The Circle Game (Joni Mitchell)

Can you believe that I bought this Wiggle Worm for Sarah (who recently turned 42) then Rob (now 38) played with it... here's Eric (who turned 35 this past July) holding it... somehow I saved the d*mn thing, and now it's in five-year-old Colin's toy-and-book basket in my car, next to his carseat?!?  Everything old truly *is* new again... 💖

Today was a hard day, and then a lovely day, then boomeranging back to difficult (I mean, hello?  What do I expect?  This is my life right now.  This will continue to be my life... 💔).  Sarah had the fabulous idea for us to attend the River of Grass UU service this morning, not only for spiritual sustenance (which we received times a bazillion), but also to get an idea of the logistics for Saturday's Celebration of Life.  Rev. Amy is the total package:  enthusiastic, calming, thought-provoking, inclusive.  

No surprise (but it was!) that the opening music was Joni's The Circle Game, which has been one of our family's songs for decades, as I always played it for each child's birthday dinner.  I am keeping track of the synchronicities since Eric passed and there *will* be such a blog post soon.  I also "borrowed" the poem and book Amy used in the service for this blog post.  The theme was Indigenous Peoples Day, and she spoke of Circling Spiraling Sacred.  Exactly where I needed to be.

Afterward... Chico, Sarah, and I went to Brandon's (just a few blocks down the road) where I had veggie pho (not all pho restaurants have a veggie broth option, you know).  I ate two small spring rolls, and then asked for a To Go container, but not before breathing in the lovely aroma, like a hug in a bowl.  Had half for dinner tonight, and will save the remainder for tomorrow.

Then home to translate all my notes into Action Items... then a most lovely two-hour phone call with dear friend/college roomie Linda (who knew Eric from infancy).  I cried a lot, but I laughed too.  She, her husband Craig, and their daughter Rachel will be here next weekend.  Speaking of circling... my wagons are beginning to... ↻

After I upload these musings, I am going to curl up with one of Eric's Spotify playlists, which I wasn't able to handle until now (well, I think I can handle it)... 🤞

SONG:  The Circle Game by Joni Mitchell

[In a concert at the Albert Hall in London on October 29, 1970, Joni Mitchell, who was already friends with Young by the time he wrote this song, opened her song "Circle Game" with this speech:

Mitchell: "In 1965 I was up in Canada, and there was a friend of mine up there who had just left a rock'n'roll band  - he had just newly turned 21, and that meant he was no longer allowed into his favourite haunt, which was kind of a teeny-bopper club and once you're over 21 you couldn't get back in there anymore; so he was really feeling terrible because his girlfriends and everybody that he wanted to hang out with, his band could still go there, you know, but it's one of the things that drove him to become a folk singer was that he couldn't play in this club anymore. 'Cause he was over the hill... So he wrote this song that was called "Oh to live on sugar mountain" which was a lament for his lost youth. And I thought, God, you know, if we get to 21 and there's nothing after that, that's a pretty bleak future, so I wrote a song for him, and for myself just to give me some hope. It's called The Circle Game."]

BOOK:  She Sang Promise: The Story of Betty Mae Jumper, Seminole Tribal Leader by J.G. Annino

POEM:  Eagle Poem by Joy Harjo

To pray you open your whole self

To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon

To one whole voice that is you.

And know there is more

That you can’t see, can’t hear;

Can’t know except in moments

Steadily growing, and in languages

That aren’t always sound but other

Circles of motion.

Like eagle that Sunday morning

Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky

In wind, swept our hearts clean

With sacred wings.

We see you, see ourselves and know

That we must take the utmost care

And kindness in all things.

Breathe in, knowing we are made of

All this, and breathe, knowing

We are truly blessed because we

Were born, and die soon within a

True circle of motion,

Like eagle rounding out the morning

Inside us.

We pray that it will be done

In beauty.

In beauty.

QUOTE:  "For in grief nothing 'stays put.' One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round.  Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral?" ~ C. S. Lewis

Tomorrow (from the soundtrack to Annie)

My friend Amy sent the link to the video above - it seemed to provide the perfect counterpoint to my thoughts below.

I've not yet spoken of my middle child Robby, whose birthday is in December (the time is coming) - however, I'm very proud of all three of my children (19, soon-to-be 23, 26). They are kind, respectful, patient, funny, thoughtful and wise - I've raised them with The Kite Theory (learned during a seven-week parenting seminar when Sarah was in middle school) and The Golden Rule, and I think those two flexible tenets have provided a healthy balance of incremental freedom and empathetic connection. Of course, I've also absorbed much along the way, about role modeling and interpersonal relationships and expectations - I may have mentioned this before... but I love the line in Anne Tyler's Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant when one of the characters states there is no statute of limitations on motherhood (in a good way, Martha... :-)

I sometimes miss my children in the young and innocent phase (when they still thought I hung the moon... sigh) - the smell of baby powder, feeling little arms encircling my neck, hearing a sweet voice call my name are memories never to be forgotten. However, I'm proud and pleased of who they are now, and hope I can humbly take a bit of credit for a fraction of the in-constant-formation young adult - they need me less but they love me with more understanding...

If I hadn't already used Dar's The One Who Knows, it would be today's song - the "I'll take you to the mountains, I will take you to the sea" lyric perfectly illustrates the last two lines of the poem...

