Monthly Archives: July 2013

Gratitude Friday

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1. Creatures great and small. The butterfly that let me take its picture, the bees feeding on my flowers, baby geese and ducks, the heron standing on the edge of the pond, the two moose Eric saw while he was hiking, the two deer we saw on our walk one morning with new antlers covered in velvet, the dog at the gym who wiggled with happy when I pet him, and my Sam.

2. The side front flowerbed, the first one I planted on purpose, the strip of ground between our driveway and the neighbor’s property line. It’s maybe about five years old now, has shifted and filled in, presented the surprise of Rocky Mountain Bee Plants and a Golden Raintree seedling. Some of what has happened there is organic and some because of my intervention, is wild and intentional, and I love the way it looks, gives me hope that with time, effort and attention, the rest of the front yard will grow and develop in the same way.

3. Cucumbers, zucchini squash, and lettuce from our garden. And even though the strawberries didn’t go as well as we’d hoped, Eric ate one the other day, the only berry on any of the plants, and said it was the best he’d ever eaten.

4. Paid work. I had to go in the other day and it didn’t totally suck, and I do like getting paid.

5. Internet friends, people I met online, some I’ve been lucky enough to then meet in person, who are all REAL friends, people who show up when it counts, make me laugh, inspire me to keep doing good and taking care of myself, a genuine tribe.

loftylookoutBonus Joy: Time away, in the green and the quiet, the ability to schedule blog posts so that even though I might be gone I’m not gone gone, no internet so I can unplug for a bit without even having to try, time and space to do nothing but stare out at the view.

LoftyView

Three Truths and One Wish

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bigdlittled04

1. Truth: Death is real. And it’s not always pretty. It doesn’t always happen painlessly at the end of a long, well lived and loved, full and finished life, with the one who’s leaving in a comfortable bed with candles lit and soft music playing and loved ones all around. It strikes those who are much too young, it is sometimes accidental, sudden, brutal, tragic. Sometimes it’s just not fair, not kind, not easy. But no matter how it comes, how it goes down, every mortal will go, be gone. No matter how well we love or how faithfully we care for each other, we will lose or be lost.

2. Truth: I am still trying to figure out how to live in a world where this is true, where what we love will die. Where we intentionally allow ourselves to be wounded, invite it, where we strip completely naked and hand the one we love the sharpest knife. I have seen death, understand it, have even felt a sort of peace in that moment of letting go, knowing that loved one has been released from their suffering. And yet, I am still trying to figure out how — how to fully surrender to this truth, accept it, stay open to it. Love unbound from form can feel almost like rage, running wild with the desire to smash and burn and break and scream, longing mixed with a strange confusion that insists someone must be to blame, must be punished, so much fierce energy with no place to go.

3. Truth: We are here now, together, and that makes all the eventual pain worth it. As much as I grieve those I have lost, I would not give up the time I had with them in order to avoid this suffering. And there is so much about this life to love. As I was reminded by one big heart today, when I reached out in my confusion, “and yet laughter and yet barbecued chicken and yet a glass of cold water on a hot day, Louis Armstrong, fresh raspberries,” and another reminded me that Winnie the Pooh says, “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

Magic is all around, waiting for us to notice and be amazed. On our walk this morning, a butterfly, busy feeding on a flower, let me get closer than I’ve ever been and stayed still so I could take a picture. Ram Dass says “we are all just walking each other home,” and when I can remember that, when I can slow down and see the vivid color and surprise of a butterfly, I feel myself soften, feel the whole tight knot begin to unwind.

One wish: That we stay awake, rather than denying or disconnecting, that we recognize our limitless potential, that we stay open to the connections that heal us, notice the magic and cultivate the medicine.

We are all just walking each other home.