Between Here and Gone (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

Seems crazy it's been a week since I blogged.  Daily might have been overwhelming, but weekly feels like too much time in-between.  I might have to find a Happy Medium (maybe a Tuesday *and* Friday routine?).  Speaking of mediums, Sarah and I are looking into psychic readings.  To be continued...

My Sunday was fairly quiet (deliberately so), and then Nancy, Dave, Chico, and I went to see Jennings & Keller in concert; they tour out west from May to October, so they've only been back in town a few weeks.  Great show, in that Laurie debuted a few new songs (one inspired by an essay in Small Victories, an Anne Lamott book I gave her years ago) as well as covered *two* Joni songs (For Free and Woodstock) in honor of Joni's 80th birthday (today, actually!).  Dana played the guitar, dobro, and pedal steel (a master of all three) and their harmonies were on point; I did cry a few times, but I am so glad I went.

You may recall that I've been very insistent on attending an in-person bereavement support group, at least for the first few months, and I did find a few gatherings in the area that qualified.  Chico, Sarah, and I attended one yesterday, fairly close by (every Monday 12:30-2:30).  It was very warm and welcoming, composed mostly of women who had lost their husbands, but still resonated with us (grief is grief, right?).  On one hand, it was difficult to process so much pain from others but, on the other, they are so loving and supportive of each other, a true Village.  Many approached us afterward with hugs and kind words.  I also plan on attending a different group (every 2nd and 4th Wednesday, 5:30-6:30), also pretty close to us.  If I like them both, I'll attend both.  No one says I have to choose.  It feels like forward motion, although even lateral is intentional movement.

I spent a good bit of today on the phone with UnitedHealthcare, in search of therapists in my network; I also asked for the following filters:  close to home, female, in-person, grief... which narrowed the field down to 8 (and then 6, because two of them had *horrible* reviews).  I called one already, but haven't heard back yet.  Thinking positive... 🌞

I did begin re-watching (although it's been decades - 2001- since my first go-around) Six Feet Under, which is now available on Netflix.  I almost shut it down completely in that the first death, a bus/car accident, happened in the first 8 minutes, but I kept going, and continue to be reminded of its brilliance and resonance with my current mindset.  There are 5 seasons, and I'm going slowly, so this could take me into the New Year.

Thanksgiving.  Right now, anything is better than here, where my heart just could not handle sitting around a familiar table with my youngest in absentia.  My sister Mari has thrown herself into this wholeheartedly, for which I am extremely grateful, conjuring the joyful chaos I have cultivated over the years.  We will help, it will all be great, there will be a gap and a hole and a metaphorical empty chair, but there will also be the love of family weaving its way throughout the day... and then we can stamp paid to the first First, with more to follow for the next 11 months, and maybe it will get just a bit easier with each one, or maybe it will feel like The Worst Groundhog Day Ever, in which we rip off the band-aid for Christmas and New Year's Eve and New Year's Day and Valentine's Day and Easter and Mother's Day and Father's Day and E's birthday ad infinitum until it eventually becomes The New Normal (which sounds equally horrifying).  Who knows, right?  In the immortal words of Ani DiFranco:  "it's my first time for this kind of thing".  No Superhero complex here... 🤷

SONG:  Between Here and Gone by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK:  Writing as a Way of Healing: How Telling Our Stories Transforms Our Lives by Louise DeSalvo

POEM(S):  Think in poems. Breathe in. 

Sing your grief. Breathe out.

Write your inner ocean in waves of words. Express your fire in exclamations on a page.  

Howl the words. Chirp them. 

Caw them across the sky.

Splash them. Sparkle them. 

Crack them open. Compost them. 

Plant them. 

Writing out the words

Rights what’s inside

And is a magical rite of inner alchemy.

Words are mighty powerful inside and out.

Express them in scribbles

Or sketches.

Express them in circles or spirals.

Keep writing till your hand hurts if you have to.

Till you are empty. Till you are shining. Till your face begins to rain. Till your heart and body and breath returns to center. 

Till you are again renewed.

~ The Wild Matryoshka

How We Are Carried by Sierra DeMulder

Did you know

fetal cells stay

in the carrier's body

after the baby 

is born?

Even if they

are not born alive

but birthed

quiet and indigo

as dusk.

For decades,

their DNA can be

found in the blood

and tissue of the one

who fashioned them.

Stuccoed to pancreas,

bone marrow,

heart, of course - 

that basin of folklore,

that antiquary of longing.

See how we were

designed to not let go?

How we are built

to carry love

long after it has

grown up 

and gone?

