A time to mourn, A time to dance

Two weeks ago the call came, my Dad had died. It's been a whirlwind of hurried trip planning, arrangements, family, and goodbyes.

Now that I'm back in the quietness of my home, every moment is accentuated with a memory of Dad. As I write this, I'm watching the sunrise on the cove and the fish are jumping. Dad loved to fish, but I don't think he did as much of it as he talked about doing.

What has caught me by surprise is the realization that I no longer have a living parent. The two people who created me, who loved me from the time they knew I existed as a possibility, who held my hand from my first moments, are gone now. I know they loved me, but to no longer have the physical presence of love is an aloneness that is difficult to explain.

It is a strange feeling I wasn't prepared for.

Just as the earth turns to find the sun again and the day is illuminated with brilliant color, so it is with this darkness. Rays of light create hues that aren't seen any other time. This is a treasured moment of peace and reflection. Mist rises off the water and dew forms on the grass, reminding me that tears are a natural gift of cleansing. The day comes to life. Fish jump, birds flit about, flowers open all reaching for the warmth and light of the sun. I reach to my faith in the Creator for the same.

The work of the day begins just as it does every day. Somehow there is comfort in this knowing that life goes on around me. It sends me into a familiar groove to go on with my life. Then comes a moment that the familiar is changed by Dad's absence, I pause and decide how to fill that hole, then move forward. It is a slow, arduous process. The road will never be smooth, but it will be better for taking the time at each place.

So, as I walk through another darkness of life, there is hope here too.

Way laid by icky ness

Well I had every intention of being part of the poem a day movement. But life had other plans for me. Down sick for nearly a week now, very little writing has gotten done at all. Very little anything has gotten done. Except for cough, blow, groan, drink water/tea, cough.

I have way too much going on to be sick. When do we not have way too much going on for that?
Sometimes our bodies take over and we are forced to stop.

So stop I have. See you all soon. In the mean time, write a poem.

#4  24

There they are again

The same 24 hours I was given yesterday

Waiting for me to make the most of them

And I do, at least I try

Filling every fold and crease in a day

With sweet cream filling oozing out the sides

Until it is ridiculous to keep filling, but I do

Every box filled with multi color dry erase marker

With much calendared event planning

Formal; semi-formal; casual expectations

Cheese Hors d'oeuvere; cheese plate; spray cheese

In decorative holiday forms

When I don't finish every project

Or achieve every goal

I am left feeling guilty and unaccomplished

Like seeing a B+ as nothing but less than an A

Never mind the astounding amount finished

I will only see what is undone

Wish there were more hours in the day

When I should recognize my limit and

Stop.

Bitter and sweet

As long as I live
  I think I shall love and hate
You the most of all

Isn't it amazing how one person can reach such extremes in our feelings. I am trying to remember to learn from all they mean, or meant, in my life. All of it is food for growth in my soul. It is up to me to choose to let the bitter enhance the sweet, rather than consume only the bitter. And consuming only sweet becomes sickening, eventually. Balance in all things.

More than I bargained for, in a good way

     Go. I am in a hotel room tonight. I have brought my daughter to Portland, OR to see her new college. She's in the dorm, I'm in a hotel. Doesn't seem like a big deal, does it?
   
     What is so remarkable about this event is that, I think, it's the first time in 30 years I've been in a hotel alone. I traveled by plane, across the country alone. But I have not been in a hotel alone. I dropped her off; made my way into downtown Portland; enjoyed Powell's Book Store; found this hotel; and here I am.

     I am flying by the seat of my pants on this trip. I, usually, plan every step ahead. This time I decided to wing it. There was a moment when I wasn't sure I had made the right choice. I compounded the problem by trying to find a place to stay in a new fashion, and it wasn't working out. I didn't take the time to learn what the safer areas were, so I found myself in a less than desirable part of the city. So I plugged a fast food place into the GPS and found wi-fi for the price of a fish sandwich. (Note: This place wasn't comfortable, but it also wasn't uncomfortable. Do not stop if you are not sure for your personal safety.)

 As I ate dinner, in a place where I was sure I could see my car from my table, I went with the familiar. I went to hotelcoupons.com and found a reasonably priced hotel, with breakfast. I got the address for Powell's, munched down my fries, and zipped to my car; I did not unlock my door until I was next to it and locked it as soon as I was in; plugged the address into the GPS and off I went.

Powell's is phenomenal. It's a bookstore that's bigger than some libraries I've been to. Then serendipity showed up.

I just love it when that happens.

