Category Archives: Relationships

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Dance like it’s the last night of the world

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A song from “Miss Saigon” is running through my head… ‘a song, played on a solo saxophone…so hold me tight and dance like it’s the last night of the world’.  Not that I seriously think the world will end tomorrow.  Aside from the darkness and the rain (instead of snow) here in Milwaukee, all seems fairly normal. 

But it raises a good question.  What would you do on the last night of the world?  What would you want to be doing any or every night of the world? 

My husband sang that song from Miss Saigon on a recital one February, a snowy scene visible through the plate glass window behind him.  The tune was a tad high for him; his sweet tenor voice seemed a little strained.  He lived only another 7 years after that day. 

I would want to dance with him and Steve and my children and my mother, to hold them tight and look into their eyes until there was nothing else to see. 

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Peace on Earth

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Yesterday was a very sad day for me.  I was following up on a news article I read a few weeks ago about indigenous Americans purchasing sacred land in the Black Hills.  I was happy that they had raised the $9 million they needed, but I was led deeper into the story and watched a TED talk and slide show that made me very emotional.  Then the breaking news stories started flooding the internet.  Gun violence, death, fear, suffering, blame.  A hurting world in sudden outbursts of information and misinformation.  Another seemingly random mass shooting. 

Do no harm.

I suppose that is an impossible task.  Everywhere we tread, we harm something.  It’s our responsibility to be aware of that.  What is the positive alternative?  Make peace.  What if there were mass ‘peace’-ings instead?  What if the media covered screens with healing stories of kindness, of love, of compassion, of good will?  What if our every breath was tuned toward acceptance and wholeness?  What would that look like?

Imagine.  A group of people, young and old, of all colors, surrounds a school where young minds are developing ideas of the world.  The students are beginning to formulate their own opinions about the world and whether it is a place of fear or not.  These opinions will shape their interactions and responses for years to come.  And the students hear from their open windows a sound that begins to grow…it starts with a single voice.  It is singing a clear melody in an ancient language…”Dona…nobis…pacem…”.  Another voice joins in.  The tune is spread, broader, higher, deeper, from voice to voice.  A child inside the school picks up the cue and begins.  And another…and another.  The music blankets the classrooms, the cafeteria, the hallways, the offices.   “Dona nobis pacem”…”Give us peace”.  Peace is given, shared, lived, spread.  This is how the world changes from a place of fear begetting fear to a place of safety and love. 

What world do you want to live in?  Click here to listen to the melody.  Join in, with your voice, with your breath, with your life.  Imagine that spreading like news to a hurting world. 

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Weekly Photo Challenge: Delicate

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The first thought I had about this Weekly Photo Challenge word was of Simon Schama in “The Power of Art” DVD describing Bernini’s sculpture “Ecstasy of St. Teresa”.  The delicate touch of an angel, the intense and spellbound concentration of presence, distills the vulnerability of human existence.  It is a very spiritual moment of intimacy in which the soul is liberated and comes to the surface.   Bernini illustrates it masterfully in his sculpture.  I have not photographed the sculpture, nor have I seen it, even though I have been to Rome.  The best I have to offer is this shot, taken one luxurious morning at a historic hotel in West Virginia.  Yes, those are my legs. 

delicate

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Wehr Have You Been?

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Yesterday, I returned to the Wehr Nature Center where I had volunteered as a trail guide for their school programs before I got a job as a historic interpreter.  It was good to see the place again, the furry and scaly and feathered and leafy friends as well as the humans.  I was helping sell snacks for their Homemade Holiday event.  Families bustled about creating holiday decorations and cookies throughout the building, while a moist, gray blanket of fog settled warmly outside.  When the activities were over, I grabbed my camera and headed out for a walk around the lake.  Dusk crept up, and Canada geese honked loudly from surface to sky, jockeying for shelter for the night.  It was as if I was looking at an old friend wearing an expression I’d not seen before.  Some things had changed: new fences were in place.  The duck blind at the edge of the lake had been repaired.  I felt like we’d both been out of touch for a while.  I sat down on a bench to renew our acquaintance. 

