MN Trip

Matt took me to his hometown of Litchfield, MN this weekend. I met his parents. Celebrated his brother's 40th birthday. Saw the homes in which he grew up and his old stomping grounds. It's a sweet, peaceful little place at the foothills of the northwoods. I adored all of it--his family, the town, the time. And no stop in that area would be complete without checking out the world's largest ball of twine...

 Check out all of that snow!

 With the lovely Miss Ella Knott.

The drive home was white knuckle, windy, and blurred. But we got out just in time and missed the worst of it. Plus, this was my view.

While unwinding from the trip last night I picked up the Tao Teh Ching and highlighted these lines:

"Is it not because he is selfless that his Self is realized?"

"When you are lacking in faith, others will be unfaithful to you."

"The world is a sacred vessel, which must not be tampered with or grabbed after. To tamper with it is to spoil it, and to grasp it is to lose it. In fact, for all things there is a time for going ahead, and a time for following behind ... A time to be up and a time to be down."

"How do I know the ways of all things at the Beginning? By what is within me."

And my favorite from my reading: "Thirty spokes converge upon a single hub; it is on the hole in the center that the use of the cart hinges. We make a vessel from a lump of clay; it is the empty space within the vessel that makes it useful. We make doors and windows for a room; but it is these empty spaces that make the room livable. Thus, while the tangible has advantages, it is the intangible that makes it useful." This passage struck me, having just come back from seeing Matt's hometown--all those solid, tangible things that made up his childhood history. There was a beauty to them because they were part of his history. And as for matters of the heart--all those intangible feelings that are rooted there and that define and birth our words and actions--it is the love in our heart that makes the world around us meaningful.

Bobby McFerrin - Don't Worry Be Happy

After I drop Fisher off at school today and Phoenix at her aunt's, I'll be heading up to Minnesota with Matt to meet his folks and his brother. I think my sensitive Fish is a bit worried about me not being there to pick him up from school, even though I assured him his dad will be there and he'll be there early to get him. So I thought of this song and played it for him. He's been listening to it non stop ever since. Here's to a happy weekend...

Love

I haven't had a whole lot to say lately because I'm not wrestling with questions. My heart is full. I'm the happiest I've been in a long time. It feels like my whole chest is smiling and peaceful. So I am giving in to this euphoria, held like the moonlight in a clearing of woods. That place on top of the hills you drive by and imagine pulling over and running up to. I am a fire on a beach. I am the smell of pine trees. The sun and moon and breeze on a face. A creek you walk along. Simply profound things that silences tongues, leaving nothing at all to say but love. And even that word doesn't seem to gather all the breath in you. But I don't want to think too hard about another word, I just want to be here in it. So here's to each and every one of you, here's to the world--I send love.

A Poem On A Tuesday

It snowed again. The cold front has returned. So here's one of my poems inspired by winter:

Snowed In

It was so pretty, wasn’t it—waking to winter’s

first snow spread out like breath on roofs and lawns.

Like a ghost—occupying chairs, flower pots, and tops

of cars. Shin deep. Soft and seemingly weightless

as a kiss of air, or a thousand kisses.

But tree limbs creak and buckle under such harmless beauty.

Backs ache into the lean of shovels, the kids go mad. And you,

standing there in the silvered wind with all your thoughts—

your fears and wonders and unspoken loves

wheezing in your mind like so many kisses.

What will it cost you? Your thinking

is a leaded blanket smoothed over your shoulders.

It is the sap in your bones. The blinding light

of sun across a white expanse, hallowing eyes.

Innocent yet enveloping.

Casey Lord 

Randoms

I was on a mission yesterday to give my kids the kind of winter day that it's been too cold to have of late. We started with sledding, and then went on to this...

 A snowperson, complete with Mohawk. Finally the temps were right to make for good ol' packing snow.

 That'd be Fisher in his bigfoot costume from Halloween, which he likes to wear in place of a snowsuit and go tramping around the neighborhood making bigfoot tracks in the neighbor's yards to, as he says, give them a scare.

 We even fit in a road trip before nap time. We drove to Newton to check out the Maytag cheese dairy farms. Despite coming inches away from crashing into a deer that came out of nowhere and crossed the road, we had a nice drive listening to music real loud and watching the farms go by. I can't help but belt out the lines to one of my favorite "The Head and The Heart" songs, titled "Heaven Go Easy On Me". It goes like this: "Is it that the good life is a simple one, sittin' in the lawn chair watchin' leaves go by. Readin' good books and playin' songs. Watchin' the wind blow through your front yard. Don't follow your head, follow your heart." Those words fill me with a kind of contentment. Because they're true. Because I have an affinity for wind. Because if you can't be right with yourself just sitting in a lawn chair then nothing will feel right for you. Because it's that simple. The dairy farm tour by the way isn't all that fascinating. You don't get to see the production side of things. Just a real short video and tour. But I'm sure on some level even the clipped version of the cheese making process gave them a new appreciation for when we're walking down the cheese aisle at the grocery store. It's good for them to see where things come from, and how.

