Random Meanderings at Middle Age

No pictures this time I am afraid. I'm writing on my iPad and if there is a way to insert them I haven't figured it out.

For the past couple of months I haven't felt like myself entirely. I've often been queasy after I eat, tired and about two weeks ago developed very intense back pain. I attributed most of this to any number of mundane causes and wasn't alarmed. Last Sunday morning though I woke up to very severe abdominal pain, nausea and a fever. The night before I had had a blood glucose of nearly 500 for no reason and in retrospect I'd been running hire than I should have for several days. My PCP suggested I go to the ER and we did.

Of course, I am who I am. I pulled in comfy yoga pants. I grabbed 3 novels, my kindle, several magazines and my sock knitting and iPad. I took my insulins and glucometer of course. I wore hand knit socks. I claimed I was just making sure I had stuff to amuse me during an anticipated long wait at an ER to be seen, but I think I kind of knew I was really sick.

There was no wait. I was brought directly to a room and bed in the ER and labs were taken, IV started and we knew pretty quickly that something was probably up with my pancreas and that I had an infection going. A quick cat scan (well, the scan was quick, it took a couple of hours to actually get it) later we confirmed I had pancreatitis and was being admitted.

I was in the hospital for almost 7 days. Most of it I was on IV fluids, NPO (nothing by mouth) and initially morphine for what had become the most severe pain I ever remember experiencing. My days were marked by having vitals checked every few hours, including through the night and 3am visits from the vampires who apparently collect their blood then. The staff was amazing and the doctors were surprisingly willing to actually pay attention to what I said and asked. This was a marked change ( the latter that is, the snursing and PCA staff are always great) from the last time I had to be hospitalized several years ago. This time I was allowed control of my diabetes, I just needed to keep a record for them to record.

Pancreatitis is not curable. You basically stop all eating and drinking and support the patient with IV fluids and if needed pain meds. There were other meds to counteract t the lack of food and my inactivity, but basically it's rest the pancreas. Pancreatitis is, most often, as in something like 80% of the time, caused by heavy alcohol intake. I do not drink. The second most common reason, accounting for almost all of the rest of the cases, is gallstones. I do not have a gall bladder. I had a cat scan and later in the week an MRCP (fancy MRI for pancreas) that confirmed the inflamed pancreas but did to see any blockage or stones ( which can happen) in it, despite my lack of gall bladder. At this point I had an epiphany and remembered that one of the newer medications I take, Bydureon ( a weekly injection that helps me use my I skins better in part by stimulating the pancreas), has a huge warning that a small percentage of patients develop acute pancreatitis. I informed the doctors and they agreed it is likely the culprit (although we aren't completely certain).

What's amazing is several years ago they wouldn't have listened to me at all, but this week they were eager to hear my thoughts and researched my concerns. I felt less like an object that was sick and more like an intelligent person that could be a participant in my own care.

That said, no matter now well run, hospitals are not places to heal. They are, as my husband pointed out, MASH units. The job of the hospital is to get you stable and get you out. I never slept at night there except for when on the morphine and then it was only briefly. I blew 4 IV lines, although the IV nurses there are fantastic, it's just something that happens. I really only slept when John was by my side, reading to me (The Princess Bride) and mostly warding off anyone from waking me unless they had to. I had no idea of the weather, news, etc and used skype and FaceTime to stay in touch with the kids. I brought all that reading, but until my last day or two never had the energy for more than a few sentences at a time.

I had visits from family and friends who understood when I wanted to talk and when I didn't.

In all, while I wish I wasn't sick in the first place, it's been an experience full of blessings because it highlights how much I have to be grateful for. Good health insurance of course and good doctors. Amazing family. My mom found a way to visit every day and John was with me and caring for me even while keeping the home front and kids on track. My friends jumped in and took care of my family.

Best of all, I was home in time to curl up on the couch with John and the kids and watch Doctor Who. I was able to finally get an uninterrupted nights sleep and slept until almost noon and woke to a beautiful, sunny Mother's Day, at home. There is a cardinal in the magnolia tree outside my bedroom window. My pink dogwood is blooming. I plan to sit outside for a little bit later and enjoy my garden and the glorious sunshine.

