Happy New Year

You know that movie Spaceballs when captain Lord Dark Helmet orders for the ship to travel at ludicrous speed? "Sir, ludicrous speed?!" That was 2013 for me. I experienced so many changes, I grew and learned over the course of weekends what I would normally have experienced over the course of a year. A warp speed of revelations. And now I'm coming into the new year with the feeling that I can breathe again. That the ship has returned to its normal speed and Rick Moranis, smashed helmet and all, is saying "smoke if you got 'em!" It wasn't an easy year, but it was necessary. And the fact is I made it through better than ever. Now I am finally in a place where I can kick back and enjoy things as they come. I've found the source to the longing in my heart and I just want to breathe it, to nurture it like a proper season. Live it. Part of my impatience stemmed from not wanting the bad times to linger--I didn't want to drown there. I embrace whatever I am faced with head on, but so much of what I faced wasn't all that great. Until now. It was a rough year for many people I know--strange how often you seem to face hardships at the same time as those close to you, so even in our struggles we aren't alone. My friend Jess and I always seem to be on par with the emotions that life stirs up. So to her and to everyone else who had kind of a crappy year I want to say this--we made it, and we're only better for it. I believe 2014 will be a year where we can "smoke if you got 'em." I really do.

Life Is Everyone

Last week I watched the documentary "The Human Experience", which tells the story of Jeffrey Azize as he travels in search of an answer to the question "what does it mean to be human?" It was incredibly touching. I cried, brimmed with empathy and love and compassion. It made me want to do better, to volunteer, to love larger, to be nicer. I was particularly struck by the summarizing phrase that "life is everyone." It's a sentiment that I know I've thought about and written about (the connectivity of all our separate lives), but it's another thing entirely to see that idea unfold onscreen. Whether he was talking to the homeless on the streets of NYC or disabled kids in Peru or a leprosy colony in Ghana, it became clear: human beings intuitively believe that life is bigger than what it seems, that we all seek and believe in some type of purpose. And one way in which we do that is by forming communities no matter where we are, by asking who we are, by giving of ourselves. I think the most important thing we can give, even beyond money and things, is dignity. To do so is to believe that every life matters, no matter our differences and stations in life. At one point during the film there was a homeless woman being interviewed who recounted a time when she was starving and freezing on the streets in the dead of winter, overlooked and ignored by all the passerby's. And then 4 puppies appeared, wandering orphaned and aimlessly, and suddenly those people who looked through her gave pause. That's when they stopped--to rescue the dogs. If life is everyone, than we are doing a disservice to it when we don't pay our respects, when we don't see the worth of every human being we encounter.

Celebrating Here

I haven't posted anything on here all week because I've been celebrating the holidays. I gave myself a break and just allowed myself to get caught up in the festivities, large and small. Here's a taste of what we've been up to this week:

 The neighbors invited us to go bowling. Even bigfoot got a taste.

 At Nana and Papa's

 Cousins!

 Sneaking treats.

 The luminaries in my neighborhood--a Christmas Eve tradition.

 The note reads: My name is Fisher (in case Santa got a case of amnesia).

 Fisher unveiled his gift to me--pictures he drew of all the things we've done together over the holiday season. He taped the pics to wrapping paper and rolled it up.

 Checking out his bigfoot robot.

 The lovely Tana was in town from NYC and we spent an evening together. This photo was posted on facebook (as were several of these). But this sweet girl added this comment on there, which melted my heart: Casey Lord, I once met a drummer with one arm (yea, that drummer) who would have told you that the beautiful light/orb above your head in this photo is a representation of your soul!! A lovely soul indeed!! (or, you know, it's just lens flare... but your soul is pretty lovely anyway).

 Wish I could see this girl more often! Love her.

I caught Fisher talking to the tree. And then he got all dressed up in greens and decorated himself.

John Lennon - Happy Christmas (War Is Over)

The absolute best.

Otis Redding - Merry Christmas Baby (Atco Records 1967)

Here's to a merry Christmas Eve!