December silhouette

December silhouette

Old and new

Old and new

Wehr

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My Best Friend’s Birthday

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Yup, today is Steve’s birthday.  He is beginning to get comfortable saying that he is “in his late 40s”.  We are still working on being transparent with ourselves and each other, genuine, authentic.  This morning we talked about how difficult that is for parents to do with their children.  We want to be better people, better role models, especially in front of them.  But we miss the opportunity to be fully present, fully alive, and fully responsive when we hide behind those roles.  That can hurt.  The child may feel like they are not worthy to receive the person they love the most.  I remember how honored I felt when my father asked me to help him with something.  I was the mother of 4 children by then.  He had broken his back and was lying flat in traction in the hospital.  He asked me to help him brush his teeth by catching his spit in a pan when he spouted it straight up.  It was the first time I truly felt that he was volunteering his vulnerability.  I left the hospital in tears, not because I pitied him, but because I was so happy to feel connected to this man I adored for so long. 

A man who had been my spiritual director for years sent me a TED video this week about Vulnerability.  I highly recommend it.  See if you don’t recognize something about yourself here.  It may be a surprise.  Then see if you can find someone to talk to about it.  It may be a pivotal point in your life. 

Today is All Saints’ Day as well.  Here’s to all the truly good friends, the saints in our lives, who allow themselves to be seen, to be vulnerable, to be genuinely available and thereby, help us to find the courage to join them in that important place.  “And I mean, God helping, to be one, too.”

(Steve, dressed up to see the musical “Hair” with me.)

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Historic Before Pre-historic…Trip Phase 4

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Leaving the National Forest and re-entering the 21st century was a bit of an adjustment.  How ironic that we fled from a generator only to find ourselves in a modern hotel room with no less than 14 electrical appliances to its 60 square feet of space!  I immediately turned off the heater and fan and also a separate air purifier.  I unplugged the refrigerator.  Still, every 15 minutes, something made a punctuated whooshing sound.  Eventually, I figured out it was an air freshener mechanism above the door releasing a neutralizing odor into our “smoking Queen” like clockwork.  I learned how to sleep through it for a few hours. 

Since we had traveled so far north in search of room in the inn, we decided to keep going on into Ohio.  We crossed the Ohio River at Portsmouth and found our way toward Wayne National Forest.  We stopped in at the public library in a light rain to do a bit of research, and there, Steve made a discovery that changed our course.  We had promised ourselves a “splurge” portion on this trip.  Paying more than $100 for a room at a franchised motel off the Interstate did not count.  But now, we were within 2 hours of a bonafide historic hotel in a state that Steve had never visited.   We decided to go east to Parkersburg, West Virginia, to spend the night at the Blennerhassett Hotel and then return to Ohio the next day to visit the Hopewell Culture National Historic Park.  From there, we decided we’d head back home directly.  There comes a time when you know that your adventure has taught you something important and you need to pull back to your interior to focus on that.  It’s like a mythical journey: leaving home, learning, and returning changed.  But every hero needs some time and a place to figure out what he’s learned.  We figured we were close enough to use home base as that place.

Nestled deep in our gear, we found dress shoes, a long skirt for me and a tie for Steve.  We were off to enjoy a dash of historic elegance and some truly fine food, not cooked over  a campfire.  We were not disappointed.

Blannerhasset lantern

Final phase: the Pre-historic.  That’ll be my next post.  Thanks for following so far!

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Generating an Odyssey…Trip Phase 3