QUOTE(S):  “Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose, or paint can manage to escape the madness, melancholia, the panic and fear which is inherent in a human situation.” ~ Graham Greene 

"Write hard and clear about what hurts." ~ Ernest Hemingway

"The goal of the writer is to take what’s inside their heart and make it plain on the page." ~ Ada Limon (current Poet Laureate of the United States)

Rhythm of the Blues (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

I. Am. Still. Here.  Eric. Is. Still. Gone.  People say Good Morning!, which used to be comforting, but it may be a while before I can verbalize those two words myself.  I was never a morning person, but now it is my enemy; my new wake-up time seems to be 6-6:30 a.m., at which point, after having escaped this tragedy via blessed sleep, I am thrown back into a reality where my son is truly and irrevocably dead.  A living f*cking nightmare.  The horror version of Groundhog Day.  There aren't enough coping mechanisms in the world.  Despite how together I may come across in my Facebook posts (to paraphrase Jimmy Buffett:  "if I didn't [write], I would just go insane"), I am a mess... which, given the circumstances, is to be expected... 🤯

I know that everyone around me is walking on proverbial eggshells, helpless as to how I'm feeling and what I need... when I don't even know myself until something either resonates or jars.  Either one invokes tears... 😭

Last night was the Mary Chapin Carpenter/Shawn Colvin concert (we've had these tickets for months), and we came so close to not going... but we did.  I guess I expected to walk into a vacuum, enjoy the show, and then leave... but, by virtue of being involved with the local folk and acoustic community, of course I encountered many people I knew, and I was like a deer in the headlights.  The music took me out of my head for a while, but I thought of E the whole time.  I cried, but I laughed as well.  

Today found our family + Eric's girlfriend on a two-hour Zoom, mostly to fine-tune details of his Celebration of Life, for which we finally set a date.  So many items to attend to, and they will get done, but Life is like a game of Candyland right now, two steps ahead and then one backward into Molasses Swamp.

So, I just brewed up a huge mug of Tension Tamer Tea (yes, that's a thing), my controlled substance of choice, and I'm about to settle in with a few years worth of texts/e-mails, back and forth between my son and his aunt (my husband's sister), which I had no idea was even happening.  Oh, the sweetness... 💞

SONG:  Rhythm of the Blues by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK:  Little Blue and Little Yellow by Leo Lionni

POEM:  Like a Small Animal by James Crews

I don’t know how the heart goes

cold as an unpicked apple clinging

to the branch, encased in layers

of ice. Yet even the slightest gesture

can warm it, as if some hand were

reaching out to hold the hard skin,

melt off the months of bitterness.

Maybe a friend hugs you longer

than she needs to, just a few more

seconds of pressing you closer until

you want to live inside that gesture,

inhaling her perfume for the rest

of your life. Or a lover makes you

a turkey sandwich one day for lunch 

with buttercrunch lettuce, pickles

and extra mayo, and eating it at work

later, relishing every bite, you feel

that stirring in your chest, like a small

animal coming out of a long sleep, 

blinking its tender eyes awake.

QUOTE:  "Philosopher Alan Watts used to talk about how the whole world is wiggling all the time. Clouds, trees, sky, water, human beings: Everything's constantly shimmying and jiggling and waggling.  One of our problems, Watts said, is that we're "always trying to straighten things out." We feel nagging urges to deny or cover up or eliminate the wiggling. "Be orderly," we command reality. "Be neat and composed and predictable."  But reality never obeys. It's forever doing what it does best: flickering and fluctuating and flowing." ~ from Rob Brezsny's Free Will Astrology

Mrs. Hemingway (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

I don't know how I managed to skip yesterday, but, for whatever reason, it happened.  Moving forward!

This week on PBS I've been watching:  "Hemingway, a three-part, six-hour documentary film by Ken Burns and Lynn Novick, examines the visionary work and the turbulent life of Ernest Hemingway, one of the greatest and most influential writers America has ever produced. Interweaving his eventful biography — a life lived at the ultimately treacherous nexus of art, fame, and celebrity — with carefully selected excerpts from his iconic short stories, novels, and non-fiction, the series reveals the brilliant, ambitious, charismatic, and complicated man behind the myth, and the art he created."

It's brilliantly and beautifully done, with vintage footage, photographs, and letters from and to Ernest by wives and parents and friends (the one from his mother equating their relationship to a bank account is chilling).  Also, I may have known but definitely forgot that, of Hemingway's immediate family of six (two parents, four siblings), four died by suicide (the father and three of the children, Hemingway included).

I won't attempt to expound on his life and times, but here are a few articles that review the series (which I highly recommend!):

A New Hemingway Documentary Peeks Behind the Myth:  Ken Burns and Lynn Novick’s film examines the burden of the author’s performance of himself.

'Hemingway' tackles the writer in a documentary as big as his tumultuous life:  The long history of Ken Burns documentaries ranges from places to people to entire wars. His latest collaboration with Lynn Novick, "Hemingway," falls in that middle category, portraying Ernest Hemingway's war-spanning, tumultuous life over six hours, which might not qualify as Hemingway-esque brevity, but proves fascinating nevertheless.

