Showing posts with label mayhem musings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mayhem musings. Show all posts

Monday, May 9, 2011

slow down

Is that even possible?

At the moment it doesn't seem so.

Case in point: in the midst of this completely overscheduled weekend (is that three in a row? more, less? I can't even conceive of my past few weeks at the moment), I showed up at a housewarming. My friend whose new home we were warming, took one look at me and laughed in that Aw, are you okay, you look pathetic way. Then I walked into the house and saw a couple of other friends. One took one look at me, threw her arms around me and said, "Are you okay? What happened?!"

I turned to everyone and said, "I made it here, but if I don't go home now and lie down, I won't make it through the rest of the weekend."

Okay, moms who have given birth, especially naturally, you know that point you reach when you've been in labor for hours and you know you don't have it in you to push that one more time, but then the urge comes, and you feel like dying would be so much easier than to do that one more push and you're too tired even to cry, though you feel like that's all you want to do, and you can feel yourself slipping practically into unconsciousness?

That's how tired (minus the painful labor) I felt standing in my friends new home, surrounded by caring women. Thank goodness. They got it and said, It's okay, go home and rest. Hugs, and I was gone. I pseudo napped for a couple of hours with Mr. Cynic on the opposite sofa, old Twilight Zone episodes - funny, huh? - in front of us. And then the rest of the family came home and it was time to go go go to the next events of the evening, and I'll tell you more about everything as soon as I have really recouped and can find pictures, etc. For now, I need to get ready to go to the dentist. again. Wish me luck.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

weepy

I'm having a weird week. I wake up every morning feeling very weepy. I want to put it down to exhaustion and possible perimenopausal stuff.  It's odd, like a biological impulse to cry. I don't feel sad or anything, just as if I will burst into tears over the slightest thing.

Then there was Toots's Preschool Art Show this morning and "Muffins with Mom" event, where I received a bunch of little hand and footprints accompanied by sweet little rhymes.  I swear they're trying to kill me with the cute. I couldn't even read the I leave my Handprints everywhere out loud for Toots when I unwrapped it, without catching a lump in my throat and my eyes becoming inexplicable fountains.

Tonight is Mr. Cynic's high school jazz choir - the one that was Grand Champion in the Myrtle Beach regional competition - Spring Concert.

Help.

I will need a large box of tissues.  I couldn't even make it through my niece's dance recitals over the years. I suppose I can just bring Captain Comic and Toots and go into parental management mode. Nah, it'll never work. Not this week. I think I will just let the tears roll.

Happy Mother's Day to the other weepers out there.

Friday, January 21, 2011

to elaborate

Yesterday, I posted this picture, while talking about how stymied I felt. I think I was going for a sense of reach and didn't quite make it, the branches reaching toward the sky.


A more accurate portrayal of my state of mind would have been to zoom in and depict the tangle of branches crisscrossing, high contrast of shadow and light of winter midday sun - to show the ideas and what thoughts are transpiring regarding what to do with weaving parts of the story together better. Um, rather like that sentence. I really like the way that one little branch in the bottom right quadrant is flinging itself our way from the big branch.



I had another thought while looking at pictures I took from the dunes boardwalk in Duck, NC on my walk toward the Currituck Sound.

See how that foreground tree is kind of leaning toward that little grove of sister trees in the distance? I like her.  She's a nerd.  She's inquiring. she wants to overhear what they're talking about. And that's kind of like my brain trying to listen through the nonsense to what my manuscript is trying to tell me.  It's just out of reach.

But I'll get there, soon. 

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

weekword: christmas

Allie in Wonderland has chosen this week's Weekword, the seasonally appropriate, Christmas. Please go to her blog to see the rest of the participants' creative endeavors. She will post links to all on Friday.


I have to admit, it's coming in like a fast moving train to a deer on the tracks for me this year. I've barely done anything for it preparationwise, shoppingwise, etc and frankly I don't know how I will.

My parents are planning on visiting for Christmas, too.  It's a long ride for them from Connecticut to my out of the way corner of Virginia.  We spent a handful of Christmases on the road to visit my Grandparents in Atlanta and Orlando when I was growing up - and every summer, too.  So I know they can handle the ride, but they are much older now than the 1970s and 80s when we did it together, and I worry. I don't want them to wear themselves out.  However, they are also planning to travel to more than just us.  They are doing a timeshare tour through the South apparently. So why should I worry?  Clearly they are ready for an adventure.


Last week was Toots's pageant for her preschool. They were too cute. While I am not the most singularly religious person around, I am rather spiritually oriented and the tale of the manger gets me every time. Toots is the littlest lamb front and center, with curls and polka dots hanging out of her costume. Please note, my washer was kaput for about a week, and the repair man came that afternoon or she would have been at least wearing pants that weren't too short. The kids were all adorable singing their songs with hand gesture prompts from their teachers.