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After camping for 2 nights at Mammoth Cave, we headed east toward the Daniel Boone National Forest.  We stopped at a public library to use the internet to get directions to a campsite, and were pleased to see that there were free campsites in the area.  This is one of the great ideas from the Forest Service.  Someone had the foresight to save public land through the federal government, meaning that everyone owns it and everyone can use it.  Of course, working out how it’s used and by whom is an art in balance.  There are rules of use intended to foster respect between different parties.  There are hunting seasons, there are trails for ATVs and trails for hikers only.  And there are shared trails, shared lands, shared campgrounds.  Hopefully, we can negotiate and live side by side.  Sometimes, that breaks down.  We got to S-Tree campground and found that it is maintained in part by an ATV club and has many trails where motor-powered All Terrain Vehicles are permitted.  There was no fee to camp there, and aside from two trailers in the campsite on the other hill across the forest road, we had the place to ourselves.  We set up our tent across from the pit toilets, gathered firewood, and went into town for some groceries.  The only thing on my list I couldn’t purchase was beer.  I found out later that Kentucky has 40 “dry” counties and 49 “moist” counties in their total of 120 counties, meaning that the sale of alcohol is not permitted or is restricted in those counties.  In other words, they still practice prohibition.  That doesn’t mean that you don’t find Jack Daniels bottles and cans of Bud Light in the woods.  Still, the weather was warm, only a little damp, and the place was quiet.  The wind, the birds, the rustle of leaves on the ground and in the trees, the starlight and the slim sliver of moon were perfect companions. 

We decided to do an extended hike on Friday, hedging our bets against an onslaught of weekend ATVers.   We did encounter one group of 4 vehicles while we were resting beside a concrete creek crossing.    We were following the Sheltowee Trace (a trail named after Daniel Boone’s native American nickname, meaning Big Turtle) for about 4 miles west along the Racoon Creek, and then planned to take an “unimproved” trail south through the woods, pick up a forest road there and loop back to the east.   The “unimproved trail” was so covered in leaves that it was indistinguishable from an erosion gulley that went straight up to the top of the ridge.  We ended up on top with no trail in sight.  So we did some basic orienteering and blazed south, thinking we’d hit the forest road eventually, which we did, but not before I went through every survival scenario I could imagine.  I was a Girl Scout for 12 years and a leader for 3, so I have practical skills.  Steve has no sense of direction at all, but he also has no anxieties.  Together we actually make a reasonable and happy pair of adventurers.  By the time we got back to camp and started a fire for supper, we were pretty pleased with ourselves and pleased with Kentucky.  We planned to stay one more night and then make camp in a different area of the Forest to hike up the Rockcastle Narrows.  While we sat at the picnic table, we saw an SUV hauling a trailer and a pickup truck following it up the campsite road.  The road was narrow and gutted, so the guy in the trailer had his wife get out of the pickup and help him navigate.  They managed to pull past our site and set up about 100 feet away in another slot.  Then they left in the pickup.  So, we had company, but on a Friday night, that was not unusual.  They looked like an older couple and hadn’t any ATVs with them, so we figured they would be good neighbors.  They returned at about 8pm while we were snuggled up in the tent talking.  A little while later, we heard the noise of a generator coming from their site.  It was impossible to ignore it.  It droned on and on.  Quiet hours in the National Forest are posted for 10pm – 6am.  We figured they were running their generator for a few hours before turning in.  But maybe not.  At 9pm, Steve decided he would go over and ask them how long they intended to keep the machine running, as we were trying to sleep.  The old man was in his pajamas; he said he planned to run the thing all night “for heat”.   Steve tried to suggest that went against the rules for quiet hours, but the man said that he’d never had an issue before and that we could simply move.  Steve is calm and gentle and polite, so he came back to the tent to discuss the situation with me.  We both felt bullied by the man’s refusal to negotiate, and we decided to pack up and head out.  We pulled out at 10pm and waved to the man as we left.  He was standing outside his trailer in his nightclothes.  (How cold was it, then?)

So, we learned some more about Kentucky.  Finding a hotel room along the Interstate on a Friday night is not easy.  In London, they were booked up due to a Civil War Reenactment event.  In Richmond, they were booked up for a University football game.  Finally, in Lexington, we found a “smoking Queen” available.  It was 1 a.m.  The next installment will tell you how we made up for our disappointment.  Here are some photos:

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May All Beings Be Happy

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Out of the technological complications of internet networking come some of the simplest expressions of human compassion, a wish for another person’s well-being, even if that person is a virtual stranger.  And it makes the sleek, glib, electric world a bit softer  and warmer.  I’ve made some sweet connections this week with a few of my favorite bloggers, all of whom live at least a couple thousand miles away.  I’d like to share them with the rest of you.

Mistress of Monsters is like another daughter to me, in a way.  She is getting married next week.  Here’s an exchange we had.  She turned it into a blog post.

