of my concert series - it isn't about me personally at all, but rather a good PR tool to promote, and keep up with, the music...

I also have this blog, started in May 2007 - I use it as a journal/scrapbook/exercise in creativity. I'd like to post more often but seem to lose track of time - comments from readers (what readers?) are immaterial to me, as I'm really just downloading what's in my heart/brain/soul at the moment...

But Facebook? - in my less-than-48-hours experience with the social network, I have learned that it is truly In Your (or My) Face! It has been a pendulum from fun to frightening and back again... as I vowed to start out slow... which snowballed into "just one more" (friend, that is) - it's exhilarating to read all the repeated "welcome" messages (makes me think of Dar's "we're so glad that you finally made it here" lyric)... but it's exhausting to consider the effort it takes to reply and follow-up... not to mention the trepidation of opening various Pandora's Boxes...

High School? - ack! Suffice it to say, since it was 68-72, my memories are vague - I recall being high every day of my senior year, yet making the Honor Roll every quarter. I remember football games (with dances following), a handful of amazing girlfriends and being on the annual staff as well as head of props for our senior play, "The Matchmaker" - I also recall tubing down the Chattahoochee River (with a beer cooler in tow), a few special guy relationships... but also a less-than-full social calendar. I can't remember who I was back then - even more interesting, part of me is now wondering who I was in the eyes of others (in terms of The Breakfast Club... I was more Ally Sheedy than Molly Ringwald... :-)

So... although, as I said in a reply earlier today, "balance is not my strong suit", I have vowed to enjoy the experience while still motivating myself to handle all the day-to-day stuff it's easy to let slip by the proverbial wayside - I have to finish the folk club newsletter (already 4 days late), clean house tomorrow for dinner guests... and prepare for the concert I'm presenting Saturday night (not to mention catch up on various e-mails owed)...

In the meantime, though... I'm delighted at the thought of so many special people (friends and family) from all aspects of my life being in one place - it's a big-*ss cross-pollination... and I can't help but sport a broad smile across my (I should be reading a Book) Face (although I'm wary of the poke, whatever the h*ll that is... :-)

SONG: I've Just Seen a Face by The Beatles

BOOK(S): Ophelia Joined the Group Maidens Who Don't Float: Classic Lit Signs on to Facebook by Sarah Schmelling

Facebook Me! A Guide to Having Fun with Your Friends and Promoting Your Projects on Facebook by Dave Awl

POEM: Remember by Joy Harjo

Remember the sky that you were born under,
know each of the star's stories.
Remember the moon, know who she is. I met her
in a bar once in Iowa City.
Remember the sun's birth at dawn, that is the
strongest point of time. Remember sundown
and the giving away to night.
Remember your birth, how your mother struggled
to give you form and breath. You are evidence of
her life, and her mother's, and hers.
Remember your father. He is your life also.
Remember the earth whose skin you are:
red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth
brown earth, we are earth.
Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their
tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,
listen to them. They are alive poems.
Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the
origin of this universe. I heard her singing Kiowa war
dance songs at the corner of Fourth and Central once.
Remember that you are all people and that all people are you.
Remember that you are this universe and that this universe is you.
Remember that all is in motion, is growing, is you.
Remember that language comes from this.
Remember the dance that language is, that life is.
Remember.

QUOTE: “It’s surprising how much of memory is built around things unnoticed at the time.” ~ Barbara Kingsolver

Daydream Believer (John Stewart)

2010-02-22T17:35:00.009-05:00

A dear friend (and major John Stewart fan) sent me the link to the above video, absolutely horrified at the use of the song in this short film - on the other hand, it was *exactly* what I needed to snap me out of a three-week funk. My e-mail response to him is below:

Don't sugarcoat it - tell me how you really feel!

I actually laughed my *ss off - I'm sure John Stewart is turning in his grave (at least his coffin lid closed, right?)... but the entire clip is just so over-the-top and hysterically self-mocking... you can't help but snicker... as one thing is more ridiculous than the next...

There's even an Oz reference - "and Sparky too!"... "and Sparky too" - plus... the film kicks into color when he starts singing...

Actually, everybody should have an Uncle Felix - however, that song should be off-limits... :-)

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

Confession time: I haven't walked since we returned from our holiday trip to South Carolina and Georgia... and only managed to squeeze it in once while we were away - the extended cold weather combined with a variety of events (which I may or may not go into at a later date) paralyzed me for the last two months. As a result, in that period of time I've gained five pounds... and lost muscle tone, the healthy glow in my skin and the will to self-motivate - ugh...

So... after watching the movie clip, something in me snapped - I'm re-calibrating my eating habits... and I laced up my New Balances for a long-overdue trek through the neighborhood. I've decided to pound the pavement for a shorter period of time (30 minutes instead of 45) but more often (every day, if I can manage it) - I'm also choosing to leave my walkman at home and use the outing as a walking meditation, clearing my head rather than having music fill it...

I always knew my dog was smart... but the sheer joy of watching Rocky get excited ("yay! - she's wearing her special shoes!") had me laughing out loud - since I always take him out when I return, his open-mouthed "smile" and frantic dashing from me to the front door and back again, waiting to be leashed, was priceless... :-)

Not so sure about Sleepy Jean... but I sure cheered up - thanks, FM... I needed that. Day f*cking One - bring it on!

SONG: Daydream Believer by John Stewart

BOOK: The Second Half of Life: Opening the Eight Gates of Wisdom by Angeles Arrien

POEM: The Bright Field by R. S. Thomas

I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the pearl
of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realize now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying

on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

QUOTE: “You’ve got a lot of choices. If getting out of bed in the morning is a chore and you’re not smiling on a regular basis, try another choice.” ~ Steven D. Woodhull

I Got You Babe (Sonny and Cher)

2010-02-02T09:05:00.007-05:00

Here's a little something light and fluffy... until I can post something of substance (which I've been working on for the last week) - I live in South Florida... so the whole groundhog thing is pretty moot!

Cheers to the groundhog - and world peace... :-)

SONG: I Got You Babe by Sonny and Cher

BOOK: The Groundhog Day Book of Facts and Fun by Wendie C. Old and Paige Billin-Frye

POEM: Groundhog Day by Lynn Ungar

Celebrate this unlikely oracle,
this ball of fat and fur,
whom we so mysteriously endow
with the power to predict spring.
Let's hear it for the improbable heroes who,
frightened at their own shadows,
nonetheless unwittingly work miracles.
Why shouldn't we believe
this peculiar rodent holds power
over sun and seasons in his stubby paw?
Who says that God is all grandeur and glory?

Unnoticed in the earth, worms
are busily, brainlessly, tilling the soil.
Field mice, all unthinking, have scattered
seeds that will take root and grow.
Grape hyacinths, against all reason,
have been holding up green shoots beneath the snow.
How do you think spring arrives?
There is nothing quieter, nothing
more secret, miraculous, mundane.
Do you want to play your part
in bringing it to birth? Nothing simpler.
Find a spot not too far from the ground
and wait.

QUOTE: "The groundhog is like most other prophets; it delivers its prediction and then disappears." ~ Bill Vaughn

Wilder Than Her (Fred Eaglesmith)

2010-01-23T19:15:00.007-05:00

I had the great pleasure of seeing Fred Eaglesmith and his band in a very small coffeehouse this past Monday night... and posted the following review to our local folk list - if Fred and company come anywhere near your town... I strongly urge you to go, go, go!