I'm lucky. Everyday I am reminded that I haven wonderful life.

Nap time now though.

here we are again.

I don't know why I let a couple of months go by without blogging. It's possible that with FB and Twitter and Skype I feel I say (or link to others saying) a lot of what I want to online. I know I've started to write about an issue, or post some pics or rant or rave at times and then I lose momentum. It's not as though I'm a big-time blogger with thousands of folks awaiting my every utterance. Still..I've been blogging for over a decade and it serves some sort of purpose. I don't really need to analyze it too much. I like to talk.

Another beautiful and tragic day. On our soil this time and close to home. It hurt. It still hurts. It hurts when it's elsewhere too, but when you see destruction and death and so many injured in a place you know so intimately it's a betrayal. I can't begin to tease out the many,many conflicting issues the events at the recent Boston Marathon have raised. Patton Oswalt managed to sum things up nicely the day after: "So when you spot violence, or bigotry, or intolerance or fear or just garden-variety misogyny,hatred or ignorance, just look it in the eye and think, 'The good outnumber you and we always will.'". And we do. And we must remember to hang onto that goodness and keep spreading it around.

Winter really tried to hang on forever it seemed but spring is finally here. I have tulips and the dogwood is about to bloom an the peonies are starting to rememerge. The forsythia are a shock of yellow (and I don't care how pedestrian they seem to many-we always had them at my house growing up and one of the first things I did when we moved here almost 2 decades ago was plant a row of them by the side of the house).

I've planted some herbs and arugula and am thinking about tomatoes (using hydroponics and nutrients this year if I do). Mostly, I sit out back, watch the birds, read and enjoy the sun and warmth.

I recently began receiving delightful story/letters in the mai: Gray Fox Epistles


Getting real letters,stories,poems and art in the mail makes me so happy. I participate in Postcrossing which is a lot of fun as well. I love social media and the interwebs, but I also love writing with pen and paper and sending it off into the world. really, it's delightful.
Oh let's see, what else has happened? John and I made a trip to western MA and MassMOCA. We had lunch at a great diner (I love the classic Worcester cars).



We stumbled over this house..which I kind of love if it were a single family:

I really enjoyed an exhibit called Painting Between the Lines, at Williams College Museum of Art. It combines my two loves: contemporary art and literature.

Anyway, speaking of art...so the school year is nearly over and suddenly the reality of my oldest heading off to college this fall is, well, real.Last year Neil Gaiman have an amazing commencement speech. In it he says, "When things get tough, this is what you should do: Make good art. I'm serious. Husband runs off with a politician -- make good art. Leg crushed and then eaten by a mutated boa constrictor -- make good art. IRS on your trail -- make good art. Cat exploded -- make good art. Someone on the Internet thinks what you're doing is stupid or evil or it's all been done before -- make good art.". It's so simple and so true. Whenever I've found myself paralyzed with fear, anxiety, sorrow, anger or illness, I try to do something creative because I know it will help me push on. It can be as simple as a doodle or making a collage or quilt or quietly knitting. Sometimes it's the act of digging my hands in the soil and working in the garden. I want Em and her friends to know that no matter what they can always take a breath and create something, sing, dance, paint, whatever and that creation brings a lot of healing with it. I've been sewing a lot more recently and after a dry spell have picked up my knitting again. Just doing that helped push me out of a kind of fugue state brought on by exhaustion from being unwell alot recently.

I'm a big girl. I mean that literally. I am an insulin dependent diabetic and I have arthritis and other joint issues. When I am having acute responses to that I tend to look at my overall size and blame myself and I feel like somehow, if you're the fat person, with an infection or a cold or a bad back or whatever the world just glances and thinks "well what did you expect?". I alternate between being apologetic and being defensive. When I'm defensive I point out that I typically eat less calories a day than many thin people and that I exercise more than many thin people. I don't cut out enough and I probably could exercise more, but at the end of the day I work hard at maintaining my health and ...see there I go starting to explain.

It's a trap women can fall into and a trap fat people can fall into as well. The feeling that you somehow have to justify you're situation or your words or your choices. I don't. I'm pretty assertive most days and pretty good at a fuck-you attitude but I'm human and sometimes spiral into low moments where I just shut down.

