Shine (Stick Figure)

[photo credit:  Sarah]

So... I turned 70 years old this past Monday (August 5) and, through a bizarre yet synchronistic series of events, we celebrated in Ormond Beach.  Too complicated to retrace the details of our on-again/off-again MossFam cat-herding expedition, but it also included a visit on Saturday to Jupiter (Florida, not the planet) with extended family (Uncle Andy, Aunt Jeannie, Andy's sons Drew and John, and Drew's son Brian; it had been over five years since we'd all seen each other!).  At this point, we didn't know if we were driving away from Hurricane Debby or directly into it.  Yikes... 😲

Halfway to our destination, we continued on another two hours and checked in to the hotel about 9 p.m., delightfully surprised by our room's spaciousness, elegant simplicity, and oceanfront view.  The next four days alternated between drizzly, windy, sunny, and everything in between, which of course didn't stop us from beaching, pooling, jacuzzi-ing (or, as Colin says, shacuzzi... 😂), putt-putting, basketballing, ping-ponging, Ouisi-ing, bedtime-storying, etc.  Family-friendly as well as relaxing... 💥😎

Michele and her crew met up with us Tuesday afternoon and, as she said, it was so beautiful to watch our now grown-up children with their own kiddos, who got along swimmingly (pun definitely intended!).

And Rob found the perfect casual beachfront restaurant to celebrate me, and after dinner we went practically across the street to a cheeZy souvenir shop (in fact, this entire getaway was so reminiscent of our longstanding and long-ago Ft. Myers Beach family vacations), where I promised everyone $10 (Sarah added the extra challenge of "in 10 minutes") to locate a cool find for themselves, and darned if Colin didn't choose a sharktooth necklace, just like Eric used to get... every. damn. summer... 🦈

No surprise there were multiple Eric visitations: Three Little Birds art in our room... an owl whistle in NovelTea Bookstore/Coffeehouse (where Michele and I snuck away to Facetime with our dear friend Rox, and to open presents)... a rainbow... perfect playlist at the restaurant, including Slightly Stoopid, Rebelution, and Stick Figure (Shine is my new favorite song of his; conjuring it for Saturday's concert... ✨)

Returned home about 4 Wednesday afternoon, but I pretended I was still on vacation the rest of the day, and only today allowed Real Life to intervene (unpacking and reorganizing and laptopping, oh my!).

I sat on my balcony this a.m. feeling waves of abundant Gratitude and Peace (the latter in short supply these last ten months) and, most surprisingly, Clarity.  It was as if all of my foggy brain cells since Eric's death conspired to unite in solidarity (like Swimmy)...

...the next level up from glimmers, to crystallize my inner vision and mend my broken heart.  The sun is shining through... 🌞

P.S.  All this to say:  I  need more Beach Time in my life... ⛱

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

“This is the true joy in life, being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one.

Being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.

I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it what I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to 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

SONG:  Shine by Stick Figure

BOOK(S):  Women Rowing North: Navigating Life’s Currents and Flourishing As We Age by Mary Pipher

How to Age Disgracefully by Clare Pooley

POEM(S):  

No one told me 

it would be like this— 

how growing older

is another passage

of discovery

and that aging is one

grand transformation,

and if some things become torn apart

lost along the way,

many other means show up 

to bring me closer 

to the center of my heart.

No one ever told me

if whatever wonder 

waits ahead

is in another realm

and outside of time.

But the amazement, I found,

is that the disconcerting things 

within the here and now 

that I stumble 

and trip my way 

through, also

lead me 

gracefully

home.

And no one told me 

that I would ever see

an earth so strong 

and fragile, or

a world so sad 

and beautiful.

And I surely

didn't know 

I'd have

all this life 

yet in me

or such fire

inside my 

bones.

~Susan Frybort

This Body by Joyce Sutphen

When I stepped ashore in this body

I was recognized at once

and given a name.

My bones were smaller, but the shape

of the cheek and the chin

are the same.

This is the only body I know: this color

my eyes, this color my skin.

Every scar is mine.

I have become as tall, as slim, as old

as I am. My voice has carried the weight

of what I had to say.

Words were scattered along the way: words

on gravel roads, in hallways and staircases.

Words on a wire.

Somewhere in a field, my hair. Somewhere in a lake,

my skin, some rooftop where my gaze rested,

some star, a wish.

This is my address on earth: temporary, fragile,

a name in the phonebook,

at the moment, alive.

Idea by Kate Baer

I will enjoy this life. I will open it 

like a peach in season, suck the juice 

from every finger, run my tongue over 

my chin. I will not worry about clichés 

or uninvited guests peering in my windows. 