Tomorrow night is Mr. Cynic's Jazz Choir Winter Concert at his high school along with the other choirs and bands. His choir also sang last Sunday at the above church, which isn't ours. I made it to see them for their first service performance but then I was at ours teaching the youth group and singing at our ordination for the rest of the day and into the evening.  Toots's performance was last Thursday night, so that means, right before Christmas, I haven't made it to the two main rehearsals to learn the music my choir will be singing for the Christmas Eve service.  And that pretty much sums up the way this season has gone since Thanksgiving. Then throw in a nasty cold virus and laryngitis.

So today I am hoping the cards are ready to be picked up that I ordered yesterday, finally, eventhough we had our photo shoot on the same busy weekend described above. Then I have to figure out and shop for Christmas meals, presents for niece and nephews on my side, and great nephews on Honey's side, address a lot of cards, figure out and bake a lot of cookies, still pull the tree and decor for the season out of the attic and well, maybe you saw yesterday's list of lists to get the idea...

But I will bake cookies, by gum!  That's what I do.  I will bake at least gingerbread men and sugar cookies, and I may spiral some snickerdoodles, and then Grandma will likely make her fudge and 'annizette'. Maybe by the time my parents arrive, we will have finished rolling out the homemade lasgna and it will be in the oven baking while I sing on Christmas eve, then we'll come home, eat and.....well, you get the idea.

Oh wait, we still have to put up the lights on the house and japanese maple, too. And I forgot to mention what this season does for Captain Comic's anticipation anxiety...The other night I caught him in a lie and used Santa even though I know he knows now.  His response was "That darned Santa's got me every which way I turn."

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

some days are just like that





Many years ago, I used to doodle a lot - to cope, to meditate, to blow off steam, to sort my head, just 'cause.  Apparently I have started again.  I need better tools, though.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

tired and travel photo


I am exhausted. I think I crashed long after our whirlwind trip.  I haven't been able to muster musings of the trip, though it was jampacked with visits with friends and family, a foot led wander of my favorite city, Boston.


Here is an iconic tourist shot of Copley Square: Trinity Church reflected in the Hancock Tower.  I even captured a Duck Tour in it.  Toots was enthralled with the fountain and chasing pigeons as the adults who walked around with her wanted to collapse in the grass and shade, which we did, taking turns keeping her out of the fountain and off of Boylston Street.

The above photo is one I never would have been caught dead taking when I lived there.  Although, secretly, even then, I loved the juxtaposition of the old gothic revival stone church reflected in the modern blue glass and steel structure.  The difference now, is that I can't just walk into Copley any old time I want and see the changing light of day and season.  That's why I took the photo, because I always did love this particular aspect of Boston, the blend of the classic and modern architecture.  The Victorian flavor of remembrance of things past while looking to the future that is still very much a part of the general character of the city and its populace.  Boston is simultaneously, continuously Colonial through Current, old ships and new museums.

Since I've been back, I have not gone to bed at a decent hour, and not for any good reason. I have been doing heavy gardening and yardwork manual labor, which has been very satisfying, but exhausting, especially in the heat.  I have tried doing things useful and fun with the kids, but not too far reaching.  Before the trip, we had visitors, while wonderful to see, little Baby G did not sleep much during the night, and Little M was a nearly 4 year old ball of energy.  During the trip, Honey and I definitely ran ourselves down, and exhausted Toots, too, by packing too much into too little time.  We tried to not be too ambitious, but, honestly, the trip itself was darned ambitious. The day we left our friends' place in Cambridge for Connecticut, and picking up the boys, poor Toots was wailing protest over everything, very uncharacteristic behavior for her. 

I am past wailing protest tired at this point.  Now I just want to curl up with a good book and escape the world a bit.  I am absolutely grateful to have the boys back home and am enjoying them, but after the current load of laundry finishes, and after doing quite a bit more weeding out back by the broccoli and pepper plants before it gets too hot and muggy, I may just curl up with the book I am currently reading, and disappear into its Belizean rain forest.  It's time for the vacation from the vacation.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Expect Delays Ahead

This was a sign we thankfully only saw blinking on rare occasions as we made our way North to visit my Beloved Boston, friends and family around Massachusetts and Connecticut as well as retrieve Captain Comic and Mr. Cynic from a month with their father. 

However, my head is about as useful as a puddle of cotton candy melting in the rain, so please bear with me as I try to sort out vacation yays and respites along the way.

