Mea Culpa/Grato

Well, you know... sometimes even I can behave like a beast.  Sometimes I become overwhelmed by that sharp lonelyache that takes over any sense or reason.  It is a hazard of a life well-lived and a life well-lived on the edge.

I haven't followed a traditional path.  I am not moved by the mores or expectations of others.  I am moved by my conscience; by what feels to me the right thing to do at the time.  I am moved by truth and honesty and a visceral need to live within my own truth.

And sometimes I allow that truth to open wide and flood my space with the whole of its existence as if my life depends on it.  Sometimes at the detriment of others. Sometimes utterances unforgettable; perhaps unforgivable.

So, on this Thanksgiving Day, I offer gratitude for friends and family; colleagues and community who continually offer safe respite for this heart living on the edge of what others may consider the line where white lies are appropriate.  If not for those people who love me and support me in spite of myself, my life would not have the joy it does. 

A Turning Point

I haven't posted here for a while; I haven't had the urge to do it.

If you come here to this small place looking for me, you know where to find me.  I am looking for civil (and sometimes less civil) passionate discourse about to make our communities a better place through our individual actions.

If you like, come by, sit for a spell.  Talk about your world, your vision, your concern, your life.

As I figure it out, I will certainly post where my writing will be.

Namaste

Lush

It's a beautiful Sunday morning.  I'm sitting in my teeny back yard listening to the sound of birds chirping guarding what might be dozens of nests in this small space.  I hear the flow of water in my small pond and listen to the sounds of the city going by.

I'm told the irony of this early spring is the deep snowfall we had on the ground until mid-March.  It kept the ground insulated at around 32 degrees while the temperatures fell into the single digits at night during late winter.  Everything is green and lush in it's late spring beauty bringing new life and growth into this world as we move into summer.

In the cacophony of life, there is a stillness that is unmistakable.

I feel much the same way:

insulated by the quiet and unrelenting winter snowfall
growing in to this stronger and healthier body
breathing life into what is next
feeling a part of the lushness of life

with gifts of great peace and stillness.

.earth.air.fire.water.

Encountering and Emptiness

"The You encounters me by grace--it cannot be found by seeking. But that I speak the basic word to it is a deed of my whole being, is my essential deed.

The You encounters me. But I enter into a direct relationship to it. Thus the relationship is election and electing, passive and active at once: An action of the whole being must approach passivity, for it does away with all partial actions and thus with any sense of action, which always depends on limited exertions.

The basic word I-You can be spoken only with one's whole being. The concentration and fusion into a whole being can never be accomplished by me, can never be accomplished without me. I require a You to become; becoming I, I say You.

All actual life is encounter." ~Martin Buber, I and Thou

This is a passage from one of my favorite books, Buber's I and Thou.  I most recently thought about it while talking with a dear friend about the Buddhist concept of the transient (or impermanent) nature of things and how you enter into relation with anything or anyone after the pain and fear of loss.   Growing up Jewish with strong Buddhist leanings and alot of study, I perceive the transient nature of our experience as the  common I-It experience -- an experience of subject-object and those things are indeed transient.  It is important to accept the nature of the change of our world of objects, people, places, things.  


I think of the concept of Buddhist emptiness more as the I-Thou (or I-You in the more modern Kaufmann translation) relation. We are an empty vessel with the capacity to filled with encounters of people, places, things, nature that extend through all time and space and connect us with the essence and source of being alive.  It is that capacity for emptiness and non-attachment through which we may be clear vessels for the deepest type of experiences.  Some may consider this the purest evidence of God, love, or our interconnectedness.  


Through my own exploration of myself in the light of Buddhist philosophy, I found myself much better able to handle the change, loss, and love of this life.  If we look at the potential of our experience to instead be encounters with all that is, we can move forward without fear and find more opportunity for joy.


Our I-Thou encounters, our moments of most profound emptiness are unique encounters between our hearts and our experience.  They are moments we carry with us through all space and time, expanding our heart, enabling us to better work toward the relief of our own suffering, and that of others.  They are unique to our whole being, our lives and they are the foundation of  our individual worldview.