P.S. I spoke with Kori, Fred's drummer, at the break and requested this song - she kindly passed it on, and he played it mid-way through the second set... :-)

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

I was first introduced to the music of Fred Eaglesmith way back in 1997, when Dar Williams released an EP which included her cover of Wilder Than Her - I always loved that she felt comfortable enough not to change the gender. Seven years later, Todd Snider covered Alcohol and Pills - when two of my faves spotlight another artist's music in their catalog, you can bet I'm going to pay attention!

I was lucky enough to see Fred and band twice at the amazing Main Street Cafe, before it closed - last night I had a chance to reprise the experience at the Luna Star Cafe. The four-piece group might have been a bit "close" on stage... and their trademark merch table (limited edition vinyl, Fredhead coffee, earrings made out of Fred's old guitar strings... not to mention cowboy hats, CDs and DVDs) might have had to shrink a bit to fit on the piano in the corner... but the lyrics were larger-than-life, the musicianship was overflowing and the sense of privilege at experiencing this legendary group in such an intimate setting was huge...

What Fred and band (Matt Simpson on guitar, banjo and vocals; Kori Heppner on drums; Luke Stackhouse on upright bass and vocals) offer up onstage in their repertoire is exceptional (words front-and-center, exquisite harmonies and tight accompaniment, whether rocking or mellow, bluegrass or bossa nova) - what is unexpected but equally charming is Fred's over-the-top personality. David Engels posted yesterday that Fred will make you laugh - what he also does is make you think. He "afflicted the comfortable", with rant topics ranging from socialized medicine to stashed money in Panamanian bank accounts to corporate bailouts - he regaled us with humorous stories of sex, reincarnation*** and his new brainchild: joke-eoke... :-)

Part poet, part stand-up comic, all Buddhist Canadian cowboy (a koan artist?), Fred and company used the power of language and music last evening to full advantage - thanks to Alexis and Bree and all involved at the Luna Star for opening the Cafe on a normally-closed Monday night to showcase such stellar entertainment... in addition to her delicious food and extensive beer menu!

***My new favorite joke, from memory (ack!):

Once there were two nuns who promised each other that whoever died first would come back to tell the other what heaven was like. One nun died and, about six weeks later, the second nun heard the voice of her friend, and asked about her experience.

“Well, first I get up in the morning and have some vegetarian greens, then I make love, then I eat greens again, then in the afternoon I make love some more. Then I have another meal of natural greens, and make love again in the evening before I go to sleep.”

The second nun was quite surprised at this and asked, “So that is what it's like in heaven?”

The first nun replied, “Who said anything about heaven? I’m a rabbit in Saskatchewan.”

SONG: Wilder Than Her by Fred Eaglesmith

BOOK: Awake in the Wild: Mindfulness in Nature as a Path of Self-Discovery by Mark Coleman (introduction by Jack Kornfield)

POEM: The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

QUOTE: "First keep the peace within yourself, then you can also bring peace to others." ~ Thomas A Kempis

Live Like You Were Dying (Tim McGraw)

2010-01-21T21:25:00.002-05:00

Confession Time: I am a devoted follower of MTV's The Real World, hearkening back to the very first one, in 1992 in New York (could it really be 15 years ago?) - remember when Becky asked Heather if she were a drug dealer, because she had a beeper?!?

But I digress... :-)

Actually, the segue here is that I've been watching the latest Real World season, filmed in our nation's capital, and kept seeing the promos for a new show, The Buried Life, whose premiere aired Monday night, but I missed it so I had to catch it on re-runs last night - since I'm always espousing the carpe diem life philosophy, especially after Mom's passing this summer, I of course was beyond intrigued by the show's tagline: "1 Question. 4 Guys. 100 Things To Do Before You Die."...

I very much enjoyed the first episode, in which two of the guys crashed a party at the Playboy Mansion... but they also put on a street show with their breakdancing and raised enough money to buy a computer for a local charter elementary school - it was cute, sweet and inspirational... and I'll continue to tune in...

Here's a wonderful article and interview on the premise and the reactions so far - I've used the poem that inspired them in today's post...

SONG: Live Like You Were Dying by Tim McGraw

BOOK: 2DO Before I Die : The Do-It-Yourself Guide to the Rest of Your Life by Michael Ogden and Chris Day

POEM: The Buried Life by Matthew Arnold

Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet,
Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet!
I feel a nameless sadness o'er me roll.
Yes, yes, we know that we can jest,
We know, we know that we can smile!
But there's a something in this breast,
To which thy light words bring no rest,
And thy gay smiles no anodyne.
Give me thy hand, and hush awhile,
And turn those limpid eyes on mine,
And let me read there, love! thy inmost soul.

Alas! is even love too weak
To unlock the heart, and let it speak?
Are even lovers powerless to reveal
To one another what indeed they feel?
I knew the mass of men conceal'd
Their thoughts, for fear that if reveal'd
They would by other men be met
With blank indifference, or with blame reproved;
I knew they lived and moved
Trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest
Of men, and alien to themselves--and yet
The same heart beats in every human breast!

But we, my love!--doth a like spell benumb
Our hearts, our voices?--must we too be dumb?

Ah! well for us, if even we,
Even for a moment, can get free
Our heart, and have our lips unchain'd;
For that which seals them hath been deep-ordain'd!

Fate, which foresaw How frivolous a baby man would be--
By what distractions he would be possess'd,
How he would pour himself in every strife,
And well-nigh change his own identity--
That it might keep from his capricious play
His genuine self, and force him to obey
Even in his own despite his being's law,
Bade through the deep recesses of our breast
The unregarded river of our life
Pursue with indiscernible flow its way;
And that we should not see
The buried stream, and seem to be
Eddying at large in blind uncertainty,
Though driving on with it eternally.

But often, in the world's most crowded streets,
But often, in the din of strife,
There rises an unspeakable desire
After the knowledge of our buried life;
A thirst to spend our fire and restless force
In tracking out our true, original course;
A longing to inquire
Into the mystery of this heart which beats
So wild, so deep in us--to know
Whence our lives come and where they go.
And many a man in his own breast then delves,
But deep enough, alas! none ever mines.
And we have been on many thousand lines,
And we have shown, on each, spirit and power;
But hardly have we, for one little hour,
Been on our own line, have we been ourselves--
Hardly had skill to utter one of all
The nameless feelings that course through our breast,
But they course on for ever unexpress'd.
And long we try in vain to speak and act
Our hidden self, and what we say and do
Is eloquent, is well--but 'tis not true!
And then we will no more be rack'd
With inward striving, and demand
Of all the thousand nothings of the hour
Their stupefying power;
Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call!
Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn,
From the soul's subterranean depth upborne
As from an infinitely distant land,
Come airs, and floating echoes, and convey
A melancholy into all our day.

Only--but this is rare--
When a beloved hand is laid in ours,
When, jaded with the rush and glare
Of the interminable hours,
Our eyes can in another's eyes read clear,
When our world-deafen'd ear
Is by the tones of a loved voice caress'd--
A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast,
And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again.
The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain,
And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know.
A man becomes aware of his life's flow,
And hears its winding murmur; and he sees
The meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze.

And there arrives a lull in the hot race
Wherein he doth for ever chase
That flying and elusive shadow, rest.
An air of coolness plays upon his face,
And an unwonted calm pervades his breast.
And then he thinks he knows
The hills where his life rose,
And the sea where it goes.

QUOTE: “Ideas can be life-changing. Sometimes all you need to open the door is just one more good idea.” ~ Jim Rohn

Heart Like a Wheel (The McGarrigle Sisters)

2010-01-20T11:35:00.002-05:00

(thanks to Judi for the link to the above video...)