Live

A curious thing has been happening lately every time I send a text message--when I intend to type love the word live is what appears. I live Thai food. I live the snowfall. I live you. I'm thinking it's no mistake. Because what is a life without love. Isn't everything we do in the name of some kind of love? Peel back all the layers of a day--reason and intent ultimately draw a line to it. All our work and bills and errands, though seemingly mundane and a necessity without attachment to the heart--isn't the driving factor to support the ones we love? Just how much doesn't matter; it's still the same thought. And don't we live what we love when these people and things and places take up residence in our hearts? So these words are interchangeable. To live to love to love to live. And personally, I like the image and feeling that stirs in me when I say 'live'. I live the world. I live a good fire and a glass of wine and conversation with a friend. The word resounds.

Humor Me

I wonder if I've been too intense of late. Too serious. Too attached to my thoughts. There comes a time when everyone is too involved with their own minds. It's time to shuffle the deck, to loosen up. Winter is such a serious time--something about the starkness and bone chill that creates such an edge. I'm all for going inward, for confronting every mood, every trial of the heart. But I also know when to say when, and then to pull back and get unserious. Dance around the house to obscenely loud music, spend some time among the trees, goof off, relax. When I was in college and studying in Leiden, the Netherlands I used to take the train into Amsterdam. It was just a 20 minute ride. There was one night that I was returning to Leiden late, on the last train that ran there. I was so tired I thought I could just rest my eyes and they would open when the train pulled into the station. The next thing I knew I was being nudged awake by a conductor. In Luxembourg. On an empty train that was parked for the night. In a station that was closed. I remember thinking of all the other passengers on that train and what I must have looked like asleep like a pile of bricks as one by one they had to pass by me to exit the train at the stop that should have been mine! That kind of ridiculousness. That kind of loosening up. That's what I need.

Surprise

My son Fisher is a worrier. He talks big but when it comes down to it his steps are small. Just yesterday the kids and I went down to the creek to walk on the ice. It was his idea, but when we got there he dropped to his knees and crawled. Worry is always a discouragement. It's a way of boxing yourself in to a small space in an attempt to keep the world out, from letting it get to you too much. Of course there are some things we should worry about, but there are different degrees and I don't believe we should ever let it get to the point of stagnation. The richness of life comes from the experience of all the highs and lows--so many mountains to cross, and of course the plateaus in between. It comes down to trust--if we trust ourselves then we can forge through with the knowledge that we will stop if it isn't right, that we won't break for trying. So recently I posed to Fisher that he should do one thing every day to surprise himself. The idea clicked for him. He'll jump from greater heights and distances, try a food he adamantly claimed he wouldn't like, he'll let go of my hand and try things on his own, he'll stand up on the ice. And every time his face alights with the surprise of accomplishment. No matter how small, it is something. And even if things don't go as imagined, he needs to learn how to face those bumps and bruises that will inevitably come. He needs to learn how to deal and the only way that can happen is to stop trying to build a shelter of worry. Because the only thing that shelter does is prevent surprise and experience and growth. The world happens anyway.

A Poem On A Monday

Though my list of favorite poets may be long, Linda Gregg is up there among them. She is passionate and earthy and precise. Here's a sampling of her good words:  http://www.smith.edu/poetrycenter/poets/theprecision.html

Hearts Beating

After a 5 hour surgery (the doc had to move Matt's osteomy) and all that positive intended space held by readers on here and the many people whose lives have been touched by Matt, he pulled through surgery and is well on the path of recovery. I was able to see him last night--the nurses even let me in to the recovery room when they normally don't allow visitors there, but they made an exception because his surgery was late and long and his room wasn't ready. He was undoubtedly groggy and in great pain, but still able to wink and ask for a neck rub. So I stood there soothing his muscles in this place where people come to from surgery, listening to the nurses delivering the first promises of life to all the patients, bodies stiff and minds confused. When the room was ready I followed alongside his bed through halls and elevators--so many tiny bumps transitioning between carpet and tile and doorways--the faintest of which caused painful movement. So many little things we take for granted being able to bare. And then he was settled in his room and I sat alongside him and listened to his heart beating. It's a sound I never liked to hear, even through the small chests of my kids, because it always struck me how precarious it sounded, as if life is but a delicate thump. It never seemed solid enough of a sound. But after hearing Matt's ticking chest last night, it's become a sound I will forever want to hear--no longer a thing of fear, but a source of reverence and awe.