We may seek to repeat an encounter or to share our transcendent encounters with others.  We must recognize that experience is different for everyone and that impermanence insists that we "may not step in the same river twice."  [Heraclitus] We may seek to influence others by attempts to share what is innately personal, individual, and unique; however, we need mindfulness that our experience cannot be theirs.  We need not fear this because as we look at the world with wonder we remind ourselves that we are empty vessels that can be filled with the vastness of the universe at any time; through any experience.  As we bring loved ones to the places where we experience this wonder, we show them how to be in the world with a full heart, with compassion and courage.
--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..


I have heard people describe that when stepping to the rim of the Grand Canyon, they feel very small in relation to its vastness. In contrast I look at that enormous carving through the red rocks and feel as big as the entire universe and as old as all time, recognizing my connection to that place and to all that ever was there; allowing it, for as long as it will, to fill all space and time in my consciousness.


[photograph was taken in Santa Fe, NM Rio Grande Gorge, October 2005] 

Motion

As I sit reflecting on the stillness of this house, I am at peace with the fact that everything is in a state of change.  In this quiet solitude, I find harmony in the flow of life.

I've Heard the Stories

It took a while, but I started hearing the stories.  Lashing out in public with bigoted remarks; fighting with police officers.  Trying to beat up your husband when you were far too drunk to stand.

I heard the story about how you left when you went back to school.  How you couldn't study your art living so close to him.  How you expected him to be able to take care of everything and not grieve your departure. How you moved back, but into the apartment next door; later out of the apartment, but into a separate bedroom.  Yet, then, you two still occasionally felt the strong desire of years of physical love.

I heard the more he adapted to your abandonment, the angrier you became.  Like a moth trapped in a spiders' web, the more you fought the more you became stuck in the web of your own doing.

I heard the story about how you took a butcher knife and disemboweled his meditation pillow as if it were the heart and soul of your deteriorating marriage.  I heard the story of the friends who provided him creature comforts when everything he had built his life around was physically threatened.

I heard how he left the house with nothing but the clothes on his body, a pillow and a sleeping bag.

I've been there when you pounded the windows, relentlessly, for hours. I've been around to hear you screaming on the phone, threatening to call the police because we were cooking together. I helped him when he lent you his car and you refused to return it for days; sometimes weeks.

I was there twice when you pinned me in the apartment with your car.  And, actually, it was your sister-in-law's car.  I cleaned up the mess when you covered both our cars in dog shit the frosty night before Easter 2008.

You have terrorized him for years.  You have tried to terrorize me for a while.  He worked so hard to build that life with you and you tore it down.

Although you terrorized us both, I did what was possible to help. I cared about you because I care about him.  I'm not there for him now, but I will be there for him for the court proceedings...as will every person that I know that can speak to his goodness, kindness and humanity.

You had everything.  After you left; even after he left he continued to provide you everything you could have possibly needed to the exclusion of everyone; including me.  Still, you relentlessly pushed all of the good support you could have had away.  I'm not there anymore; I'm not sure he's there any more.  I don't know.  We don't talk.  We aren't walking in the same world these days.

I want you to understand: we do create the world we live in through our actions and intentions.   It takes two people to intentionally live in harmony as lovers.  It takes only one person to destroy that.  You created the angry world you now live in.  You did. You're there all by yourself.

Happy anniversary to you.  Happy. Anniversary. To. You.

Mother's Day 2010

"I'm visiting my 37 year old daughter.  Her birthday is on Mother's Day this year.  We're at the zoo and having a great time."

"I'm worried about my girls.  I'm having trouble dealing with my own pain from my divorce and I have a hard time not seeing their world through my pain.  They are reaching puberty and using the separation (I want to go live with Daddy) to hurt me when they are angry."

"I'm celebrating my 60th wedding anniversary this week."

'I'm a new stepmom...well, not really...we're not married, but I love having the kids around.  They call me their "friend-mom." '

"It's been a long time since I've felt any intimacy with my husband.  As painful as it is; it isn't changing.  I can't seem to change yet I can't let go.  I'm afraid."

"I'm missing my mom.  She died last year. I will go to the cemetery and bring her flowers."