Art. In any form, revives me. It connects me to the creative and it reminds me of how cool we can be as a species and then I suddenyly find myself creating moore and exercising more and eating better and smiling more and yeah...Gaiman has a point, MAKE GOOD ART!

I need to wrap this disjointed, barely coherent post up so bring on the bullet points:

I've declared this season of poetry. I love poetry and feel it often gets short shrift in large part because in school many kids came to despise it. Poetry is meant to be experienced in the moment without the need to overthink it or analyze it to death. Lately I've been rereading Rilke before bedtime as well as the work of newer writers.

Kayaking. Soon. I hope. I really need my time on the water, which is a poetry of its own.

Stray kitty. One has more or less moved into our garage.

yeah. I'm done. Bye. I'll try to be more frequent and less discombobulated.

random blizzard.

We had a blizzard. It's been nearly two years since we've had any significant snowfall and this was pretty impressive. 27 inches in our neck of the woods. It's lovely. The storm was well forecasted and good decisions were made by officials regarding road, public transportation, work, school and other closings. This morning John fired up the snowblower to clear the driveway (needless to say the town plows had created a berm as tall as we are at the end) and Noah helped him while Em and I walked and explored a bit. A storm like this tends to bring out two types of snow management theory: those who try to "keep up" and the rest of us who figure we'll wait until it's over to deal with it. Us lazy folks won this storm, as the high winds combined with continuing (until 9 or so this morning) snowfall erased any efforts made. Looking out my window this morning everything was covered in high snow, roads included. Folks can, if they wish, get back to driving after 4p, I plan to knit, read and stay warm.

We prepared by creating cozy nests around the house for ourselves (mine was in a corner of my bedroom, so I could watch the snowfall while reading or knitting), cooking (cranberry sauce, blondies, roast turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing etc) and generally doing the whole cocooning thing.

So, what follows are pics from the past two days. No captions. Click to enbiggen.

Have a beautiful week-end.

For those who care about such things:

What I am reading today:

Shakespeare Wrote For Money, Nick Hornby
, Justina Robson
Shadowhunters and Downworlders, edited by Cassandra Clare
The Innocence of Objects, Orhan Pamuk
The Sun, February 2013
The Believer, January 2013
Wired, February 2013

What I am knitting today:

Little Oak, size 6 months, in Wash Day Wool by Reynolds (Brown, color#30)
Wingspan, in Gina by Plymouth (Rainbow, color #9)

Edited to add this awesome timelapse view of the storm from a friend of mine:

random meanderings through the past year or...

..good bye 2012.

I had all sorts of great ideas for organizing this very belated blog entry, but as always suspect it will be somewhat scattered, not unlike my brain. 2012 was, like any year, a roller coaster...

January 2012

Near the end of 2011 I had traveled to Washington, DC for the Union for Reform Judaism's Biennial conference. Just as I left I learned that my son had mono and a particularly harsh version. I was on the phone with the school and his doctors while waiting for my flight. By January we realized he was going to be out of school for a bit (a bit ended up being until March). Winter was snowless and so for me, endless.

Our traditional New year's Eve spent at home eating appetizers, playing board games and as this picture shows, torturing guests with balloons.

New Year's Day was bittersweet. I was able to see my dear friend Matt Zimet, who had been able to come down from Vermont to visit with his old friends one last time. Matt passed away less than 3 months later from cancer. Our hearts were broken, but spending that time with him at the New Year was a blessing. I have no pictures from then of another dear friend, Akicita, who at that time was struggling to come back to us after a massive stroke at the end of November. However, today, Akicita is home with his wife and while he has challenges he is part of our lives and we are so grateful for that (he may have mobility issues, but his sense of humour remains as sharp as ever!).

Sunsets happen in January, this one in Shrewsbury.

(How Noah spent 3 months or so)

I lied. We got one or two smallish snow falls.

Yes. I made Unicorn Poop. It was a huge success.

In January I managed to get to exhibits at the ICA, MFA and Decordova. I loved that the Decordova was yarnbombed as part of it's show.

February 2012

Sunsets still a thing.