SONG: Tomorrow from the soundtrack to Annie

BOOK: The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis

POEM: Things You Didn't Put On Your Resumé by Joyce Sutphen

How often you got up in the middle of the night
when one of your children had a bad dream,

and sometimes you woke because you thought
you heard a cry but they were all sleeping,

so you stood in the moonlight just listening
to their breathing, and you didn't mention

that you were an expert at putting toothpaste
on tiny toothbrushes and bending down to wiggle

the toothbrush ten times on each tooth while
you sang the words to songs from Annie, and

who would suspect that you know the fingerings
to the songs in the first four books of the Suzuki

Violin Method and that you can do the voices
of Pooh and Piglet especially well, though

your absolute favorite thing to read out loud is
Bedtime for Frances and that you picked

up your way of reading it from Glynnis Johns,
and it is, now that you think of it, rather impressive

that you read all of Narnia and all of the Ring Trilogy
(and others too many to mention here) to them

before they went to bed and on the way out to
Yellowstone, which is another thing you don't put

on the resumé: how you took them to the ocean
and the mountains and brought them safely home.

QUOTE: "Becoming responsible adults is no longer a matter of whether children hang up their pajamas or put dirty towels in the hamper, but whether they care about themselves and others -- and whether they see everyday chores as related to how we treat this planet." ~ Eda LeShan

Coconut Telegraph (Jimmy Buffett)

Lately I have been thinking strongly about my dear friend K who lives about an hour north of me, but who I only see about three or four times a year - we e-mail and we phone chat, but we both lead crazy, busy lives. I arrived home from work today to find a package from her... and inside the box was a delightful card and one of her famous coconut cakes... just because - how unbelievably sweet (pun semi-intended... :-)

I met K through the Dave-and-Tracy discussion list quite a few years back - she lived in Portland at the time (where Dave's music began to flourish) and then posted to the list she was moving to Florida to live with her boyfriend. I dropped her a note welcoming her to my state - we found/made occasions to connect. Dave Carter died the following year (more about this in my upcoming July 19 blog), a huge loss to the folk music community and to those who knew him, me somewhat and K very well. We vowed to get together annually on or near the anniversary of his death - this will be the fourth year we'll meet halfway, at a labyrinth in Delray Beach, to walk, meditate, reminisce, catch up and then go someplace to eat, drink and laugh. Dave would love this - actually, wherever he is, I am sure Dave *does* love this!

Naturally I've already cut into the cake and of course it's delicious... as well as testament to a strong friendship that has survived time, distance and tragedy - I am a lucky woman to have such special people in my life... <3

SONG: Coconut Telegraph by Jimmy Buffett

BOOK: The Chocolate Cake Sutra: Ingredients for a Sweet Life by Geri Larkin

POEM: Coming Home ~ Mary Oliver

When we're driving, in the car,

on the long road

to Provincetown, which lies empty

for miles, when we're weary,

when the buildings

and the scrub pines lose

their familiar look,

I imagine us rising

from the speeding car,

I imagine us seeing

everything from another place—the top

of one of the pale dunes

or the deep and nameless

fields of the sea—

and what we see is the world

that cannot cherish us

but which we cherish,

and what we see is our life

moving like that,

along the dark edges

of everything—the headlights

like lanterns

sweeping the blackness—

believing in a thousand

fragile and unprovable things,

looking out for sorrow,

slowing down for happiness,

making all the right turns

right down to the thumping

barriers to the sea,

the swirling waves,

the narrow streets, the houses,

the past, the future,

the doorway that belongs

to you and me.

QUOTE: "Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You, too? I thought I was the only one." " ~ C. S. Lewis

Fragile (Ralston Bowles)

Today was unbelievably difficult, as an e-mail regarding J's death went out to our client list - many people responded immediately, obviously with shock and disbelief, not having a clue his health issues were life-threatening. The phones were respectfully quiet, with only a few emergency problems requiring attention - fielding those calls brought it all home... again... but in a good way, with sweet stories shared of J's calm and patient manner, talking them off a tech support ledge.

I've begun to segue from a numb haze to sharp reality, surrounded by so many daily reminders - a friend reminded me that we Leos tend to form immediate and close attachments, which is of course a good thing, even when it brings such intense pain. In fact, her blog today had the most perfect quote, which I've borrowed to use below - thanks, M, for the support and empathy...

For four years (from January 2001 to December 2004), I hosted a house concert series in which singer-songwriters would perform, about once a month, in my living room to an appreciative audience of 30 or so - 100% of the donations went directly to the artist as well as whatever CDs/merchandise they sold, and it was a lovely way to help supplement their touring schedule and treat fans to an up-close-and-personal musical experience. Jonathan Byrd, who I wrote about a few posts ago, performed in August 2004 - as was often the case, I offered home hospitality (meals and a stay in our guest bedroom) between gigs. In a late-night jacuzzi session after the house concert, I shared my father story with him - I always asked the musicians to write something in a blank book I had (to preserve the memories)... and I found the following poem recorded there after he left...

SONG: Fragile by Ralston Bowles

BOOK: The Soul's Book of Answers by Carol Bolt

POEM: by Jonathan Byrd

Last night the moon was almost full
And you loved it for its almost-fullness
Laughing at her fertile belly and cooing
Like a friend at her baby shower

Last night your Jacuzzi was almost hot
And we hissed into its almost-hotness
The warm womb of your father's memory -
the inheritance of a failed relationship

You wanted to show me what it was like
to be in the tub when the moon was full
And it really wasn't - but that is you;
Turning loss into healing,
Anticipating the greatness of what could be
with such intensity that you create it.

QUOTE: "Love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket--safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable." ~ C.S. Lewis