"I'm beautiful and strong and I have a gorgeous teenage daughter.  My ex-husband and I have done a great job of letting her know she is dearly loved and providing nurturing environments for her to grow."

"I'm a single mom in love again.  What a wonderful surprise.  It's hard because I've got alot of baggage, but I am learning so much about myself.  My kids and family love him, too."

"I have trouble with my kids.  We don't see each other as often as I'd like...and again, my son cancelled dinner plans; this time on mother's day.  I went to dinner with a friend and we celebrated moms."

"I never had children, but have been pregnant in the past.  I frequently wonder what kind of a mother I would have been.   Menopause is setting in, I will not have children of my own."

"I took my daughter on her first driving practice.  The best present for mother's day is that we came back in one piece and she's getting a little comfortable driving."

"My mom had her 70th birthday on Friday of mother's day weekend.  She had breast cancer a few years ago and is recovered. We are celebrating all weekend."

"I never knew my mom.  I grew up in foster homes and it was really hard.  I still have a hard time thinking about her and my childhood."

"My mom and my mother-in-law had the same unusual name.  They have both been gone for a while, as has my husband.  We had no children, but I always spend this day enjoying dear friendships."

"This is our first mother's day as parents.  We are so far from our families and my husband is in grad school.  Somehow, I can stay at home with our daughter.  She is so beautiful."

"My dad died last year and her baby sister died last week.  I am so worried about her.  She seems not to want to share how she is feeling and I know it must be so hard.  She wanted nothing to do with mother's day celebration, but we were able to plan just the right thing and she had such a wonderful time.  She seems to be feeling better.  She's 93."

"I am a step mom.  The day after mother's day, we get to go see the ultrasound of our first grandchild.  We are so excited.  So excited."

--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..

These are some of this week's stories of moms I know.  As I type this, I am listening to the Diane Reem show on NPR and they are talking about preventing abusive relationships.  I am thinking about all of the women and men I know, their loved ones (family, friends, lovers, children) and how our interactions model healthy (or unhealthy) relationships with people.  It is so critical to model love, compassion, and kindness for our children; to create home as a place of safety, peace, and joy.

On this Mother's Day and during this year, I wish for us all that we can look at our family and friends with eyes of compassion and joy.   I wish that we see the mother in all of us and each take responsibility for our place in this world.

Zenn

Billy Zenn used to be known as Billy Bragg.  Actually, that *is* his name.  I've known him for a while here in Columbus.  Decades.   Bill's wife is Vicky and she's an actress...I've seen her perform in Shakespeare in the park innumerable times.

The last time I saw Billy before tonight was October 13th.  I said, "Come to my house for my soup party...celebrating my husband's life...bring a guitar and Vicky and your friends and join us."  That was at the open mike night at the Thirsty Ear.  One of the city's best and most well known musicians, Billy ran the open mike night.  I told him I'd bring the address for him on the 20th.  I went to the Thirsty Ear that evening and found Billy had a heart attack and heart surgery that day.

I didn't want to pry...hadn't seen him in a long time...I kept going to the Thirsty Ear and when they re-instituted the open mike night, well, it was less than stellar and no sign of Bill.

Uh-oh.

Holding my breath...

Then, I hear, "He's running open mike at a different place -- right down the street from you."  "No shit; that's wonderful."

So I walk to the venue chatting on the phone with a dear friend and when he sees me passing by, he comes out to say "hi."  (Maybe that's just my perception).  I went in, the music was great; crowd terrific and we sat for two hours talking life, philosophy, and of course, diet.

And I find, two of Columbus' music icons have died recently.  I see another who seems to have early stages of Parkinson's disease...a wonderful guitarist and I am brokenhearted at the impacts of sometimes seeing the world from my eyes.

And I realize how fragile life is.

Do what makes you happy.  Be love.  Don't worry about the rest.

wonderful

...and it is wonderful to have a life blessed with so many joys.

hard

It is really hard to feel so brokenhearted...

