Harmonize (Rising Appalachia)

L-R:  Eric, Sarah, Dar, me, Rob, Chico
Labyrinth Cafe, Ft. Lauderdale FL - 10-2-2010

This photo is synchronistic for two reasons:  1)  it was taken almost 13 years ago to the day and 2) tonight I was supposed to be in Baltimore to attend the Dar Williams concert at The State Theater of Havre de Grace (I am on the board of The True North Project, which hosted the event).  I was scrolling through Facebook posts earlier and saw one where I commented: "Wouldn't miss it for the world!"... except that I did, and I have to be okay with it (I'm okay with it).  I have no doubt that Pam (Creative Director of TNP, as well as dear friend) will fill me in on every little detail.  I am practicing patience, difficult for my IG Leo self.  But, earlier in the evening, I went out on the balcony, lit some candles, and had a lovely conversation with my sister, who encouraged me to take "space and grace" (I love that).  After we hung up, I stayed outside, sipped on a huge mug of Kava tea, listened to a Dar Williams playlist, and pretended I was at the show.  It was the next best thing... 🎵

My husband and I received a beautiful e-mail from Eric's bosses in Atlanta; Duyen had the unfortunate task of contacting them the night he died to inform of his death.  We asked her to connect us, and they reached out today.  They shared glowing words about his enthusiasm, his work ethic, his business savvy.  We were/are so proud.

E's Celebration of Life is really falling into place (and by that I mean, our team/village/community is coming together to weave all the moving parts into a gathering worthy of our son/brother/boyfriend).  It truly is what's keeping me moving forward... 💗

I think I am finally coming up for air.  Maybe Amy hypnotized me (kidding!) but, after my meeting with her yesterday, which I left feeling peaceful, believe it or not, I still do.  I'm not going to question it; I'm just going to embrace it.  There will be more tears, more meltdowns, more shaking my fist at the sky, but for now I'm breathing without snotting, which is a win on any/every level, right?

And I have a massage tomorrow.  Ommmm... ૐ

SONG:  Harmonize by Rising Appalachia

BOOK:  How to Write a Song that Matters by Dar Williams

POEM:  This is what was bequeathed us by Gregory Orr

This is what was bequeathed us:

This earth the beloved left

And, leaving,

Left to us.

No other world

But this one:

Willows and the river

And the factory

With its black smokestacks.

No other shore, only this bank

On which the living gather.

No meaning but what we find here.

No purpose but what we make.

That, and the beloved’s clear instructions:

Turn me into song; sing me awake.

QUOTE:  "Life cannot be handled.  The secret is simply to show up.  It's about witnessing it all, even the pain, and letting it touch you and make you not harder, but more tender.  Showing up, feeling it all — this is my new kind of prayer.  I call it praying attention, and it's how, for me, everything turns holy." ~ Glennon Doyle

Resilient (Rising Appalachia)

As discussed previously, my family is writing in, and passing around, a journal as a tangible way to capture our thoughts, dreams, and fears through essays, drawings, poems, and songs.  Here is my entry from a few days ago:

I find myself in a pendulum between "this too shall pass" and "these are the end times" but, I am the MOTHER, so it is my Job to stay strong and hold it all together when everyone around me is losing their sh*t.  That is what I do, as at various times my family has experienced stitches and broken bones... MRSA hospitalization... an emergency C-section... prostate cancer surgery.  My default mechanism is to envision myself as the voice of calm and reason, their advocate and protector, asking the right questions, buffering between them and the healthcare system, sleeping in super-uncomfortable recliners.

Once the crisis had passed and things were back to "normal", I allowed myself to freak the f*ck out, finally able to fall apart with the tragic What-Ifs swirling around in my head, all the bullets dodged, the there-but-for-the-grace-of-god flipside scenario.  Poetry is one of my many coping mechanisms (thankyoujesus for Maggie Smith:  the poet, not the actress!).  Donning my She-Ra cape, rattling my Wonder Woman bracelets, and conjuring the Shield of Invincibility to keep my loved ones, and myself, safe throughout this storm and chaos.

SONG:  Resilient by Rising Appalachia (major thanks to Fred for the heads-up on this song.  Wow!)

BOOK:  Welcoming the Unwelcome: Wholehearted Living in a Brokenhearted World by Pema Chodron

POEM:  The Mother by Maggie Smith

The mother is a weapon you load

yourself into, little bullet.

The mother is glass through which

you see, in excruciating detail, yourself.

The mother is landscape.

See how she thinks of a tree

and fills a forest with the repeated thought.

Before the invention of cursive

the mother is manuscript.

The mother is sky.

See how she wears a shawl of starlings,

how she pulls the thrumming around her shoulders.

The mother is a prism.

The mother is a gun.

See how light passes through her.

See how she fires.

QUOTE:  "I never said I wanted a 'happy' life but an interesting one. From separation and loss, I have learned a lot. I have become strong and resilient, as is the case of almost every human being exposed to life and to the world. We don't even know how strong we are until we are forced to bring that hidden strength forward." ~ Isabel Allende