Closer to Fine (Indigo Girls)

"There's more than one answer to these questions

Pointing me in a crooked line..."

Glimmers.  I've seen the word before in others' writings, and I've referred to it elsewhere in this blog.  It's so easy to get stuck, mired, enveloped in the fog of grief.  Getting out of bed each morning feels insurmountable... putting one foot in front of the other to get through the day is challenging... coming to grips that your loved one is gone forever is still impossible to fathom.  And for a while that's all you can see.  Darkness.  Yeah, I realize the irony.

Yet, every once in a while, glimmers appear.  Small, brief, barely recognizable... but they're there.  Like fireflies.  And they speak of possibilities.  

And it won't be the default anytime soon, but Fun is finding its way back into our MossFam dynamic... and Laughter... and Joy.  Rob uncharacteristically called a Family Dinner into action tonight (it's usually *me* herding the cats).  I picked up pizza on the way over to Sarah's.  The theme was "New Year, New Me, New E".  There was a heartfelt toast.  We didn't know what to expect, but it morphed into an evening with Willie Nelson, Bette Midler/Annie, Will from Stranger Things, a mermaid, Slash, Kris Jenner (and Kris Jenner as a blonde!), and a cranky Dennis the Menace who was not amused, had to be bribed with brownies, and even then snarled his way through our photo-ops.  And it was very good... 💖💖💖💖💖

"It's only life after all, yeah..."

SONG:  Closer to Fine by Indigo Girls

BOOK:  Grief Glimmers Grace by Betsy B. Murphy

POEM(S):  The Edge by Donna Ashworth

Standing at the edge of a new chapter can be scary. 

The desire to run back into the pages you know so well, 

is more than tempting. But you must keep moving. 

Chapters end, even the good ones. 

And if you linger in the past too long, 

your story cannot unfold the way it should. 

And you might just miss the most beautiful moments of your life, 

whilst grieving the ones gone by. 

It’s scary at the edge, my friend, I know. 

But just jump. You have so much ahead. 

And the good stuff behind, will always be there.

The Way It Is by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Over and over we break

open, we break and

we break and we open.

For a while, we try to fix

the vessel—as if

to be broken is bad.

As if with glue and tape

and a steady hand we

might bring things to perfect

again. As if they were ever

perfect. As if to be broken is not

also perfect. As if to be open

is not the path toward joy.

The vase that’s been shattered

and cracked will never

hold water. Eventually

it will leak. And at some

point, perhaps, we decide

that we’re done with picking

our flowers anyway, and no

longer need a place to contain them

We watch them grow just

as wildflowers do—unfenced,

unmanaged, blossoming only

when they’re ready—and my god,

how beautiful they are amidst

the mounting pile of shards.

QUOTE(S):  "Without suffering, there's no happiness. So we shouldn't discriminate against the mud. We have to learn how to embrace and cradle our own suffering and the suffering of the world, with a lot of tenderness." ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

“Don’t get me wrong: grief sucks, it really does. Unfortunately, though, avoiding it robs us of life, of the now, of a sense of living spirit.” ~ Anne Lamott

"Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place." ~ Rumi

Be Here Now (Willy Porter) / Be Here Now (by Ray LaMontagne)

I don't know anything anymore, which seems to be a very liberating experience.  I mean, I've always been more heart-based than brain-centric, and feelings are front-and-center these days.  I'm just trying to pay attention and follow my intuition.  

However, sometimes there are blips.  I got home from the Miami Book Fair the other night, and Chico said:  "your son called, and wants you to call him back" and, swear to god, my first instinct was to ask:  "which one?"... 🤷

We are leaving in an hour or so for the Atlanta area, to spend Thanksgiving with my sister.  It sounded like a great idea at the time, and I have no doubt it will be an amazing weekend... but part of me really wants to just stay home, in my nightgown, and eat cereal.  Sadness permeates... 😭

Mari, don't freak out.  We're coming.  I love you... and am beyond grateful for the wagon-circling... 💗

P.S.  I won't be blogging Friday, as we'll still be away... but look for something this Sunday after we return.  Happy Thanksgiving to all... 💟

SONG(S):  Be Here Now (Willy Porter) / Be Here Now (by Ray LaMontagne)

BOOK:  The Book of Ichigo Ichie: The Art of Making the Most of Every Moment, the Japanese Way by Héctor García, Francesc Miralles (thanks to FranD for the heads-up to this delightful concept!)

POEM(S):  Holding the Light by Stuart Kestenbaum

for Kait Rhoads

Gather up whatever is

glittering in the gutter,

whatever has tumbled

in the waves or fallen

in flames out of the sky,

for it’s not only our

hearts that are broken,

but the heart

of the world as well.

Stitch it back together.

Make a place where

the day speaks to the night

and the earth speaks to the sky.

Whether we created God

or God created us

it all comes down to this:

In our imperfect world

we are meant to repair

and stitch together

what beauty there is, stitch it

with compassion and wire.

See how everything

we have made gathers

the light inside itself

and overflows? A blessing.

Right Here by Dane Anthony

Stop moving. Stand in

one place – this place.

Breathe slowly; in, then out. Repeat.

Repeat again. Let your

shoulders sink and relax. Unclench

your jaw; slowly close your eyes.

Listen for your heartbeat; really

listen. Feel it pulse in

your fingertips.

Lessen expectations. Under-do all your

efforts. Requisition the time

for your soul

to catch up. Lean

into the wind; feel it

like a tree and test the ground.