I didn't know many of the McGarrigle Sisters songs but, the ones I did know, I loved (such as Heart Like a Wheel, made famous by Linda Ronstadt) - so sad to hear of Kate's passing yesterday...

I share with you two special links... the first, a tribute on my friend Joshua's Cover Lay Down blog... and the second, an entire section of The Montreal Gazette, devoted to Kate (R.I.P.)...

SONG: Heart Like a Wheel by Kate and Anna McGarrigle

BOOK: Kate and Anna McGarrigle: Songs and Stories by Dane Lanken

POEM: Wise Men Keep Talking About by Hafiz

Time is the shop
Where everyone works hard

To build enough love
To break the
Shackle.

Wise men keep talking about
Wanting to meet Her.

Women sometimes pronounce the word God
A little differently:
They can use more feeling and skill
With the heart-lute.

All the world's movements,
Apparent chaos, and suffering I now know happen
In the Splendid Unison:

Our tambourines are striking
The same thigh.

Hafiz stands
At a juncture in this poem.
There are a thousand new wheels I could craft
On a wagon
And place you in -
Lead you to a glimpse of the culture
And seasons in another dimension.

Yet again God
Will have to drop you back at the shop
Where you still have work
With

Love.

QUOTE: "A loving heart is the truest wisdom." ~ Charles Dickens

Love Shack (The B-52's)

2010-01-18T23:59:00.006-05:00

DailyOm
January 18, 2010
Choose Love
What We Are Made of

Love is often presented as the opposite of fear, but true love is not opposite anything. True love is far more powerful than any negative emotions, as it is the environment in which all things arise. Negative emotions are like sharks swimming in the ocean of love. All things beautiful and fearful, ugly and kind, powerful and small, come into existence, do their thing, and disappear within the context of this great ocean. At the same time, they are made of the very love in which they swim and can never be separated. We are made of this love and live our whole lives at one with it, whether we know it or not.

It is only the illusion that we are separate from this great love that causes us to believe that choosing anything other than love makes sense or is even possible. In the relative, dualistic world of positive and negative, darkness and light, male and female, we make choices and we learn from them. This is exactly what we are meant to be doing here on earth. Underlying these relative choices, though, is the choice to be conscious of what we are, which is love, or to be unconscious of it. When we choose to be conscious of it, we choose love. We will still exist in the relative world of opposites and choices and cause and effect, and we will need to make our way here, but doing so with an awareness that we are all made of this love will enable us to be more playful, more joyful, more loving and wise, as we make our way. Ultimately, the choices we make will shed light on the love that makes us all one, enabling those who have forgotten to return to the source.

This world makes it easy to forget this great love, which is part of why we are here. We are here to remember and, when we forget to remember again, to choose love.

I work very hard at not repeating songs (or books, poems and quotes)... but this one begged for duplication... especially since today is my sister Mari's 42nd birthday and, not only did she turn me on to The B-52's... but she is also a huge fan of Sugarland (so imagine my surprise and delight at discovering the above video!)...

Today I e-mailed, I called, I sent flowers - I am shipping a present that is currently out of stock. Mari is hosting a slumber party this weekend so I'm having something delivered then (it's a surprise!) - however, the very best present (in my mind) is that I've asked my collaborators at Star Maker Machine if we could choose songs with Mary in the title as our theme for the week of January 17-23... and they very sweetly agreed. Go here to see my kick-off post yesterday (which links to my post on this OV site about Mari almost two years ago)... and here to check in throughout the week to see what's been added - the proverbial icing is that I'll make a mix CD of all the contributed songs as an additional gift (thanks, SMMers... :-)

It's been hard, since this is Mari's first birthday since Mom passed July 19 - we miss her always... but special occasions evoke such a mix of dread and finality (it hits home that Mom won't be calling to wish us a happy one)...

SONG: Love Shack by The B-52's

BOOK: My Sister, My Self: Understanding the Sibling Relationship That Shapes Our Lives, Our Loves, and Ourselves by Vikki Stark

POEM: And the Cantilevered Inference Shall Hold the Day by Michael Blumenthal

Things are not as they seem: the innuendo of everything makes
itself felt and trembles towards meanings we never intuited
or dreamed. Take, for example, how the warbler, perched on a

mere branch, can kidnap the day from its tediums and send us
heavenwards, or how, held up by nothing we really see, our
spirits soar and then, in a mysterious series of twists and turns,

come to a safe landing in a field, encircled by greenery. Nothing
I can say to you here can possibly convince you that a man
as unreliable as I have been can smuggle in truths between tercets

and quatrains on scraps of paper, but the world as we know
is full of surprises, and the likelihood that here, in the shape
of this very bird, redemption awaits us should not be dismissed

so easily. Each year, days swivel and diminish along their inscrutable
axes, then lengthen again until we are bathed in light we were not
prepared for. Last night, lying in bed with nothing to hold onto

but myself, I gazed at the emptiness beside me and saw there, in the
shape of absence, something so sweet and deliberate I called it darling.
No one who encrusticates (I made that up!) his silliness in a bowl,

waiting for sanctity, can ever know how lovely playfulness can be,
and, that said, let me wish you a Merry One (or Chanukah if you
prefer), and may whatever holds you up stay forever beneath you,

and may the robin find many a worm, and our cruelties abate,
and may you be well and happy and full of mischief as I am,
and may all your nothings, too, hold something up and sing.

QUOTE: "Love doesn't make the world go 'round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile." ~ Franklin P. Jones

Surrender (Burns Sisters)

2010-01-14T23:55:00.004-05:00

DailyOm
January 14, 2010
The Wisdom of Surrender
Relying on Others

Most of us pride ourselves on our self-sufficiency. We like to be responsible for taking care of ourselves and pulling our own weight in the world. This is why it can be so challenging when we find ourselves in a situation in which we have to rely on someone else. This can happen as the result of an illness or an injury, or even in the case of a positive change, such as the arrival of a newborn. At times like these, it is essential that we let go of our feeling that we should be able to do it all by ourselves and accept the help of others.

The first step is accepting the situation fully as it is. Too often we make things worse either by trying to do more than we should or by lapsing into feelings of uselessness. In both cases we run the risk of actually prolonging our dependency. In addition, we miss a valuable opportunity to practice acceptance and humility. The ego resists what is, so when we move into acceptance we move into the deeper realm of the soul. In needing others and allowing them to help us, we experience the full realization that we are not on our own in the world. While this may bring up feelings of vulnerability, a deep feeling of gratitude may also emerge as we open to the experience of being helped. This realization can enable us to be wiser in our service of others when we are called upon to help.

It takes wisdom and strength to surrender to our own helplessness and to accept that we, just like every other human being, have limitations. The gifts of surrender are numerous. We discover humility, gratitude, and a deepening understanding of the human experience that enables us to be that much more compassionate and surrendered in the world.

A quick follow-up on my doctor visit of a month ago, to get the results of the blood and urine tests I took - suffice it to say I was more than a bit worried about the outcome... but everything actually turned out okay...

After being on the blood pressure medicine for four weeks, my blood pressure was perfect - yay! My blood sugar was great, which was a huge whew!... as diabetes runs in my family - my cholesterol was on target too (169... recommended is below 200), another relief. My calcium and Vitamin D were both a bit low, so she suggested supplements of both - also, I showed borderline-hypothyroidism (low), and she felt a thyroid medication to shift my metabolism back where it should be was indicated. Interestingly, I have felt much more energy since beginning the pills (lowest dosage, once a day), which is a nice change of pace - I think that's helped balance my emotional peace of mind as well...

