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)

Counting Stars (OneRepublic)

Today is Thursday, November 5, and we are on Day 3 of election results.  Current electoral vote count is Joe Biden 264, Donald Trump 214.  Still too early/close to call are Georgia, Nevada, North Carolina, Pennsylvania.  So many memes (huge thanks to Melanie, Nicole, and Rob), so little time! But let's go back 48 hours...

I went to bed at midnight Tuesday (when they were clear it would taken another few days to count the Michigan and Wisconsin votes)...

...and woke at 6:45 a.m.  To quote Dorothy Parker:  "What fresh hell is this?".  Polls were crazy unreliable, seemed there would be a Republican Senate, and Trump thinks he won this election.

I would have usually been on the balcony sipping coffee, but stayed inside in front of the TV, gulping my Morning Joe, the beverage as well as the MSNBC show... and Steve Kornacki was still rockin' the big board.  This was not the resounding rebuke I expected for the Worst. President. Ever!

Went out walking and couldn't go fast nor far enough to get out of my own head.  Added a new 15-minute loop to get me up to an hour, which I will keep in.  Passed a car in my condo complex that had a Rambo-like Trump flag, and it was all I could do to keep my suburban-housewife-self from clambering on the hood and ripping it off.  Then I eventually wound up home (because I had a library pick-up at 11), called on The Women (above) to get us to 270.  Tuned in to Rachel and Company a few more times; she used the word "grok" on Election Night, and my heart skipped a beat.

It is ridiculous that Trump is filing lawsuits already when the election results are not even final yet.  That is the action/reaction of a man who knows he has lost, grasping at straws.  Also, Twitter and Facebook flagged his recent posts as untrue.

I remain confident, and will not be swayed from my Pollyanna ways.  I understand the reality of the situation, but I refuse to live in fear; I choose to visualize peace and justice.  You can do this, Nevada... and Georgia... and maybe even Pennsylvania!

Went out walking again today and got thoroughly rained on, did a few hours of housecleaning, will start a new book (below), and look forward to a Zoom call at 4:30 with Nancy and Judi.  

Joe Biden gave a speech on November 4 to address the ongoing election counts. He said: “It’s clear that we’re winning enough states to reach 270 electoral votes needed to win the presidency.” Read the transcript of his remarks here.  I will continue to wait patiently, hope for the best, Keep the Faith, and remain an Eternal Optimist... 😍

NR:  Pretty Things by Janelle Brown

SONG:  Counting Stars by OneRepublic

BOOK:  Undaunted Optimist: Essays on Life, Laughter and Cheerful Perseverance by Chris Rodell

POEM:  The Last Thing by Ada Limón

First there was the blue wing

of a scraggly loud jay tucked

into the shrubs. Then the bluish-

black moth drunkenly tripping

from blade to blade. Then

the quiet that came roaring

in like the R. J. Corman over

Broadway near the RV shop.

These are the last three things

that happened. Not in the universe,

but here, in the basin of my mind,

where I’m always making a list

for you, recording the day’s minor

urchins: silvery dust mote, pistachio

shell, the dog eating a sugar

snap pea. It’s going to rain soon,

close clouds bloated above us,

the air like a net about to release

all the caught fishes, a storm

siren in the distance. I know

you don’t always understand,

but let me point to the first

wet drops landing on the stones,

the noise like fingers drumming

the skin. I can’t help it. I will

never get over making everything

such a big deal.

QUOTE:  "Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there.  When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about.  Ideas, language, even the phrase each other doesn't make any sense." ~ Rumi

Poetic Justice (Buddy Mondlock/Tom Kimmel)

I received a lovely card a few weeks ago from my former UU congregation (MollyL's handwriting, I'm pretty sure), wishing me a Happy Birthday and inviting me to their upcoming David Fisher Memorial Annual Poetry Service, via Zoom, which I had coordinated for the previous nine years.  I think I surprised everyone by showing up, and we were all mutually glad to see each other.  It was delightful to view everyone's faces, especially Rev. Susan, who is recovering from a tragic car accident, and the usual cast of poets/readers:  Alfredo, Gary, Sarah/Birch, Jerry... as well as a few newcomers.

As I had spoken from the pulpit for many years running, updating the math:

If you began attending or visiting the UU Church of Ft. Lauderdale after June 26, 2010 (the date of David Fisher’s passing, at the age of 81), you may be wondering who he was and why this service is a memorial to him.  During Coffee Hour after today’s service, you should approach one of our long-term members and ask them to tell you a David Fisher story.

In the meantime, here’s the 75-words-or-less answer:  David Fisher graduated college with a philosophy degree, he did two years of Army service, he was a doctor (practicing internal medicine), he was a minister, he was a college professor, he was a psychiatrist, he was a member of our Sunday Services Committee, and he was our choir director from 2003-2009.  He was a brother, a father, a grandfather… and he was in a long-term committed relationship with his partner Paul. 

Rev. Gail (our previous minister) said "he was one of the most graceful, gracious, grace-filled people I ever met” with the "unique ability to live lightly in the world and have great impact.  He was a minister in every aspect of his life.” 

David and I shared a love of verse… and his annual poetry service was always a spiritual experience.  I had volunteered to help coordinate the last one (April 2010) since David’s health issues were becoming a factor… and he had actually been in the hospital the week before the service. However, he pushed to be discharged the day prior, which made our collaboration even more inspiring and joyful… 

In his absence, this is my ninth year coordinating, and I am beyond honored to have taken up the baton, to make sure this service remains an annual event. 

However, this service is about so much more than poetry.  We here at the UUCFL are rich:  in tradition (remember Noralee’s cat poems?)… in community (look how many of you chose to attend and/or participate)… and in memories (David Fisher would be proud).

Here's/cheers to David, and to the many who carry on his legacy.  I certainly vow to continue!


SONG:  Poetic Justice by Buddy Mondlock and Tom Kimmel

BOOK:  The Carrying by Ada Limón (here's a wonderful interview with the poet, who was new to me before Sunday's service... 💖)

POEM:  This Day, O Soul by Walt Whitman

This day, O soul, I give you a wondrous mirror;
Long in the dark, in tarnish and cloud it lay—But the cloud
has pass'd, and the tarnish gone;
…Behold, O soul! it is now a clean and bright mirror,
Faithfully showing you all the things of the world.

QUOTE(S):  "Who knows anyway what it is, that wild, silky part of ourselves without which no poem can live?" ~ Mary Oliver

"Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away." ~ by Carl Sandburg