There was a lot of walking in 2012. This is at Walkup in Westboro, MA, a favorite spot.

Bilbo, a White-Faced Cockatiel stumbled into our lives. She turns out to be female, lays eggs (non-fertile as she is our only cockatiel) often and is a little crazy but we love her!

March 2012

Em choreographed an awesome flash mob Purim Shpiel at B'nai Shalom!

Matt passed away, As I mentioned and many of us journeyed to Vermont together say farewell and lend our love and support to his family. It was sad and beautiful and I was at peace knowing he had chosen his resting spot in the woods near his home in the state he loved so much. I think of Matt every time I kayak or hike, anytime I wander through nature. I have the last book he told me I "must" read and he was right..it was a wonderful book. Good-byes are hard.

Sunsets still happening.

April 2012

Em and I rode out the flu together!

Pesach was lovely. It's one of my favorite holidays. This year it coincided with John's 55th Birthday.

Family trip to MassMOCA...

followed by a visit to 8-10 colleges Em wanted to check out. Including Smith College.

MAY 2012

Em received the Star of David Award for leadership and community service from the Israel Bond Society. We were needless to say very proud! She was also inducted into the National Honor's Society as well as the National Art Honors Society. She tends to be a very busy young woman.

Junior Prom happened.

Spring in the garden was especially lush.

June 2012

Sometime in April we resumed our week end kayaking (which by summer was often daily kayaking). This is Rocky Pond. It's small but has a very large floating bog-with Pitcher Plants, Sundews and more!!! I am easily excited by some biomes.

I had a birthday in June. I'm 51. Yippee.

July-August 2012

We returned to Cape Cod for the summer. Em worked as a counselor at Cape Cod Museum of Natural History camp. Noah and Em learned to sail. We kayaked, swam, played board games, walked, enjoyed countless sunsets and fireflies and grilled most nights.

Let's see, moving on to..
September 2012

Kayaking continued closer to home. Here at Whitehall in Hopkinton. Lots of heron and hawks.

October 2012

I climbed a ladder. This might seem somewhat mundane, but the fitness and weightloss program I started in June 2012 led to my increased mobility and there I was helping build a sukkah!

Em went back to Smith for an overnight and came back more determined then ever to go there for college. She sent her early app. on November 15, on December 12 she got the best Chanukkah gift ever, her acceptance letter!!!!!!!!!

Gordo, my friend Greg's dog, was discovered to have advanced cancer. He died just before Thanksgiving after several heroic weeks of medical care at home. He was a dog that thought he was human and we miss him.

November 2012

I visit museums every month. This was from the Decordova in November.

Thanksgiving was spent with my Mom and dear friends at their beautiful new home.

December 2012

So. Now it's the year end. Chanukah happened. Christmas happened. We saw Les Mis, The Hobbit and Skyfall. There was Chinese food and my Mom's birthday celebration (known in some places as Christmas Eve). I baked many, many things and made Apple Cider Caramels. I made my weightloss goal for the end of the year. Noah entered HS and made highest honors, while still gaming daily. Em continues to do all of the things and do them well. John and I are happy enough. The 7 birds, 2 frogs and hedgehog are happy. It's been a rough ride in places but, sitting here in my warm home, fresh snow on the ground, my family close...it's all blessings.

Happy New Year! We'll wake up in 2013.

friday..at random

Despite my continued attempts to deny it by wearing shorts,Ts and sandals-the cooler weather is really here and it's full on autumn. Which is lovely, of course. My roses have exerted themselves for a last push of blooms before winter and every oak tree in the grove behind the house is doing its best to dump leaves on the yard. The color at peak this year was stunning, but I love the colors now-a muted range of brown,maroon and a little yellow and deep reds as the leaves fall. Walking is easier and in an effort to step up my fitness goals and intensity I started a couch-to-5K program, which the cooler temps make much more possible. No worries! I won't be a hardcore runner, my knees and back won't allow it, but this level is good for me-I need to challenge myself a little.