Hemingway:  Ken Burns and Lynn Novick have done it again. The documentarians who have occupied the top tier of filmmaking about American history with projects like “Baseball,” “The Vietnam War,” and “The Civil War” return to PBS tonight with a three-part series on the life and legacy of one of the most important authors of the twentieth century, Ernest Hemingway. 

"The writer's job is to tell the truth," Ernest Hemingway once said.  Great article from The Poetry Foundation.

I already have seven tattoos, and will most probably stop there but, should I ever decide on another, it most likely will be the final sentence in The Sun Also Rises, Jake's response to Lady Brett:  

“Oh, Jake,” Brett said, “we could have had such a damned good time together.”  Ahead was a mounted policeman in khaki directing traffic. He raised his baton. The car slowed suddenly pressing Brett against me.

“Yes,” I said. “Isn’t it pretty to think so?”

SONG:  Mrs. Hemingway by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK:  The Paris Wife by Paula McLain

POEM:  Montparnasse by Ernest M. Hemingway

There are never any suicides in the quarter among people one knows

No successful suicides.

A Chinese boy kills himself and is dead.

(they continue to place his mail in the letter rack at the Dome)

A Norwegian boy kills himself and is dead.

(no one knows where the other Norwegian boy has gone)

They find a model dead

alone in bed and very dead.

(it made almost unbearable trouble for the concierge)

Sweet oil, the white of eggs, mustard and water, soap suds

and stomach pumps rescue the people one knows.

Every afternoon the people one knows can be found at the café.

QUOTE:  "Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now. All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know." ~ Ernest Hemingway

The Long Way Home (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

I had been vowing to get back into my walking routine (long-overdue and much-missed) and yesterday was that day.  Woke up with twitchy legs (always a good sign), drank a giant glass of water, laced up my New Balances, and walked out my front door... whereupon Rain King by Counting Crows came on my Pandora, and a giant bird flew across my line of vision, surely a sign from The Universe:

When I think of heaven

Deliver me in a black-winged bird

I think of flying down into a sea of pens and feathers

And all other instruments of faith and sex and god

I started out entirely too fast, but then got into my groove.  Other than a few walks with my son Rob at his place, it had been months since I'd seriously gotten out for a trek around the complex, and definitely not since they re-opened the golf course.  Such fond memories of taking advantage of all the winding paths throughout where now, again, I'm restricted to the outskirts.  It was sweet, though... beautiful morning, out the door by 9:15, wonderful and diverse music to accompany.  I finally broke down and paid the $5 a month (price of a Starbucks Matcha Green Tea Latte with coconut milk) Pandora charges to go ad-free, plus unlimited skips (meaning, no more spooky Halloween soundtrack at dusk).  Gamechanger!

The route I chose took me 45 minutes, but I can add on bits and pieces throughout the complex to eventually get myself up to an hour.  I thought about structuring a walking schedule but, because I love, and missed, it so much, I'm just going to plan on every day, weather-permitting.  In South Florida, one has to be that flexible.

Did I say that I feel great?!?... :-)

P.S.  Day Two in the books, 45 minutes again; I count time, not distance.  I have always been a fast walker, and now my goal is to lengthen my stride, which provides a nice stretch throughout the route.

NR:  Monogamy by Sue Miller (whoa!)

SONG:  The Long Way Home by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK:  In Praise of Walking: A New Scientific Exploration Hardcover by Shane O'Mara

POEM:  Talk about Walking by Philip Booth

Where am I going? I'm going

out, out for a walk. I don't

know where except outside.

Outside argument, out beyond

wallpapered walls, outside

wherever it is where nobody

ever imagines. Beyond where

computers circumvent emotion,

where somebody shorted specs

for rivets for airframes on

today's flights. I'm taking off

on my own two feet. I'm going

to clear my head, to watch

mares'-tails instead of TV,

to listen to trees and silence,

to see if I can still breathe.

I'm going to be alone with

myself, to feel how it feels

to embrace what my feet

tell my head, what wind says

in my good ear. I mean to let

myself be embraced, to let go

feeling so centripetally old.

Do I know where I'm going?

I don't. How long or far

I have no idea. No map. I

said I was going to take

a walk. When I'll be back

I'm not going to say.

QUOTE:  "Travelers, there is no path, paths are made by walking." ~ Antonio Machado

Where the Beauty Is (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

Yes, it's Feel Good Friday, but I'm not offering up, as I usually do, any random links.  My day got away from me in a lovely way, and it's already 3:45 p.m.  Instead follows a list of five beautiful things that happened to me this week.  Hoping you are all even half as lucky as I am, to be surrounded by so much loveliness, albeit in the middle of a pandemic.  At times it is easy for me to focus on the negative, but counting my blessings allows me to re-prioritize, and shine the spotlight on the friends, family, and activities I have to be grateful for.  To infinity and beyond?!?