Reframing

I've been known to remark that change is how we know we're alive.  That having been said, I can't say I really anticipated the change that happened this week.  After just over two years, a very deep love relationship has ended.  It ended over our separate and collective unhealed pain.  It ended over confusion, loose ends and the complications of life as adults.  There is no telling what the love will become from here. It is and was dear.  It was, at times, lovely.  But to put it simply it couldn't continue as it had become.

Single, married, divorced, widowed, single... I've been them all.  I've been having what you might call serious relationships since I was 16.  Since then, if I count them, there have been 8 in these 28 years.  That's an average of 3 1/2 lovely years with some very wonderful men.  It is so strange to think of this particular end and us embarking on our individual journeys of healing and becoming well.  I think about how often people heal together but in this case, at this point in our individual lives, it could not be.

Still, this fork in the road has left me wondering, how does love fall apart?  It falls apart when people find resonance within each others pain.  Either deliberately, through habitual patterns, or a lack of harmony in life styles we might find ourselves facing love loss.  It often isn't simple, but it is caused when one person steps into the other person's field of pain in a way that brings that pain forward. We simply found ourselves stepping in each other's pain too often. We found ourselves needing our individual space to continue to heal.

This separation is punctuated by my leaving my job to pursue work that is more about nurturing, healing and celebrating joy.  This time I have set aside for myself is one for introspection and contemplation about who I am, where I am going and whom I wish to become.  It is a time for reflection on a life: past, present and infinite future. The fact that the future is beset with infinite possibilities for joy is one beautiful thing that I have learned in this relationship.  I recognize I need to also consider this for myself if I am to be a good lover.

Two years ago, I was told, "I want to love you for a long time."  Although, that is clearly true, the love has taken a different form.  It deeply saddens me to see that we have found ourselves here in our separate worlds, but I understand.  I also know that now isn't the time to predict the future of something that is so independent from me.  Although I participate in where this goes, I cannot solely determine who we become.  I can only participate in becoming...myself.

How do I go about finding that kind of joy?

I look back on my early loves and in particular my earliest love -- innocent and joyful. Yes, that ended, but the end was more of an immature whim than working within the shadow of an entire adult life.  And so I look back on that, and find the key in finding that joy is in honoring my maturity while celebrating shared gifts and dreams.

It seems to me that the answer is in the rejuvenating moments of peace and love.  It is looking in amazement through someone else's eyes at the beauty of the world and acting in harmony to celebrate that.  It is creating safety and nurturing care.  When love becomes the business of the day; when it becomes a competition between lifestyles, ideals, goals, knowledge bases; when we get set on our way of doing things or become afraid or distrustful; we lose the ability to nurture and create that place of safety and healing.

Every step forward into the future opens up infinite possibilities if we are truly awake to them. So, in this space of emptiness and loss, I recognize that it is not loss, but an opportunity to become right with myself. This space of emptiness is an opportunity to celebrate impermanence. This space of emptiness is an opportunity to reframe what I want for myself; who I want to be with a lover. I want to offer a place of nurturing safety, of kindness; of compassion.  I want to create a space of beauty that reflects the beauty and joy in our lives and the soft buoying support that moves life forward.  I want it to be a dream space, a learning space and a sharing space.

That's a gift I can offer to myself and, through joyful love, offer myself to this world.

untangling

It's amazing to me how quickly we can become entangled in all of the hopes, dreams and desires of our lives.  Then, when something shows itself to be undesirable, we have become so involved in all aspects of its existence, we lose the ability or maybe the objectivity to see our way to change. 

I think about this when I think about the everything I went through after my husband died.   Undoing all the choices we made together so that I could survive on my own.  Changing jobs, moving back from DC.  Getting sued in the process and giving up a wonderful opportunity that no longer made sense. 

I think about this when I consider what I must do now; no longer with OSFC and stepping slowly out of the field to move toward another that I resonate more strongly with at this point in my life.  I think about the two houses I own, the collapse of the housing market.  I think about my friends here and my friends there and I consider what choice I would prefer to make.

I think about this when I consider my body; my health.  I haven't taken care of myself as I am used to doing.  I haven't been a runner since before my back injury in late 2006.  I haven't done yoga since Mike died in 2007.  I haven't focused on eating and diet and balance in food.  I've regularly had too much to drink since living by myself.  

