26 February, 2012

Boat Street Cafe: Seattle

Anyday, everyday I get to sit across the breakfast table from one of my beloved (adult) children is a wonderful day. So much more so after passing ruby red tulips and buttery daffodils on the way into a cafe to order cornmeal cakes and yet another variation of poached eggs smothered in hollandaise sauce. 

Last year we traveled the West Coast together for 10 days. It was the kind of bliss that happens after one of you have been one of the victims in a shooting and for a moment had your short life flash before your eyes. And you sit in a courtroom watching the perpetrator plead guilty realizing how fragile our lives are in so many ways. How quickly they can change. It makes you want to order extra hollandaise and eat very slowly, chewing each bit many times before swallowing. And make the most of all the time spent together.

12 February, 2012

The sun came out

And then the sun came out, the world was bright and it's beauty was undeniable.  We were surrounded by songbirds of many colors. There were wild turkey strolling under the older pine trees. I saw a fox trotting along the edge of a bog with some sort of animal in it's mouth. Sunday  has become a day of reflection, a time for being rather than doing. A time to stop figuring out problems and attempting to rescue the world. This is a day to take the world as it is with all its pain and transformation. None of this is permanent and the changes can happen so fast that it is easy to miss the moments of pure bliss. Like a string of pearls, yet I catch myself focused on the string, wondering if it needs to be replaced. I lose the story of the pearls, the oysters and the ocean. I lose sight of the suffering, the annoyance of the creature slowly forming deposits around the sand until the pearl becomes luminescent, iridescent. My marriage was never the story I imagined and I found myself living with a man I did not know. I knew little about him when we said our vows, and he managed to hide much of himself during the years our children were small. I lived with a projection of my own assumptions about him, never stopping to gather evidence regarding my beliefs. And as it turned out, he had a long list of secrets that he hid from me. I blamed myself for not discovering them sooner, yet how can one discover something that is perfectly hidden. It is silly to think I should have known he was lying, I didn't even want to know. I wanted my projection to be true and real. Just as I now want his deceit and betrayal to be exposed. The truth may be that no one really cares. And I am determined to care about my life more than I care about exposing his. But how to do that? How to make up a new story of my life. People love romantic comedy and we all believed most of the details of the 22 years we spent together. But looking back it reminds me of a horror story like the pseudo romantic vampire films of recent times. I recoil in disgust, grateful to have escaped the repetition of our co-dependent pattern. Sunlight fading, I pack up my books and walk outside.
I seem to have an insatiable need for solitude and daydreams. I still amazes me that I lived for so long with an extreme extrovert. I come alive in the silence, it is what attracted me to dance when I was younger. Entering college as a theater student I was exhausted by all the words coming out of people's mouths. It seemed to be a distraction from what was really happening in our hearts. As if the words would form a kind of protective bubble around our budding identities.  

05 February, 2012

deja vu, this could be you!

Recently I found myself in a local high school with a group of students and a generous supply of Continental Clay. Or goal was to create as many bowls as possible to be donated to the "Empty Bowl" fundraising event on February 9th, 2012. Overcommitment is how I normally operate in the world. Maybe its due to a erroneous belief that if I don't do it no one will... Or that I can do it better than anyone else. Or, more likely, that my value is increased by the number of projects on my calendar.  My life becomes more valuable as my skills, and experience, increase. Enlightening was the day I broke my ankle and found myself hobbling around on crutches, on pain medication. Or the day I ended up in the emergency room after a nasty cat bite listening to the ER doc tell me I would need to be admitted to spend 5 days on IV antibiotic. My enthusiasm for the empty bowl project is vast. Who wouldn't want to get involved in something like this which can only benefit everyone wishing to build more conscious communities. To include the disenfranchised, marginalized homeless and have a deeper understanding of what homelessness, and long term foster care really means. When we, as a community, abandon our kids, we all pay the price. How much wiser to pay it forward, up front, than to wait until it is a full blown disaster.