~ Had a Zoom call with my bUUkies (my UU book club) Wednesday night.  In addition to talking about some of the books we've enjoyed reading this past summer, we also took turns recommending books, and we came up with 14 interesting selections.  At this point, we will each choose four and send them, in order of preference, to our organizer, who will tally the results and get back to us as to what we'll be reading in September, October, November, and December.  Very excited!

~ A dear friend, who actually lives in Kansas, told me about Ellis Paul's Wizard of Oz livestream this past Wednesday night (which I jumped straight to as soon as we wound up the bUUkies Zoom gathering).  "OH WHAT A WORLD! Tonight's Traveling Medicine Show provides an elixir born from the film "The Wizard of Oz". We will be performing songs from the movie, and songs inspired by its themes-- Scarecrows, tornados, and rainbows. All are on the menu tonight. Special guest is the incredible Wizard of The Fret Board Vance Gilbert (see bio below). Thanks for stopping by! Put up your ruby red slippers, click them heels, and enjoy the tornado as it spins you beyond the clouds.  This week’s show is sponsored by Kansas Public Radio and their legendary folk program "The Trail Mix" hosted by Bob McWilliams."  It was a delightful 90 minutes, and Ellis did his homework, sharing lots of trivia about the books and movie.  The concert is archived here, and I might actually take the time to re-watch.  If I Only Had a Brain on banjo.  Wow!

~ I don't think I have mentioned this before, but I am transporting Colin from Point A to Point B a few times a week to help Sarah a bit, which has been such a joy (not only to be of assistance, but to spend quality one-on-one time with him).  I am obsessed with the Hamilton soundtrack, and he and I have developed a routine in the car where I sing "I am not throwing away my"... and then I turn around and point to him, and he says/shouts "SHOT!".  We track the green, yellow, and red lights on our journey.  We also name all the dinosaurs, and he can now say brontosaurus and stegosaurus quite clearly... :-)

~ Had a follow-up chiropractor visit yesterday morning, and I signed up for a one-month/12-visit/three-times-a-week treatment that should get my minor upper-spine/neck and lower-spine/back issues re-aligned, M-W-Sat mornings at 9:30.  I had another adjustment too which, coupled with the Wednesday massage, has me feeling better than I have in quite a while.  

~ Sweet Nancy invited me over to her pool this morning, where we not only stretched our muscles but spilled our guts as well as solved the problems of the world.  Talking about everything from nutrition to politics to husbands (can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em!).  More reinforcement and support for my mind, body, and spirit.  Thanks, NW... 💖

~ Bonus item:  After the downsizing, I have not really been buying CDs, but there are a very few that feel necessary, like MCC's new one, The Dirt and The Stars, which was released last week.  Everything I've heard and read about it tells me I must make an exception so, after I hit Publish, I am headed to Amazon.  My kids make fun of me for still owning Compact Discs (!) rather than using Spotify but sometimes, I just want to keep my phone and my music player separate, technology be d*mned.  

Wishing you all a joy-filled weekend, and see you here again on Monday... 💓

NR:  Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld


SONG:  Where the Beauty Is by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK:  The Day You Begin by Jacqueline Woodson, Rafael López  (Illustrator)

POEM:  Look To This Day by Kalidasa

Look to this day:
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence.
The bliss of growth,
The glory of action,
The splendour of achievement
Are but experiences of time.

For yesterday is but a dream
And tomorrow is only a vision;
And today well-lived, makes
Yesterday a dream of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well therefore to this day;
Such is the salutation to the ever-new dawn!

QUOTE:  "Close your eyes, take a breath, inhale calmness, exhale stress.  Make a cuppa, sink into a chair, open a book, disappear." (I am unable to find the source; thanks to my bUUkie friend SusanJ for sharing... 💗 )

Don't Need Much to Be Happy (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

Thinking about instituting Feel Good Friday but, oops, that was three days ago!  Well, consider it retroactive and, moving forward, a new Optimistic Voices blogging ritual...  :-)

Throughout the course of the week, I run across so many good articles that I share with my family, and then save to share here.  We're all in this together, right?

Why you're doing less but sleeping more during the coronavirus pandemic


Is Miami buying more booze during coronavirus quarantine? We have the receipts


‘I Just Need the Comfort’: Processed Foods Make a Pandemic Comeback


Love in the Time of Corona:  A Social Distancing Art Exhibition


Brandi Carlile Pays Tribute to John Prine With ‘Hello in There’ on ‘Colbert’ (thanks, RobbyG!)


Oh, remember those earrings I bought a few weeks ago, in my one-time weakness to retail therapy?  I am wearing them every day, because they make me feel joy, and as a reminder that we will experience normalcy again...  :-)

From MCC:

As we enter another week of lockdown, it’s hard to remember what day it is around here.  But no matter, as long as we #staythefuckhome, we have songs to play…we really don’t need much, do we?

