... a concept that is on my heart

Creation was written in 1993 (20 years ago). My life was in a tornado then: destruction yet to be in full view. My personal journal into which this was scribbled was an exploration of Mercy. Others encouraged me to look to God for transformation of self. Ironically I was not able to take communion where I kneeled with them to worship. I later became uncomfortable with the use of "He" in this poem but I saw it comforted others and I could not otherwise label the source of creation in a way that was satisfying to me.  It remains a testimony to the wonders of our universe and my most treasured gift: Motherhood. I visit it here in times of need to be open to the unknown.

Jupiter, Venus and Mercury after buckets of rain

We create our own mythology...of this I have no doubt. Mine is imbued with rain...just missed or mist, gentle, hard or driving, devastating or cleansing. The mud is still tracking from the most recent buckets. No final assessment on its impact as either good, or not so. In the mix Joni, Gatsby, veterans, rainbow colors in glass and confetti a.k.a. myth, hope, sacrifice and fads & fakes: my own Chelsea Morning remix with a curtain opening on the question of the day: Will he stay?

Last night as I looked up in the sky I did see a pleasing arrays of light or dots against darkness but nothing more informs my gaze up at the alignment of Jupiter, Venus and Mercury. They will not have this dance again until 2040. It is my only dance with such a moment. I wonder if it has consequences beyond my understanding?   We are connected to much over which we have no control but does this stuff have any control over us? Why does our species look to the heavens?  On this night a young friends dog jumped to his death from an urban rooftop.  Did it have some knowing that propelled it?  Is there value in questions? Do answers ever satisfy?

I am not inspired to write at the moment but I did not want to miss sharing the richness of receiving and reading Joni: The Creative Odyssey of Joni Mitchell, by Postmedia journalist Katherine Monk. Similarly going to the movies with knowing companions to re-experience God's Eyes in the film version of The Great Gatsby. All this is imbued with a sense that somehow crossroads have been set in motion. Ironically I looked for Clouds in the Goodwill Record bin to no avail but amidst the vinyl there were things that I can say "I know that I miss you, but I don't know where ...." moments connecting like clouds across time.

We can only look behind from where we came and go round and round in the circle game....

at that place called “Begin Again”.

Birth Days can be days to run from or toward our Self.  In many ways the anniversary yesterday is much more significant than my date of Birth because it is the date of giving birth - for me - only one.

I just deleted an employment cover letter written on the eve of turning 59.  My ankle broken and my journey with employment rebooted.

The above was in draft for more than 6 months... the ankle still is not happy with going down stairs and long walks and the reboot needs to get more real.

it did not rain as much as expected and vacations

It does not take much rain to infuse much change but the pollen still seems to be winning in the outdoor air; so the change that comes may not be the change desired.

Tuesday was a lovely day as weather goes. I decided on Monday to make it a vacation day as I had no commitments to others calendared and it seemed like my partner was free as well.  But the day trip I had in mind was not an option so it became just a saturday-like day getting chores done.  I was okay with this as these have often been our best times together but it still fell short of a get-a-way day. It was nice but truly a concession to the expectation of vacation.  

I am getting a bit obsessive about this idea of vacation. What is a vacation for me? What is it that I should set aside or be released from and aspire to do? Are the hours/days recently spent on reading other than work-related topics - vacations, or should the set-aside time for reading be balance. Do people in dire poverty get vacations?  Is it luxury, or is it a need?  Cultures treat vacations differently: last year I was reminded of this when special programming gotten at the TV station was suspended for 11 weeks.  It comes from Germany.  It was suspended because vacations are the norm.

In some ways many of the tasks I do related to my community service job are things I did on vacations from my prior daily bread job.  On these days I suspend my connection to maintenance tasks and explore ideas and images and connections --- but of late all this is entangled in technology snags so it is not to get-awayish. And now much of this exploration is linked to maintenance of the community Service projects. Irony maybe.

Museums, even libraries, are vacations places for me. A bonus would be a stop for food that I do not make and maybe could not make because of rare ingredients or skills to prepare. But food is best shared over conversation.  What do I talk about? Would it be different on a vacation?

Yes I could enjoy a day at a lake or even a trip to another place but there is not enough bandwidth in my checkbook or relations. And then I can limit any plan with the question; Who would take care of Jake and the cats? It is not like I could rely on nearby family or associates for this.  

The next time it rains I hope I can suspend what I am doing and just walk in it as I did as a child. Next vacation is now planned but it is very likely I will be sharing this time with Jake and he does not like to get wet so it will be a short walk.

Me, Middle and Madness

It is rare that I ascribed my to things. If used, it would be with lesser known people to clarify a relationship that needs to be understood. So excessive use of MY in social media where relationships are known suggests that something-else is going on --- my dog, my girls, my husband, my house, or my friend.  All my life I have used the word my in affiliation with ideas and feelings.

I can share ideas and feelings and in the process experience something new. I like this part of life very much.  It seems to be very central to what life is about in fact.  But things and people have been described as ours: Our Home, Our Children, Our Community Service, Our future plans. Our has been family. Suddenly I am challenged to say Our in any context.  I must admit that it is very disorienting to have the paradigm of daily life change. 

I watch the Big C on Showtime and see the characters try to assimilate the idea of death. In this story there is real change. I wonder if I should try to treat my awareness that trust is not a viable option as a disease. In doing so Do I need to relax or release my ideas and feelings about trust? Without a clear answer, I linger in the middle of a vast numbness - inert. The advertisement "Depression Hurts" echoes in my head. Last night I dreamt of the one thing that would have made my current paradigm dilemma impossible (a child that belongs to our family); there no similar solution now.

So the voices in my head once again entreat me to focus, be productive, do things that you can declare as mine -- and in reality my day is planned to be anonymous and that plan starts now.

Grace Prompt

The sublime also happens, if we are lucky, at various points in our life. We find ourselves at the outer edge of our knowing, awake and joyous. For a fleeting second, perhaps, or for a longer period, we feel like we have a touch with grace. Share your moment of transcendence.

I have viewed some of life through a video camera – a different kind of presence. This is not video in hand for family moments of social media rather it is video with intent to reveal stories. These opportunities to see up close-up or distant things I would not otherwise see in nature: a bee’s attraction to a flower, a butterfly among pumpkins, the sun setting through a nose printed window and dandelions dispersing into flight; common things through a less common lens. These moments can claim sublime in their pure joy and can now be ordinary for many with phone cameras in hand.

Then there is me and technology and a journey of re-seeing trapping my focus for hours and days in order to eventually share seconds or minutes of the gathered and remixed conversations, timeline images and an occasional glimpse of life I've captured in video: A head falling to restful sleep, a smirk of understanding, an energetic child declaring “I know” with hand vigorously waving. I smile, I recut, I cry, I fade, I decide, I overlay, I find the exposure, saturation, light of knowing with a more concise truth. This experience holds meaning for me as I do it to create accessible meaning for others about our shared existence and within this process meaning for existence.  Others pray, I contemplate the edit.