One beautiful respite happened at Miranda Hersey-Helin's lovely home in MA.  In the late afternoon, kids running around everywhere as a few of the Studio Mother cohorts got together, Toots decided to make a run for it up the grassy slope back toward the house.  Sunlight hit her and the grass just right so Honey snapped a bunch of pictures.  This shot reminds me of Andrew Wyeth's painting, Christina's World - in a good way.  The painting is more heavily wrought with meaning than Toots' climb up the hill is, but I like the contemplative, view from the back resemblance, the long golden grasses, the breeze and sun in her hair.







I know, I said I'd give a full report, but the way I feel after air mattress surfing with Toots between Honey and me for 5 nights running, driving hither and yon, over hill and dale, and walking Boston, etc, then rash watch, I can't do it in one shot.  Not that we didn't appreciate the hosting, we are just still feeling the aftereffects, because we are no longer in our twenties and able to crash on people we love's floors with the same bounceback these days.

So welcome to vacation replay week of highlights. 

Consider it like stop and go traffic on I-95: eventually, progress will be made.

I will also spare you the slide show.

Since we have been back, I have taken Captain Comic to the pediatrician for 2 days running, with two calls in between, for a mystery rash around his mouth.  He is now on a course of prednizone taper with bactroban ointment because between the pediatrician and me, we determined he's having a pretty strong reaction to poison sumac and poison oak from the yard at my big brother's new house.  And Impetigo seems to have joined the party.  They see a lot less cases of sumac and p. oak down here than up north, so first pediatric inspection was a bit un, un, oh I can't think of the word. see?  melting cotton candy brain.

It's actually an old house Big Bro and his significant other are restoring.  There was a lot of brush clearing involved.  And there's still more to go. As we were at a big family picnic for both families, Captain Comic found some solace hovering around the edges of the yard at times, and if he did what he did to my little potted juniper in our driveway last school year while waiting for the bus to come in the morning, then he probably plucked some sumac and poison oak leaves, then touched around his mouth.  Bingo - rash.  Then picked at it, opening a door for an opportunistic bacteria to move in.

Lovely, isn't it?  Glad I spared you the actual visual now, aren't you?

So, please enjoy the shot of Toots. I'll be replaying it in my mind as I find a way to get through the rest of today which includes more laundry and an aspie on prednizone.  That medicine made me insane when I took it for an allergic reaction years ago.  I can only wonder what it'll do to Captain Comic. 

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

A walk


Please pardon the cell shot.

My ankle has not entirely healed, but it's been nine weeks since the original owie, and I'm tired of not walking, doing yardwork, gardening, etc.  It's a torn tendon, and takes time to heal, especially since I'm no spring chicken. 

Heck, I'm old enough to say, I'm no spring chicken.

Mr. Cynic and Captain Comic have been away for nearly three weeks now, and that means, between my ankle and the boys' absence, Lucy has not been walked.

She has started to pee the rug and chew things again, much like when we first adopted her from the SPCA, three and a half years ago.  She chewed my aircast the other day.  I took it as a sign to stop wearing it.

I'm talking about the dog, not Toots, who is in the stroller wearing the Red Sox hat.

After a few days worth of yardwork in the well over ninety degree heat and humidity of nearly one hundred percent, I say nearly, because if it were 100%, it would be raining all weekend, which it didn't, though it should have - horrible run on phrase within phrase, but I'm getting to it, really - I decided it was about time I took the dog and the girl for a walk. 

It is summer after all.

The ankle survived.  Sort of.

We saw a goose on the lake.

We saw lifeguards bored out of their skulls tossing a football across the pool, because it was too hot for anyone to swim, and dark thunderhead cumulous clouds were gathering.

We saw M, our 16 year old neighbor who asked when Mr. Cynic will be back, because the pool is no fun without him.  She was surprised by how much Toots had grown, since she saw her as a newborn.  I was surprised by how much M has grown.  I should have asked if she's driving yet, but was in too much shock thinking how I met her as a tiny twelve year old.

We saw flowers and a low flying jet.

And we scooped a poop and carried it home.







Monday, July 19, 2010

aw jeez

This week entails cleaning out diningroom and livingroom furniture and walls of all breakables, etc before Thursday, because that's when we are having the ugly old carpet removed and new flooring put in. 

Exciting, I know. 

But, when the guys are done with the floor, and move the furniture back in, supposedly all in the same day, we will have a new floor. 

Then early Saturday, couisins galore are coming to visit from Connecticut.  Buckets of baby smooshiemushies and kisses will ensue. Toots is approximately a year younger than one, and a year older than the other, and I believe the youngest outweighs ma petite fleur by half.  At least.

To say he is a chubby baby is an understatement.  I love chubby babies, but I'm not certain I'll be able to lift this one.  I think my back may go out.  But I can't wait to see those dimpled legs in person. 

So, manuscript awaits editing read through continuation at writing group tomorrow as I pack china and crystal away for the tumult of Thursday's reflooring. 

And, once again, you may not being seeing too much of me this week.

