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.