I think about all of these things for my life and I know that the solution is found in taking it slowly. 

The only way to handle truly freeing yourself is one step at a time.  It's like untangling a fine gold chain that has been sitting in a jewelry box getting knotted into a lump as other pieces are moved in and out.  Take out your tweezers, your magnifying glass and take a look at it.  Start at the knot that is easiest to untie.  You will see the chain slowly unravel, lengthen, regain flexibility and find a new life.  Even if the chain breaks in a weak spot, it can be soldered back together; better than ever. 

And before I know it, I will be stronger than ever. 

Can't

I can't help you if you won't help yourself.

if you destroy what is good
if you push away what you love
if you settle yourself to being in the place
           where everybody else owes you a solution to your problems

where you lose your sense of what is real
to feed the world as you think it ought to be.

I can't help you.  I tried and it didn't work.

That goes for both of you.

44

I had a birthday last week.

If you read my blog, or follow me on Twitter, or are a friend who sees me on Facebook, you might be aware that it was a big birthday.  I gave myself "freedom" for my birthday -- the intent of the freedom was freedom in work, but it seems to be freedom from many things and I think the freedom may be more multi-dimensional than I could have imagined.

At 44, I am stepping out on my own.  I in metamorphosis.  I moving with,  listening to and feeling the cool spring earth.  I'm tentative.  Tentative but clear.

I look forward to the next 44 years to be a spirited existence where everyone and everything I have in my environment lifts my heart and brings joy along with them.  Anything else is and will be unacceptable.  I look forward to getting to know everyone better.  I look forward to weaving our continuum of support, friendship, love and joy.

Consider yourself welcome.  I hope you welcome me into your heart.

Meet Me in the Forest

First step in adjusting to this new world: get out into nature.  So, yesterday afternoon, I went out to Mohican State Park to spend a few hours in nature.

I felt this tired and embarrassingly little-used body begin to spring back to life...a new shape taking form in the old.  I felt the earth beneath my feet and the urge to walk to the end of what civilization and bask in everything it means to feel human.

My greying hair blowing in the breeze, longer than it has been in years; the smell of pines around me.  I laid down in a secluded part of the woods and began to feel renewed.

You remember that feeling when you were a teenager, finally escaping from the confines of your world, stepping out into the woods...brave, unsupervised; naive and sweet.  I felt alot like that, but still carried the wisdom and experiences of these nearly 44 years.  Lying  in the grass, considering every opportunity, every adventure, every experience I want for my life.

I felt peace, stillness and the infinite possibilities that the future brings.

Alright Now

Today is the day I began my true exit from the last 11 years of work, the day I let it all go without a fight.

So, here I am sitting in my exit interview when our Executive Director (an adult), says, "I don't understand why you cc'd me on the resume.  It should have been written to me.  I've been here six months, which isn't very long and I don't know you, really...but you should have addressed it to me.  I'm the Director.  So, when I saw it, I just dismissed you and it."

He kept repeating the same thing over and over.  He heard nothing; offered less.

So today, I breathe a bit easier than I thought I might have with this decision.

It feels good.  Really good moving on to the completely unknown adventure of what is next.

Really good.  It's all right now.

On Men

I grew up more or less as an independent soul, a tomboy; a lover of men.  Yes, I adore my women friends, too, but I want to talk about about men.  At nearly 44 years old, I notice some things -- consistencies perhaps -- about men I love, men who are friends, men with whom I work.

They want to know what your drinking, and they want to have some too.  Doesn't matter if it's morning coffee at the office or a long awaited drink in the evening -- they really want some of what you are having along with what they like.

They love to share meals.  Some cook; some don't.  All eat.  All eat almost anything with joy and gusto from a well charred hot dog to an exquisite dinner in their favorite restaurant.

I remember OSFC's charity bake sale in the lobby of our downtown building...almost with out fail, every man who walked by (thin, fat, athletic, buying, just looking...) stopped, viewed the selection, extended and rubbed their belly commenting on whether or not they would buy a treat.  It was remarkable.

They sparkle when you ask them how they are doing; how their kids are; what's new with their love life; about their favorite hobby.  I think we get so hung up in the mechanics of life, we forget to ask and they revel in it when you do.