Home means everything to me.  And never more than it has in these strange days we are now inhabiting. Today I saw the lilac bushes blooming, while the daffodils are nearly done and the peony shoots are coming up ... the cycle of life continues as spring brings us its bounty, reminding us that this world is still beautiful.

Nature stays mighty, and so do we.  



SONG:  Don't Need Much to Be Happy by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK:  HumanKind: Changing the World One Small Act At a Time by Brad Aronson

POEM:  Pandemania by Daniel Halpern

There are fewer introductions
In plague years,
Hands held back, jocularity
No longer bellicose,
Even among men.
Breathing’s generally wary,
Labored, as they say, when
The end is at hand.
But this is the everyday intake
Of   the imperceptible life force,
Willed now, slow —
Well, just cautious
In inhabited air.
As for ongoing dialogue,
No longer an exuberant plosive
To make a point,
But a new squirreling of air space,
A new sense of  boundary.
Genghis Khan said the hand
Is the first thing one man gives
To another. Not in this war.
A gesture of  limited distance
Now suffices, a nod,
A minor smile or a hand
Slightly raised,
Not in search of   its counterpart,
Just a warning within
The acknowledgment to stand back.
Each beautiful stranger a barbarian
Breathing on the other side of the gate.

QUOTE:  "Let us be about setting high standards for life, love, creativity, and wisdom. If our expectations in these areas are low, we are not likely to experience wellness. Setting high standards makes every day and every decade worth looking forward to." ~ Greg Anderson

Late for Your Life (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

My husband and I had tickets to see Mary Chapin Carpenter and Shawn Colvin this Sunday, April 5 (emphasis on had).  They are best friends, and I was so looking forward to seeing and hearing them swap stories, songs, and jokes.  I can wait...  :-)

We all know that concerts in real-life have been put on temporary hold and, in the meantime, many musical artists are offering up livestream shows instead.  What a lovely way to provide solace, therapy, and uplift.

Singer-songwriter Mary Chapin Carpenter has launched a new online music series called “Songs From Home.” Although she’s practicing social distancing by performing solo from her kitchen in Virginia, Carpenter’s debut episode finds her joined by a special guest, her dog (and “co-producer”) Angus, who wanders in and out of frame, variously staring out the kitchen window, offering his affection, and gnawing on a bone as Carpenter sings “Edinburgh.”

There are four more episodes, which you can find if you Google Songs From Home and Mary Chapin Carpenter.  Enjoy!  

To quote MCC:  Stay mighty.  Stay at home.

P.S.  I haven't requested reimbursement for my tickets yet, hoping the show will be rescheduled.  Not to be missed...  :-)



SONG:  Late for Your Life by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK:  You Can Heal Your Life by Louise Hay

POEM:  spring again by Jesus Papoleto Melendez (Susan's note:  the format is exactly how it appeared in print...  :-)

spring came /
the same way winter left
& summer will come
& summer will leave;        slowly
          / when no one's expecting it
             when people are tired of waiting

like waiting for welfare checks /
          a long wait/             a slow wait

the windows are open
but butterflies don't fly in
to display a sense of love

           / only housefly enter
              to sit on food       & eat crumbs

& dreams escape /
& become stolen      & lost      & used
& wasted        & thrown away
& dreamed anew

the junkies sit on the stoop
& nod themselves into dreams
            / maybe into the ones which escaped
& stinkball is played
& on warm nights        the ghetto musicians play
our ghetto song
on garbage can tops         & bang on empty coke bottles
& sound real chévere

:tomorrow
the junkies will sit on the stoop
& nod themselves into dreams /
stickball will be played /
                                             the streets will become chalked
                                             with 1st and 2nd & 3rd bases

hop scotch will become a game
& tops will spin on sidewalks /

& everyone will anticipate summer.

QUOTE:  "We want to get this good music to as many people as possible because I think it heals, it soothes, I think music is incredibly important, especially in today's chaos." ~ Graham Nash

New Year's Day (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

Hi Susan! Here is your Daily Horoscope for Tuesday, January 1
Your mental energy is peaking now, giving rise to some great creative power. Make the most of it to get a quick start on your resolutions while you show others what they can do to join you.

and...

Dearest Susan, I was about to wish that your every dream come true. That you find yourself surrounded by friends, laughter, and good times. I almost wished that your every cup runneth over financially, romantically, spiritually, and creatively. That good health be your faithful companion, peace your guarded ally, and love your perpetual guide. When suddenly, it dawned on me that as an infinite, powerful, fun-loving gladiator of the Universe, with eternity before you and the power of your thoughts to help shape it... it's you Susan Moss, who will be granting wishes this year.

