Kitty Bop

In these cool late summer days, I wake up early. Greeted by a foursome of playful creatures, I am reminded each morning that my presence matters; that my being present is all that matters.

No need to consider anything else, they bring me quickly to what is now.

Sunday Musings

Today is strange and typical at the same time. It's mostly like the past week, except that my sense of humor about it is miraculously restored. There were times when at my job, the lyric from the Talking Heads' Slippery People ran through my consciousness..."God help us, help us lose our minds..."

Friday night I began fielding calls/emails from Michael's family wanting...of course...money. I haven't ever heard a peep from them since he died except, twice now, to insist on me giving them money. The sense of entitlement is...well...vulgar. More slippery people.

But on the fun side, I'm planting and fertilizing my garden. I also developed a new recipe for a fun cool summer rice.

So, here you go, the description of the summer rice.

Jasmine rice, cooked with a pinch of saffron. Minced shallot and garlic; summer fruit (I used strawberries and mango), cilantro, a bit of raddichio, chopped cashews. A light sauce of tahini, mirin, rice wine vinegar, a splash of sesame oil, lemon juice, lemon zest. If you like it a bit richer, add a some yogurt or mayo. Grey salt (or sea salt); black pepper.

For lunch, I added seared shrimp with garlic and jalepeno but you could also sear tofu the same way for a hearty meal.

In Memoriam

19 years ago today, Kathy Lynn Alley was shot by an intruder in her home. Mortally wounded, Ms. Alley was able to clearly and unambiguously identify her shooter before dieing on the operating table an hour later.

I feel like I know her. I feel like I know the soul that inhabited her body.

10 months ago yesterday, my husband, her fiancee, died as a result a lengthy battle with PTSD and depression. He, who suffered decades of emotional and physical abuse from his parents and then this violent triggering event, never had a chance to experience life as many of the rest of us do.

I often feel like I never knew him...the soul that walked in that body through that life.

Today, I would want my paradoxical knowing and unknowing to somehow find their combined voice. As I light this yartzeit candle for a woman I never met, I reflect on how she has impacted my life...decades later.

My wish for myself:

That I know the strength of my soul; in the knowing and in the not knowing. That I tell the story of how we are all connected; how we are all responsible for one another...in this life.

I know my soul. Today it begins its walk for the lives that could not be.

The Berber has Eyes

Eight of them...All looking at me right now.

Some days I feel completely spent. Today is one of them. Noting yesterday's run -- no, that isn't it. I don't know what it is, but it seems like I've been this way for my entire conscious life. I'm a woman who needs rest and quiet. Not at the end of the day, but at the beginning of the day. At the beginning of this day.

So, I'm here on my king-sized platform bed listening to AnteMeridian on www.wcbe.org and I look up noticing Orange, Pauli, Higgs and Jae all in the circumference of this room...watching me. Do they sense my need for rest? Do they wonder if I am I alright? Do they have the capacity to consider their losses this year (Goldie, Poppy and, of course, Michael) and project my apparent listlessness into the future?

I don't think so. I think they're just watching so they don't miss any action.

I like to think that I'm resting so that I don't miss any action. I certainly can't project any of my experience into the future. I can just exist in what is now. I do believe that finding stillness in now is essential to my wellness.

...and the plush Berber (it's 30% vegetable oil) is almost as comfy a place to prepare for what's next as this bed.

Waay tooo looong

Funny [sic] what it sometimes takes to knock sense into me.

Last night I participated in a rather disturbing conversation regarding the loss of my job just over two years ago. Went to bed upset, awoke upset, drove upset, participated in a charrette...yeah, you got it...upset.

But the state of my mood (or maybe just the act of putting words to my frustration) seems to have had a positive effect. I did get up at 4:45 am and not dawdle out of the house. I did get to the place I needed to be. I did eat healthfully all day long. I did come home and fix a meal rather than snack. I did go for a run. I did not drink any wine (though there's still time). ; )

Snuck it in there... you read it...YES -- I DID GO FOR A RUN. A mile and a half. Outside. For the first time in over two years (and I cannot actually remember how long but at least that long) I went for a run. My firing, the back injury, the death, the move (okay, all four moves), the house, the job...the excuses.

Today for the first time in over 28 years I didn't have the steam to run 2 or more miles. I could feel my flabby gut, chin, neck, face, biceps, hamstrings jiggling down the road for a nice, slow 15 minutes. I could feel my breath out of sink, my heart beating in my chest, my aches and pains...I could see the blurriness from the early stages of my cataracts.

As I ran by people half my age...I wondered: Do they know? Do they know how old I am (not)? Do they see me move slowly, but with good form? Do they wonder how I got in such shape or do they think I'm finally starting to exercise later in life? Do they know?

Do I know?

Do I feel more like myself? Absolutely. One mile at a time.

(Gratitude for these lightly used Asics)

My GreenSpot

This past Friday I received my window sticker from the City of Columbus, designating my home as a Columbus GreenSpot. I immediately and proudly displayed the sticker on my side window where passersby can readily see it. I spent the evening working on the house and garden and was pleased to find myself finally feeling that I genuinely have a home; that it is genuinely mine. My colors, my furniture, my animals, my friends, my love. A house filled with life, love, color and beauty...