Learn to trust the resilience.

It would be treason to move

quickly ~ left or right ~

from this place. It is alright to be exactly

what you are, who you are, where you are.

Right here, right now. 

QUOTE(S):  "Our true home is in the present moment.  To live in the present moment is a miracle.  The miracle is not to walk on water.  The miracle is to walk on the green Earth in the present moment." ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

“The present moment is the intersection of eternity with time.” ~ Beatrice Bruteau

Cosmic Egg (Carrie Elkin)

When last we left our SheRa, we were going to Sunday brunch at Nancy's, which of course was absolutely lovely.  By that time, we were a Party o' 15 or so, much more intimate such that we could all engage in one conversation, vs. many little side-talks.  Nice.  One topic of the day was reconciliations, and we heard about one in progress, and another that had happened years ago, at Eric's urging, actually.  The ripple effect continues.

When we left, some people headed to the airport, and others on the road home, and Chico and I headed back to the condo and, as promised, Linda with us.  She and I went out to dinner at E's favorite restaurant (which I discovered after I read Crying in H Mart), and we both had veggie bibimbap, which Linda very much enjoyed, and then we went to bed early.

Monday was very low-key, and we spent many hours on the balcony, talking and crying, and enjoying the cooler-than-usual temps.  We had the great pleasure of picking Colin up from Kindergarten about 2:45, whereupon he ran around and played soccer with his usual group of friends, shaking their sillies out for another hour, then segueing to Sarah's.

The plan that evening was to recreate our Joni Jam experience at The Gorge in Washington State, and the first order of business was making Wachos (which we had the night of the concert) for dinner.  They were even better the second time around!  I had thought we'd have to piece together individual YouTube videos, figuring out the chronology but darned if we didn't find the full concert, start-to-finish and, because Sarah was tired, we watched about 1/3 of it there and the remainder when we got back to my place.  So very amazing to see it again.  Yep, we were "a fallen constellation" indeed... 🌠

Tuesday found us with a To Do List, the main one being to head to the Hope Garden, whereupon we would plant some Blood Lily bulbs that Linda had brought from her yard, in Eric's memory.  We found the perfect spot in the Perennial Garden, and I will provide an unassuming plaque or marker to designate the spot as sacred ground.

Then on to Parlour Vegan (I remembered I still had a giftcard from Nancy for my August birthday!), and we purchased a variety of empanadas, a "pepperoni" pesto pasta salad for dinner, and a few cupcakes (yum to them all... 😋)

Before indulging, though, Linda helped me transplant all the greenery in what I *thought* was an artificial arrangement basket into window boxes and pots for my catwalk and balcony.  We also planted the remaining blood lily bulbs into pots for me and Chico... Sarah... and Rob. 

Linda left for airport at 5 this morning, and Chico and I walked her downstairs to her car.  We all cried.  Today has been Stay-In-My-Nightgown-All-Day Day.  Well-deserved.  Sad.  Tired.  

P.S.  As I stated above, I was on the balcony for hours Monday morning, I went inside for a few minutes and, when I came back outside, what song do you think was playing on the soundsystem down by the pool?  Three Little Birds... 🐦🐦🐦 I hollered for Linda to come out and listen, to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.  Yet another visitation.  Hi, E... 💖

SONG:  Cosmic Egg by Carrie Elkin

BOOK:  One Thousand Days and One Cup of Tea: A Clinical Psychologist's Experience of Grief by Vanessa Moore

POEM:  A Bowl of Hydrangeas by James Crews

I stand at the sun-struck window

for several minutes longer than I wish,

until I see how the hydrangeas seem

to absorb the light and give it back,

even when cut from the living plant

on which they first came into bloom.

We are like this too in our grief—

separated from loved ones, stunned

and confused, yet glowing with some

new kinship to all things, including

this cluster of pink and white flowers

I reach out and touch, rubbing petals

between my fingers to remember

I have a body, I am still so alive.

QUOTE(S):  ““If happiness is a skill, then sadness is, too. Perhaps through all those years at school, or perhaps through other terrors, we are taught to ignore sadness, to stuff it down into our satchels and pretend it isn’t there. As adults, we often have to learn to hear the clarity of its call. That is wintering. It is the active acceptance of sadness. It is the practice of allowing ourselves to feel it as a need. It is the courage to stare down the worst parts of our experience and to commit to healing them the best we can. Wintering is a moment of intuition, our true needs felt keenly as a knife.” ~ Katherine May, Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times

“We have a tendency to think in terms of doing and not in terms of being. We think that when we are not doing anything, we are wasting our time. But that is not true. Our time is first of all for us to be. To be what? To be alive, to be peaceful, to be joyful, to be loving. And that is what the world needs most.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

Hallelujah (HAIM)

Okay, raise your hand if you're tired of me saying:  "It's been one month... six weeks... three months... [fill in unit of time measurement here] since my last confession... um... blog post".  I've been busy but I've also been cocooning, if that makes a bit of sense.  RHG and I were talking the other night, reminiscing about the years I suffered from Full Plate Syndrome, and I worked hard to eventually scrape many things off my dish.  I laughed that now, when I add something, it's not a heaping helping of mashed potatoes, but more along the lines of one... pea... at... a... time.  And I'm good with that... 😍

I recently attended a livestream with Anna Quindlen, moderated by Kelly Corrigan (more about her in an upcoming Mother's Day post).  I have been following AQ's writing since first reading her Life in the 30's column when we lived in Puerto Rico (1985-1989), followed by her novels as well as non-fiction works.  There's just something about her "voice" that is simple yet beautiful; her new book (non-fiction) is called Write for Your Life (see link below), and is geared to those who love to write but don't do it professionally.  I related to so many things she said, especially:  "I don't send you a letter to *tell* you something; I send you a letter to *give* you something."  Whoa.  Wow.  Goosebumps.