Naomi Baltuck is an amazing blogger and professional storyteller.  She’s also a mom.  I see a kindred spirit in her…although she’s much more adventurous and accomplished than I am, yet.  I echo her wish in this post for the Weekly Photo Challenge prompt: Mine.

And then there’s that rascal, Stuart.  He’s a gritty city photographer who travels to exotic places like Brazil and Spain and has just taken up residence at a farm for the winter.  We inspire each other to keep open to possibilities.  Here’s his post. Our exchange is in the comments section.

I’ll be taking about 3 weeks off from the blogosphere beginning next week, but I will be thinking of all of you.  May All Beings Be Happy.

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Carry On…

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I have been reading a book called The Barn at the End of the World: the Apprenticeship of a Quaker, Buddhist Shepherd by Mary Rose O’Reilley.  It has been my companion for months now.  I am reading very slowly, savoring each chapter as a separate essay, which it lends itself to very well.  The author writes about her time with Thich Nhat Hahn at Plum Village as well as her time working with sheep in a barn.  My birthday reading included this passage of notes she took on one of Thay’s dharma talks:

“Koans are buried deep in the unconscious, watered carefully like flowers.  They do not respond to intellectual reasoning.  Mind has not enough power to break the koan.  It should not be answered, but absorbed and waited for in right mindfulness until it explodes and wakens again in the conscious mind as a flower.  What did you look like before your mother gave you birth? …

“At Plum Village, our basic koan is What are you doing?  The answer is Breathing and smiling.  Often I ask a student, What are you doing?  Often the student responds, Cutting carrots.  I say, Good luck.  Now, you don’t need luck to cut a carrot, but you need luck if you are going to get your practice back on track.”

My life is a koan.  My life with Steve is a koan on live chat.  Our relationship doesn’t always respond to intellectual reasoning.  We want to be able to express our irrational emotions and learn about each other from them.   We want to move through adventures and experiences and be aware of ourselves and each other in the moment.  We want to be present, to “show up” with a genuine answer to the question, What are you doing?  And we want to look up.  We’re working on it, and we are truly glad to be doing so.  And sometimes, I realize that it’s easier simply to cut carrots.  And that’s a mystery, too.  “How wonderful.  How mysterious.  I draw water.  I carry wood.” 

My birthday evening was beautiful.  I came home to find flowers delivered — two arrangements!  I opened a bottle of champagne, cooked dinner, listened to music, and let myself loose until I was sobbing all over Steve.  I felt very alive. 

And today, I want to check things off my “To Do” list, eat bad food quickly and hide from my partner.  Is there a reason?

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Couple-ness

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Steve and I have been together just shy of 4 years, now.  Lately, I’ve been noticing how my thinking about ‘Us’ has evolved.  I keep my late husband’s last name, always, to retain that common bond with my children.  I have internalized Jim in many ways, as my sister pointed out in a recent comment.  I am adding a sense of past, present and future with Steve.  I wrote last about celebrating birthdays with his sister and brother-in-law.  I do feel like I’ve joined his family throughout a year’s worth of life events now: holiday dinners, post-surgery visits, weekly breakfasts, etc.  Now I’m feeling the reflected perspective of work colleagues who met us as a couple.  We’ve been invited to our first party!  Totally un-family, totally unofficial (although with friends from work), like a real social engagement based on what we do as partners.  That’s a new thing for us. 

A visitor to the museum met us while my daughter was touring the facility for the first time.  I took Emily into the wagon shop to surprise Steve (neither of us knew she was coming).  The visitor thought we made such a happy little family reuniting, that she asked if she could take photos.   After her visit, she sent this photo to the Historic Society and asked if they’d forward it to us.  She included some very nice comments about how delightful and kind we were.   I look at it and think of Emily behind her, making me crack up.

photo credit: Carol Toepke

We are eager to go off on our next adventure – a 3-week road trip to “Metaphorical Montreal & Maine”.  Where we actually end up is immaterial.  The adventure is continuing to forge our partnership, responding to new situations like dancers in tango.  We are becoming more graceful, more complementary, even though we have many more decisions to make.