I will love and be loved. Save and be saved 

a thousand times. I will let the want into 

my body, bless the heat under my skin. 

My life, I will not waste it. I will enjoy this life.

The Birth of Phoenix by Beth Weaver-Kreider

This is the story of the woman

who believed that happiness

lay in the sound of Anything-At-All

slipping through her open doorway,

who grew beyond bounds,

whose walls dissolved in a grey mist

to let in a garden,

a star,

and a small silvery snake,

who discovered the spiraling staircase

which led to the Aunt in the attic,

who plied that old woman with indecent questions

and robed herself warmly

in old woman’s laughter,

who carried the rage of the crone in her pocket

like a sculpted soapstone jackal,

who suckled that fury—that ravenous infant,

who knew a canary from plaster pretenders,

who built her own cottage of clay, thatch, and brambles,

who walked through the market,

unveiled by the eyebrows

of merchants and gabblers,

who swam to deep waters

alone like a manta,

who left the green waves for a road full of daughters,

who shaved off her hair,

to step naked and newborn

among glowing embers.

There Is a Girl Inside by Lucille Clifton

There is a girl inside.

She is randy as a wolf.

She will not walk away and leave these bones

to an old woman.

She is a green tree in a forest of kindling.

She is a green girl in a used poet.

She has waited patient as a nun

for the second coming,

when she can break through gray hairs

into blossom

and her lovers will harvest

honey and thyme

and the woods will be wild

with the damn wonder of it.

QUOTE(S):  "Do not grow old, no matter how long you live. Never cease to stand like curious children before the Great Mystery into which we were born." ~ Albert Einstein

“Just because you’re not doing what other people are doing, that doesn’t mean you’re failing or falling behind. You’re charting your own course and staying true to yourself, even though it would be easier to join the crowd. You’re creating a life you can fall in love with instead of falling in line. You’re finding the courage to do what’s right for you, even though it’s uncertain and scary and hard. Give yourself some credit, because these are all reasons to be proud.” ~ Lori Deschene

"When we are young, it’s the illusion of perfection that we fall in love with. As we age, it’s the humanness that we fall in love with- the poignant stories of overcoming, the depthful vulnerability of aging, the

struggles that grew us in karmic stature, the way a soul shaped itself to accommodate its circumstances.  With less energy to hold up our armor, we are revealed and, in the revealing, we call out to each other’s hearts... Where we once saw imperfect scars, we now see evidence of a life fully lived." ~ Jeff Brown 

“I try to avoid looking forward or backward, and try to keep looking upward.” ~ Charlotte Bronte

“And then there are the cravings... Oh, la! A woman may crave to be near water, or be belly down, her face in the earth, smelling the wild smell. She might have to drive into the wind. She may have to plant something, pull things out of the ground or put them into the ground. She may have to knead and bake, rapt in dough up to her elbows. She may have to trek into the hills, leaping from rock to rock trying out her voice against the mountain. She may need hours of starry nights where the stars are like face powder spilt on a black marble floor. She may feel she will die if she doesn’t dance naked in a thunderstorm, sit in perfect silence, return home ink-stained, paint-stained, tear-stained, moon-stained.” ~ Clarissa Pinkola Estés

"Drench yourself in hope

It is always on the horizon

The sun will arrive

Gravitating to you

Seeking you

Warming you

With the golden light

Of something new glistening"

~ Victoria Erickson

Glitter in the Air (Pink)

Too funny!  I was going through my blog drafts and ran across this one dated January 31, 2023... all ready to go except for the book.  Hated to let it go to waste so, I just found a book and am posting now, revisiting a slice of my life from 8 months ago.  A virtual time capsule!  So many things have changed since then.  That's Life, right?... 🤷

"Have you ever wished for an endless night?

Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight

Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself will it ever get better than tonight?"

Can't even remember what show or movie I was watching a few weeks ago when this song popped up... so I filed it away for later.  Later is now... 😍

Despite my pain issues (dissipating but still here), I am feeling very lucky these days with my overly-full yet beyond-joy-filled life:

~ The True North Project Pam invited me to be on the board of is really taking off; we are now officially a non-profit, we have a fiscal sponsor and a bank account.  Waiting on website construction as well as a logo for branding, and then we should be able to go live with what's on the books and what's in the works.  Did I tell you I'm flying up to Maryland the last weekend of March for our inaugural concert?  Pam has also asked me to collaborate with her on booking, and one of my goals is to invite/confirm Dar for the fall/winter season.  I will make this happen!