They love to be touched.  They bear hug each other; slap asses on the ball field; kiss on the cheeks; love being gently caressed, like to keep close touch.

Women rarely express such gratitude for these pleasures in life.  Too busy nurturing, caring, worrying...organizing....judging; themselves and others.  They learn to set aside these basic human responses. It is easy to set aside your more sensuous side with the typical concerns of the day. Rarely do I find a man who doesn't respond to the simple hedonistic pleasures in life.  The difference must be something in the DNA; something to do with survival.

Something in me says: in the offering, in the giving, in the joy of being received, is the life.

I will strive to keep my eyes open: to see my friends as they are...offer drink, wine, caring, comfort to friends; without filtering the seemingly mundane.

Huh?

This afternoon I caught myself once again wondering, "What the hell is going on here?  What am I doing?"

It's not that I don't have a purpose or don't understand the world around me, but sometimes it's simultaneously so overwhelmingly complicated and so obviously simple that it's hard to wrap words around what it's all about.

That's when the ability to focus on now becomes so important for me.

I have no idea what's next; where I want to be...even what relationships I want to have with family, friends, love...

What I can say is that it is all changing -- morphing into what it always has been.  I guess that is the paradox of life....and I am infinitely grateful to be immersed in it.

Spring

Staring at the barrels of two guns at point blank range can do nothing but change you.  But for me, it jolted me out of complacency; set aside my fear.  I can look at you down the barrel of your gun and give you everything I have on my back.  I am left standing there with my heart, my spirit, my courage.

Let's do the numbers:

2 boys with guns

6 people in the neighborhood offering help

a dozen friends spending time with me in the next week

100s of people offering acts of encouragement and kindness

...who knows how many people hearing the story, keeping their eyes and ears open; becoming more watchful of each other

When the doors of courage are opened, everything changes.  When we look at the world with an open heart, we become more a part of it; more moved by it; more responsible for it.

As I look to leave the security of a state job and embark on my next journey, I know that I can be in the world courageously.  To walk with courage is not to lose fear, but to keep fear in its place -- it's to embrace the world as it is and for all it is.

It is to find ourselves within ourselves and begin to quietly walk alongside our true spirit and to offer the world our gifts.  It is to see the gifts of this life.

So, as the noise of the acute fear, raised blood pressure, increased adrenaline subside I am left with a deep and abiding calm.  A deep and abiding need to live this life as it is.  After all; it is spring.  And this year, my 44th, this is my personal spring...my vernal equinox.

life

2 9-mm barrels pointed at my head today...reminding me of who we all are.  Course, brutal, ignorant.

cold

"Talented" is a wonderful thing; but not related to love, warmth, kindness.  

It's cold.  Like a piece of ice.

I guess I deserve that.  

Feeling life crashing down around me like I've lost all that I never had.  

All that I never had.  

Blown away like not so much a grain of sand, a piece of fuzz or an afterthought.

without love, compassion or kindness.

Empty, but not in the zen way that honors impermanence...but in the hollow way of a life less lived.

I'm reminded deeply of the scars of the life I never lived; I cannot live. 

It may be true that I am not enough for you; but these days make me wonder if I'm enough for me; 

if I'm worth 

the thin wisp

of

an incense stick

as 

it burns into

a pile of brown rice. 

And is that a life worth living?

I don't have an answer for that.  I'm alive.  

I think.

rattles

I think there's a different kind of "death rattles" than the ones you hear about...it's the rattling around by yourself...in the cold fringes of the winter.   No energy to go out; nothing but silence staying home.

It's the way death rattles in this world and knocks her unearthly breaths at your doors and windows waiting for you to succumb.  It's the way the silence sears in to your heart and makes you question anything and perhaps everything you do.

It's the emptiness of no children, no life...even though life may scurry around your feet...like rats scratching, stretching, scraping to find the least bit of nourishment...brilliant creatures, misunderstood...murdered by those who don't understand.

Nothing; no nothing is as lonely as being a widow.  Except for, of course, being a human being who pushes love out of their own life.

Maybe I'm both.