I hope anyone reading this has had a chance to listen to or read a transcript of the incredibly brave and wonderful remarks Lana Wachowski gave recently. She is typically a very private person but some of themes in her (and her brother Andy's) new movie, Cloud Atlas (by the way, read the book by David Mitchell-one of the best pieces of fiction I have ever read), made her realize she could do a lot of good speaking publicly about her experiences with gender identity. If only one person, especially a younger teen or child, realizes that they are not crazy,weird or wrong for feeling "different" than the current paradigm of what "gender" is supposed to be than I think coming out so publicly while likely annoying for such a private woman, was a good thing.
I really believe, as I've mentioned before, that sexuality,gender, and more-many of the things that others might try and box us in with, are truly fluid for most of us. Life is so fleeting and to spend even a moment of it ashamed of how you feel about your own identity is so unnecessary. We all resort to easy labels sometimes because it can give others a handle on who we are, but those labels can also be a shoebox we can't climb out of. hearing Lana open up about her own story was refreshing and beautiful.

Moving briefly into the ever exciting world of politics. Sigh. In some ways I wish it were November 6 already. I've turned off the landline, filled my recycling bin with countless large pieces of glossy cardboard and watched 5 or 6 debates, none of which were really debates. My politics aren't a secret. I support Obama/Biden, Warren and McGovern. I am disgusted by the conservative right's attacks on women's health and their continued attempts to keep people of color and the poor from voting in this election. I don't think that Romney has any clue of how to be president and will run this country from the top down-the rich will stay that way and the majority of Americans will continue to have less $, less healthcare and less education. I believe that Obama and his administration will continue to grow the economy in ways that are more inclusive of all Americans and that he will continue to press for improved healthcare. I also believe Obama will protect the civil rights of all Americans, including women, including the poor and yes, including gay citizens. I'm tired of all the rhetoric though and despite promising myself daily to ignore the crazy, inevitably something pops on my radar that makes me crazy.

I am enjoying a reading bonanza these days, Shadow Unit, Jacqueline Carey's entry into the urban fantasy genre, Dark Currents, Kresely Cole's entry into YA, Poison Princess (I am assuming the explicit xxx scenes she's known for on the paranormal smut world have been toned down here), Charles Yu's, How To Live Safely in a Science Fictional World and a lot more.



This week-end a friend and I are attending a play at Cambridge's American Repetory Theater, Lily's Revenge. A recent letter informed (or possibly warned) us that it will be 5+ hours and involve nekkid people. I was bemused.
That's it for me. Nothing exciting as always.

random autumn goodness

The past few weeks have been crazy busy, but also kind of great for the most part. I'm not saying that we haven't had the annoyances of day-to-day life creep in here and there, but it's kind of a blessing that those annoyances are either fixable or things we can ignore. Perspective is a wonderful thing.

I couldn't possibly write a coherent entry that details everything going on so once again it's bullet points and pictures that are not captioned but relate to the entry. Forgive me.

• I love autumn, as bittersweet as it is to put the kayak to bed until spring, I love the cooler air, the bug free walking, the colors and smells and sounds of autumn. I love transitioning from grilled veggies and meats on the grill to crockpot soups and stews and roasted root vegetables.  In recent weeks I've made apple pies, apple cakes, apple crisps and baked apples.  I've baked bread.  I knit a lot more and I love curling up under a throw with whatever I am reading. It's just a lovely, snuggly time of year.


• Walking. Walking. Walking. As most of you know, I hate bugs, I am almost pathologically alarmed by most bugs and some (I'm looking (or not looking) at you arachnids!) actually send me into small panics.  However, come autumn, especially after the first frost, I can walk pest free on all my favorite trails.  Cold Harbor in Northboro, Mill Pond in Westboro, Mt. Greylock in the Berkshires and more.  I walked over 2 miles on my favorite bike path in W. Boylston along the Wachusett Resevoir. I've watched herons and swans fly and fish. I've seen countless hawks and yesterday a chickadee landed on a small branch in front of me on Greylock, with a view of 3 states behind him.  I climbed a tower. John climbed a tower twice (I left something in the car).  In summer, the heat saps strength but now breathing is easier and the crisp air makes everything look so sharp and crystal clear.