Hold Space

The most incredible man I have ever met is going into surgery today at Mercy hospital. The reason--to fix up his stomach. It's pretty major surgery--and for this reason and for the fact that Matt has one of the kindest, thoughtful, giving hearts I know I'm asking for everyone reading this to hold space for him today. If you pray, pray for him. If you send vibes, send them his way. If you are the type to think positive thoughts, direct them at Matt. Do what you do with this dear person in mind.

Here's to a successful surgery, here's to a quick and full recovery.

A Poem On A Thursday

A few by Czeslaw Milosz...

Love

Love means to learn to look at yourself
The way one looks at distant things
For you are only one thing among many. 
And whoever sees that way heals his heart, 
Without knowing it, from various ills—
A bird and a tree say to him: Friend. 
Then he wants to use himself and things
So that they stand in the glow of ripeness. 
It doesn’t matter whether he knows what he serves: 
Who serves best doesn’t always understand. 


Faith

Faith is in you whenever you look
At a dewdropp or a floating leaf
And know that they are because they have to be.
Even if you close your eyes and dream up things
The world will remain as it has always been
And the leaf will be carried by the waters of the river.

You have faith also when you hurt your foot
Against a sharp rock and you know
That rocks are there to hurt our feet.
See the long shadow that is cast by the tree?
We and trees throw shadows on the earth.
What has not shadow has no strength to live. 

A State Of Praise

Lately I've been feeling like a buffalo--in the sense that I feel abundance and gratitude. The Plains Indians believed the buffalo to be the most sacred of animals--it was the major source of sustenance and yet it did not readily stampede and run from hunters. As if it desired to give the gifts that its body provided. For this reason the Plains Indians likened the buffalo as a kind of prayer--praise for the richness of life, for harmony, and gratefulness for what was received. I am not running scared, rather I feel utter contentment and honored to be on this pathway. For over a year I had been living in hyper-speed--so many trials and changes and opportunities for growth. I had so much longing! I realize now I was searching for a place to rest my heart. And now--now it's come to find a home and it is peaceful. I've found a place to rest, to be thankful.

A Weekend In Pictures

Jess and I had such a great time hanging out this weekend. Despite the cold, I managed to take her on a tour of several of Des Moines hot spots. She loved it here! Loved the people and options and unique places and look of things. When we weren't touring the town we were lazing at home with good coffee and music and talk. Our weekends together always feel restorative and insightful.

 Phoenix getting dressed up before Jess's arrival. Her latest kick is wearing swimsuits over clothes. I caught her standing on the bathroom counter putting star stickers on the wall...

 Did I mention Fisher is obsessed with playing santa? He really gets in to taking on different personas. If he doesn't become an artist like he says he wants to be I'm pretty certain he'll be an actor. Here we are at the Science Center before we dropped him off at preschool--Phoenix is telling him what she wants for Christmas.

 My turn...

 First night with Jessica!

 Came across this sweet bike rack in East Village--an old radiator.

Night numero dos!

Weekend Plans

Look out Des Moines! One of my best girls will be heading westward to this here city today, slicing her way in a tin box through the cold to spend the weekend with me. I imagine I'll take her out to my favorite sushi joint tonight, then we'll stop at a few of my favorite haunts, and later on sit in the blaze of music for hours and talk about the world and writing and love and doing and goings on. We'll figure out the missing pieces--ones we didn't even realize were missing--the right words only a good friend with a bead on your heart can flesh. Tomorrow there will be much of the same. And dancing--lots and lots of dancing. (And Kristina, there will be missing you--the completion of our triad!) You'll be inundated with pics of me and Jessica once this weekend is through. May all of you find a richness to your weekend...