If you are a friend, or a follower of my blog, or both... you are long familiar with my can't-do-anything-in-25-words-or-less philosophy.  I mean... I can, but I don't want to... not when there's a whole language and vocabulary out there just waiting to be used and highlighted.  This is where I shine; I have missed writing... and her livestream fueled my desire to get back to blogging too, even if only once a week.  

So, here I am.  Rather than recap from where I left off (mid-February... really?!?), I will Begin Again... in the Now... possibly sharing tidbits of that Bermuda Triangle of lost time... or maybe not.  Life is pretty d*mn lovely.  I still read, walk, garden, hug my Colin, sip my hot tea, count my blessings.  Hope there is joy in your days as well, whether bestowed-by-The-Universe magical or earned-tooth-and-nail (equally valued).

It is indeed Feel Good Friday and, as is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten/enlighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy!

~ MacKenzie Scott Has Pledged to Donate Half Her Net Worth to Charity:  It's a pledge her ex-husband, Jeff Bezos, has yet to make.

~ Love the Hit Game Wordle? Try BRDL, a Bird-Inspired Spinoff:  The daily word quiz that has taken the internet by storm now has a version for birders. Just make sure you know your banding codes.

~ Break a Leg but Never Whistle: How Stage Superstitions Live On:  The return of the Scottish play (that’s “Macbeth” to the rest of you) is a reminder of the idiosyncratic rituals and routines that bring actors comfort.

~ The Best Teas, According to Wirecutter’s Obsessive Staff:  A great cup of tea can make everything better. Even though tea is not as popular as coffee in the US, we think it deserves its place as the second-most widely consumed beverage in the world (water being the first). 

~ 70+ Perennial Vegetables to Plant Once and Harvest for Years:  Edible perennial gardening is a way to grow delicious crops while saving time, money, and effort. 

NR:  One Two Three by Laurie Frankel

SONG:  Hallelujah by HAIM

BOOK:  Write for Your Life by Anna Quindlen 

POEM:  What You Missed That Day You Were Absent From Fourth Grade by Brad Aaron Modlin

Mrs. Nelson explained how to stand still and listen

to the wind, how to find meaning in pumping gas,

how peeling potatoes can be a form of prayer. She took

questions on how not to feel lost in the dark

After lunch she distributed worksheets

that covered ways to remember your grandfather’s

voice. Then the class discussed falling asleep

without feeling you had forgotten to do something else—

something important—and how to believe

the house you wake in is your home. This prompted

Mrs. Nelson to draw a chalkboard diagram detailing

how to chant the Psalms during cigarette breaks,

and how not to squirm for sound when your own thoughts

are all you hear; also, that you have enough.

The English lesson was that I am

is a complete sentence.

And just before the afternoon bell, she made the math equation

look easy. The one that proves that hundreds of questions,

and feeling cold, and all those nights spent looking

for whatever it was you lost, and one person

add up to something.

QUOTE(S):  "When you recover or discover something that nourishes your soul and brings joy, care enough about yourself to make room for it in your life." ~ Jean Shinoda Bolen

“We have a tendency to think in terms of doing and not in terms of being. We think that when we are not doing anything, we are wasting our time. But that is not true. Our time is first of all for us to be. To be what? To be alive, to be peaceful, to be joyful, to be loving. And that is what the world needs most.”

Thich Nhat Hanh 

“Doing those deeply unfashionable things—slowing down, letting your spare time expand, getting enough sleep, resting—is a radical act now, but it is essential. This is a crossroads we all know, a moment when you need to shed a skin. If you do, you’ll expose all those painful nerve endings and feel so raw that you’ll need to take care of yourself for a while. If you don’t, then that skin will harden around you.” ~ Katherine May

Peace of Mind (Loggins & Messina)

First of all, I want everyone to know how much I cherish your blog comments as well as your private e-mails (Linda, I promise to reply personally soon) - it means much to hear from you, even if I'm not always able to respond. My days are not my own - between meals/doctors/laundry, etc., I've really not had much time for myself (no surprise there)...

I also want to say that, I of all people understand that life gets busy - even if you haven't weighed in, we can still feel your support...

This is truly the most difficult thing I've ever had to do... so please keep those thoughts, prayers and love coming - they are oh so appreciated...

Two more Connie Circle updates:

Sent: Wed, 27 May 2009 12:03 pm

Subject: Connie Circle update - 5/27/09

Hey, All -

Okay... two forward, one back - we'll start with the latter... :-)

~ I told you in yesterday's update that we had Hi-Tech switch mom from her 40 ft. (skinny) tubing to 25 ft. (high flow) - welllll, we thought we'd be fine logistically (didn't it always seem like she had way too much slack?) but, when mom went to motivate to bed last night, we realized she could only go as far as her bathroom doorway (whoops!).

Fortunately, we had taken the possibility into consideration and had her use the hallway bathroom on the way - I called Hi-Tech, took full responsibility for the mis-calculation and they will come out tomorrow morning to switch back, but this time to a 40 ft. high flow (crisis averted!). She does seem as if she's getting more oxygen since the switch - her color looks better and moving doesn't seem to take quite so much out of her...