I still need to schedule appointments for a mammogram, a bone density test, a colonoscopy and a chest x-ray (because of mom's pulmonary issues) - I've been involved in the planning stages of a busy music weekend here in South Florida... but I promise to... what, Susan?... follow through!... and will make those calls first thing next week... :-)

SONG: Surrender by Annie Burns

BOOK: Small Wonder: Essays by Barbara Kingsolver

POEM: Primary Wonder by Denise Levertov

Days pass when I forget the mystery.
Problems insoluble and problems offering
their own ignored solutions
jostle for my attention, they crowd its antechamber
along with a host of diversions, my courtiers, wearing
their colored clothes; cap and bells.
And then
once more the quiet mystery
is present to me, the throng's clamor
recedes: the mystery
that there is anything, anything at all,
let alone cosmos, joy, memory, everything,
rather than void: and that, O Lord,
Creator, Hallowed One, You still,
hour by hour sustain it.

QUOTE: "We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures that we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open." ~ Jawaharlal Nehru

Right Where You're Supposed to Be (Scotland Barr & the Slow Drags)

2010-01-07T19:00:00.003-05:00

A few hours after I posted about my vow to be more open to new music, I stumbled across this moving piece by Lisa Lepine (who also managed Dave Carter and Tracy Grammer) regarding the early passing of Scotland Barr (lead singer for the Slow Drags) - I love it when the Universe works this quickly (and the Oz quote at the beginning of Lisa's article was a nice meant-to-be perk!)...

It motivated me to read about the band (who I'd never heard of before) and listen to their songs... and I was touched and impressed (so tragic and yet so hopeful) - earlier today, I made a donation to the Finish the Album Fund... in memory of Vic and Sean (paying it forward for all the "folk angel" acts of kindness these two wonderful men performed), and sending warm thoughts of peace and healing as well as best wishes on keeping the music alive to the remaining band members...

I am once again humbly reminded of how important it is to put our money where our mouth is (and where our hearts are) - it is also a reinforcement of how powerful songs can be, in conjuring memories of our past... leading us to future discoveries... or allowing us the pleasure of enjoying the moment, right here and now...

From the band's website:

After Scotland's diagnosis, the Slow Drags had to quickly change directions. Instead of planning out tours that take months of lead time, the band turned their attention to recording the next album. Unsure of Scot's health, the band began to feverishly sketch out ideas and rough tracks for the double-length LP We Will Be Forgotten. Significant progress was made, as four tracks have been pre-released to the public. However, without the ability to play live shows with any regularity, the band's source of income was essentially cut off. People close to the band know that the next record was important to all of us, especially Scot. Each song detailed an era of his life like a storyboard.

The fact that he chose the name We Will Be Forgotten was ironic, as the concept of this record was to, almost desperately, have people remember. Maybe not Scotland, or the band, but meaningful events their own life history. The band fully intends to see this vision through. The Slow Drags would be humbly honored by anyone that is willing to donate money towards recording the next album. Feel free to visit our website and donate via PayPal. We'll also kindly accept cash or checks made out to Scotland Barr and the Slow Drags. The band graciously thanks you for your generosity.

SONG: Right Where You're Supposed to Be by Scotland Barr & the Slow Drags (can't find the lyrics to this song, but you can watch the YouTube video of their song Dirty Old Waltz)

BOOK: The World in Six Songs: How the Musical Brain Created Human Nature by Daniel J. Levitin

POEM: Walking to Oak-Head Pond, and Thinking of the Ponds I Will Visit in the Next Days and Weeks by Mary Oliver

What is so utterly invisible
as tomorrow?
Not love,
not the wind,

not the inside of stone.
Not anything.
And yet, how often I'm fooled-
I'm wading along

in the sunlight-
and I'm sure I can see the fields and the ponds shining
days ahead-
I can see the light spilling

like a shower of meteors
into next week's trees,
and I plan to be there soon-
and, so far, I am

just that lucky,
my legs splashing
over the edge of darkness,
my heart on fire.

I don't know where
such certainty comes from-
the brave flesh
or the theater of the mind-

but if I had to guess
I would say that only
what the soul is supposed to be
could send us forth

with such cheer
as even the leaf must wear
as it unfurls
its fragrant body, and shines

against the hard possibility of stoppage-
which, day after day,
before such brisk, corpuscular belief,
shudders, and gives way.

QUOTE(S): "But people hear music in all kinds of different ways. Some people experience music as colours; others just see grey water pouring out of the speakers. Some never listen to lyrics, they just fall under a spell. Some eat it whole. Some just take a bite. Some of us like to get on our backs and roll around in it like a dog." ~ Tom Waits

"I love the relationship that anyone has with music: because there's something in us that is beyond the reach of words, something that eludes and defies our best attempts to spit it out. It's the best part of us, probably, the richest and strangest part..." ~ Nick Hornby

Baby, It's Cold Outside (the James Taylor/Natalie Cole version)

2010-01-05T14:05:00.005-05:00

Hi Susan! Here is your Daily Horoscope for Tuesday, January 5:

Though you may be the life of the party on other days, right now you'd rather sit quietly with close family and read or play games. It's not a sign of anything serious -- you just need a break!

It is f*cking freezing here in South Florida - I have not left the house in four days. It is the first time I have turned on the heat in years - with highs in the 50's during the day and lows in the 30's at night, expected to extend through the end of the week, this is not normal!

My bundled-up household attire has ranged from a thermal dress, a long black sweater and some knock-off Uggs I got from Target (rather than springing for the real thing, which cost upwards of $200)... to my cute embellished-on-the-*ss sweatpants, a long-sleeved fleecy nightgown and some chenille slipper socks - over the last few days, I have made a big pot of my ground turkey and vegetable soup... as well as my sister's chicken-corn chowder recipe, both amazingly delicious, nutritious and cold-weather-comforting... but soon I *must* get dressed to venture out to Publix, because I am out of everything (d*mn these menfolk of mine and their appetites... :-)

My friend Stephen is always trying to get me to move north (to the Boston area) and I repeatedly tell him there aren't enough socks in the world - however, it's a nice change of pace to stay inside, watch mindless TV, catch up on wishlist reading and To Do computer stuff... and just generally hibernate (bears and bears and bears, oh my!)...

SONG: Baby, It's Cold Outside by Frank Loesser (and there are a bazillion covers!)

BOOK: Santa Claus: Super Spy--The Case of the Florida Freeze by Ryan Jacobson

POEM: Cold Watercolor by Wyatt Prunty

We saw the birds jockeying for the feeder.
Inside, the networks fed us New Year's Day.
And then there was the snow, in thick raw blots
Down past a row of windows where it caught,
Turning the sills to ridges, as outside
The streets, houses, and yards thickened
From their named and numbered ways into
A watercolor unreadably white . . .
And all the while the manic snow descending,
Sometimes glazed against a pane but mostly
Falling from itself into itself
Under a low, bruised, and indefinite sky . . .

Until the things I watched to measure change,
A recent stump, raised flower beds, porch steps —
Had disappeared, with the snow still falling
And the gray January light fading,
Fusing the trees and houses in one shade . . .
Suddenly a shadow now, beyond the glass
That mirrored us with looking out,
Ourselves out there, watches and rings reversed —
As reporters had the years reversed,
We said, looking out, seeing us looking in.

