Category Archives: deep thoughts

smile, a triptych

I.

I tried an experiment once

after too many days of Utah winter and indoors

with two toddlers.

I would see what my

smile

would get me…

We went to the library for storytime, and there was an older man

a grandpa

leading some children’s music by playing the harmonica

he had a suitcase full of different harmonicas at his side

So I asked him some questions

about a good starter harmonica and about music

I pointed to several in his case and asked about them

he said he taught lessons

he gave me his card, and I

smiled

and kept asking questions

before long, he had pulled a new harmonica out of his bag

and had me playing a few notes on it,

learning to close the holes with my tongue to make different sounds

it felt strange to be talking with a stranger about where to put my tongue

but I was learning and

I kept asking questions and I

smiled

and after awhile he pulled a small box out of the bottom of his case.

It was about the size of a stick of trident gum, but thicker

and he told me that it was mine and I

smiled

and opened it and it was a small golden harmonica

on a gold necklace chain, which he said

I could now take with me anywhere

“I can’t accept that,” I said and

smiled

and he closed his hand around mine

and told me that he wanted me to have it

because my

smile

had made him happy.

***

II.

It’s time for my annual interview

with a church leader.

A man that I’ve never met before,

he ushers me into his office

closes the door behind him and I

smile

as I shake his hand

and he pulls out the list of questions

he must ask to judge if I can

enter the temple, again.

I settle into my chair across the desk

from him and he steeples his fingers

and looks at me.

“Sister,” he says.

“I can tell from your beautiful

smile

that you will answer all of these questions

correctly.

I can just see these things sometimes.”

And I

smile

again as he signs his name to the

small white card that certifies

I am worthy.

***

III.

I went to the cantina at the invitation of

a friend-of-a-friend who knew I was just barely

divorced and wanting to ‘get out.’

That friend-of-a-friend bought me a drink

and then moved on

to the other side of the room.

And I sat there

at the bar alone, stirring my drink

and thinking.

A man approached and as we talked we

discovered we had more in common

than just our friend.  And I

smiled

as he told me how hard it is to meet

smart women, who know some things

about technology.  And then I

chewed on the corner of my lip

because I had never met a man in a bar before

and I hesitated

when he offered to buy me another

margarita as we

nibbled on nachos. I asked myself

what does it mean

that we’ve been talking for

two hours now?

And I wondered what should I do when he said

“Let’s get out of here,” while motioning to our

friend who had long since left

us in this corner.  So I

smiled

and we went

for a walk on the beach.

And in the dark as he ran his fingertips

from my ear down my neck, I asked

why he approached me

in that bar and and he said

he couldn’t help it,

because of my

smile

 

escape

There have been a number of hard things happen this week.  One of which is that Vasia-kitty* has a large open sore on his back–so large and deep that you can see his spine fairly clearly.  On top of that he appears to have a type of cancer that’s causing bony growths on his spine (this still needs confirmation with a biopsy, but it’s fairly clear that’s what’s occurring).  So I’m dealing with this wound and remembering so many of my own.  I find bone cancer fascinating–the eruptions of tissue gone mad that build channels of bone into places where they shouldn’t be.  But even while it’s scientifically intriguing to care for Vasia’s wound, I also can’t help but feel sick to the pit of my stomach as I see and feel what’s happening to his body and compare it to my own experience with bone cancer, and remember the time I spent tracing the unusual tumor-contours of my right knee before my leg was amputated.

As I contemplated the emotional drain that it’s been to deal with his ailment (added to these other personal stresses that include fighting the flu all week long), I realized just how badly I wanted to get away for awhile (again).  I found myself reviewing my calendar for the next few weeks and strategizing a way to squeeze in a roadtrip.  I then started thinking of friends that I could visit on the way and began to make a mental list of people to email to see if they were around…Within a few minutes of thinking along those lines, I had a fairly well-developed plan.