~ We noticed some lesions on her back and shoulders yesterday and, after R took a look last night and suggested she see the doctor, I made an appointment with Dr. Mini for 3 p.m. today - good news...

~ We heard back from Crossroads Hospice today - they were more than willing to come out this afternoon but, since we had just made the doctor's appointment, they will come at 2 p.m. tomorrow instead. They are sending a nurse for an evaluation and someone from their office if we need to initiate paperwork/consent...

~ Mom called the cemetery (to talk about getting spaces for Marie, herself and B) and they do make home visits - she's to hear back from a Mr. Lawson sometime today to make an appointment...

~ Thanks to B (R's husband) who came over to measure for a screen door (which mom's been wanting) - I will pull up some options on Home Depot's website, mom can choose a few in order of preference and Brad and I can pick one up Sunday...

~ Mom called her newspaper carrier and asked if they could begin hanging the newspaper (Thursday-Sunday delivery on her front doorknob (rather than at the garage door where they've been throwing it) - they are more than glad to do that...

I think that's it (for now) - I'll keep you all posted... and thanks again to all for everything!

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

Sent: Fri, 29 May 2009 2:01 am

Subject: Connie Circle update - 5/28/09

Hey, All -

To quote my favorite singer-songwriter Dar Williams, "I lived a whole life in one night" - where to begin?

~ Hi-Tech (the oxygen company) called back this morning and it seems that the 40 ft. tubing does not come in high flow - we decided to make the trade-off of limited mobility for increased oxygen and mom is okay with it (more on this further down)...

~ I got her to the doctor yesterday afternoon for her lesions and she was immediately diagnosed with neurodermatitis, very common in people of her age and circumstances -the doctor prescribed a topical ointment to apply twice a day for the next 10 days and we are all so relieved to know what it is and how to make it better...

~ Two guys from the funeral home/cemetery came out yesterday to talk to mom about not only her arrangements, but the interment of Marie's cremains (who passed away last June) - B said he wanted to be with both his mothers (mom and Marie) so mom decided on three side-by-side niches in the Catholic section. Her words: "signed, sealed, delivered"... :-)

~ With my brother's help, I bought the screen door today, only to find out we really needed a storm door - thanks again to B, R's husband, who took me back up there tonight to make the exchange... and he will install tomorrow or over the weekend...

~ The newspaper was delivered to the front door today, but not hanging on the doorknob - we'll give it another few days before we call back..

~ Okay... two women from Crossroads Hospice came this afternoon, Connie the supervisor and Harriet, the caseworker/nurse - they were amazingly informative and experienced and compassionate and, after only a short while, it was determined that now was indeed a good time for mom to begin the program. M and B (my sister and brother) were here as well, and everyone could tell this was a mutual decision, for mom's benefit - peace of mind... priceless... not to mention the fact that Medicare covers everything. They will send a wheelchair, shower chair and bedside commode out tomorrow and a visiting nurse will come Saturday (she would have come tomorrow as well, except for the fact we have company mid-day and wanted to concentrate on them) - there will be a team of nurses, caregivers, social workers, spiritual counselors, etc. not to mention all of mom's oxygen and medications will be taken care of through Crossroads now (we are especially reassured about the switch in oxygen providers)...

~ After reading lots about hospice programs, I realized someone has to step up to be primary caregiver and that role seems to fall naturally to me - I've said from the beginning that my unemployment was a blessing in disguise. I plan to stay up here indefinitely to oversee the progression, as well as take advantage of the time with mom - M and B will come over when they're able (considering they're both working full-time jobs) and M mentioned getting wireless at mom's so she can work from there (since Internet has been so unreliable here). Everyone has promised I will get breaks, which I will need - fortunately, everything I need to accomplish in the next few months can be done from here, and we will take one joyful, comfortable, peace-filled day at a time (it's now all about abundance rather than deprivation)...

I'm pretty talked/typed out... but so glad to know the responsibility will now be umbrella-ed under one resource... and we can concentrate on spending quality time together - much love to all as we continue on this journey together... <3

SONG: Peace of Mind by Loggins & Messina

BOOK: No Death, No Fear by Thich Nhat Hanh

POEM: To Look at Any Thing by John Moffitt

To look at any thing,

If you would know that thing,

You must look at it long:

To look at this green and say,

"I have seen spring in these

Woods," will not do - you must

Be the thing you see:

You must be the dark snakes of

Stems and ferny plumes of leaves,

You must enter in

To the small silences between

The leaves,

You must take your time

And touch the very peace

They issue from.

QUOTE: "The world that was not mine yesterday now lies spread out at my feet, a splendor. I seem, in the middle of the night, to have returned to the world of apples, the orchards of Heaven. Perhaps I should take my problems to a shrink, or perhaps I should enjoy the apples that I have, streaked with color like the evening sky." ~ John Cheever

Angel Dream No. 4 (Tom Petty)

From today's Writer's Almanac:

It's the birthday of Vietnamese monk, writer, and activist Thich Nhat Hanh, born in 1926 in Tha Tien, Vietnam. He became a Buddhist monk when he was 16 years old. During the Vietnam War, he decided that monks shouldn't just stay in monasteries and meditate all day long while a war was going on. So he founded an organization that helped rebuild bombed villages, set up schools and medical centers, and organize agricultural cooperatives. He traveled to the United States to urge the American government to withdraw its troops, and he persuaded Martin Luther King Jr. to publicly oppose the Vietnam War. But both the non-Communist and Communist governments banned him from Vietnam in 1966, and it was just a few years ago, in 2005, that he was finally allowed to return for a visit. Since he was banned from Vietnam, he set up a monastic community in southern France, called Plum Village.