Incredible Shadows

A friend recently sent me the link to this site which includes the work of two artists who assemble trash in such an astonishing way that when light is shown it creates shadows of people in various poses. I couldn't help but think of the idea that "we are what we consume". The shadows are absolutely incredible and the materials used to make them are utterly gritty and disgusting. But therein lies another truth--we are often clouded to the wake of our consumption. So often we see only what is in front of us and not how our choices mar what we can't readily see. We toss it aside, tie it in plastic bags and let the world deal with it. This is the art of sustainability in a round about way. Have your mind blown here: http://www.thisismarvelous.com/i/4-Amazing-Shadow-Sculptures-by-Tim-Noble-and-Sue-Webster

Excerpts

Instead of starting my morning with coffee and a thought to expound upon I dug into a book I picked up the other day: Super Brain: Unleashing the Explosive Power of Your Mind to Maximize Health, Happiness, and Spiritual Well-Being by Deepak Chopra and Rudolph Tanzi. I'd been wanting to read this for a while and I feel the pull to fill my mind with books and learning--to make that my focus these days. I mention this because my posts might be sparse for the next few days. I'm doing research for future thoughts! Here are a few excerpts from the first chapter:

"One of the unique things about the human brain is that it can only do what it thinks it can do. The minute you say, 'My memory isn't what it used to be' or 'I can't remember a thing today,' you are actually training your brain to live up to your diminished expectations. Low expectations mean low results. The first rule of super brain is that your brain is always eavesdropping on your thoughts. As it listens, it learns. If you teach it about limitation, your brain will become limited. But what if you do the opposite? What if you teach your brain to be unlimited?"

And in regards to biofeedback loops: "Try the following exercise: Look at the palm of your hand. Feel it as you look. Now imagine that it is getting warmer. Keep looking and focus on it getting warmer; see the color becoming redder. If you maintain focus on this intention, your palm will in fact grow warm and red. Tibetan Buddhist monks use this simple biofeedback loop ... to warm their entire bodies."

Back to reading...

A Poem On A Monday

I've been on a kick lately--enjoying the photography of Noel Kerns. I am drawn to his photos of ghost towns, of industrial decay. There is something alluring and romantic about seeing constructions that had once been lived and loved and worked in. A representation of toil and of what it takes to sustain our physical lives, and once they have been used up or something else comes along, it's left abandoned. Small Iowa towns are dying (factory farms and the promise of larger towns and cities have resulted in dwindling populations) and I imagine some day tourists will come visit these areas for the first time. The reason--to see the bones of a certain slice of history. Growing up, I had a friend who lived in the country and near her house was an abandoned trailer. And by abandoned I mean it was as if the inhabitants had just vanished, leaving all the accessories of their lives--clothing, food, containers, books, furniture--behind. We used to think it was some brave thing to go wandering around that trailer, to peek in the windows and even tiptoe through the rooms. I'm not sure why we felt the need to tiptoe around in there, a place unlived in for years, but it seemed like the honorable thing to do in the wake of all those things that had belonged to someone. So here's a poem about that place (which was previously published in White Pelican Review), but first here's the link to Noel Kern's website...http://www.noelkernsphotography.com/

Abandoned Trailer

An uncapped wine cooler,

three sips gone, near the kitchen sink

and dirty dishes, frying pan

on the stove for some ghost

with a hunger. Garbage bags full

on the floor. Raccoon droppings

in overturned dresser drawers.

Women’s dresses, bright make-up

in the bathroom, bobby pins, some

combs. There’s a crow’s nest

by the bed. Broken windows,

target practice holes. Sofa,

lonely chairs.

When they left, they took only

a car and their skin. What release

that must have been.

Front door slapping shut and they

looked back once at home

choked in dust from their tires

feeding open road.

No one remembers them. 

For years I’d wander through their

rooms like a wind and wondered

what air it takes to abandon.

There’s a strong bone behind

hands that quit. A raw heart to change

when so few of us could.

They’re mocking us in their deserting,

or else teaching. All these bits

are nothing. They saw this and ran

through dusty fields to know the sky

under their arms, at their back

like an oath, loose as gravel.

Ripe feet shooting sparks

like waterfalls, the certain miles.

Casey Lord