~ ~ This week is the SFFF (actually now called the South Florida Folk and Acoustic Music Festival).  I've been very busy with the festival prep, not as a board or staff member but, as Dar would call it, a Conscious Bridger in many behind-the-scenes ways.  It feels good to help.

~ Went to Bryan's (the horticulturist/plant provider for the festival stages, one of the connections I made) today to trade a book (Late Migrations, my discovery toward the end of 2022) for a plant (he's been telling me about Lady of the Night, which blooms every full moon; next one is February 5!).  He played me a John Prine song on guitar (I of course cried), toured me around his nursery, and gave me a witch ball, which I hung on my balcony when I got home.

~ Our A/C went down last night but, after a phone call this a.m., they showed up at 2 p.m. to fix it (just needed unclogging, which happens once or twice a year in South Florida).

~ Had a great two-hour phone chat with Michele when I got home from Bryan's (also the library to pick up Bitch); we haven't talked (texted and e-mailed, yes) since the week after Christmas, and we were long overdue.

~ Sarah called to check in (busy weekend for her), Eric has had quite a few Zoom job interviews in anticipation of his move to Atlanta, and Rob's talking about posting on his blog again.

~ Robert and I feel more in balance and at peace lately; even when things are rocky between us, he almost always gives me a back massage when I come to bed, and he's been even more attentive these last few days with my pulled/strained muscle(s).  Touch is definitely one of my Love Languages, both giving as well as receiving.

~ I abandoned a book after Fadiman, and last night I started Lessons in Chemistry, which I love so far.  Please let it continue!

SONG:  Glitter in the Air by Pink

BOOK:  JOMO: Celebrate the Joy of Missing Out! by Jessica Misener

POEM(S):  BYOF by Maya Stein

It’s a new day. Bring your own fork. Bring your own footwear. Bring your own

fragrance, your own faith, your flamboyance, your fetishes, your fashionable lateness.

Become your own fantasy. Be your one friend. Believe yesterday was only a fragment.

Make a betrothal of yeses on fortune. Brush last year’s offenses free. Banish

your outdated fury. Breathe. Yearn. Opine. Flex. Or bleat. Or yodel. Or remember

how to be frivolous. Break yourself out of what no longer fits. Bloom. Occupy your body

as it were flowering perennially. Write your blessings down, or yell them, opulently,

into the span of a quiet forest. Brave the yeti of an old fear. Bulldoze the yoke

of what’s keeping you fixed. Burn the yardstick, the odometer, the flagrant shames.

Build your radiance from the flames.

i am running into a new year by Lucille Clifton

i am running into a new year

and the old years blow back

like a wind

that i catch in my hair

like strong fingers like

all my old promises and

it will be hard to let go

of what i said to myself

about myself

when i was sixteen and

twenty-six and thirty-six

even thirty-six but

i am running into a new year

and i beg what i love and

i leave to forgive me

Storage by Mary Oliver

When I moved from

one house to another,

there were many things

I had no room for.

What does one do?

I rented a storage space

and filled it.

Years passed.

Occasionally,

I went there

and looked in,

but nothing happened,

not a single twinge

of the heart.

As I grew older

the things I cared about

grew fewer but were

more important,

so one day I undid the lock

and called the trash man.

He took everything.

I felt like the little donkey

when his burden is finally

lifted.

Things! Burn them, burn them!

Make a beautiful fire!

More room in your heart

for Love, for the trees.

For the birds who own

nothing;

✨

the reason they

can fly."

QUOTE:  “And now let us believe in a long year that is given to us, new, untouched, full of things that have never been...” ~ Rainer Maria Rilke 

Bring Love

wherever you go.

Shine Light

wherever it's dark.

Leave Blessings 

wherever you've been.

Be Kind

wherever you are.

~ Mary Davis

Hymn to Her (The Pretenders)

"The old hag at her cauldron is perhaps the most enduring image of the Wise Woman and a remnant of a time when women were the healers of their communities. They were shamans, witches, midwifes, medicine women, and priestesses of the Goddess.

The Crone is a symbol of inherent wisdom that comes from experience. She has lived through love, sorrow, hope, and fear, coming out of it all a wise and confident spirit. Through these experiences she has learned the secrets of life and death and of the mysteries beyond this world. She has tasted death itself and watched those she loved make the journey before her. It is through her mourning that she faces death, grows to understand it, and becomes the gatekeeper between worlds.

The wisdom of the Crone comes only after learning the lessons of non-judgment and compassion. Through these lessons the Crone becomes the balancing scales between light and dark and between life and death. She is selfless, yet she loves herself. She is kind, yet she knows when to be harsh. She is free, she is compassionate, and she is wise. Only the Crone can complete the journey to the Otherworld and birth the Child of Completion.