QUOTE: “Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.” ~ Edith Sitwell

Here Comes That Rainbow Again (Kris Kristofferson)

2010-01-02T14:40:00.001-05:00

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to LD at The Adios Lounge - his December 31 post (which I discovered mid-morning January 1) was life-changing for me, not in a hyperbolic sense but truly, madly, deeply...

It is no secret that I love music... but, much as I pride myself on discovering new songs and giving new artists a chance, I do tend to wrap myself in the cloak of comfort with tunes and musicians who are familiar and therefore safe - when the going gets tough, the tough steels herself with, and crumbles to, the soothing strains of Dar Williams, Dave Carter, Joni Mitchell, Todd Snider, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Danny Schmidt, etc... and, in the grand scheme of things, they are quite the impressive company of friends...

I've mentioned before that, a bit over a year ago, I was invited to be a regular contributor to Star Maker Machine, a weekly-themed music blog - that site has led me to so many others (you can read their blogroll in the right sidebar), and it's been a sincere joy to be a participant in, as well as a voyeur of, a diverse circle of amazing music...

Names of lots of new-to-me artists have been bandied about, and sometimes I'd click on a link to listen... but, after a snippet or two, I'd move back into my safety zone - with mom's passing almost six months ago, I retreated even further inward, pulling the metaphorical (and sometimes) literal covers over my head to "surrender the day" (lovely image, Dar)...

I'd been reading about Spectacle, Elvis Costello's show on The Sundance Channel, most recently on the Joni-list, and had been meaning to get around to checking it out... but hadn't yet - rewind to the first paragraph of this post, in which I read LD's entry, watched the YouTube video of Jesse Winchester's song and bawled like a f*cking baby. The single tear trickling down Neko Case's cheek had been preceded by coursing tracks of my own, during which time I experienced an epiphany visceral and profound - why hadn't I been paying attention to the signs, the portents, the attempts at introduction, all these months?!?

I am fond of quoting the Buddhist proverb that "the teacher appears when the lesson is ready to be learned" - I can honestly say, at that moment, a weight was lifted... my grief began to dissipate... and a message was delivered. I am allowed to mourn but there will be no more wallowing - Mom was letting me know that I need to find my "be here now" self again...

So... I've been scrambling like a madwoman (in a good way, Martha!) with the OnDemand feature of my cable company - I found the full episode and watched it (at 3 a.m.) and I viewed, at 11 this morning, a re-run of Spectacle, Season 1 with Norah Jones, John Mellencamp, Rosanne Cash and Kris Kristofferson... and f*cking cried all over again...

During the course of the show, Kris said the song he was about to perform was inspired by a scene from Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath... and that Johnny Cash wrote in his autobiography that it might be his favorite song - I am still astonished this tune has been floating around out there for 28 years... and this morning was the first time I'd heard/heard of it...

There are two more episodes available for viewing OnDemand... and I've bookmarked those for later in the day ("the teacher appears" indeed) - lesson learned... and I'm off to follow the trail of Jesse, Neko, The Decemberists, Brandi, Andrew Bird, Avett Brothers... and all those other musical breadcrumbs that have been left for me in the last year, if I'd only been listening (pun fully intended!)...

P.S. Not to jinx myself but... I realize this is my fourth post in as many days - I do believe the epiphany extends to acknowledging a desire to embrace life once again...

P.P.S. I am quite proud of the fact that Richard Julian (who used to open for Norah Jones and then segued to being a member of her band, The Little Willies, while retaining his solo singer-songwriter status) appeared in my house concert series in June 2002 - okay... I have/had my moments of coolness... :-)

SONG: Here Comes That Rainbow Again by Kris Kristofferson

BOOK: The Soul Would Have No Rainbow if the Eyes Had No Tears and Other Native American Proverbs by Guy Zona

POEM(S): Back Yard by Elizabeth Spires

It didn't rain.
And it didn't rain.
And it didn't rain.
Returning, after a month away,
from a place up north.
we saw the parched and dying yard,
the hose coiled like a snake.

As if the present were past,
I walk from this thing to that,
touching dry leaves.
Here is my daughter's herb garden
where we buried the snail.
Here is the dogwood
that bloomed when T. was dying.
Here is the sunflower, ravaged by July,
and here is the rose of Sharon
coming, in August, into its own.
Here. Here. And here.
The arbor. The wisteria.
The bamboo, tenacious as ever.
The empty swing, motionless in the heat.

The Beautiful Lawn Sprinkler by Howard Nemerov

What gives it power makes it change its mind
At each extreme, and lean its rising rain
Down low, first one and then the other way;
In which exchange humility and pride
Reverse, forgive, arise, and die again,
Wherefore it holds at both ends of the day
The rainbow in its scattering grains of spray.

QUOTE: "My deepest impulses are optimistic, an attitude that seems to me as spiritually necessary and proper as it is intellectually suspect." ~ Ellen Willis

Black Crow (Joni Mitchell)

2010-01-01T23:59:00.009-05:00

As has been my tradition, I have chosen and unveiled a Word of the Year each January 1 - some years have been more effective than others but, rather than emphasizing broad goals and resolutions, it helps me keep some sense of priority as to what I'd like to work on in my life for the next 365 days!

After much pondering, I've decided on Follow-Through as my word for 2010 - I am the first to admit that I have the best of intentions in anything I do... and come off the starting block fast and furious... only to fizzle out before the finish line. It's a combination of low energy, limited time and boundless To-Do's... but there is really no excuse for my lack of completion - I have vowed that, over the next 12 months, rather than having a million things hanging over my head, I will do my very best to deal with issues as they come to me, in a no-nonsense, "one touch", make-it-happen way...

It gets frustrating, always allowing myself to be distracted (look, something shiny!) - focus, Susan, focus... :-)

P.S. I received a phone call earlier this evening from a dear friend who, for various reasons, I have been out of contact with for the last 2+ years - it was a surprise and a joy to have an extended conversation, picking up where we left off ("in search of love and music" indeed, Joni!). He told me that a new year is meant to bring about action in some form or another - I am immensely grateful the thought extended in my direction...

SONG: Black Crow by Joni Mitchell

BOOK(S): The Follow-Through Factor: Getting from Doubt to Done by Gene C. Hayden

Find Your Focus Zone: An Effective New Plan to Defeat Distraction and Overload by Lucy Jo Palladino

POEM: The Year by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

What can be said in New Year rhymes,
That's not been said a thousand times?

The new years come, the old years go,
We know we dream, we dream we know.

We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.

We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.

We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our brides, we sheet our dead.

We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that's the burden of the year.

QUOTE: "Every new year people make resolutions to change aspects of themselves they believe are negative. A majority of people revert back to how they were before and feel like failures. This year I challenge you to a new resolution. I challenge you to just be yourself." ~ Aisha Elderwyn

[Hard] Rock Lobster (with apologies to The B-52's)

2009-12-31T10:45:00.002-05:00

Guess where/with whom we're spending New Year's Eve? - good guess!

A history of my love for them can be found here on Star Maker Machine, the weekly-themed collaborative blog to which I contribute - I've only seen them once before live... and that was with my sister Mari about 15 years ago, when I danced so long and hard I thought I was going to have a heart attack... :-)

My daughter Sarah works at the Hard Rock Cafe and was able to get us tickets - the show doesn't even start until 10 p.m. but we'll get to the area a few hours early and have dinner at our favorite restaurant in the complex. Calamari, a Bluepoint chopped salad and a dirty martini - oh my!

We have the option of following The B-52's into the Center Bar for a New Year's Eve countdown... but that's going to be "a hot mess", according to Sarah - we'll probably just follow our regular tradition and head home to the jacuzzi to drink champagne and watch neighborhood fireworks...