Thich Nhat Hanh has published more than 100 books, books of poetry and Buddhist thought. About 40 of them are in English, and many of those have been best-sellers, including Peace Is Every Step (1991), Call Me by My True Names (1993), and Living Buddha, Living Christ (1995).

P.S. Thanks to Sam Pacetti for the inspiration, and dedication, of today's song... <3

SONG: Angel Dream No. 4 by Tom Petty

BOOK: Thich Nhat Hanh: Essential Writings by Thich Nhat Hanh, Robert Ellsberg (editor)

POEM: Call Me by My True Names by Thich Nhat Hanh

Do not say that I'll depart tomorrow

because even today I still arrive.

Look deeply: I arrive in every second

to be a bud on a spring branch,

to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,

learning to sing in my new nest,

to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,

to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,

in order to fear and to hope.

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and

death of all that are alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,

and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time

to eat the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond,

and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence,

feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,

my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,

and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to

Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,

who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea

pirate,

and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and

loving.

I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my

hands,

and I am the man who has to pay his "debt of blood" to, my

people,

dying slowly in a forced labor camp.

My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all

walks of life.

My pain if like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,

so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once,

so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,

so I can wake up,

and so the door of my heart can be left open,

the door of compassion.

QUOTE: "My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand." ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

The Part Where You Let Go (Hem)

From yesterday's Gimundo:

Volunteer Guards Bridge to Save Lives

5/4/2008

Chen Si, of Nanjing, China, is a very special kind of lifeguard. He doesn't wear a swimsuit, he isn't paid a penny for his work, and he's never even dipped a toe into the waters of the Yangtze River.

Nonetheless, since the 34-year-old began patrolling the Nanjing Bridge four years ago, he has saved 144 lives.

Chen began his rescue mission in 2004, while feeling guilty about the suicide of an elderly neighbor. "I thought to myself, 'Why didn't I go visit him, talk to him?'" he told The Los Angeles Times. "Maybe I could have saved his life."

So that weekend, he went to Nanjing Bridge, a landmark that's notorious as a destination for suicide jumpers. Since the bridge's opening 40 years ago, over 1,000 people have killed themselves by jumping into the water. Chen decided that, even if he couldn't save his neighbor, at least he may be able to save others from throwing their lives away.

On his first day patrolling the bridge, he came across a man in the process of crawling over the bridge's railing. I grabbed him by the waist, he hardly fought back," said Chen. "I pressed him to the ground. He started to cry."

The would-be jumper was distraught after losing his money to a con man, and believed that suicide was the only way out. But after Chen prevented him from jumping, the man realized he still had a lot to live for – his wife and children. Because the man was now penniless, Chen gave him enough money for bus fare to return home to his family.

"In a time of crisis, all people really need is one person willing to lend a hand," Chen said. "It could make the difference between life and death."

Shi Xiqing, another would-be jumper, who is now one of Chen's best friends, agrees. "This bridge needs people like him," Shi said. "Without him, I would not be here today."

SONG: The Part Where You Let Go by Hem

BOOK: Secret of Letting Go by Guy Finley

POEM: Today by William Stafford

The ordinary miracles begin. Somewhere

a signal arrives: "Now," and the rays

come down. A tomorrow has come. Open

your hands, lift them: morning rings

all the doorbells; porches are cells for prayer.

Religion has touched your throat. Not the same now,

you could close your eyes and go on full of light.

And it is already begun, the chord

that will shiver glass, the song full of time

bending above us. Outside, a sign:

a bird intervenes; the wings tell the air,

"Be warm." No one is out there, but a giant

has passed through town, widening streets, touching

the ground, shouldering away the stars.

QUOTE: "Smile, breathe and go slowly." ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

Give Yourself to Love (Kate Wolf)

From yesterday's poem featuring Grace:

"But Love and Grace took Glory by the hand,

And built a braver palace than before."

So... today: Love...

SONG: Give Yourself to Love by Kate Wolf

BOOK: Teachings on Love by Thich Nhat Hanh

POEM: The Nearness That Is All by Samuel Hazo

Love's what Shakespeare never

said by saying, "You have

bereft me of all words, lady."

Love is the man who siphoned

phlegm from his ill wife's throat

three times a day for seven

years.

Love's what the Arabs

mean when they bless those

with children: "May God keep them

for you."

Or why a mother

whispers to her suckling, "May you

bury me."

Love's how the ten-year

widow speaks of her buried

husband in the present tense.

Love lets the man with one leg

and seven children envy no man

living and none dead.

Love

leaves no one alone but, oh,

lonely, lonelier, loneliest

at midnight in another country.

Love is jealousy's mother

and father.

Love's how death

creates a different nearness

but kills nothing.

Love

makes lovers rise from each

loving wanting more.

Love

says impossibility's possible

always.

Love saddens glad

days for no bad reason.

Love gladdens sad days

for no good reason.

Love

mocks equivalence.

Love is.

QUOTE: "Love one another and you will be happy. It's as simple and as difficult as that." ~ Michael Leunig

Big Yellow Taxi 2007 (Joni Mitchell)

"In order to be optimistic, you have to be irrational" ~ Joni Mitchell - god, I love this!