10... 9... 8... 7... 6...
    The Universe

Oh, Susan, HAPPY, HAPPY, HAPPY NEW YEAR anyway!


Don't f*cking faint (again) - after 2+ years dormant, I am resurrecting Optimistic Voices.  I miss writing and, even though I'm still very overwhelmed in real life, I will commit to a once-a-week schedule of blogging - also going to try to post at Star Maker Machine weekly as well (be still, my heart... and laptop keyboard...  :-) 

I thought about doing a recap of everything that's happened in the last 24 months but, honestly, it just sounded exhausting, not to mention unnecessary - this is where I am now, this is where I need to be and I'm only interested in forward motion at this point.  There will be room and time for reminiscences, asides and flashbacks - for now, let's concentrate on ushering in 2013... and, after much soul-searching, the Word of the Year (my Christine-Kane-inspired New Year's custom) is Create, as in:

Create music
Create writing
Create art
Create space
Create time
Create harmony
Create order

It's good to be back - let the creativity games begin!

SONG:  New Year's Day by Mary Chapin Carpenter (scroll down to #11 for the lyrics)

BOOK:  Meditations for Manifesting : Morning and Evening Meditations to Literally Create Your Heart's Desire by Wayne W. Dyer

 POEM:  In Tenebris  by Ford Madox Ford

All within is warm,
   Here without it's very cold,
   Now the year is grown so old
And the dead leaves swarm.

In your heart is light,
   Here without it's very dark,
   When shall I hear the lark?
When see aright?

Oh, for a moment's space!
   Draw the clinging curtains wide
   Whilst I wait and yearn outside
Let the light fall on my face.

QUOTE:  "When old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart; and where the old tracks are lost, new country is revealed with its wonders." ~ Rabindranath Tagore

We Traveled So Far (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

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

The Longest Night of the Year (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

How funny - I just posted an MCC song over at Star Maker Machine (see P.S. below... :-)

Doing the headless chicken routine here at the OK Corral - attempting to get out of town for our annual family holiday vacation. Lots of driving but worth every mile - I must finish packing... but here are a few tidbits to tide you over until my return Sunday, December 28...

Happy Holidays to all - wishing you peace, in all its various incarnations, locally to globally...

P.S. Another SMM...

SONG: The Longest Night of the Year by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK: The Return of the Light: Twelve Tales from Around the World for the Winter Solstice by Carolyn McVickar Edwards

POEM: At the Winter Solstice by Jane Kenyon

The pines look black in the half-

light of dawn. Stillness...

While we slept an inch of new snow

simplified the field. Today of all days

the sun will shine no more

than is strictly necessary.

At the village church last night

the boys - shepherds and wise men -

pressed close to the manger in obedience,

wishing only for time to pass;

but the girl dressed as Mary trembled

as she leaned over the pungent hay,

and like the mother of Christ

wondered why she had been chosen.

After the pageant, a ruckus of cards,

presents, and homemade Christmas sweets.

A few of us stayed to clear the bright

scraps and ribbons from the pews,

and lift the pulpit back in place.

When I opened the hundred-year-old Bible

to Luke's account of the Epiphany

black dust from the binding rubbed off

on my hands, and on the altar cloth.

QUOTE: "Now, near the Winter Solstice, it is good to light candles. All the nice meanings of bringing light to the world can be beautiful. But perhaps we are concentrating on lighting the world because we don't know how to light up our own lives." ~ Ralph Levy

Thanksgiving Song (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

It is 12:40 a.m. Thanksgiving Day as I begin to type this - I spent much of Wednesday straightening and then cleaning the house in anticipation of the holiday. After I publish this post, I intend to lay out my linens, serving dishes and pantry items so as to get a jump on the day organizationally - then... I'll soak in the jacuzzi before I crawl between the sheets, with plans to wake at 8 a.m. to put the turkey in the oven. Then... back to bed... or not? - usually not... as this is my favorite holiday and I want to make the most of it.

A few minutes ago, I read last year's Thanksgiving posts, as I devoted almost a full week to this special time of gratitude, family and love - ah, that we should feel/behave this way year-round, eh? I love the no-agenda, non-commercial-ness of the day, as it's not really one Hallmark has tagged and therefore sullied - it's all about connection and gathering and thankfulness, widening our circles as well as circling our wagons.

I cook pretty much the same menu each year - our friends Kathy and Buck *always* bring the sweet potato casserole (as that's one of the few things I don't eat... so therefore don't cook) and a raspberry cheesecake. This time around, Sarah and her boyfriend Ryan are making green bean casserole and a chocolate chip banana nut bread - when I read the menu to my boys last night, they insisted that was nowhere near enough chocolate... so I made a dark chocolate caramel walnut pie (2, actually) tonight from a recipe I saw in Good Housekeeping magazine while I was waiting for my friend in the doctor's office - can't wait to finally take a bite and see if it's worth the calories!