Thursday's goal is to be out of the house for the duration, if I can manage it.  What should I do with Toots while the flooring guys are here?  Hint: she's lousy at movie theaters.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

To Kill A Mockingbird

I may be a little late on this, but I don't think anytime is a bad time to celebrate my personal favorite book of all time.  This year marks the 50th anniversary of Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird.

I read this book every summer from the summer I was eight years old, admittedly an early age for the material, but I was more caught up with the stories of Scout, Jem, Dill and Boo than I was with the courtroom. I read it every summer until I was twenty-four.  I know, because I remember where I was that summer, reading it, the smells around me mingling with the smells in the book.  I can smell that stifling chicken wire ham costume right now.  and the Wrigley's Double Mint gum in the tree, and Calpurnia's breakfast.  I have read it periodically since, and always in the summer. When I was a kid reading it, I saw Atticus as a distant yet caring father with a lot on his mind.   The main thing I got from the book, was what Atticus taught them not just by his words but by his actions.



I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do.

~ Atticus

You do what is right, because it is the right thing to do. 

You treat people with respect, no matter who they are, because respect is what you'll get if you do.  And mostly, because it is the right thing to do. 

Just because you can shoot a gun better than anyone else in the county, doesn't mean you go around showing off about it.

And you help those who can't help themselves, because it is the right thing to do.

There's plenty more.  The book is full of wisdom, beauty, life in a microcosm shedding light on humanity as a whole.  An excellent story on every level and there are many, and the writing is so good, straight and simple, I can cry from the opening line.

When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow.

I know it, because I've read it so many times, but the whole of that tale is held in that sentence.  You feel it when you read it even for the first time.  You know immediately, something is up, and it's big.  You just may not know how big it is til you get to it, but it is big.

I think I got my lifetime sense of needing to right the wrongs in this world from reading this book so many times and from such a young age.  I may not have really known what the courtroom stuff was about specifically, but I knew it was wrong to lie and accuse an innocent person of something that was clearly bad.  I knew it was wrong for that mob of neighbors to come to Tom Robinson's jail cell in the cover of night. 

What I love more than anything about this book is Scout's growth.  Narrator Scout tells of her own growth through her childhood fallibility.  She shows how hard it is and how simple it is to see wrong and make it right.  How hard it is to be wrong and have to admit it.  And how much easier the world comes to you once you accept how you're wrong, and do what you can to change it.

I could go on.  I can talk about the kid's adventures, Boo's real gentleness. I can talk about  'a sin to kill a mockingbird', the rabid dog, the relatives, the house burning down, the sitting with the sick old Mrs. Dubose for penance. I can talk about pies, pants caught on garden fence, and the collection tin at  Calpurnia's church.  I can talk about  Atticus's perceptive defense of Tom, the nervous trapped cat sense of Mayella, the snobby relatives, Walter Cunningham, fights, squabbles, making up, and the big brother saving the life of his sister with the help of a ghost of a man everyone fears. I can talk about kids and trains, and a sense of belonging we all long for and think we can find in a simpler time that was never so simple after all.

But mostly I can go read again (and suggest you may want to, too) the most simple, complex, learning tale of a girl, her father, a small town, and the need for justice.  Simple elegant justice, and how even when it seems so simple, so elegantly right, it can still go wrong, because we all, after all, are human, and still learning.

Monday, May 17, 2010

happy crabby

I had a busy and ultimately great weekend, capped by spending some really meaningful time with a group of women, most of whom, I really didn't know.  As soon as we sat together, it became obvious, that these are people I am meant to know.

It's been a long time since I intentionally sought out and planned a deeper level of communication.  It was truly an enriching experience, and a lot of fun getting to know these women. 

I think it is particularly important for woman to set aside time with each other in the midst of our lives, take time out for self and sharing our stories. It's too easy to forget about this kind of taking care of ourselves in our daily this, that and everything else.

I think I'm at a particularly happy time in my life:  I am back working on the manuscript, I have plenty of evidence that I am doing a good job raising my kids, I am still healing from my big surgery in February, but there is a long term feeling of getting better overall.  I keep meeting others who have had the same surgery, and they assure me that it takes a good long time to heal and I should just keep that in mind. 

I don't feel like I have to be in control of everything and force my way through life.  That is a big leap for me.  It brings a level of contentment where I previously had a general sense of agitation.

The crabby part is small.  I ovescheduled myself last week and weekend, and I contracted the cold the rest of my family had last week.  It's just annoying really, but I was on such an upswing, that I feel somewhat thwarted.  I know it's just my body telling me I need to rest. 

And as much as I love a good storm, or cloudy rainy days, the last few nights have been rather sleepless due to huge thunderstorms, and today, when I feel like the best thing for me would be to lie in the sun and read a good book, and the weather is not cooperating. It's wet and grey.  Normally I do love this sort of day, but I really wanted a good dose of vitamin D and sunshine for my irritated throat and ears and stuffy sinuses.


