Showing posts with label Sierra DeMulder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sierra DeMulder. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 18, 2024

You and Me on the Rock (Brandi Carlile)

Today is our 48th wedding anniversary.  WTF.  Crazy, right?!?

Oh, and if you're doing the math at home:  17,520 One Days at a Time... 🤣


A Happy Marriage, One Gesture at a Time by Susan Semenak

"Really great marriages are not the result of long hours of hard work, but of everyday behaviours and attitudes, seemingly small gestures that show your spouse that he or she is noticed, appreciated, respected, loved and desired," Orbuch writes in her just-published book 5 Simple Steps to Take Your Marriage from Good to Great (Delacorte Press), which is based on the study's findings.
MONTREAL – What makes couples happy? What makes marriages last? It's the small stuff, it turns out: Telling him he looks great in his jeans. Bringing her coffee in bed in the morning. Sneaking off without the kids from time to time. Taking turns doing the laundry.

Terri Orbuch, a Michigan-based research professor and marriage- and-family therapist, spent more than 22 years charting the love lives of 373 married couples in the U.S. government-funded Early Years of Marriage Project, the longest-running study of marriage conducted in North America.

The secrets of happy couples, Orbuch and her team of researchers found, were surprisingly simple.

"Really great marriages are not the result of long hours of hard work, but of everyday behaviours and attitudes, seemingly small gestures that show your spouse that he or she is noticed, appreciated, respected, loved and desired," Orbuch writes in her just-published book 5 Simple Steps to Take Your Marriage from Good to Great (Delacorte Press), which is based on the study's findings.

When couples in solid relationships run into trouble, or experience "the blahs," they often focus on what's wrong, as do many self-help books and marriage counsellors, Orbuch said in a telephone interview this week. But she found focusing on their strengths and taking a few minutes every day "to fix the little things" had a greater impact on happiness.

"It's not those big challenges that couples experience that eat away at happiness so much as the seemingly minor issues that accumulate over the years," Orbuch said. "We're so busy with work and family and exercise and shovelling snow and doing the groceries that people too often put their relationships on the backburner." Here are a few of the secrets Orbuch gleaned from happy couples for making a good marriage great:



SONGYou and Me on the Rock by Brandi Carlile

BOOKWhat Makes a Marriage Last: 40 Celebrated Couples Share with Us the Secrets to a Happy Life by Marlo Thomas, Phil Donahue

POEM(S):  
New Vows by Sierra DeMulder

When my best friend got married,
he walked down the aisle to a song
about death. Isn’t that what marriage is
all about? he laughed. A promise
to be together until one of you dies?
I regret my wedding vows, too focused
on the benign—our boundless laughter,
how I cherish just waking up together.
I should have said, I take thee and all
the treachery that aliveness guarantees.
I should have said, I will help bury
your elders. I take your hand and your heart 
murmur; the cancerous growth above
your father’s ear. I take your family
history of alcoholism and give you back
a possible covenant of dementia, miscarriage, 
high blood pressure. In sickness and in
car accidents. In sickness and in the mundane. 
Shared calendars and anniversaries spent 
arguing about our budget. You told me once 
Great Danes have a short life expectancy, 
only 6-10 years if you’re lucky, and I cried: 
who would sign up to love something
so impermanent? O, beloved, we have
been so happy lately, it’s making us nervous. 
And isn’t that what marriage is all about:
a love so darling, so hallowed and exposed,
we both volunteer to be its keeper—when
the joy runs dry, when the body fails—
not because but in glorious spite of
the unpalatable, impossible fact that
someday one of us will wake up first
only to find ourselves alone.


Me First by Billy Collins

We often fly in the sky together,
and we’re always okay—there’s our luggage now
waiting for us on the carousel.

And we drive lots of places
in all manner of hectic traffic,
yet here we are pulling in the driveway again.

So many opportunities to die together,
but no meteor has hit our house,
no tornado has lifted us into its funnel.

The odds say then that one of us will go
before the other, like heading off
into a heavy snow storm, leaving

the other one behind to stand in the kitchen
or lie on the bed under the fan.
So why not let me, the older one, go first?

I don’t want to see you everywhere
as I wait for the snow to stop,
before setting out with a crooked stick, calling your name.


Habitation by Margaret Atwood

Marriage is not

a house or even a tent
it is before that, and colder:
the edge of the forest, the edge

of the desert

                the unpainted stairs

at the back where we squat

outside, eating popcorn
the edge of the receding glacier
where painfully and with wonder

at having survived even

this far
we are learning to make fire


Marriage by Ellen Bass

When you finally, after deep illness, lay
the length of your body on mine, isn’t it
like the strata of the earth, the pressure
of time on sand, mud, bits of shell, all
the years, uncountable wakings, sleepings,
sleepless nights, fights, ordinary mornings
talking about nothing, and the brief
fiery plummets, and the unselfconscious
silences of animals grazing, the moving
water, wind, ice that carries the minutes, leaves
behind minerals that bind the sediment into rock.
How to bear the weight, with every
flake of bone pressed in. Then, how to bear when
the weight is gone, the way a woman
whose neck has been coiled with brass
can no longer hold it up alone. Oh love,
it is balm, but also a seal. It binds us tight
as the fur of a rabbit to the rabbit.
When you strip it, grasping the edge
of the sliced skin, pulling the glossy membranes
apart, the body is warm and limp. If you could,
you’d climb inside that wet, slick skin
and carry it on your back. This is not
neat and white and lacy like a wedding,
not the bright effervescence of champagne
spilling over the throat of the bottle. This visceral
bloody union that is love, but
beyond love. Beyond charm and delight
the way you to yourself are past charm and delight.
This is the shucked meat of love, the alleys and broken
glass of love, the petals torn off the branches of love,
the dizzy hoarse cry, the stubborn hunger.

QUOTE(S):  “Marriage is not a noun; it’s a verb. It isn’t something you get. It’s something you do. It’s the way you love your partner every day.” ~ Barbara De Angelis

"Basically the secret to a long-lasting marriage is memory loss and well-meaning lies and beach margaritas." ~ Jenny Lawson

Tuesday, November 7, 2023

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... 🤷


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)