The Crone is full of power. Her body is no longer fertile, but her mind is sharp and able. She no longer bleeds, keeping her power within her and owning it without shame or fear.

She is often seen as a healer, working in tune with Nature to cure ailments and guide those ready to leave or enter this world. She is the elder priestess of the Goddess; the Grandmother whose words are few yet priceless in their wisdom.

In myth the Crone is often seen as something to be feared. She is a representation of death and its mysteries. Things that are unknown are always feared, thus we work to know the Crone; to understand her wisdom and beckon her to impart the mysteries upon us. We surrender our fear and ignorance to the Crone and let her strike these overpowering influences down as a stalk of wheat with her shining sickle.

As with all aspects of the Goddess the Crone is not only found within the aged. She is in all beings at all times. She can be present in men and women, young and old; though age may very likely come before her lessons are fully realized.

The Crone is a cleansing force that sweeps through the world carrying away those whose time to live is done to make room for new life. She is associated with the element of water and the direction of west – land of the dead. She is the necessary force of destruction like the force of a wave on the shore; ripping away the beach and returning it to the sea from which it came.

She is the reaper, the comforter, the mysterious old woman who possesses the knowledge of all worlds. The next time a thunderstorm passes overhead take a moment to listen to the voice of the Crone. Feel the tears of joy and mourning fall upon your head and take the first steps to understand her mysteries." ~ Lee Hutch

Last week, for my 68th birthday, I was gifted with a Croning Party, which was just magical.  I could stop there but, me being me, obviously I won't... 😍

Backstory is that Cynthia teaches various classes:  Herbalism, Fermenting 101, Kitchen Medicine, Eat the Weeds, Homeopathy, etc.  She also offers one called Crone Me, Baby, Crone Me!... "for goddesses 50 and above. Learn to celebrate, embrace and ROCK the ages. We’re going to reclaim the word CRONE. We’ll learn what a croning is and how to celebrate the wisdom, love and magic that can only come from the growth we experience from the passage of time."  We of course are familiar with the three archetypes of Maiden, Mother, Crone (and years ago they added Matriarch between Mother and Crone to define the post-childbearing years when women come into their maturity, stability, and sexuality).  

So, back in July, I approached Cynthia about doing a class for my birthday, and inviting my friends; she could make some money, and we would have a fun as well as educational experience.  Cynthia looked at me, and said, "No... I would like to throw you a Croning Party!", and she was off and running. Sounded like a fun few hours of conviviality as well as wisdom; I was going to wait for my 70th, but one never knows what each year, much less day, will bring... and I am at a very good place in my life right now.

I love a good Worlds-Colliding event, so I invited five of my Besties (Nancy, Kathy, SusanP, Suzanne, and of course my daughter Sarah), all of whom I have known for decades... and then five of my gardening peeps, who I've only known for the last year (Alejandra, Claire, Kiana, Katy, and Kerrie).  For various and legit reasons... Suzanne, Alejandra, Claire, and Kiana could not make it, and naturally we missed them but it did not slow us down.

This took place at Cynthia's home, arrival time 6 p.m. and, when we walked in, there was goddess/Celtic music, lippia sage tea, and a reverential hushed ambiance.  Cynthia did an amazing job putting together a ceremony, and made a headpiece ("crone comes from crown, indicating wisdom emanating from the head") of olive branches and sweet red clover, which I wore throughout.  She told stories, did some prayers and meditations, and then the gifts began:  nothing store-bought, but all handmade, handwritten, hand-crafted.  There may have to be a Part 2 to this, because I want to honor these creative contributions in all their glory, each one more thoughtful and special than the one before, including beautiful words spoken to, and written for, me.  Unlike baseball, to paraphrase Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own, "there *is* crying in croning!".  Happy tears, yet tears nonetheless.

Leo that I am, I am really not comfortable being in the spotlight when it's about *me*.  I was a great emcee for my concert series because it was about the music; I could present a UU church service because it was about the spiritual message.  This was hard, and I got squirrelly with the love and attention, but I basked in it as well, because I took it in and radiated it outward.

Cynthia then led me into another room, where she'd constructed a Croning Tent (teepee-ish, with a beautiful butterfly fabric wrapped around it), and she anointed my legs with sandalwood, and my hands with frankincense, and placed a gorgeous shimmery purple scarf around my neck; we meditated some more, and she invited everyone else into the room to meet and embrace the Newly-Croned Me.  And then we sat back down and I was able to convey my gratitude to everyone for their presence in my life, and for accompanying me on this next step of my aging journey.