After naps Fisher constructed some ramp out of a cardboard box and came up with a game where he dropped a ball down it to try to go into some random items he found--a boot, a jug, a nest. He gave himself prizes, including some foil that was packed into a ball that he found somewhere in a grave of toys. When I said "oh, you get a foil ball" he said "no, it isn't a foil ball" and then ripping it in half, "it's a broken foil ball." Somewhere in those words is a poem. Finally, we ended the evening with a trip to the fish store so we could become fish people.

 

 

 

 

 

 



Iowa Historical Museum

Yesterday I took the kids to the Iowa State Historical Museum and I kept wondering why I hadn't been taking them there more this winter. It's free. It's educational. They loved it...

 From the notes of Albert Lea on his adventure to Iowa.

 Fisher insisted on wearing a tie yesterday.

 The staircase in the atrium--what better way to spend a cold sunny winter day.

 The globe that was once in the lobby of the Des Moines Register.

 After the museum, we went to one of my favorite restaurants--Olympic Flame.

A Humpday Poem

My friend and neighbor, Jay, found this poem by Tony Hoagland as part of the flood facebook with poetry deal that I participated in. It's such a fine poem that I am including it here:

"Personal"

Don’t take it personal, they said;
but I did, I took it all quite personal—

the breeze and the river and the color of the fields;
the price of grapefruit and stamps,

the wet hair of women in the rain—
And I cursed what hurt me

and I praised what gave me joy,
the most simple-minded of possible responses.

The government reminded me of my father,
with its deafness and its laws,

and the weather reminded me of my mom,
with her tropical squalls.

Enjoy it while you can, they said of Happiness
Think first, they said of Talk

Get over it, they said
at the School of Broken Hearts

but I couldn’t and I didn’t and I don’t
believe in the clean break;

I believe in the compound fracture
served with a sauce of dirty regret,

I believe in saying it all
and taking it all back

and saying it again for good measure
while the air fills up with I’m-Sorries

like wheeling birds
and the trees look seasick in the wind.

Oh life! Can you blame me
for making a scene?

You were that yellow caboose, the moon
disappearing over a ridge of cloud.

I was the dog, chained in some fool’s backyard;
barking and barking:

trying to convince everything else
to take it personal too.

Tony Hoagland

To Be

I've been awake since 4 a.m. and haven't done much of anything. Nothing but some reading, thinking, lounging, staring out the window, and reiki. On Saturday I drove to Iowa City to attend the Reiki level 2 class and ever since I have been the face of calm and contentment. One lesson imbedded in all of our discussions that day is that of TRUST. You just have to trust that you're doing things right--you have to believe in yourself. That is so long as your heart is full of compassion, that your aim is to do no harm. If you practice loving kindness, shouldn't that be enough? That's what I'm telling myself after spending 3 hours of my day not doing, but rather just being. But you know what, it got me thinking this--you don't have to do extraordinary things to be extraordinary. You don't always have to be doing a lot to feel a lot (to feel a sense of wholeness and richness). Travel and grand times and experiences are great, but it isn't a viable option all the time, so to put all of your stock in these moments as the source for pleasure is a disservice to life. They should be felt as a bonus. The key is to be as content with being as with doing.