And as much as I enjoyed my busy weekend, I missed my kids.  Mr. Cynic was away on retreat. I was out and about quite a bit, and only saw Captain Comic and Toots in small doses.  I kept thinking I'd rather be at the beach with all of them than what I was doing, even as I enjoyed, getting my hair cut, and meeting new friends Saturday evening and Sunday afternoon.

So I'm already looking forward to next weekend and the hope for fun in the sun with my family.

HHHmmm...what is scheduled? 

For starters, Friday afternoon, I have an IEP Transition meeting for Captain Comic to move into middle school in September. This is the first meeting that we are including him in the process, too.  He is already anxious about the changes to come with middle school. 

Ah, no wonder I feel crabby....but mostly it's the cold.   'Sok, It shouldn't last too long.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

one year

All good things grow. 

And funny enough, I'd almost forgotten about my little blog's anniversary! 

Here it came on the heels of another travelled writer's retreat, which was also a marriage retreat, and a working weekend for Honey and a visit with his cousin and a meet with his fiance. It was a big weekend, but more on that later in the week. 

Since I started this little thing, I have been a lot less of a grumpy puss.  Even if I haven't always been able to write what I want to write, I have kept in practice here, and focussed well on my writing objectives.  I finished the first draft of my first novel and joined a good writing group.  I even started writing a few poems again.  It's been a long time since I felt so inspired.

Toots has changed from baby to two year old.  Mr. Cynic has become a lot less of a cynic, and actually a very nice young man of fifteen, usually.  Captain Comic has really grown in surprising ways, too. Mostly bigger by bounds, but also he has matured quite a bit whether I'm ready to accept that change or not. Honey has remained, eternally, Honey. He is what he is, and that's all that he is... Popeye, notwithstanding, there's a lot to be said for simplicity and dependability.  I think by opposing forces, we keep each other magnetized.

I've been a party to deaths and births and adoptions. There has been a large influx of babies in my wider circle of friends and internet buddies.

My gardens have grown beauty and food and plenty of weeds, er, wildflowers, and even a new hybrid squash melon I called Coleyfruit.

It has snowed a great deal for down in these here parts, which made the boys and me enormously giddy.  It actually stuck on the ground!  We made snowballs!  We made angels!  and we came inside and drank my famous hot cocoa with marshmallows and a lot more cocoa than your average cup.

And the big blue marble has made another journey around the sun. 

Thank you for the regular visits and the odd ones from near and far.  I'm not certain if my farthest visit is from Tasmania, North Greenland, Estonia, Patagonia or Indonesia. However I am thrilled by all the visits from around the globe, but especially those of you who keep coming back to carry on the conversation me and my big mouth start.

Thanks for listening.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Busy weekend, not much sleep

I'm not complaining, but this state of mind is leaving me rather cotton-stuffed between the ears.  So not much to say.  I have things I'm thinking of and a big week ahead, so possibly I will post better in the coming days.  Wednesday should have a big one. 

I was so tired, I found myself blubbering this Sunday about how on Wednesday, "the child who made me a mother turns 15."  As I said it, and as I blubbered, in my head I was thinking, "where on Earth is this coming from?"  and laughing at myself for it.  And then I remembered, "Oh yea, I didn't sleep at all last night!  It's sleep deprivation!"

I have a lot of experience in this department.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Rolling with it

So yesterday's post was a bit of a rant about how things just seem to not be going my way and I have to take a little more charge in order for me to show up on the family priority list.  Today, is another thwarted day for creativity, but I shall try to make the best of it.

Since I won't be able to write effectively, I am making a public list of want to dos for the day.

1. Remove the insane piles of clothes in my room by finishing the switch of summer clothes and actually putting last week's laundry in the appropriate drawers.  Grandma is home today, so I can leave Toots with her and disappear for my own sake and sanity in this endeavor.

2. I think 1 is about enough, but maybe I will sneak the current book I am reading up there with me for breaks in the above and

3.  Maybe I'll sneak in a little journaling, too.  The binding on that thing is getting creakier than a haunted house door hinge. And maybe in doing that, for tomorrow, I'll have freed up enough brain space to actually accomplish an edit or two.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

hhhhmmmm....a deux

I'm still feeling under the weather.  Throat and ears are iffy, but not too lousy.  Some days are more productive than others.  After errands galore yesterday, I ended up just lying down the rest of the day.

Today, I  didn't really feel like getting up and out to go co-lead the youth group at my UU church. But we had a really good communication lesson about active listening, and all the teens seemed to really get something out of it. 

And I was dubbed 'cool'. 