Then the wild and crazy playlist kicked in, starting with Respect (my karaoke song, if I did that kind of thing, which I don't), seguing to Helen Reddy and Kesha and Meredith Brooks, and I opened the champagne and we dove into the vegan spread of yummies that I brought, both sweet and savory... and we wrapped up about 9 p.m., everyone going their respective ways.  Oh yeah, and I made goodie bags for each woman... a poetry book, a magnetic bookmark, a Namaste (the divine in me honors the divine in you) candle, 2 packets of Yogi's Spicy Hibiscus Blossom Positive Energy tea, cute patterned footie socks, a sachet of my Bath Tea, and a link to a reworked/refreshed (segued from CD to Spotify) playlist. 

I am crying all over again just writing this down.  Such a dear, loving, wonder-full evening.  Dare I say magical again?  Sigh... 💖

SONG:  Hymn to Her by The Pretenders

BOOK:  Crones Don't Whine: Concentrated Wisdom for Juicy Women by Jean Shinoda Bolen 

POEM(S):  There Is a Girl Inside by Lucille Clifton

There is a girl inside.

She is randy as a wolf.

She will not walk away and leave these bones

to an old woman.

She is a green tree in a forest of kindling.

She is a green girl in a used poet.

She has waited patient as a nun

for the second coming,

when she can break through gray hairs

into blossom

and her lovers will harvest

honey and thyme

and the woods will be wild

with the damn wonder of it.

A Manifesto for Aging Gracefully by Samantha Reynolds

Stand on top

of the heap of your years

like a mountain climber

on a summit.

Squint

and you will see patterns

in the scurrying.

This is wisdom,

feed it grace,

make time

to listen

to your crinkled thoughts.

Keep hoisting yourself up

or age will bury you,

a suffocating

futile

lament

for what was.

QUOTE(S):  "Considering the Crone. Not the one of decay and witchery. Not the old hag bent over and ignored. Not the invisible one who is relegated to the outskirts of society.  No not those subscribed beliefs of diminishing feminine power.  But the True ancient wise one who wears the Crown of light that insight, experience, and her true nature unfettered by the calls to behave and be quiet  provides.  Yes the Sorceress, Crone and Dark Mother which sit in the Northern, Earthen place on the wheel wielding the heart of the Elder, longing to be a contribution to her community by sharing her gifts of the medicine she came to impart." ~ Elizabeth Brown

“The Crone’s title was related to the word crown and she represented the power of the ancient tribal matriarch who made the moral and legal decisions for her subjects and descendants. It was the medieval metamorphosis of the wise woman into the witch that changed the word Crone from a compliment to an insult and established the stereotype of malevolent old womanhood that continues to haunt elder women today.” ~ Barbara Walker

Flood (Annie Gallup)

When I got home from work last night about 7 p.m. (after stopping by the food co-op to pick up my order), as soon as I walked in the door I heard the sound of water rushing (almost like a running toilet) - I went around the house, trying to isolate the noise, but couldn't (meaning it was either under the house or behind the walls). Fortunately, I know how to turn off the water to the house, which I did, and the sound stopped - unfortunately, my husband's out of town (something major... appliance/car/home... always breaks when he's gone!).

I called the plumber at 7 this morning, and they made me first appointment of the day (somewhere between 8:30 and 9 a.m.) - he showed up right on time, and isolated the problem to be in the hot water system. He turned off the hot water heater, so at least we can use the water now (as opposed to last night when I had to turn everything off) - they can't do anything to fix it until they know exactly where the leak is... so he recommended a leak detection company.

I called and they can come out tomorrow (Wednesday) between 10 and noon - once they locate the leak, it gets turned back over to the plumber and they will have to go in through the walls or under the floor to repair or reroute the pipes.

I am sick to my stomach over the potential extent and expense of the problem - all I can visualize is jackhammers demolishing my floors/walls!

Think positive thoughts, please - in the meantime, I'll be showering in the pool or the jacuzzi... :-)

SONG: Flood by Annie Gallup

BOOK: The Plumber's Troubleshooting Guide by R. Dodge Woodson

POEM: blessing the boats by Lucille Clifton

(at St. Mary's)

may the tide
that is entering even now
the lip of our understanding
carry you out
beyond the face of fear
may you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it will
love your back may you
open your eyes to water
water waving forever
and may you in your innocence
sail through this to that

QUOTE: "You could write the story of man's growth in terms of his epic concerns with water." ~ Bernard Frank