Happy 2010! - may it bring us all health, peace, blessings and boundless love... <3

SONG: Rock Lobster by The B-52's (YouTube video here)

BOOK: The Totally Awesome 80s Pop Music Trivia Book by Michael-Dante Craig

POEM: At the End of the Year by John O'Donohue

The particular mind of the ocean
Filling the coastline's longing
With such brief harvest
Of elegant, vanishing waves
Is like the mind of time
Opening us shapes of days.

As this year draws to its end,
We give thanks for the gifts it brought
And how they became inlaid within
Where neither time nor tide can touch them.

The days when the veil lifted
And the soul could see delight;
When a quiver caressed the heart
In the sheer exuberance of being here.

Surprises that came awake
In forgotten corners of old fields
Where expectation seemed to have quenched.

The slow, brooding times
When all was awkward
And the wave in the mind
Pierced every sore with salt.

The darkened days that stopped
The confidence of the dawn.

Days when beloved faces shone brighter
With light from beyond themselves;
And from the granite of some secret sorrow
A stream of buried tears loosened.

We bless this year for all we learned,
For all we loved and lost
And for the quiet way it brought us
Nearer to our invisible destination.

QUOTE: "Then sing, young hearts that are full of cheer, with never a thought of sorrow; the old goes out, but the glad young year comes merrily in tomorrow." ~ Emily Miller

Peace At Last (Hem)

2009-12-30T23:59:00.007-05:00

This is a picture of me that my daughter took from the back seat of the van as we were on our way to South Carolina on the first leg of our journey - I only intended for her to capture the Santa-in-a-hammock ornament/totem that my friend Melanie gave us to take on the trip (similar to "a Buddha on the dashboard", according to her)... but I do really like the extra detail of my face in the rearview mirror... :-)

This is the third Christmas since I started my blog... and I went back to my 2008 and 2007 posts for inspiration - perspective is everything, as I read about mom's decline in health over the last few years. We knew this was going to be a hard holiday, our first without her - what we didn't know was how much, in her absence, she'd be with us in spirit...

The 12+ hour drive each way has become routine - we know about how long it will take, about where we will stop... for gas, meals, etc... and which CDs we'll be listening to on our journey (yes, holiday music prevails on the way up). I had put A Christmas Waltz by Frank Sinatra on this year's mix... and it evoked tears but also smiles each time it played - Mimi was everywhere!

Stepping stones along our path:

~ the visit with my husband's family (his sister, her husband and their two daughters) was the best it's ever been... warm, inviting and friendly - sadly, his brother and nephew couldn't make it (snowed in New Jersey and doing a tour of duty in Iraq, respectively)... but we enjoyed our time together... and look forward to a new arrival (nephew's expected little one) in June...

~ we were able to spend quality time with my husband's stepmother, taking her out to lunch at one of our favorite haunts in Batesburg, South Carolina - I had forgotten much I loved lima beans! Afterwards, we went to my husband's father's gravesite - hard to believe Bob has been gone two years...

~ arriving in Georgia to spend time with my side of the family is always a highlight, but we knew it would be bittersweet - we ended up staying at my sister's the entire time, and her hospitality is unrivaled. We had plenty of room to stretch out (she's in a new home after she and Bill divorced last spring), allowing us alone time but also bonding experiences - there was plenty of delicious food every time we turned around, meals and "nibblies" (as Mari calls them)... and I made it my goal to orchestrate kitchen clean-up, loading and unloading the dishwasher when necessary so as to save Mari that job...

~ we all went over to my brother's house for lunch one day, as we had shamefully never been there, since each year we only spend 3 days in the Atlanta area before driving home - this year, without mom in the equation, it proved do-able (another closed door/open window opportunity)...

~ my husband took the kids to a movie the day after we arrived so my sister and I could get her final shopping done - we ordered Chinese food (a tradition) and then went to her friends' party on Christmas Eve. My friends Steve and Betty came over Christmas afternoon to visit before they had to be at another friend's home - the revolving door was comfortable and never hectic...

~ I joked about this year being an Instant Gratification Christmas, as there were more than a few occasions when we gave each other our gifts ahead of time (a gorgeous purple paisley scarf from my son Eric... and Trivial Pursuit Team from my sister) - there were still plenty of surprises Christmas Day: Season 1 of Pushing Daisies from my son Rob; my favorite Origins perfume from my daughter Sarah and her boyfriend; the movie Julie & Julia, another gift from Mari; a large purple swirled mug and a box of green Chai tea from my 13-year-old niece Julia; "a sister is a forever friend" silver bracelet from my brother Brad (he gave Mari one just like it). I gave everyone calendars chosen especially for them, along with either a book, CD or DVD - we all completely pegged each others' tastes without going overboard. Yes, mimosas were served - yes, we stayed in our pajamas all day!

~ Saturday morning found us packed up and driving to Flowery Branch (mom's town), where we went by her gravesite and then visited with some of the Ya Ya's (mom's neighborhood women) - sadly... Ann, one of her best friends (who I got very close to this summer, driving back and forth to exercise class) was killed in a head-on car collision a week before Christmas, and I felt so sorry for these amazing women who had lost two dear friends in less than six months...

~ I came down with a horrendous head cold Christmas morning so my last few days were a struggle, especially on the ride home - I finally have my appetite, sense of smell and sense of humor back... so all is well... :-)

Everything we did invoked thoughts of mom, and there were a few meltdowns along the way - we also had many memory-inducing moments, and we knew we were surrounded by her love, faith and pride. She raised us well and we'll continue to carry on her legacy, as well as create one for our own children - Merry Christmas, Mom (we miss you more than words can say)...

SONG: Peace At Last by Hem

BOOK: Watch For The Light: Readings For Advent And Christmas by Philip Yancey

POEM: Going to Bed by George Bilgere

I check the locks on the front door
and the side door,
make sure the windows are closed
and the heat dialed down.
I switch off the computer,
turn off the living room lights.

I let in the cats.

Reverently, I unplug the Christmas tree,
leaving Christ and the little animals
in the dark.

The last thing I do
is step out to the back yard
for a quick look at the Milky Way.

The stars are halogen-blue.
The constellations, whose names
I have long since forgotten,
look down anonymously,
and the whole galaxy
is cartwheeling in silence through the night.

Everything seems to be ok.

QUOTE: “Three grand essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, something to love, and something to hope for.” ~ Joseph Addison

The Heartache Can Wait (Brandi Carlile)

2009-12-24T02:00:00.002-05:00

I really don't know how I've managed to go three weeks without a blog post - chalk it up to a combination of busy... and sad... and the Christmas season. I miss recording my thoughts - I have vowed to do better in 2010... :-)

Some of you will receive a printed copy of the following enclosed in our holiday cards, which have only just been mailed out from my sister's home in Cumming, Georgia - it's been a whirlwind but most amazing trip already, and I hope to write more about it in the next day or so...

In the meantime, early on this Christmas Eve morning, please accept my sincere wishes for a holiday that is warm, blessed and loving - I am grateful for everything that has come my way, the good and the bad, from which I have learned and grown... and for the support and patience of friends and family as I continue to stumble through this first year without my mother...