Two CDs (one *by* Joni and the other *about* her) being released the same day (today!) - guess you can guess where I'm headed immediately after work (zippity... :-)

[ADDED 9/25, 7:15 p.m.: Since Starbucks is basically the reason this new Joni disc saw the light of day (no pun intended), I figured I’d stop at the one directly on my route home from work to buy Shine – I walked in, looked on all the counters… and the music carousel... and didn’t see it. I asked the nice young barista and he looked puzzled… and then apologetic – “we definitely have the CD, but I just forgot to put it out!”.

I politely but emphatically told the guy, “this is a very big deal – it’s been ten years since Joni recorded an album of all-new material. Starbucks all over the country were celebrating the occasion today between 11 a.m. and 2 p.m. - I can’t believe I am the first person asking for it, at 6:00 p.m. on the release date.” He pointed to a 7” x 9” poster confirming what I had just stated – rather than treat me like an obsessive-compulsive fan, he seemed to understand. He called someone else to staff the register while he went in search, coming back with one for me and a handful to display front and center, temporarily replacing something else – I then asked him what they’d be doing with the poster after today. He slipped it out of the frame and gave it to me – I grinned… broadly…

As I was paying for the CD, as well as a venti Pumpkin Spice Latte (cinnamon freak that I am – yum!), I made sure to get eye contact with him, placed my hand over my heart and said, “thank you so much” – he smiled back… and I’d like to think maybe he’ll do a bit of PR the rest of the night/week/month on this most auspicious musical offering (or he could very well get lots of mileage talking about the old hippie chick Joni freak nutcase that came into his store earlier tonight… :-)

I listened to the first song, an instrumental, on my way home and just wept at the beauty… of the notes and of her gift to us – it’s definitely Ms. Mitchell’s "voice", even without the words… and I am so looking forward to hearing more...

P.S. I'll go up to Best Buy later to get the new Herbie - he can wait...

From the Joni Mitchell website:

On September 25, Starbucks will host an intimate "Lunch and Listen" event to celebrate "Shine." From 11:00 AM to 2:00 PM, more than 6,500 Starbucks stores in the U.S. and Canada will participate in the event by playing "Shine" along with a retrospective of classics which have made Joni one of the most beloved singer/songwriters of our time. "Shine" will be available at Starbucks locations and traditional music retail outlets in the U.S. and Canada on September 25 and in global markets the week of September 24. "Shine" is already receiving glowing accolades from the press, check out the library for all the latest reviews.

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

Head over to the LiveDaily website and be one of the first to hear Herbie Hancock's Joni tribute, which the New York Times says "delivers an intimate reinvention issuing from someplace deep inside the music." Describing the great work of Herbie's core band on the record (Herbie, sax genius Wayne Shorter, drummer Vinnie Colaiuta, bassist Dave Holland and guitarist Lionel Loueke), the Times goes on to say:

They also support a handful of vocalists, ranging from the wistful young singer-songwriters Corinne Bailey Rae and Norah Jones (on "River" and "Court and Spark" respectively) to the spectral poet-songwriter Leonard Cohen ("The Jungle Line"). Tina Turner takes a mesmerizing turn on "Edith and the Kingpin," while the Brazilian jazz singer Luciana Souza offers a respectful "Amelia." Then there is Ms. Mitchell herself. "If she's not a jazz singer, I don't know who is," Mr. Hancock said. "Her phrasing on 'Tea Leaf Prophecy' is unbelievable."

SONG: Big Yellow Taxi 2007 by Joni Mitchell

BOOK: For a Future to Be Possible: Buddhist Ethics for Everyday Life by Thich Nhat Hanh (Author), Jack Kornfield (Afterword)

POEM: Testimony by Rebecca Baggett (for my daughters)

I want to tell you that the world

is still beautiful.

I tell you that despite

children raped on city streets,

shot down in school rooms,

despite the slow poisons seeping

from old and hidden sins

into our air, soil, water,

despite the thinning film

that encloses our aching world.

Despite my own terror and despair.

I want you to know that spring

is no small thing, that

the tender grasses curling

like a baby's fine hairs around

your fingers are a recurring

miracle. I want to tell you

that the river rocks shine

like God, that the crisp

voices of the orange and gold

October leaves are laughing at death,

I want to remind you to look

beneath the grass, to note

the fragile hieroglyphs

of ant, snail, beetle. I want

you to understand that you

are no more and no less necessary

than the brown recluse, the ruby-

throated hummingbird, the humpback

whale, the profligate mimosa.

I want to say, like Neruda,

that I am waiting for

"a great and common tenderness",

that I still believe

we are capable of attention,

that anyone who notices the world

must want to save it.

QUOTE: "Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime, therefore, we are saved by hope. Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history, therefore, we are saved by faith. Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone, therefore, we are saved by love. No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our own, therefore, we are saved by the final form of love which is forgiveness." ~ Reinhold Niebuhr

When I Go (Dave Carter)

Dave Carter: August 13, 1952 - July 19, 2002

K and I got together today for our annual Dave Carter labyrinth walk/remembrance/seize-the-day ritual - we meet halfway (meaning we each drive about 30 minutes) to a lovely retreat center. The labyrinth is in the back of the property, fairly isolated, and our tradition is to sit on the benches for an hour or so, catching up on each other's lives - we then walk the path, mindfully, me giving her a 5-minute headstart so as not to crowd. It always seems to take me the entire journey toward the center to clear my mind, as there's just so much swirling and competing for attention. The return walk finds me cleansed and open, tabula rasa - the storm that threatened all afternoon waited until we were finished to let loose (thanks, Dave... :-)

Our tradition is to then drive into the town of Delray Beach to find an interesting restaurant, where we drink a glass of wine, share some appetizers and chat some more - we discovered a very cool Asian bistro this time, trying their shrimp/veggies tempura and their chicken dumplings (yum!).