• John and I escaped for a day and in additon to gallivanting in the Mohawk National Forest and Berkshires, we were finally able to see the Oh Canada exhibit at MassMOCA, as well as the amazing Jerry's Map (only there for a week).  Jerry's Map was simply stunning...a work in progress, quite by accident, since 1963, viewing it's current iteration in it's entirety was wonderful and we had a long chat with the artist about his methods and process which was a delight.  He told us how, contrary to how the museum treats his work ( no touching, barriers etc), he walks out and grabs what he needs.  He said his work was not some "precious thing" to be kept from day-to-day life and it's vagaries and mentioned that on more than one occasion a grandchild has scribbled on it with marker or crayon which he doesn't mind.  It was refreshing.  The Oh Canada exhibit will need a couple more visits for me to fully wrap my head around, there were so many artists represented that I am still sorting it in my head.  I know I will put the catalogue on my holiday wish list. That said, my favorite piece was a small white and red yurt with a film being shown inside. The yurt was just big enough for John and I to sit in and watch this very sweet, kind of Moonrise Kingdom-esque, video with a musical soundtrack that had me smiling for a long time.  




• There was a family event (Bat Mitzvah), college visit for Em, school events and more. The High Holy Days happened and for once I was fairly relaxed and open to prayer for much of them.


• Mary Oliver has a new book of poetry out-A Thousand Mornings.  I have been forcing myself to savor it slowly.  I am nearly done with Michelle Sagara's Elantra Chronicles ( 8 written as of this year) and have really enjoyed each one of these fantasy novels.  I hadn't thought something new could be done with dragons, but she's done it! Once finished I hope to read Jaqueline Carey's new urban fantasy, Dark Currents and then finally read Jebediah Berry's, The Manual of Detection.  In the adult ed class I take (along with my husband and son) at shul(the rabbi is teaching a class on SF/F and Judaism) David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas was mentioned-I plan to reread it (again, one of the few books I have done so with-Amercan gods by Neil Gaiman being another) before the movie is released this month as well as his equally amazing Black Swan Green.


• My health continues to improve.  I lose weight at a slow but steady pace and exercise almost daily, often for 1-2 hours.  


• I think I'm done babbling. You get the idea.  Life has been good. May it be so for you too!

simple instructions.

Lately I've been compiling "instructions" for living my life, as written by various writers I admire. Wendell Berry wrote:

“You mustn’t wish for another life. You mustn’t want to be somebody else. What you must do is this:
“Rejoice evermore. 
Pray without ceasing.
In everything give thanks.” 
I am not all the way capable of so much, but those are the right instructions.” 

He also wrote:

“So, friends, every day do something that won't compute...Give your approval to all you cannot understand...Ask the questions that have no answers. Put your faith in two inches of humus that will build under the trees every thousand years...Laugh. Be joyful though you have considered all the facts....Practice resurrection.” 

I've been sitting with his words a lot this week.

I often make the mistake of discounting who I am and wishing I was some idealized version of a person that doesn't exist and even if she did would not be me. Lately though, I've been accepting myself, as I am, more often than not and it's been pretty restful. When I feel overwhelmed or sad I paint or watch the birds at my feeders (or in the house) or stare at the bees frantically gathering pollen from my garden as fall approaches.

For many years, Neil Gaiman's poem, Instructions, has helped me tremendously to keep perspective and my sense of self and wonder. I especially hold dear the lines:
Remember your name.

"Do not lose hope — what you seek will be found.

Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped

to help you in their turn.

Trust dreams.

Trust your heart, and trust your story."

I can remember so many moments in my life, my story, when my breath and heart stopped because I had lost all hope for a happy outcome and then, when I was able to take another breath, and then the next and the one after that..inevitably a path unfolded before me and my deepest prayers, my desires were fulfilled, although not always in expected ways.

Our family motto has always been "ohana means family and family means no one gets left behind ever" and "This is my family. I found it, all on my own. Is little, and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good.". Yes, we stole our family motto from Disney's Lilo and Stitch. I love the family John and I created-we somehow managed to stick to our ideals and values and insane sense of humor and have ended up with a crazy patchwork of love and family that works. We are silly and irreverent and I wouldn't give up any of that for the most perfectly appointed house. I think on some level I kind of love a little bit of mess and chaos, as much as I still love squishing my toes in the mud.