But then I remembered my commitment to slow down a bit this year.  To not be so eager to throw a bag in the car and hit the road.  I want to do that, but there’s just something about traveling that clears my head and renews my spirit…when things are hard, I just want to go.

I’m going to try to stay put for awhile instead, but something tells me that I’ll probably be behind the wheel and squinting into the sun over the dashboard soon enough.

*Vasia isn’t my cat–I’ve been caring for him while his owner gets settled into a new home overseas.  He’ll be winging his way to the UK within a few days, so I won’t be involved in his ongoing treatment.
IMG_5734

comfort food

Somehow I managed to not just catch the cough-flu that’s been going around, but I got the stomach-flu at the same time (a double-bonus, I suppose), so the past few days it’s been really tough to find anything to eat.  Tea, broth, a bit of palak paneer, and a few spoonfuls of farmer’s cheese are all that have sounded good to me.

Added to my under-the-weather feelings, my two foster cats haven’t been feeling well either.  Vasia, the crazy English shorthair with the wicked yellow eyes has been particularly ill, and the news I received at the vet today was not positive.  Right now he’s recovering from a nasty flesh wound and an infection, but it also looks as though he has an aggressive form of cancer.

Ugh.  A day full of sick for as I’ve been trying to keep Vasia’s wound clean in between bouts of nap for me.  I don’t know if I’m more physically or emotionally exhausted at the moment.  Both, probably.

After thinking about every possible combination of food that might possibly sound good to eat, I settled on an old favorite: peaches and cornbread (sans ice cream this time–there’s no way that I could stomach that level of richness right now).  So I ran a quick errand to the market to buy the makings of that meal.  While there I also picked up a head of broccoli.  Because it just looked good to me, too.

It wasn’t until after I got home and was unloading the groceries that a memory surfaced from more than 25 years ago.  When I was a cancer patient and had those nausea-chemo days when nothing sounded or smelled tasty (at all), my uncle would blend up either a concoction of fresh peaches (from his garden!) with semolina or a mixture of broccoli with cheese, and bring them to the hospital for me.  I never grew tired of either of those, and they added a lot of calories to my diet when I most needed them–back in those days when I weighed 70 lbs and was so thin that even sitting in a chair was too painful on my spine and tailbone (because there was no padding between skin and bone).

The cornbread is cooking in the oven right now and smells wonderful…*

*update: it smelled better than it tasted to me, but I was able to eat a serving.  Now, back to napping…

caught

Yesterday morning as I got out of bed, the world started spinning.  I curled back into the feather comforter and tried again a few minutes later with the same result.  Eventually, I peeled myself out of bed and got off to work, but throughout the day I had more and more moments where I could tell that something was off-kilter.  And by last night, as my throat got sore and the glands in my neck started swelling…I knew that I’d caught something, probably one of the various viruses going around my office right now.

So today will be blankets and hot broth and cat-naps, instead of outrigger paddling and errands and getting-things-done.

Sometimes that just happens, doesn’t it?
Photo above of last night’s pho noodles, which felt so good on my sore throat…

changes

A friend* recently noticed (from a Facebook post) that I’d eaten dinner at Morton’s Steakhouse.  She seemed more than a little shocked given my formerly-hippie ways (back in the day when I eschewed meat, wore all organic-cotton clothing, and grew my own veggies in my expansive compost-fertilized garden).  It’s a huge change from the now-me, who has only a handful of potted herbs, who often buys clothes because of expediency/necessity for events rather than for their sustainability, who spends most of her outdoor-time with a paddle in hand instead of a shovel, and who has a long-ish daily commute from Irvine to Orange.

I don’t think that I’m any less authentic or intentioned than in the days when I had the luxury of time to follow environmentalist ideals and could spend a day biking to and wandering around the local grower’s market or in search of clothing in second-hand stores.  It was a season of my life that I enjoyed, much, but is now behind me.