As always, so much to be grateful for: my mom, whose health seems to be declining more slowly as she realizes her limitations and therefore asks for more help and doesn't try to do everything herself; my sister and brother, wonderful people in their own right, but absolute godsends in cities of close proximity to Mom, to visit, take her to doctor's appointments, etc.; a husband who loves and supports me, especially in my dark days; my three children who are bright, funny, compassionate; friends, near and far, who lift me up and make me feel valued; my sweet Rockstermuffin who, as soon as I lace up my New Balances, follows me all around the house until I take him walking after *my* walk; music, books and good conversation that keep me inspired, learning and growing; my renewed dedication to a healthier lifestyle; my ongoing spiritual journey to be the best me I can be; a change in national leadership such that I feel represented, rather than disenfranchised, for the first time in eight years; ikigai, a Japanese word that means "that which makes one's life worth living" (i.e., a sense of purpose) - so much more... but I have tables to set, a dishwasher to unload and wine to chill... :-)

Happy Thanksgiving to all - may grace surround and enfold you... on this day, and always...

P.S. SMM...

SONG: Thanksgiving Song by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK: The Book Of Thanksgiving: Stories, Poems, and Recipes for Sharing One of America's Greatest Holidays by Jessica Faust

POEM: This Amazing Day by e. e. cummings

i thank You God for most this amazing

day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything

which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,

and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth

day of life and love and wings:and of the gay

great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing

breathing any-lifted from the no

of all nothing-human merely being

doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and

now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

QUOTE: "Thanksgiving Day comes, by statute, once a year; to the honest man it comes as frequently as the heart of gratitude will allow." ~ Edward Sandford Martin

A Place in the World (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

What do you get when two Leo women delay their Instant Gratification selves and *finally* come together for a co-celebratory birthday lunch? - a 3 1/2 hour yak-, sob- and empa-thon, fueled by multiple glasses of wine, more than a few heartaches/breaks and stories, stories to tell!

I appreciate M for so many reasons... but especially for being a "forever friend" - we experienced our first clicks in March 1997... and have run parallel, perpendicular, intersected and tangential throughout the last 11 years, remaining committed to the choice of staying connected, even when we drift.

Yesterday we conversed non-stop about our children, our partners, our mothers' health, our own physical/emotional/spiritual well-being, our jobs (or lack of, in my case), her cat's passing, my dog's old age, ancient history and present times - it was refreshing, it was empowering, it was much-needed and long-overdue... :-)

Thanks, M, for the perfect card, the gorgeous windchimes and for always being there - I cherish the fact you are a sounding-board, a touchstone and a foundation in my life... <3

SONG: A Place in the World by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK: The Geography of Bliss: One Grump's Search for the Happiest Places in the World by Eric Weiner

POEM: Logos by Mary Oliver

Why wonder about the loaves and the fishes?
If you say the right words, the wine expands.
If you say them with love
and the felt ferocity of that love
and the felt necessity of that love,
the fish explode into the many.
Imagine him, speaking,
and don't worry about what is reality,
or what is plain, or what is mysterious.
If you were there, it was all those things.
If you can imagine it, it was all those things.
Eat, drink, be happy.
Accept the miracle.
Accept, too, each spoken word
spoken with love.

QUOTE: "We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures." ~ Thornton Wilder

Come Darkness, Come Light (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

My horoscope for yesterday:

Bureaucracy and paperwork are your worst enemies today, but that doesn't mean you should avoid them! Just try to make sure you don't get stuck within the system for long -- or you might crack.

and today's:

It's hard to figure out what to do next -- there are so many options to choose from! Try not to worry about it too much, because things should be a lot clearer for you in a few more days.

I'm thinking that three plumbing posts are already two too many... but figured I'd give an update before I moved on - Al did indeed show up yesterday morning... and, after taking out the toilet in the master bathroom, jackhammered exactly where the Leak Detector Guy said the leak was... and... nothing. Al now thinks the leak is a bit to the right... which would mean under the vanity, requiring more demolition... but he really can't do anything until the LDG comes back out to re-survey - I of course called the LDG (Kenny) to see if that could be yesterday afternoon.