All these words from Gaiman, Berry, Anne Lamott, Mary Oliver and so many others ground me and help me stay focused. Life is so finite and that mostly scares me, but I am scared more at the thought of letting that fear keep me from experiencing life with joy and love.

I'm not sure why I am babbling about this. As always these days, I started writing one of these blog entries with one idea in my head and then off I go in some other direction. I do know that this time between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur I am more acutely aware of my responsibility to myself and to those I love to be as whole and healthy a person as I can be.

Mostly these days, even when I'm feeling all cynical an snarky about one thing or another I am surprised at how much love guides me. I hold close and try to learn from Mary Oliver's words:

“To live in this world, you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go”

Love.

Love.

Love.

Never too much love.

standing here.

Recently I mentioned to a friend that I was letting go of some stuff and moving forward with some of my relationships with a clean slate. The response I got was pretty harsh, I was told that I was basically being a doormat. My first though was to be angry or respond in kind, but it made me think of the larger issue which is one I think we all have.

We equate "letting go" or "forgiveness" with "losing". In most of our daily interactions with people, organizations, etc. we have a tote board in our head marking wins and losses. We've lost the ability to listen to other opinions, other beliefs or ideas that we dislike or actively oppose without demanding they be changed or else. It's a problem. The world is not a place where every situation is optimal and not every problem is something that is so egregious that one must go to battle and then fight to the death. My opinions may not always hold sway and that's really fine.

As our New Year approaches I have made a conscious decision to let go of some past bad blood between myself and some individuals and institutions. I have committed to not letting the past and my belief of wrong done me in the past get in the way of my having healthy relationships going forward. Some of these issues were actually resolved but I have many that never really were and honestly..it's ok. My ego is not so great that I have to be right all the time. More importantly *I* am ok with things not always getting settled. Really? Who cares? Life is short and constantly being bitter about relatively small things is silly.

I am not a child anymore and don't have a child's sense of justice. I understand compromise. I understand that sometimes you just learn to live with mildly annoying things in the interest of harmony. I understand that whatever annoyance I have towards others for this or that, they likely have towards me. I get that to always relive imagined and real slights over and over is a waste of time. Its unhealthy. I have choices. I can move on. I can let go.

These days I have found immense satisfaction and peace, if not a kind of grace, in simply being where I am and allowing the present to be what it is.

I am standing right here.

I am standing right now.

I am breathing in and out.

I am where I need to be.

The past can help me but I don't let myself get bogged down by it and the future is open but I don't let my fears of what it may contain overwhelm me.

So-in a little over a week: 5773. I enter it with joy and optimism and faith.

you do not have to be good...

As the (Jewish) New Year approaches many folks are taking time during the month of Elul to be introspective and contemplative as they approach the High Holy Days. I have been doing this by rereading the poems of Mary Oliver, a few each day and thinking again on how they help ground me in time and space, as well as place me in an emotional place of compassion and tolerance. Over the years her words have helped me maintain my equilibrium through so many crisis, as well as joyful times. She really is my favorite poet.

Today I have been reading her poem Wild Geese:

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

~ Mary Oliver ~

Whenever I am too hard on myself this poem reminds me to step back and place some perspective on my thoughts and on my perception of my place in the world. It reminds me that in order to redeem myself I don't have to hurt myself to make it more "real". The time I spend kayaking or on the ocean is an extended meditation on this theme. I stop listening to the constant chatter in my head, much of it dragging me down and breathe deep, stay in the moment and let myself see the joy and power of where I am now. I often hear her words in my mind "..meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles..Meanwhile the wild geese..."

I wrote recently about how I often feel like I enter this time of year in the wrong way, or I "fail" somehow at doing it right. I get older (and older) and it occurs to me that how we journey through life or approach our spiritual lives is a deeply personal experience that no one else gets to define for us. I love my faith and observe many of the rituals associated with Judaism and yet I do not believe in a personal God. My own beliefs are that what is divine is within us and Judaism is a path I use to honor what's best in me.

So..today I think about Wild Geese, the poem and also the geese I see overhead most days..heading somewhere that their hearts tell them to.

"..summer's almost over and I'm crying but I don't know why..."