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

Constance Elaine Izzo Driskell Maresco – September 9, 1930-July 19, 2009

"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

How does one put a life-changing summer into words? - everyone receiving this knows that mom had been ill for the last few years... with kidney disease and pulmonary fibrosis, both progressive and irreversible illnesses. Most of you also know that my initially-intended two-week visit to Flowery Branch in mid-May segued into my becoming primary caregiver for Mom until her passing mid-July – some of you realize the import of those two months, as we circled the wagons as well as widened the circle. A select handful involved considered it an honor and a blessing to help mom on her journey and to aid in her transition – she handled everything with her usual grace, style and humor... preparing not only her financial and legal affairs, but readying us for her expected yet hard-hitting absence...

Upon the advice of friends, we set up a CaringBridge website in late-May, when we brought in home hospice – it was not only cathartic for Mari and I to track the details of mom's days, medically and emotionally, but it proved to be a multi-dimensional way for her loved ones to stay informed as well as to respond. You can visit the link below and click on Journal to view what Mari and I wrote along the way... and click on Guestbook to share others' musings (which we read aloud to mom every day) – it actually brings me peace and comfort to re-visit periodically... and it takes me right back to CSI: Miami and Happy Hour and nebulizers, oh my (weak smile... :-)

www.caringbridge.org/visit/conniemaresco

"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

Mom herself could have written the above quote... because she most certainly did live her life that way – she made every single minute count. She was generous, kind, bright, funny, vivacious, spiritual... and she left an immeasurable legacy to her children (me, Mari and Brad), her grandchildren (Sarah, Robby, Eric and Julia) and everyone in her path, whether relatives by blood or marriage, life-long friends or brief acquaintances. She embraced her final months with dignity, courage and faith - her light continues to burn and set an example for the rest of us...

This holiday is most certainly bittersweet, as we head out in just a few hours on our annual family trip to South Carolina and Georgia – there will be so many triggers of grief, but there will be equal sparks of memory. We will uphold previous traditions and make new ones - Mom's spirit will give us the strength and the serenity to navigate this first major holiday without her. WWCD (What Would Connie Do) has become our new mantra (good one, Mari!) - words to live by... literally...

The Moss Family (Sue, Chico, Sarah, Rob and Eric)

SONG: The Heartache Can Wait by Brandi Carlile

BOOK: Getting in the Christmas Spirit: A Gift of Inspiration for the Holiday Season by Tian Dayton

POEM: An Old Man Performs Alchemy on His Doorstep at Christmastime by Anna George

Cream of Tartar, commonly used to lift meringue and angel food cake, is actually made from crystallized fine wine.

After they stopped singing for him,
the carolers became transparent in the dark,
and he stepped into their emptiness to say
he lost his wife last week, please
sing again. Their voices filled with gold.
Last week, his fedora nodded hello to me
on the sidewalk, and the fragile breath
of kindness that passed between us
made something sweet of a morning
that had frightened me for no earthly reason.
Surely, you know this by another name:
the mysteries we intake, exhale, could be
sitting on our shelves, left on the bus seat
beside us. Don't wash your hands.
You fingered them at the supermarket,
gave them to the cashier; intoxicated tonight,
she'll sing in the streets. Think of the old man.
Who knew he kept the secret of levitation,
transference, and lightness filling a winter night?
— an effortless, crystalline powder
That could almost seem transfigured from loss.

QUOTE: “As each day comes to us refreshed and anew, so does my gratitude renew itself daily.” ~ Adabella Radici

Girl Shanty (Sons of the Never Wrong)

2009-12-01T22:25:00.004-05:00

DailyOm
December 1, 2009
Everything You Do Matters
The Ripple Effect

In a world of six billion people, it’s easy to believe that the only way to initiate profound transformation is to take extreme action. Each of us, however, carries within us the capacity to change the world in small ways for better or worse. Everything we do and think affects the people in our lives, and their reactions in turn affect others. As the effect of a seemingly insignificant word passes from person to person, its impact grows and can become a source of great joy, inspiration, anxiety, or pain. Your thoughts and actions are like stones dropped into still waters, causing ripples to spread and expand as they move outward. The impact you have on the world is greater than you could ever imagine, and the choices you make can have far-reaching consequences. You can use the ripple effect to make a positive difference and spread waves of kindness that will wash over the world.

Should the opportunity arise, the recipient of a good deed will likely feel compelled to do a good deed for someone else. Someone feeling the effects of negative energy will be more likely to pass on that negative energy. One act of charity, one thoughtful deed, or even one positive thought can pass from individual to individual, snowballing until it becomes a group movement or the ray of hope that saves someone’s life. Every transformation, just like every ripple, has a point of origin. You must believe in your ability to be that point of origin if you want to use the ripples you create to spread goodness. Consider the effect of your thoughts and actions, and try to act graciously as much as possible.

A smile directed at a stranger, a compliment given to a friend, an attitude of laughter, or a thoughtful gesture can send ripples that spread among your loved ones and associates, out into your community, and finally throughout the world. You have the power to touch the lives of everyone you come into contact with and everyone those people come into contact with. The momentum of your influence will grow as your ripples moves onward and outward. One of those ripples could become a tidal wave of positivity.

I am a long-time fan of Oprah Winfrey... not only for using her wealth and power for philanthropic good... but in her desire and ability to share global truth - today's show (which I'm pretty sure was a re-run) was hard- and heart-hitting... and I have vowed to do my part, for the holidays and year-round...

Go here to learn more...

SONG: Girl Shanty by Sons of the Never Wrong (see #9 for lyrics)

BOOK: Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide by Nicholas D. Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn

POEM: Singapore by Mary Oliver

In Singapore, in the airport,
A darkness was ripped from my eyes.
In the women's restroom, one compartment stood open.
A woman knelt there, washing something
in the white bowl.

Disgust argued in my stomach
and I felt, in my pocket, for my ticket.

A poem should always have birds in it.
Kingfishers, say, with their bold eyes and gaudy wings.
Rivers are pleasant, and of course trees.
A waterfall, or if that's not possible, a fountain
rising and falling.
A person wants to stand in a happy place, in a poem.

When the woman turned I could not answer her face.
Her beauty and her embarrassment struggled together, and
neither could win.
She smiled and I smiled. What kind of nonsense is this?
Everybody needs a job.

Yes, a person wants to stand in a happy place, in a poem.
But first we must watch her as she stares down at her labor,
which is dull enough.
She is washing the tops of the airport ashtrays, as big as
hubcaps, with a blue rag.
Her small hands turn the metal, scrubbing and rinsing.
She does not work slowly, nor quickly, like a river.
Her dark hair is like the wing of a bird.

I don't doubt for a moment that she loves her life.
And I want to rise up from the crust and the slop
and fly down to the river.
This probably won't happen.
But maybe it will.
If the world were only pain and logic, who would want it?

Of course, it isn't.
Neither do I mean anything miraculous, but only
the light that can shine out of a life. I mean
the way she unfolded and refolded the blue cloth,
The way her smile was only for my sake; I mean
the way this poem is filled with trees, and birds.

QUOTE: “They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.” ~ Andy Warhol

The First Thanksgiving (David Stoddard)

2009-11-26T08:45:00.002-05:00

From The Writer's Almanac:

Today is Thanksgiving Day. When we talk about the first Thanksgiving, we're referring to an event that happened in 1621 in Plymouth, Massachusetts. But there were actually Thanksgiving ceremonies in the United States much earlier — in 1565, 600 Spanish settlers arrived in what is now St. Augustine, Florida, and had a Mass of Thanksgiving to celebrate their safe arrival, and followed it up with a feast. Other Thanksgiving celebrations occurred in El Paso, Texas, and in the Virginia Colony.