Heard back from him a few hours later that he was at his father's funeral (you just can't make this sh*t up) - after sincerely telling him he was in my thoughts and prayers, I gave it up for the weekend, knowing we will resume Monday morning. Yes, I have metaphorically passed the plumbing problem baton on to my was-on-a-business-trip-last-week-to-Mexico husband - he got home late last night, saw the sheer exhaustion and frustration in my face and body language (even after I'd soaked in the jacuzzi last night)... and suggested we check into a hotel for the weekend. Loved the idea... but, of course with all this going on, my immune system seems to be down and I've caught a cold... so it felt like a waste of money - I made it clear I'd love to take a raincheck... :-)

However, I had a few obligations on the calendar that I have since erased, making it an event-free weekend (take a picture!) - I do not plan to go anywhere for 48 hours. When the going gets tough, the tough make soup... a sh*tpot, as we call it in the South (me having grown up and lived in the Atlanta area, until I moved to South Florida 16 years ago) - I spent the last few hours in my kitchen, chopping up all varieties of my food co-op organic vegetables for inclusion in a chicken broth stock: green beans, carrots, zucchini, corn off the cob, onions... and adding brown rice and sauteed chicken and the right amount/type of spices. I am sitting here at the keyboard with a steaming cup, stopping every few sentences to take a spoonful, inhale the aroma and appreciate the fresh taste, feeling my sinuses open and my cold symptoms dissipate - I already feel better... but I'm still not leaving the house!

Of course, the first item on the Soup-Making To Do List is which CD to put on to accompany - I bought Mary Chapin Carpenter's new holiday CD, Come Darkness, Come Light a few weeks ago on the September 30 release date and have listened to it in my car quite a few times. It's absolutely stunning, very mellow and instrospective, a good balance of originals and not, but even the covers are obscure - this recording may end up tied with The Roches' We Three Kings as my favorite for the season.

More from MCC's website here (make sure you click Next to read all 4 pages)...

SONG(S): Come Darkness, Come Light by Mary Chapin Carpenter (lyrics as yet unavailable, but song samples can be heard here)...

Times Three by Christine Kane (for Catherine: I watched back-to-back-to-back episodes of What Not to Wear last night - does that count?... :-)

BOOK: Peace Soup : The Recipe for a Peaceful Life in the New Millennium by Chef Jerry Bartholow

POEM: The Way In by Linda Hogan

Sometimes the way to milk and honey is through the body.
Sometimes the way in is a song.
But there are three ways in the world: dangerous, wounding,
and beauty.
To enter stone, be water.
To rise through hard earth, be plant
desiring sunlight, believing in water.
To enter fire, be dry.
To enter life, be food.

QUOTE: "Soup and fish explain half the emotions of human life." ~ Sydney Smith

Late for Your Life (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

Today's blogpost is dedicated to my dear Rob - Just Do It, kiddo... <3

The DailyOm

July 17, 2008

Actively Participating

Showing Up For Life

The way we walk into a room says a lot about the way we live our lives. When we walk into a room curious about what’s happening, willing to engage, and perceiving ourselves as an active participant with something to offer, then we have really shown up to the party. When we walk into a room with our eyes down, or nervously smiling, we are holding ourselves back for one reason or another. We may be hurting inside and in need of healing, or we may lack the confidence required to really be present in the room. Still, just noticing that we’re not really showing up, and having a vision of what it will look and feel like when we do, can give us the inspiration we need to recover ourselves.

Even if we are suffering, we can show up to that experience ready to fully engage in it and learn what it has to offer. When we show up for our life, we are actively participating in being a happy person, achieving our goals, and generally living the life our soul really wants. If we need healing, we begin the process of seeking out those who can help us heal. If we need experience, we find the places and opportunities that can give us the experience we need in order to do the work we want to do in the world. Whatever we need, we look for it, and when we find it, we engage in the process of letting ourselves have it. When we do this kind of work, we become lively, confident, and passionate individuals.

There is almost nothing better in the world than the feeling of showing up for our own lives. When we can do this, we become people that are more alive and who have the ability to make things happen in our lives and the lives of the people around us. We walk through the world with the knowledge that we have a lot to offer and the desire to share it.

SONG: Late for Your Life by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK: Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart: Thirty True Things You Need to Know Now by Gordon Livingston

POEM: What Will Matter by Michael Josephson

Ready or not, some day it will all come to an end.

There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours or days.

All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten, will pass to someone else.

Your wealth, fame and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.

It will not matter what you owned or what you were owed.

Your grudges, resentments, frustrations and jealousies will finally disappear.

So too, your hopes, ambitions, plans and to-do lists will expire.

The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.

It won’t matter where you came from or what side of the tracks you lived on at the end.

It won’t matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant.

Even your gender and skin color will be irrelevant.

So what will matter? How will the value of your days be measured?

What will matter is not what you bought but what you built,

not what you got but what you gave.

What will matter is not your success but your significance.

What will matter is not what you learned but what you taught.

What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage or sacrifice that enriched, empowered or encouraged others to emulate your example.

What will matter is not your competence but your character.

What will matter is not how many people you knew,

but how many will feel a lasting loss when you’re gone.

What will matter is not your memories but the memories of those who loved you.

What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom and for what.

Living a life that matters doesn’t happen by accident.

It’s not a matter of circumstance but of choice.

Choose to live a life that matters.

QUOTE: "I think, what has this day brought me, and what have I given it?" ~ Henry Moore