They like me, they really like me!  (just riffing Sally Fields's oscar speech)

And Mr. Cynic said, "Of all the moms I know, you're the easiest to get along with." Publicly.

*heart all aflutter*

I must be doing something right.  

I played The Violent Femmes for him on the way to and from church.  Music lesson in cool for the day.  I thought he would like them for the bass heavy leads, and had to discuss lyric content.  The kind of lyrics most parents would not likely proudly share wth their impressionable youth.  He got it. 

Friday, April 16, 2010

Today's plan

is to plant the phlox I bought yesterday.  They look lovely in the pots I purchased  strategically placed around the bushes and side of the house where I want them to be in the ground. 

But after last night's spontaneous girls' night out adventure loaded with laughs and friends, and making new friends and generally having a ball, after yesterday's relatively perfect day of lack of planning leading to gardening and then some, I may just lay back down in the chaisse lounge out back with a book and my red sox cap pulled low over my eyes, after I settle Toots down for her nap.

(please settle down for nap, Toots, please, oh please oh please?)

I think I need one, too.  I was up way past my bedtime.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

wishing ocean

I am wishing ocean
the weather is there
and then it is not
the summer glimpsed
then the wind picks up

the ocean the ocean
the summer breeze
the ocean the ocean
calls to me
the rain threatens
the temperature drops

please summer come
and all this teasing stop

the ocean calls
and I must swim
the ocean calls
and leads me in

the swirling waters break
around my ankles
and come together again
rise to my knees, my waist,
I dip my hands in

take a deep breath
and plunge wholly in,
holy in the water
fresh salt on my lips
the scent of the tide
as I break surface for air

the ocean ebbs
the ocean flows
and with it
all of my woes.

she takes me in,
and out I rise again.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

This excites me




Isn't this what it's all about?

Monday, February 22, 2010

a sprinkling, a spattering

Just a few random things, like snapshots, but not.

Sunday's weather was gorgeous here, over 60.  Captain Comic entertained himself playing one of his made-up giant monsters, Ulmaragon, in the backyard for hours.  At one point, Grandma looked out the window and noticed he was beating an uprooted plant against the fence.  It was my hibiscus I planted last summer.  This would be the second hibiscus, as voles ate the roots of the first, killing it dead.  After Ulmaragon's handiwork, there may be a third.  Honey said he managed to get it back in the ground okay.  But we'll have to see come the really true spring. 

Speaking of spring, I awoke to birdsong this morning.  Well actually, I awoke to the bathroom light blasting through my eyelids, and the sound of racing sneaker shod footfall on the stairs, not sure which came first but each represented my sons' awakening to  Monday morning.  Oh, and Toots mewled from her crib even before that, I think, and had joined us in bed.  But that's just life with my kids.  But Birdsong,  yay!

Speaking of song, yesterday, though I shouldn't have according to doctor's orders, I went out and sang a solo at my UU church.  It was actually a big production number involving the whole chorus, a drummer, guitar and piano.  We were amplified.  If you've ever attended a UU service, the music is usually pretty subdued and on the folkie side, other than the hymns. 

Speaking of hymns, if you google Garrison Keillor and Silent Night, you'll see an example of what a lot of people find disconcerting about UU.  We change lyrics on hymnal standards.  Sometimes a little, like in Silent Night.  Sometimes, it's a complete lyric rewrite of an old hymn or other familiar tune by a classical composer.  Some people get really upset about it.  Some people don't.  That second group tends to join us.  That first group includes Garrison Keillor, which I find ironic, as he is a big member of the folk tradition, through oral tales, and those folkies are changing traditional stories all the time!

I digress.  It's bound to happen.  Just the kind of free thinker I am.  So, my solo was in the song Seasons of Love from the musical Rent!  It was fun.  I haven't soloed intentionally since early in college, may have even been back in high school.  That's a long time ago, folks.  Mr. Cynic said I sounded good.  And he hates the song.  Of course he hates the song, it's about love and friendship, not gloom and doom. 

It was a good thing I had another post-op follow-up doctor appointment today, because I just didn't feel right after overdoing things by singing the solo in both services.  Everthing checked out fine, but the doctor reiterated to me, do nothing for 8 weeks was his original protocol.  Yesterday was three weeks.  Bad, Cathy, Bad.  Well, he didn't sat the bad cathy, part, that's me.  I feel like Costello, no not Elvis Costello, the other guy, the heavy sweet  half of Abbott & Costello, when he says, "I've been a baaaaad boy."  So innocent.  We both meant well.

But I love to sing, and singing felt good, so there.  I will go lie back down momentarily, too.  As soon as I finish this post.

Toots keeps me smiling.  I'm so glad we made a later in life decision to add to our family.  Yes, she's a toddler, but as toddlers go, she is very easy going and happy.  I am lucky.  I am happy as a clam. 