But the most famous is the Thanksgiving in the fall of 1621, when the Plymouth colonists celebrated with the Wampanoag Indians. It was the colonists' first harvest, so it was a joyful occasion. The Pilgrims had barely survived the last winter and had lost about half their population. But since then, they had built seven houses, a meeting place, and three storehouses for food. Now they actually had food to store.

They invited the Wampanoag Indians to feast with them. The Wampanoag people and their chief, Massasoit, were friendly toward the Pilgrims and helped teach them how to live on different land and with new food sources. A man known as Squanto, a Patuxet living with the Wampanoag tribe, knew English because he had been a slave in England. He taught the settlers how to plant corn, beans, and squash and how to catch eel and shellfish. And he was their interpreter.

So the Pilgrims asked the Native Americans to share in their first harvest. Harvest festivals were nothing new; both the English and the Wampanoag had similar traditions in their culture.

At the first Thanksgiving, they didn't eat mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie, and they probably didn't even eat turkey. The only two foods that are actually named in the primary accounts are wild fowl and venison. The meal was mostly meat and seafood, but probably included squash, cabbage, corn, and onions, and spices like cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and pepper.

Unlike our modern Thanksgiving, this event wasn't just one day. Many of the Wampanoag had to walk two days to get to the Plymouth settlement. There were about 50 English people and 90 Wampanoag, and since there wasn't enough room in the seven houses for the guests, they went ahead and built themselves temporary shelters. In between eating, they played games and sports, danced and sang.

The most detailed account of the first Thanksgiving comes from one of the Pilgrims, Edward Winslow. He wrote:

Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four men on fowling, that so we might after a special manner rejoice together after we had gathered the fruits of our labor. […] At which time, amongst other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of the Indians coming amongst us, and among the rest their greatest king Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and feasted.

Thanksgiving has been celebrated as a national holiday on different dates, in different months, and one year it was even celebrated twice. It wasn't standardized until 1941, when President Roosevelt signed a bill declaring that the fourth Thursday in November would be Thanksgiving Day.

Happy Thanksgiving to all - the house is already redolent with the aromas of various food offerings... and we're expecting a full table of loving family and special friends. Of course it's a bittersweet day, this being the first major holiday without mom - I'm making her Southern cornbread dressing, and Sarah's preparing her pecan pie recipe, in remembrance...

I thought I was going to be okay with this holiday, because we didn't normally celebrate it with mom, but I've had some rough patches these last few days - the memories transcend calendar boxes and timelines and, bittersweet as it may be, we will honor the grief mixed with the gratitude...

It was interesting to go back and read last year's post, not too much different than this year's sentiment - wishing you and yours a most wonderful Thanksgiving...

SONG: The First Thanksgiving by David Stoddard

BOOK: Bless This Food: Ancient and Contemporary Graces from Around the World by Adrian Butash

POEM: Cranberry-Orange Relish by John Engels

A pound of ripe cranberries, for two days
macerate in a dark rum, then do not
treat them gently, but bruise,
mash, pulp, squash
with a wooden pestle
to an abundance of juices, in fact
until the juices seem on the verge

of overswelling the bowl, then drop in
two fistsful, maybe three, of fine-
chopped orange with rind, two golden
blobs of it, and crush
it in, and then add sugar, no thin
sprinkling, but a cupful dumped
and awakened with a wooden spoon

to a thick suffusion, drench of sourness, bite of color,
then for two days let conjoin
the lonely taste of cranberry,
the joyous orange, the rum, in some
warm corner of the kitchen, until
the bowl faintly becomes
audible, a scarce wash of sound, a tiny
bubbling, and then
in a glass bowl set it out
and let it be eaten last, to offset
gravied breast and thigh
of the heavy fowl, liverish
stuffing, the effete
potato, lethargy of pumpkins

gone leaden in their crusts, let it be eaten
so that our hearts may be together overrun
with comparable sweetnesses,
tart gratitudes, until finally,
dawdling and groaning, we bear them
to the various hungerings
of our beds, lightened
of their desolations.

QUOTE: "As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them." ~ John Fitzgerald Kennedy

Cinnamon Girl (Neil Young)

2009-11-24T10:30:00.004-05:00

This is embarrassing to admit... but, other than a few bouts with strep throat in the past, I haven't been to a real doctor for a thorough check-up in over five years - I know, I know... shame on me...

My dear daughter has been nudging, nagging and nipping at my heels (understandably so - she's worried)... and I finally went last Friday - knock on wood, all seemed to go fairly well, although I'll go back in two weeks for urine and blood test results. One thing that did concern them was that my blood pressure was high - they checked it twice, did an EKG (which showed nothing, thank goodness) and sent me home with a low-dosage blood pressure medication. I've of course been doing some research on hypertension and medical side effects... and discovered that daily usage of cinnamon can be very helpful in healing this health issue - this cracks me up, as I've had a reputation for years as a cinnamon lover, craving it on/in anything! Now I'm just going to have to choose it sprinkled in my oatmeal or yogurt, over apples or in my tea... rather than in breakfast rolls, cake or toast - I can do this...

I also have "prescriptions" to get a mammogram, a bone density test and a colonoscopy (all standard tests for a woman in her mid-50's) - my gynecologist appointment (for a routine pap smear) is scheduled for the first of the year... and I know I need to see a dermatologist then too (South Florida sun can be harmful to the skin - major understatement). It is empowering to make these forward steps... and I was already feeling the need to do a better job of taking care of myself, after spending all summer taking care of mom - the doctor even made mention of the fact that givers have a hard time receiving (even though this was her first time meeting me, she had me pegged). I started crying - it's all still so fresh... but I want and need to change... now... not just for myself, but for my spouse, my children and my circle of friends...

I'm also still walking almost 3 miles a day, 6 days a week - if I could be smarter with my food choices... and limit my food portions, I'd make some serious progress toward looking and feeling better...

SONG: Cinnamon Girl by Neil Young

BOOK: Cinnamon: Spices of Life by Barbara Wexler

POEM: Lessons by Pat Schneider

I have learned
that life goes on,
or doesn't.
That days are measured out
in tiny increments
as a woman in a kitchen
measures teaspoons
of cinnamon, vanilla,
or half a cup of sugar
into a bowl.

I have learned
that moments are as precious as nutmeg,
and it has occurred to me
that busy interruptions
are like tiny grain moths,
or mice.
They nibble, pee, and poop,
or make their little worms and webs
until you have to throw out the good stuff
with the bad.

It took two deaths
and coming close myself
for me to learn
that there is not an infinite supply
of good things in the pantry.

QUOTE(S): “I really don’t think I need buns of steel. I’d be happy with buns of cinnamon.” ~ Ellen DeGeneres

“It’s not that some people have willpower and some don’t. It’s that some people are ready to change and others are not.” ~ James Gordon

Old Dogs (Bill Staines)

2009-11-10T12:10:00.004-05:00

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)

2009-11-06T22:10:00.005-05:00

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)

2009-10-23T15:00:00.009-04:00

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)

2009-10-17T16:25:00.003-04:00

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)

2009-09-28T21:25:00.003-04:00

(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)

2009-09-24T23:45:00.003-04:00

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)

2009-09-18T20:20:00.005-04:00

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)

2009-09-11T18:15:00.004-04:00

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)

2009-09-09T12:15:00.006-04:00

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)

2009-09-05T22:45:00.005-04:00

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)

2009-08-25T23:59:00.008-04:00

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)

2009-08-24T23:59:00.004-04:00

"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)

2009-08-17T08:40:00.003-04:00

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)

2009-08-13T16:45:00.002-04:00

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)

2009-08-06T10:30:00.006-04:00

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