Let Me Clear The Air

You know what has been the most difficult part of mine and Derek's divorce? Other people. I wish I had use of some political diversion--a way to incite a new topic of conversation amongst those that know us. Sometimes I feel like our divorce has been harder on others, as they seek to place blame and in doing so create drama where there is none. I get that people want something solid, that some things are difficult to understand. But talking about it and contriving issues that aren't present only adds fire. I'm here to extinguish that. I don't feel cheated or abandoned or bitter. The fact is we changed in ways that left us feeling lacking and incompatible. We separated a year ago so the fact that we have both since met other people doesn't seem like a strange, taboo thing to me. I trust the path that I am on, I believe that this is where I am supposed to be. So last week when I mentioned that Derek was on vacation with his girlfriend it was only a statement of fact, not words of resentment intended to make a jab at him. And when I mention this fact whilst talking about being alone for days with the kids it's not because I think he's wrong in going on vacation (I hope to do the same this year), it's because he is a good father and his absence was felt. I still feel like Derek has my back. When my boyfriend was in the hospital, Derek offered to take time off work to watch the kids so that I could go to the hospital and be with Matt. So when I complain about caring for the kids solely for 12 days it's because their father is a big help, and because the weather left me feeling trapped, and Phoenix was sick, and Fisher was testing every limit as 5-year olds do, and because I am still getting used to taking care of a household on my own. People that work outside the home are allowed to have bad days at work, they're allowed to complain. I get the sense that people don't extend the same courtesy to stay-at-home moms. As if we should only ever feel grateful. But it is folly to claim that frustration isn't allowed to everyone. Sometimes complaining about an issue that nags you is healthy because it lets you air it out. And here we come again to the issue of others getting involved--if you were to read my comment that Derek was on vacation as anything but me stating a fact as was intended, then that is you projecting how you think I should or how you would react if you were in my shoes. It didn't come from me. So here lies the seed of the issue of "others". If the words don't come from me or Derek--the only two people rightfully involved in the matter--then be wary. Because others seek to blame, to fuel the fire, to project their own interpretations. I just want to say enough. Stop talking about it. We are fine. Our kids are healthy and adjusted and happy. And really, that's the only answer you need. That pretty much says it all.

Some Excerpts

I tend to read nonfiction books more slowly, so I'm still savoring the book Super Brain. Plus I've been reading a couple of fiction books on the side. And then there's poetry... But this morning I came back to the brain book and was hooked by these words:
"Whatever you pay attention to grows."
"The brain isn't daunted by endless tasks. The more you ask it to do, the more it can do. Your brain is capable of making a quadrillion (one million billion) synapses. Each is like a microscopic telephone, reaching any other telephone on the line as often as it wants."
The 3 heroes of super brain are Einstein, newborns, and the Buddha:
"Einstein used his brain in a way that any person can learn. The key is adaptability...Three strengths [for adapting] are letting go, being flexible, and hanging loose."
"If you want to return to the natural state of health and well-being, be like a newborn baby." [newborns are masters at integrating feedback]. "Remain open to as much input as possible; Don't shut down the feedback loop with judgment, rigid beliefs, and prejudices; Work on psychological blocks like shame and guilt--they falsely color your reality; Harbor no secrets--they create dark places in your psyche; Be willing to redefine yourself every day; Don't regret the past or fear the future."
"If you want to achieve inner growth, be more like the Buddha in your approach to consciousness. Expand your awareness and look beyond the walls [the ego and the pleasures and possessions of consumer society] set up in the mind." Crave meaning, which comes from within. "The greatest spiritual guides exemplify three strengths: evolving, expanding, being inspired."
So my conclusion for today's reading--don't allow yourself to get stuck! Adaptability, integration, and living for meaning are key in keeping us unstuck.

Extreme

It's amazing how warm 10 degrees feels after a few days of below zero temps. Not too far from now (hopefully) it'll reach 50 degrees and you'll see folks walking around in shorts. It's a trick of the cold--after the fall you realize how much you can bare. And after the summer when autumn comes again and temps slip those same folks who dressed for summer in the cool spring won't be holding on to their summer clothes. Even though the temps will be the same, their bodies won't bare it the same. It's as if we don't know what we are capable of unless the rug of comfort is pulled out from under us. I'm not wishing extremes on anyone, but my point is once you are there, that is when you find yourself, your strength, your will. But why do we wait? Why does it take getting knocked down to remind us to live with more gusto? Is the answer that we simply don't challenge ourselves enough in our day to day lives? That we allow ourselves to get stuck? I'm reminded of all those stories you hear from people who've had near-death experiences, how every one of them says this--live every day like it's your last. To take nothing for granted. It's not an easy thing to do when faced with all of our commitments and work and tasks, but maybe it is enough to find one thing in a day that stirs awe in us. And really, it takes hardly any time at all to feel appreciation.