My story of Dave Carter begins in the fall of 1998, when I began reading articles/reviews of an up-and-coming songwriter who was winning all sorts of contests and had just released a CD, with Tracy Grammer, his "partner in all things" - I found out they would be performing at a folk music conference I was attending in February 1999 and was intrigued enough to make a point to go to their showcase (actually three of them), where I promptly fell in love with Dave's smart, layered lyrics, Tracy's violin and their combined harmonies. I wasn't able to buy the CD until six months later and continued to be enthralled - saw them again at Falcon Ridge 2000 and not too long afterwards got a call from their agent, asking if I would present them in May in my just-begun house concert series.

I drove down to Main Street Cafe, where they were playing the night before my show and met Laurie, the proprietress (more on her another time) - Dave and Tracy performed in my living room the following evening and it was a magical time I'll always remember. I saw them at Falcon Ridge a few months later and the next spring they came to West Palm Beach with Joan Baez, who had become enamored with their music, even covering one of Dave's songs - Dave was very sick that night and, when I had a chance to chat with him after the show, said he'd see me in July at Falcon Ridge, as usual. He suffered a heart attack and died a few days before the 2002 festival, a month short of his 50th birthday (see my post of a few days ago) - a reliable member of the folk community posted the news, at Tracy's request, to their online discussion group that Friday afternoon... and it was difficult to believe but impossible to ignore...

My husband was out of town that weekend and I wept for hours, inconsolable - a dear friend (also a fan of their music) called and "talked me off the ledge", keeping me company on the phone for more than three hours, as we both tried to process the idea of a world without Dave Carter. The folk community was devastated - amazingly, Tracy insisted on going to Falcon Ridge, where a beautiful tribute was arranged (when their mainstage set was supposed to have taken place), with many folk artists covering their songs. Tracy said she couldn't imagine being anywhere else except in a place where they were so loved and she knew she'd feel strength and support - the entire weekend was surreal...

My post the day after Dave's death barely scratches the surface of everything he meant to me and others - he was dear, he was special and he is so much missed, even five years later...

WALKING MEDITATION by Thich Nhat Hanh

Take my hand.

We will walk.

We will only walk.

We will enjoy our walk

without thinking of arriving anywhere.

Walk peacefully.

Walk happily.

Our walk is a peace walk.

Our walk is a happiness walk.

Then we learn

that there is no peace walk;

that peace is the walk;

that there is no happiness walk;

that happiness is the walk.

We walk for ourselves.

We walk for everyone

always hand in hand.

Walk and touch peace every moment.

Walk and touch happiness every moment.

Each step brings a fresh breeze.

Each step makes a flower bloom under our feet.

Kiss the Earth with your feet.

Print on Earth your love and happiness.

Earth will be safe

when we feel in us enough safety.

SONG: When I Go by Dave Carter

BOOK: The Hero with a Thousand Faces: Commemorative Edition by Joseph Campbell, introduction by Clarissa Pinkola Estes

POEM: If You Knew by Ellen Bass

What if you knew you'd be the last

to touch someone?

If you were taking tickets, for example,

at the theater, tearing them,

giving back the ragged stubs,

you might take care to touch that palm,

brush your fingertips

along the life line's crease.

When a man pulls his wheeled suitcase

too slowly through the airport, when

the car in front of me doesn't signal,

when the clerk at the pharmacy

won't say Thank you, I don't remember

they're going to die.

A friend told me she'd been with her aunt.

They'd just had lunch and the waiter,

a young gay man with plum black eyes,

joked as he served the coffee, kissed

her aunt's powdered cheek when they left.

Then they walked half a block and her aunt

dropped dead on the sidewalk.

How close does the dragon's spume

have to come? How wide does the crack

in heaven have to split?

What would people look like

if we could see them as they are,

soaked in honey, stung and swollen,

reckless, pinned against time?

QUOTE: "Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life." ~ John Muir

Wildwood Flower (A. P. Carter)

My friend Maryanne was on the front page of the Miami Herald two days ago... or at least the rare orchid she discovered was - how f*cking cool is that? (rhetorical question... :-)

"Rare ghost orchids found near Naples
A mysterious plant found in Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary near Naples was found to be the exceedingly rare ghost orchid.
BY NICHOLAS SPANGLER, nspangler@MiamiHerald.com

Recently a woman took a walk in the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary and discovered a ghost orchid in full bloom.

This was not an everyday or even an every-year occurance. There are not many ghost orchids on the planet. Fewer than 1,000 are known to be growing wild, and their locations are, by and large, kept secret by the botanists who study them.

This is because ghost orchids have a habit of walking off in the bags and baskets of orchid enthusiasts. They can be sources of profit or private enjoyment.

Maryanne Biggar wanted neither. She was looking for owls.

In the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary, 20 miles outside of Naples, she walked down a boardwalk that winds through sawgrass marsh and some of the state's last remaining old-growth cypress forest. There she stopped to scan the tree canopy.

Owl-spotting may well be a more rewarding activity than ghost orchid-spotting, because ghost orchids are virtually invisible except when they flower. They do this infrequently and irregularly.