I always hear this lovely, bittersweet song by Cheryl Wheeler when late August rolls around. This summer, as my oldest enters her senior year of High School and my youngest begins High School it seems especially apt. Still, it's been a lovely, lovely summer. So much time on Cape Cod, fun with John and the kids, space to reset my health and spiritual self..it has truly been wonderful.

I know that those of you who follow me on FB were subjected to countless versions of this photo. My legs, a book and the porch at the house in Brewster. I love that porch and the saggy old loveseat that fits my back perfectly and became the place where I read novel after novel, book after book, all summer. So much fabulous reading this summer! I traveled all over the world and beyond and to places that exist only in the imagination. I learned about the rise of civil divorce in the UK through a diary from the Victorian age. I was engrossed by gossip about The New Yorker in the Shawn years. I dozed and read The Sun and Cloth, Paper, Scissors and Juxtapoz and the breeze would come through with the sent of pine and sea and it was just heavenly. Some of those books include:
Alif the Unseen
Mrs. Robinson's Disgrace
Age of Miracles
Wild

While for Noah and I pretty much every day was Shabbat this summer (Em and John were working M-F though!), welcoming it on the Cape was relaxed and often marked the arrival of John from "the mainland". Meal and prayers done, we often gathered on the couch to watch Buffy The Vampire Slayer or later in the summer, the Olympics. There were raucous games of Monty Python Fluxx.

Kayaking. My favorite activity of all. Heron, Geese, Swans, Ducks, Turtles, Frogs, Alewife, Perch, Kingfisher, Terns, Seagulls, Hawks and so much more. Paddling through ponds, tidal rivers, lakes and the ocean brings us so close to nature and is such a place of grace amidst the crazy that is our day-to-day lives. There's a pond near our home in Central MA that has one of the largest floating bogs in New England. I can spend hours in that bog, looking at pitcher plants, sundews and other carnivorous plants. We watch otter and beaver. When paddling near Grey's Beach on Cape Cod on the tidal river there we watch Osprey and Egrets and look at the many Fiddler Crabs waving to us from their holes in the tidal channels. One memorable afternoon on Walker's Pond in Brewster we were privileged to watch a young heron chick take short hops from perch to perch as it's parent watched from above. Kayaking also is a place for me to remember and honor my dear friend Matt Zimet who died way too soon this past March. He taught me long ago to love the wild spaces and his descriptions of the many canoe trips he took were an inspiration (though far beyond my less adventurous skills!). Kayaking, I often think of Rachel Carson's words, “Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature -- the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.”

Sunsets. Often at Paine's Creek, although as my health improved and I could walk long distances again we often walked on Linnel Beach at sunset. Every sunset so different but each one perfect.

I surprised myself a lot this summer. I climbed to the top of the Pilgrim Monument in PTown and we crossed much of the breakwater there as well (also at sunset of course). My commitment to getting healthier has brought me to more special places. I can ride my bike again (and so was able to visit the ruins of an old wool mill in West. Boylston recently while riding a rail trail). I love this picture of Em on the breakwater. Being there is like being at the end of the planet...or at least our spot on it.

There was writing and knitting this summer. I went to the annual Bayberry Quilter's Guild show in Harwich and came home with renewed energy and commitment to my own creative endeavors. This past week Noah and I have been working on a silk tie (he did that himself) and tallit (a prayer shawl, we collaborated on that) that he will wear next week at his friend's Bar Mitzvah. It's been a lot of fun. I gathered fabric from my stash and choice a pattern and will soon be starting a baby quilt for my cousin's daughter who is expecting her first child this winter. I'm back to finishing the mermaid quilt I started awhile back. I'm collaging again. It feels good.

Yeah. It's been good. I've babbled on enough because summer isn't over yet and I've got some painted silk to heatset, a paddle planned for this afternoon and some grilling for dinner. I'm reading a great novel and the kids will want more time on the couch tonight as we watch Buffy.

"Who could help but welcome autumn and the promise of the winter snow?
Still there's something sweet and wistful as I watch this lovely summer go
But the sun is sinking sooner and the weeds have won at last
With the berries on the bushes and the crickets in the grass
Oh summer's almost over and I'm crying but I don't know why "