Cleanliness

I remember as a little girl going over to my neighbor's house. Linda was my mom's good friend and lived a few houses up the hill from us. The thing about her house that I remember most of all is the banister. It was so slick and shiny and polished, it shone like glass, and I would imagine sliding down on it. At the time I didn't know what that kind of clean meant. But two summers ago I found out while at a wedding. Linda was there and she was admiring my kids and how I too had grown. And she said this to me: kids are messy--don't miss out on spending time with them by always cleaning up. She told me she regretted worrying over the look of her house and wished she had relaxed more into playing with her two sons and letting them roam more freely without worry of what kind of mess it made when they were young. I swear some days it feels like all I do is pick up and for every one thing I make right the kids make a mess of 10 more. Phoenix is constantly tossing things on the floor. Fisher is forever dragging every pillow and blanket in the house to construct forts. Every day I step on scraps of paper and nubs of crayons and marker caps and string. Unstick stickers from windows. Move the furniture back where it belongs. And now I find myself imagining that banister. And the woman who fretted over it. And what that kind of cleanliness meant. And then I sigh into the moment, letting things be while they are where they are. This is our version of "picked up":

 If you look closer you'll see toys and balloons and bits of randomness under every available option. This is pretty much as good as it gets these days. That art piece of Fisher's taped to the wall in the above photo--that is what he's going to bring to the pool next summer to make the water darker he says. I'm still finding triangle paper cut outs all over the place, and summer is a long way off...

Stay Warm, Stay Sane

I usually like absurdity, be it comedic or artistic or of the natural sort. I like a windy day, a preposterous breeze that seems unceasing--the kind of wind that people try to fight against. You'll find me with my face to the sky and my arms wide letting it wash through me. Giving in to the feel of it, embracing the sheer force of mother nature. But the cold arctic blast around these parts and across the Midwest today is beyond absurd. I won't be venturing out there to feel the whole of it. I'll be here. Inside. With the kids for the 12th straight day alone as their dad has been on vacation in Oregon with his girlfriend. My mind hasn't had a break in days. But fear not kids! I spent some time this morning reading and looking up various brain training exercises so that I can give my mind a good stretch, even if the mad temps out there have me wanting to curl up into a ball. Here's a site I found that has lots of free games and exercises to keep your brain moving...http://www.brainmetrix.com/

Peace and Quiet

Today I awoke at 3 am and it was as if there wasn't a single sound in the world except for the heavy sighs of the dog. And then the kids took turns asking for a drink of water. Even in these quiet hours they want! That's been my week--a constant giver. Yesterday I was interrupted 4 times by them while I was in the shower for 10 minutes. It's no wonder I awoke at 3--my brain told my body it needed some time for peace and quiet and to be aware of it. Though snow covers the ground it's been too cold to do anything with it. And with Phoenix sick all week we've been shut up in the house. But with kids there is no hibernating--it's impossible to mirror the calm of white, the stark silence of chilled wind. Their bodies are not in tune with seasons because there is only one season in a child and that is go! I've found that it is easier on all of us if we do get out of the house daily--it just hasn't been possible of late. So here I am seeking sanity, dreaming of doing, traveling great distance in thoughts so that when they greet the day and start in on their wants it won't seem so loud and inundating. Because the peacefulness we give ourselves blooms within all day like some secret gift. Untouchable by any hands but our own. And how can we be anything to anyone else if we're not in touch with ourselves?

A Poem On A Thursday

I've spent the morning reading poems by Amy Lowell, who lived from 1874 to 1925. I was struck by the camaraderie I felt while reading, the connection I felt to her thoughts. 100 years and we can still relate. Nothing has changed though everything changes! Here's a sampling of her vast body of work:

Patience

Be patient with you?
When the stooping sky
Leans down upon the hills
And tenderly, as one who soothing stills
An anguish, gathers earth to lie
Embraced and girdled. Do the sun-filled men
Feel patience then?

Be patient with you?
When the snow-girt earth
Cracks to let through a spurt
Of sudden green, and from the muddy dirt
A snowdrop leaps, how mark its worth
To eyes frost-hardened, and do weary men
Feel patience then?

Be patient with you?
When pain's iron bars
Their rivets tighten, stern
To bend and break their victims; as they turn,
Hopeless, there stand the purple jars
Of night to spill oblivion. Do these men
Feel patience then?

Be patient with you?
You! My sun and moon!
My basketful of flowers!
My money-bag of shining dreams! My hours,
Windless and still, of afternoon!
You are my world and I your citizen.
What meaning can have patience then?

September, 1918

This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;
The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;
The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves,
And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows.
Under a tree in the park,
Two little boys, lying flat on their faces,
Were carefully gathering red berries
To put in a pasteboard box.
Some day there will be no war,
Then I shall take out this afternoon
And turn it in my fingers,
And remark the sweet taste of it upon my palate,
And note the crisp variety of its flights of leaves.
To-day I can only gather it
And put it into my lunch-box,
For I have time for nothing
But the endeavour to balance myself
Upon a broken world.

The Taxi

When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,
Wedge you away from me,
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?

Amy Lowell