They are fiendishly difficult to cultivate, and occur naturally only in Southwest Florida and Cuba. Even here they are hard to find. While researching The Orchid Thief, author Susan Orlean spent months tramping the backcountry and didn't see a single one.

On this particular afternoon Biggar spotted a gray-brown barred owl with its head tucked into its breast, napping. And something else -- a spray of brilliant white on a bald cypress tree 150 feet distant, perhaps 60 feet high on the trunk.

The spray turned out to be nine flowers, each as big as a child's palm, with narrow petals and a broad lip from which descended two long tapered tendrils. The flowers seemed to float in space, not unlike hovering ghosts.

Biggar, who runs a gardening business in Homestead, knows her orchids better than most. But her walking companions -- husband John Ogden, a chief scientist at the South Florida Water Management District in charge of Everglades restoration, and their friends Jean McCollom and Mike Duever -- are all research biologists.

''I just knew they would all pooh-pooh it,'' Biggar said.

It was, after all, improbable. A series of frosts in the late 1980s and early 1990s killed many of the Corkscrew orchids. Some survivors were stolen by enthusiasts.

And Mike Owen, a botanist from the nearby Fakahatchee Strand who may know more about ghost orchids than any other man alive (he was featured in Orlean's book, and the character based on him meets an untimely death in the movie Adaptation), has said he's never seen a ghost orchid taller than 23 feet tall, or with more than three flowers.

NATURE'S GAMBLER
That any ghost orchid exists at all anywhere on the planet is improbable. It is the compulsive gambler of the plant kingdom, evolutionarily speaking. ''Every one has gone through a gantlet of improbabilities,'' Owen said.

A ghost orchid seed will likely die if it's not infected by a particular strain of beneficial fungus. It will likely die if there's not enough peat to nourish its giant cypress host. It will likely die if there's not enough water in the slough below to saturate the air and mediate temperature swings. It will likely die if the tree canopy isn't dense enough to shelter it from the wind and desiccating sun.

Even if the ghost orchid has covered all these very long bets, it can be pollinated only by a giant moth that flies only at night.

''The survival of the ghost orchid as a species is completely dependent, as far as we know, on one species of moth, the giant sphinx,'' Owen said.

The giant sphinx moth feeds only on two kinds of flowers, moon flowers and ghost orchids, Owen said. 'It has a six-inch wingspan and a six-inch proboscis. It's sometimes dubbed `the flying tongue' . . . and it's flying around the swamp at night trying to detect these flowers.''

The flowers emit what Owen unscientifically but poetically dubbed an ''odoriferous chum slick,'' stronger at night, to attract the giant sphinx moth to their nectar. It sticks its tongue deep inside the flower to reach the nectar, picking up a packet of pollen in process, and then it ``sips up all that high energy sugar that fuels its flight to the next flower, like jet fuel.''

Owen has cataloged more than 300 ghost orchids at the Fakahatchee Strand; around 600 are in Big Cypress and about 60 are in the Panther Preserve. Nobody knows how many are growing in the smaller Corkscrew Swamp.

So everything had to go exactly according to plan to cause this particular ghost orchid to come into being 30 to 50 years ago (judging by the extensive root system); and at some more recent point a view-obstructing cypress branch had to fall; and Biggar had to visit during a particular two-week span of an irregular blooming cycle, so a woman on a walk on a rainy Saturday afternoon could see a flower. The word for this is serendipity.

''If you spend a lot of time in the woods, you kind of know what's there, what to expect,'' Biggar said. ``You're looking for that little blip that's out of the ordinary.''

She stared at it for a while. Then -- scared of losing the flower for the forest -- ``I took my shoes off and pointed them in a line with where I was looking.''

When she told McCollom, the scientist did not pooh-pooh. ''She was more than ready to believe,'' Biggar said.

John Ogden looked at his wife's face. ''She had this look -- real excitement. Amazement,'' he said. ``And she had that I told you so look. She's good.''

EXCITEMENT BUILDS
They went back to McCollom's and Duever's house and celebrated with cocktails. E-mails went out that afternoon to South Florida's small but hardy band of wild orchid enthusiasts. The Fort Myers News-Press reported the story; The AP picked it up. The blogs followed.

Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary volunteers had trained a telescope on the flowers so that visitors could see them in perfect detail. The number of visitors -- which drops during the sweltering summer months -- has surged.

Sanctuary manager Ed Carlson noted that the ghost orchid isn't the only pretty flower in the Swamp -- ''Our hibiscus are vermilion and big as dinner plates, our sunflowers are like gold,'' he said -- but even he seemed a bit awed.

''It's unprecedented,'' Carlson said. ``I don't know a better word for it.''

More maddened enthusiasts are on the way, rumored to be flying in from all over. The flowers, up for now, will drop off over the next week.

Carlson is welcoming everybody, but he took the precaution of moving infrared cameras normally used to detect panthers into a protective perimeter around the flower's host tree. "

SONG: Wildwood Flower by A. P. Carter

BOOK: Ghost Orchid, poetry by Maurya Simon

POEM: Eager by Kim Garcia

Above the snow, a single maple holding forth

its dying flame. Among the feats of Nature:

the wild

greening from dry bulb, sour alchemy of rot, a rusty

handprint of lichen;

the eager

space-seeking species springing up after fire,

as though they took no lesson from destruction

but to begin again, twice as joyful.

QUOTE: "May our heart's garden of awakening bloom with hundreds of flowers." ~ Thich Nhat Hanh