Then on Saturday, Jack and I were sitting on the back porch when my neighbor stopped over with a bag of goodies freshly picked from his garden...grapes (yes, the old-fashioned kind with seeds), tomatoes, and peaches. My neighbors are friendly, helpful and kind. It is a good place to live. When I think of neighbors, I will always remember the kindness and generosity of spirit of my Cleveland neighbors who were there for me when my husband died; who provided friendship and company in the long days of learning how to move forward into whatever would be next.

Through everything I am grateful. In so many ways, I know I have found home.

The Growl of a Predator

I've been following Leroy Sievers' blog My Cancer for over a year now. By the time I started getting the feeds, he'd outlived the prognosis of his stage four cancer for over two years. He had rallied and regained strength and the cancer had come back in strange and unpredictable ways that had limited and sometimes bizarre treatment options. Today I awoke to a rare Saturday post. I held my breath and read that he died last night.

Leroy was a journalist and had traveled to some of the most dangerous and lifeforsaken places in the world. He was adventuresome and curious; smart and boyish. I enjoyed getting to know him. He considered his work toward health a battle, and used all of the typical war metaphors describing his illness. I wish that we had better language to capture struggle against illness...perhaps it's just life, but that is a subject for another day. Today I honor his battle and that of those who loved him.

I am moved by the strength of a man who last posted two days ago and his wife Laurie who lately posted more often than he. Moved by their love, moved by their fear, moved by their courage, moved by their vulnerability, moved by their humility.

I don't know them, but through this blogosphere, feel connected. In honor of that life and of that blogosphere, I share Laurie's post from yesterday.

August 15, 2008

The Growl Of A Predator

[Laurie Singer sent us this post. Leroy is planning to be back next week].

On any normal day, this would just be a really bad thunderstorm rumbling its way across the summer sky.

But it's not a normal day and the rumbling is more like the growl of a predator stalking its prey.

Leroy's cancer is making its move.

I guess we all knew this day would come. The day when his doctor would say the medicine needs to be stronger.

The day when I would need to be stronger still.

The thunderstorm has passed, but I can still hear the growl.

-- Laurie

Design Paradigm

Working in the field of design day after day, I see two attitudes that are what I would consider the antithesis of good design:

Attitude One: We design the way we do because it is how we set our fees. We are efficient and consistent. We have designed this way for years and our clients are satisfied with our work.

Attitude Two: We design the way we do because we want recognition. We strive to be avant garde and to impress with our signature elements.

Neither attitude values the owner. Neither value reflects the community. So I ask: What new questions do we need to ask to raise the barre for our clients; Ohio's public schools? How might we begin to guide our designers to a place where they are willing to adopt a value system of form following function; of operational efficiency over design efficiency? In what ways might we assist designers in learning that their legacy is formed in the intrinsic and extrinsic value of their designs...not in the bottom line design cost; not in the lack of connection.

How do we use our position to support the new conversations of how we are stronger together?

This is how I approach every day. I approach each day with the goal of learning to be better together.

New

I'm grateful for a restful and loving weekend. It was rejuvenating...and a good preemptive measure for today's activity -- golf.

Yes, you read that. GOLF

Today, I played my first round of golf. All 18 holes with a group of guys from the office. How much practice did I have? Well, not much. I bought my clubs on August 2nd and went to the driving range that day. I'm told that I am not the "best student." A little difficult...not serious enough. I went to the driving range a week later...and today: Out with the guys.

I must be honest, I've been to the driving range twice before -- about 8 years ago. Nothing before, nothing since. That is until August.

How about that? I did well...considering. I actually did poorly, though I had an occasional good shot. I also contributed to our "success" in the scramble. I was grateful for the kindness and support of my team. I'm not really much worse for the wear either.

Except that 9 inch welt on my left shin from falling into an unmarked drain pipe near our very first tee. Hurts like you wouldn't believe. I limped a bit, but I played and quickly forgot about it.

Now that I think about it, I think I'll go nurse my injury with a bag of peas.

Long Week

One EcoCharrette, 2 days of eQUEST training, 1 LEED for Existing Buildings Technical Review, 1 meeting with design principles, 1 meeting with a school district whose design team that is obstreperously struggling with all that we ask of them. Over 500 miles driven; 55 hours of work. I haven't seen my desk since last week. In between the meetings and miles traveled, I've scheduled myself other weeks similar to this.

The question in my mind is: As things get going -- they are just starting to get busy -- will I do well? Will I find a way to enjoy the travel, provide compassionate guidance and direction to the concerned design teams and school districts, focus on my continued growth and find ways to nurture myself?

Or will I simply endure traveling, provide instructions, read white papers and recover from exhaustion?

The second option doesn't seem like much of a life, but it does reflect what most people offer themselves. It doesn't seem like a life that I would take much pride in or wish to share.

I surely hope that doesn't become me. I feel awfully tired.

Political Corrections

Today, like many other days, I crossed the path of someone who was following the money; following the prestige; following the trend.

Sad thing is, like many other people, they were following things they either didn't believe in or didn't understand.

Tomorrow, the curious thing is that, I will meet more people who don't know what they stand for; don't invest in understanding where they are; they follow the money and they follow the trends.

What is my role righting in that?

What is my role for helping that?

Am I a casual observer or do I have more responsibility than that? If I have responsibility, how do I manifest it in a way that encourages positive change.

I guess I'll bring a few pennies...just in case.