One last thing for laughs:  Mr. Cynic likes to watch Iron Chef.  Saturday evening, as we watched an episode that involved a vat of 3 pounds of butter melting,  Mr. Cynic said, "That's a lot of saturated fat!" 

Captain Comic, half paying attention, piped in "Exaggerated fat?!  What's that?" 

I cracked up, but thought exactly! 

Otherwise, mostly these days, I am enjoying the Olympics.  Are you?

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Myth Archetypes - Separation and reIntegration of Female Identity in Modern Culture

Big title, I know, but like I said yesterday, I've been doing a lot of thinking in my physical stillness.

The above could be a Psych or Sociology Doctoral dissertation. I have done a lot of work in studying myths as the beginnings of humanity's understanding of itself, just not in a formal sense with money or credit attached to the process.  This is just my own personal interest and journey.  I've discussed aspects of this with women I've known over a couple of decades, many of whom can completely relate.  There's been a growing movement since the 70s in particular, often referred to as WomenSpirit.  There's a growing sense that in the the patriarchical constructs of the Judeo-Christian-Muslim dominate influence of our culture for centuries now, that in the set up of Father-Son-Holy-Spirit, half the population of the world has been seriously underrepresented or denied altogether.  Of course, there are disagreements as to whether this is a political construct or just the way things are.

Even as a kid, I was interested in the stories of the ancient Greek and Roman and Norse mythologies.  I loved the 'folktales' of so many cultures which slowly came to me through children's books and later through seeking out the origins of different cultures myself.  In the older pantheons and ways different cultures told themselves they came into being, from Zeus to Spiderwoman, to Buffalo Woman, to The Egg of the World and so many more, there is always a female representation of at least one aspect of deity or divinity.  In our current presiding creation story, Eve is a bad temptress, and the idea of a mother aspect was tacked on with the Virgin Mary giving birth the God in Jesus on Earth.

Now I want to be clear that it is not my intention in the slightest to denigrate the prevailing dominant culture or any religion for that matter, but there are obvious serious issues from a sociologic and psychological standpoint in the view of woman in our modern cuture.  I believe there is a lot of internal conflict and conflict in society at large regarding women and our place in society.  Are we destined to be Saints or Sinners as represented by Eve and Mary or are we more than that, more complex, less black and white and subordinate?

In the past thirty years certainly, from a political standpoint, we've made a lot of progress as a community of women working together to have an equal say not only of equal pay, but access to education and representation in government.  We have a currently tenuously held right to govern our own bodies, but that is coming under threat as the partisan nature of our government here in the US polarizes further on what is in the interest of the good of the nation.

Like I said before, I could write pages upon pages on any of the touchpoints mentioned, but my point, and I am getting to it, is woman are looking for a sense of purpose and a search for meaning and a way to integrate aspects of who we are on a daily basis, as mothers or not, as wives, or not, as artists, writers, etc or not as career woman or not and as just having a sense of identity and purpose that holds meaning for us in our own lives, not just in the service of others, but what makes us who we are as individuals.

I know I am rambling, and I will mention as I have a lot recently, that my time to sit up and type out the ideas that have been flowing through me lately is limited in a physical manner.  This is exactly why what I am writing is not a dissertation.  It is my own personal ramblings that I feel need to be brought to a broader light, as many woman feel the same.

At Studio Mothers is an ongoing conversation about balancing creativity and motherhood.  For many it also entails balancing a fulltime job and meaningful or not, career.   For some of us, we dip in and out of the job market as our family and creative lives dictate. For most we're trying really hard to justify and make time our creative lives, because this is what feeds our souls.

At the heart of this dicotomy or tricotomy or multiple-otomy, if you will, is the sense of a fractured or separated sense of self based on these roles we each play in our lives. 

I think, even before the the idea of a sense of injustice at being left out of the presiding cultural concept of the Trinity of Father-Son-Holy Ghost, that we were fractured into aspects of personality in the origin tales and pantheons of old gods of every continent.  I'm not going to go into the myth stories of all of these, but I think most of us are at least vaguely familiar with the representation of different goddesses in these pantheons representing different sides of any woman's personality. 

Looking at the Greeks to narrow my focus a bit, we see Hera as the keeper of hearth and home, mother of the gods in her partnership with Zeus.  Zeus was not a great partner to Hera and often ticked her off by going out and consorting with or raping others to create more gods and demigods, like Hercules or Achilles, for instance.  We see Demeter being a mother of all, but especially representing the complex relationship between mother and daughter in the troubles she had with Persephone.  This gave us a story to recognize cycles of the Earth's regeneration through the seasons, Demeter laying fallow the Earth as her daughter retreats from her  to live underground with her husband Hades for one seaon, winter.  It is Demeter's sadness at the loss of her daughter that does this to the Earth each year. In Demeter's joy each spring, the Earth blooms, in summer bears fruit and we harvest and are fed through the fallow time. Then we have Aphrodite, who is another creationist type in the ideas of sexuality which brings forth life through fertility, but is more recognized for her creative force behind the arts and poetry and concepts of sensuality and beauty.  Artemis represents eschewing the role of motherhood in order to be a warrior and protectress of  all women, children and the animals of the wild, even as she was a hunter herself.  There are many more, but I think these will do for now.

