Begin.

Green Buds 

Curled tightly around 

fingers with your brown

limbs like arms, 

relaxing into the warm 

spring air. I know why 

you don’t want to unfurl.

To know the approximate 

length of your time.

Yes, hold on a little longer 

Find the corners of sight, 

see blurred movements, rain drops

Hear a muffled birdsong 

Grow a bit stronger holding on, 

until you can’t not…start.

Then go. Burst open. Show 

your bright green skin to 

animals, air, us. I’m sorry. 

I don’t notice you, 

individually, just the 

extravagantly beautiful mass 

of all of you. 

 I read somewhere that Benjamin Franklin took moon baths. He would sit naked in front of an open window on a moonlit night; bathing in the moons rays. 

 Recently I stepped outside around midnight to a full moon on the side of a mountain in New Hampshire.  

 I looked at what the moon illuminated.  Quiet, pine trees and snow.  I tipped my face up to the moon and closed my eyes. Took a breath. Let it out. That light illuminated me. 

Leave it

 I learned a new phrase in dog training, Leave it. The phrase applies to those human and dog situations where you keep looking back, wanting to engage with that other dog, person, memory, stream of regrets and other dark thoughts. 

Leave it helps me imagine the simple act of walking away.. that dark cloud of energy dropping back and dissolving in the air. 

I believe there is no benefit to the kind of suffering on repeat tied to grief and loss. There are times when we must Leave it. 

Light

It’s the clear pale light off 

a silvering lake. And this snow 

light papered with gray 

white clouds and pieces 

of blue sky.

This damn tender 

light that grabs me by 

the throat, saying, think 

mortality, think transience. 

My chest tightens and I feel 

the heaviness in my eyes, 

signaling tears. I have to stop, 

to stand, to witness...why?

 I tell my dog, “Let’s go check out the big tree.” We walk the path, Gus and I, stopping in the middle of the small meadow full of yellow grasses; part dried out marsh. Great trees line the edges; Maple, Oak and Ash.

                The big tree is a Willow with long , strong branches reaching up and out, roots sunk deep. I take a deep breath and let it out.  Somehow I am aligned, content in that moment. The tree stands, seemingly immovable but changing every season. How can I be like that? What parts stay and what parts change with this world? This world creating, every second, for good and bad. There must be a way to be; to calmly change some parts and leave some parts rather than just changing at the whims of the this world. 

     I know we can change how we react somewhat; it’s the touted cure for some pains and struggles. Maybe, what we can do is go back to one; a tool some therapists use in their work. Go back to the beginning, remember who you are and what you started with.  

     We started small with our feet in the earth. We grew, branching out, growing up. The earth nourishes us, connecting trees to each other.

               The earth is like our family. If we start there, maybe we can figure out what has to change with the seasons, with time. Maybe we can figure out the what, not just justify the why,  in change. 

     

The Pearl

 I read, a while ago, about a therapy technique used in Japan called finding the pearl. Every day find at least one happy moment, time, thing, person, event. Looking for the pearl is a way to look for good, for happiness and for me gratitude every day. I hope you find your pearl today. Happy holidays! 

Sad

 Ive learned with grieving about the different kinds of sad. Barely sad, like someone touching your hand, easily brushed away. 

More sad, a spreading sensation around my sternum, deepening into shards of memory. I can move by the memory but the feeling rests like pressure for a while; a day or a few days. 

And of course, grieving sad, the sad taking over my body, the ache of sad, of fiercely missing Andrew. And the other people who have passed. 

I realized this holiday season I manage sad by avoidance when sad ramps up at the holidays. I don’t watch the sad news much, listen to sad stories from friends, watch or read sad dramas.

I like light mysteries, happy endings. I gain comfort from rereading my favorite books. It’s okay to be sad. To miss people. But it’s also okay to manage sad. 

14 years!

 I just counted. I’ve been writing this blog for 14 years. So much has happened in 14 years. It’s dizzying. When I think about it, such a mash of good, the worst, the best and every possibility in between. 

14 years and a year more is how long our Oatie lived. Cats even longer. 

Each holiday season different but with embedded transitions. It’s time or my felt sense of it.. Time feels uncontainable. A huge blanket billowing in a strong wind. 

Kill the Spider

 Recently I spoke with two women pregnant for the first time. Into my head appeared an incident that happened some years ago 

My daughter and I were traveling in our car. Simultaneously we saw a huge spider crawling across the back window. I pulled over at the bottom of the off ramp, took off my shoe,  flung open the hatchback, and beat the spider. 

I hate spiders. I’m frightened of spiders. But when you’re a mom in a car with a freaked out child, you don’t think much about those things. You just kill the spider.

 I’d like to say to them… That’s what parenting looks like. So don’t worry so much! when you’re pregnant about being able to be a good mom,.Because when it comes down to it, when it’s about protecting your child, you’ll kill the spider. 

Halloween

Andrew loved Halloween. Candy, costumes staying up late, running around with friends!  I miss his happy face today. Andrew the child, the teen. The crooked smile, the smile of pure joy. I miss his eye rolls, his voice. 

I try to leave room on this snowy Halloween for the cute trick or treaters. I try to remember all the memories of Halloween in my life. Our own children take the most room. This remembering happy times feels sad. It’s a mixture these days not just sad. It's also the remembered acceptance of pain. Some days are just hard.