I wouldn’t say that I’ve evolved past those ways of doing things–not at all.  Instead, my choices are pragmatic ones.  In order to have the time with my family that I relish, I have to make choices in other parts of my life to keep things simple.   And, these days I’m shopping at Whole Foods instead of the Farmer’s Market, and catching up with friends via Facebook instead of over the garden fence (oh, that’s probably the hardest part I’d say).

*The friend who made that observation will understand why there’s a photo of Eggs Benedict from my recent Montreal trip accompanying this post–it’s one of my favorite breakfasts when I travel.   😉

 

Have I not been ready…

Today is a day for a poem. You know that kind of day…when morning comes while you’re standing stocking-footed in the garden and eating greek yogurt with toasted almonds and a sprinkle of nutmeg and realizing that the rosebushes in your backyard are covered with new buds (again).  And you can’t help but think that sometimes such beauty hurts just as much as it heals…

From Mary Oliver’s “Am I Not Among the Early Risers”

Here is an amazement–once I was twenty years old and in
every motion of my body there was a delicious ease,
and in every motion of the green earth there was
a hint of paradise,
and now I am [forty] years old, and it is the same.[..]

I bow down.

Have I not loved as though the beloved could vanish any moment,
or become preoccupied, or whisper a name other than mine
in the stretched curvatures of lust, or over the dinner table
Have I ever taken good fortune for granted?

Have I not, every spring, befriended the swarm that pours forth?
Have I not summoned the honey-man to come, to hurry,
to bring with him the white and comfortable hive?

And, while I waited, have I not leaned close, to see everything?
Have I not been stung as I watched their milling and gleaming,
and stung hard?

Have I not been ready at the iron door,
not knowing to what country it opens–to death or to more life?

Have I ever said that that the day was too hot or too cold
or the night too long and as black as oil anyway,
or the morning, washed blue and emptied entirely
of the second-rate, less than happiness

as I stepped down from the porch and set out along
the green paths of the world?

thankful

As I consider how to express my thankfulness at this season, I’m overwhelmed. There’s so much to be grateful for, so many surprises and pleasures and joys.

But mostly, I’m grateful that…
-my house is quiet and clean and peaceful
-the light coming through the living room windows is perfect for morning coffee & contemplation
-the kitties are endearing and soft (even when fighting over the perfect sunny windowsill spot)
-I have enough of everything
-there are two maple trees in my backyard showing their colors
-my children are happy
-my work is rewarding
-even in times of stress, like last week when I was in a car accident, things seem to work out well (I’m fine, my car repairs are fully covered)
-there are many friends in my life, who like to chat and cook and exercise and giggle
-I feel safe and loved
-my body is healthy and stronger every day
and…
-my mind is full of happy memories and hopes for the future.

IMG_6116

a murmur

I don’t bring a camera with me out on the ocean when I’m paddling. First of all, I learned from my few futile attempts to do so that you can’t hold a camera and a paddle at the same time. Second, you can’t stay still while you’re out in the canoe, so it’s near-to-impossible to take a photograph. Third, there are times that I want to look with my eyes and not with a lens–mostly because I need to see the full horizon and not just what’s in front of me.
But I did love this clip below, and wonder if I should try a little bit of video sometime (perhaps strapped to my head or the bow)? It would be amazing to be able to share the joy of having a pod of dolphins race alongside us, or the eeriness of paddling into a the harbor with bioluminescent creatures swirling around our boat…

Murmuration from Sophie Windsor Clive on Vimeo.

falling (again)

I fell again today: the result of rain, new boots, and the slick marble flooring in the foyer of my office building. Ugh, some weeks are just like that, aren’t they? With the dull ache of bruised wrists and knees lingering long after the mishap. Sometimes it makes me feel like staying inside my comfort zone, with known terrain and few hazards…

A friend sent me this video recently, and I’ve had several of Brown’s ideas running through my mind ever since. I’m so good at being courageous and vulnerable in some parts of my life, so terrible at it in others. It’s a constant challenge to be open to the experiences of my life and to be generous with everyone that I meet, after having been hurt so badly by the losses of the past year…