Now, return to the 21st century and we find woman feeling like they are overburdened in the balance of care for children with the fathers, like Hera re: Zeus, I mean he went out and did a lot else besides screw around, but Hera was left taking care of home. I love my husband, and right now he is helping more than his share because of my medical circumstance, and he generally is very helpful, but ultimately the management of what gets done at home falls to me to dole out the chores or do the Syssiphian tasks like laundry, myself.  Lots of energy and time is devoted to this.  If Idon't take on this management role, things that need regular upkeep are left undone and no one is happy about it, dishes, dirty floors, piles of dirty clothes, toliets...don't get me started on toilets.

Return to the twenty-first century and we see, like Demeter and Persephone, the push and pull of the relationship of mother and child and how, as one grows and becomes independent the other is trying to balance feelings of loss with feelings of encouragement toward that independence.  There is a lot to attend to in our relationships with our children.  This takes a lot of time and attention at every stage of development from infant throught toddler through elementary through teen years and on.  It's a constantly evolving situation we as mothers constantly have to renegotiate where we stand in that relationship.  When to hold on and prtect, when to let go and mourn the passing of an old stage and welcome a new.  Lots of time and energy is devoted to this.

Aphrodite in the 21st century:  We want to be loved and to love, we have natural human desires one of which is in relationship, another is often the sense of individual purpose in creativity. While, by the myth of Aphrodite, both come from the same source, they are conflicting feelings in a modern woman, mother, wife or partner in a relationship.  I think mostly it is this sense of wanting to matter and how.  Leave a mark on the world through our creative urges or give ourselves thoroughly in our relationship?  Now we say, Honey, I need some you and me time or we say, Honey, I need some ME time.  Never the twain shall meet.

So then along comes Artemis in our psyche, saying, leave all the rest, I need to do what I want or I need to provide for those who can't in service to them.  I take care of myself and in doing so, if I have children already, I work for living, hopefully in something that gives my life meaning, to provide for myself and my children.  So many charitable organizations are started by women in the idea of serving a greater purpose in service to other. 

Between Hera, Demeter, Persephone, Aphrodite and Artemis at work in my personal psyche, obviously I am pulled in many directions and must constantly negotiate who I am and what purpose I am serving as I serve the many roles that many women serve in our day to day lives.

I am obviously oversimplifying the concepts for this little post going out to the Universe, but I think it's important to recognize that the stories of centuries past do still really affect  our consciouness and conscience in ways it can be hard to fathom.  Or not.  I think any of us can relate to the impulses and instincts that are represented by these ancient archetypes. 

As I wear out while trying to capture what I am trying to say here,, I am feeling like I only opened a small door to the way I have been reconciling my own feelings through examining these archtypes over my lifetime.   I think there is a fractal, many talk about facets like diamonds or parts of personality, quality that may have gotten lost in translation and interpretation over centuries of retelling the old tales, but I believe they are still extremely relevant.  I believe these stories, as we've heard them through a variety of forms, including Disney movies, have if not strictly illustrated, may also have contributed to the splintered and pulled in every direction feelings so many women these days have and seem to share. 

I wonder, and have begun to find ways to draw from the old stories, not just the Greeks, but a wide variety of cultures in order to integrate the aspects they illustrate.  I think if we can look at how these stories have come to us across generations, we can begin to understand what they can tell us about ourselves.  Whether they serve to support or further fracture individuals and women as a whole, remains to be seen. 

I know in my own conversations with many woman that they have a lot to show us about ourselves, each other, and we can learn from them and grow.  Examining archetypes of feminine divinity and power or loss of it has really informed the way I walk through my world and I know it has done the same for many other women as well.  It feeds my soul to recognize that there is an aspect of the divine that looks, sounds, walks like me.

The main thing I am currently working on personally is how to integrate all these seemingly disparate aspects of self into a fused whole, where the parts don't conflict.  Where the balance of paying attention to one part doesn't leave out another, where a bit of this one can support another and flow from one to another in in a natural state, like drops of water in a running river, rising to the surface in their time.  Each contributes to the whole, not denies or takes away from it.



Right now, I'm not too certain if I stated the above well, or came to a place where it made sense, but I've overdone my physical state for the time being and must leave it as it stands.  Hopefully it sparks some ideas in you.