I was tired and thought I should find the hotel while it was light, "Just go lock yourself in a safe hotel room and write. Use this time away from the house to work on the poetry." my safe self resigned.

Then I saw the sign for a presentation by Haroon K. Ullah, at 7:30 pm, this evening. Mr. Ullah is the author of "The Bargain from the Bazaar: A Family's Day of Reckoning in Lahore" You know I'm a sucker for a chance to hear directly from an author. I stayed.

What impressed me about Mr. Ullah is that this extremely intelligent, well educated gentleman is very rooted in his small, eastern Washington up bringing. His presentation was engaging, informative, entertaining and intelligent. Not at all pretentious or condemning. This book is in my que. If you have ever wondered how the average person lives in the violently political, war torn world; read this book.

My book budget was spent on Wednesday's book purchase at the Hedgebrook Literary Series. I will either get this from the library, or wait until next month to purchase it.

Today's message of Hope:
1) Push through the panic and go, the gifts that are there are worth the trip.
2) None of us are alone in our concerns for a better life.
3) Don't let the fact that you can't buy something stop you from going. If I had, I would not have had the opportunity to shake the hand of a gentleman that put himself in the heart of, truly, life threatening situation to show me (and you) that we are all human.
4) Know how to use technology to bring the plan together
5) Hotels make funny noises when you're alone. When you assign the reasonable explanation for them, they're not scary. Annoying, but not scary.
6) Some risks turn out yummy, my hotel has a hot breakfast. I'm going to sleep so I can wake up and enjoy it.

I think my wings just got a little stronger.

Lessons from the Penguins

A friend posted a video of penguins sliding on ice and even falling down several feet of rock then standing up and shaking it off.

I would have thought that penguins would have developed grips on their flippers to prevent this from happening. Instead they have thick skin and strong, yet flexible, skeletal structure.

It got me to looking at my own failings and strengths. Where do I look for stability, where what I have is resilience? Why don't I see that as strength. It is not that I won't fall, but that I am strong enough to get back up. That is it's own kind of strength. Perhaps there are times when I am more careful, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't try.

So, what ledge have I avoided because I fear the fall? Submitting my writing? Taking the next class to get my degree? Organizing the paper work? Taking a real look at what's left undone?

Letting go of the stuff has been easy, so far. It's been stuff with no real meaning to any one. Now I am going through things that give me pause to think of someone or some time. These things are harder to let go.

Coupled with the discouragement of realizing, for all I've done, not one room is finished.

It's been tough to get motivated to do anything. Ironic, isn't it.

So I do a little, for some is better than none. 10 things.
1) The junk mail that never should have made it in the house, out to recycling
2) The beans that refused to cook, out to compost
3) The sale items that people said they would get, but haven't arranged for.
4) The paperwork from work that has to be kept, but not in the office, boxed
5) Bathroom cleaned
6) Seed starters assembled and put with garden tools
7) Books searched on book buying site. Those they'll take put aside. The rest in the car to go to the library.
8) Dishes put away
9) Sale items taken out to the garage
10) Blog written

Done. Going to go enjoy the day.

Some days you can scale a cliff. Some days you fall on your tail and have to bounce back up and start again.
Both are days of strength building. Shake it off and go on. Lessons from the penguins.

Encounter the Art of Conversation

Sometimes I think moving would be easier than cleaning out. There is so much to do. Every accomplishment seems to be followed by another point of disarray.

Discouragement is a black cloud that moves in fast, then stops. Make life dark and cold and uninspired. How do I keep going? What is the motivator that gets the breeze going to move that cloud along?

It is a clearly defined goal. Just like a business, you have to have a mission statement to focus on. "I want a clean house" is too vague. What do you want to do with your home?

Mine home mission statement is: "To have a comfortable, inviting space to welcome friends and encounter art."
Art for me is the art of conversation, book readings, house concerts, perhaps even a small exhibit.
But that's not where I started. When I began this mission the goal was to be able to walk through a room without having to step over something. The mission is ever changing.

I am excited this week. I am going to call a local charity to pick up a bunch of stuff. I'm boxing it all up now. Letting go of not only the item, but the idea of selling the stuff. I am, finally, able to let things go without having to make money for bills. It is an amazing feeling.

More than two years this has been my life. Now life is changing. Even positive change can be difficult. But I'll get through this too. I have built a firm foundation, I'm ready to build a new home for myself, even if it is in the same house.

Today, clean out 10 things. Throw away, recycle, give away, sell 10 things. Then, tomorrow, do it again. It's amazing what will happen.