I Thought Of You

I am not here. 


But my brother, Rob, his daughter, Reeve, and Claire are [without us this year]...wading through their campsite on this Monday morning. Shades of our *camping experience last summer at Hither Hills State Park in Montauk, NY where I managed to post a blog every day while living in a tent. 


I was fervent in my dedication.


Yesterday was a wash; I was not fervent. 


I mustered the energy to teach a 7:15 am yoga class where we lay on our mats in savasana, breathing along to the steady drumbeat of rain. 


I came home, 
walked Chewy, 
and quietly crawled back into bed. 


And stayed there. 
All day.
Almost. 


Around three in the afternoon, Michael and I donned raincoats and took Chewy out to throw him a tennis ball. I pulled weeds. Michael threw the ball. 


Chewy, 
wet, smiling dog
skidding across the grass
green ball in mouth. 


The rain fell, 
a steady veil, 
unraveling from the sky.


Everything, a deep green.


A bright green leaf stuck to my red garden clogs. 
I wanted a picture but it was raining too hard. 


See wet green leaf stuck to bright red garden clog.


Yesterday I was fallow? 


I never showed up for This Being Alive. 


Rather than force myself to write, think, create 


~ I did next to nothing.

Wait. Not true. 


I did come to the computer, 
more than once, and stared at the screen. 
And thought what to write? 
then went back to bed. 
And read. 
And napped. 
And lay across the bed horizontally, 
just to change things up. 

At 8:30 pm, I sat one last time, staring at the screen. 


I thought of you ~


blew a kiss, 


then climbed back into bed 
with
a book
cup of tea 
and the rain.

It was that kind of day.


How was yours?


*Read "Salt Air" (and other posts from that week) July 13, 2010

Make A River

"Man, is it raining," I said, "The yard is one giant mud pie. Guys, we can't be throwing the ball to Chewy out there. He's tearing the whole thing up."
"Look at him, Mom," Claire said.


Throw me the ball.
Throw me the ball.
Throw me the darn tennis ball.


Please?


"I should just take him out to the river and let him run. Otherwise the boy is a cuckoo bird," I said, "But I don't feel like driving out there. I have work to do and would rather go out back..."
"Well. We could make a river," Claire said, "It wouldn't be that hard."

More Rain

Simple Sunday.


rain rain rain


1:15 matinee of The King's Speech. 


(see it.) 


rain rain rain...


bed
book


more rain.

Did I Mention The Lifeguards?

So, here we are. December first. Except it feels like we're smack dab in the middle of monsoon season in PA. Gusty winds, sheets of rain. I should get in the kayak and paddle around the yard. Get in a little upper body work-out, maybe. Upper body work-out? Lifeguards? Hmmmm...


Did I mention the lifeguards? 


I can't believe I didn't write one damn thing about the lifeguards when we were camping this past July. Here I am, just now bringing them up. Funny how the writing process works. You know, how one thing leads to another? 


December rains, camping, lifeguards, male bodies. 


Connect the dots.


Every morning, I'd see this guy doing push-ups, sit-ups, chin-ups; all kinds of muscle-crunching, twisting activities. I'd watch out of the corner of my eye, scan the surf for wave size, then bike back to our campsite. Peddling up, slightly out of breath, I'd say something to Michael like, Hey, have you seen the lifeguards, honey? Man, do they have a work-out. He'd look at me, checking for any drool that might be gathering at the corners of my mouth, then get back to battening down the hatches of our tent in anticipation of the next rain storm. 


"That's my girl,"he'd say, "Somebody's gotta keep an eye on the lifeguards."

Karme Choling

This is *Karme Choling, a Shambala Meditation Center surrounded by 700 acres of mountain forest in northern Vermont where I've come to spend a week deepening my writing practice and learning to meditate with the fine writer/teacher, Susan Piver. 


My journey from Pennsylvania began on Thursday afternoon with a stop-over in Portland, Connecticut where I spent the night with Nan, dear family friend, in her 19th century home. That night, I slept in Nan's girlhood bed, tossing and turning with anticipation and anxiety for the second leg of my trip on Friday. 


Hugs all around I headed north on 91 through Connecticut, Massachusetts, and into Vermont. The sky was clear but as I drove north the weather turned; rain blowing horizontally, winds pushing the car, road signs like scarified pavement, caution/ strong crosswinds ahead, ponding on highway. Ponding on highway?


I drove and breathed, ticking the miles off while listening to Garrison Keillor tell tales of Lake Wobegon. It's just rain, I told myself, followed by whose idea was this to leave my family for a week? Vision quest, my ass.


Finally, Exit 18, Barnet/Peacham. Off the exit, a half a mile up, I turned onto Patneaude Lane, crossed over a flooded bridge and drove up the dirt road. Dear God, what if I get trapped here?


Karme Choling rose up to greet me. I parked the car and promptly wept with relief, head on steering wheel. 


You can go home if you hate it.


By dinner I felt the shift, over the "new kid at camp" syndrome, I was laughing with new friends and settled into my room. Before bed, I stood outside under the night sky and thought, See? You can do this. Hell, you might even enjoy it.


"Mom! Dad and I are capable," Claire told me on the phone.


Me too.


(imagine a small tent over the "e" in Karme and the two dots over the "o" in Choling)

Rest

rest.

Legs Stretched Out

Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment? Listening to the night rain on my roof, I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out.

~ Ry-kan

A rainy Sunday shout-out to the shiny new faces that have joined This Being Alive...thanks so very much for showing up. I have a singing heart because of you.

With your help, we'll keep right on growing! Yahoo!!!

xo b

This Is Camping

8:30pm: sitting in the General Store after a pounding of rain. It was like a GIANT bucket of marbles had been dumped on our tent. We got a few puddles in the tent and for a while the family bonding got close. Okay, I was completely claustrophobic. And in the middle of hurricane winds, I had to pee. Go figure that my two raincoats are hanging in the closet at home. Michael kindly escorted me to the bathroom under our beach umbrella.

At one point in the midst of the storm, Claire said, "So, this is camping, right?"

Yup.

Gone By Morning

It's late on this rainy Thursday night, late for me. 10:20pm. And the truth is my left ear has a terrible ache, so terrible that I'm contemplating taking myself to the ER. But we all know what kind of night that would be. Bright lights. Interminable wait. Even after meeting all the nice people when *Dad was in there two weeks ago, I just can't do it. It's not like I want to have a reunion with Nurse Louise, no matter how sweet she was.

All week long I've been closing out emails to friends with, don't let the bastards get you down. I guess I've had the feeling that an army of bastards was infiltrating Monroe County. Does an earache qualify as a bastard? Right now I'm thinking, yes. But an even bigger question that's plaguing this writer is, is earache one word or two? It looks weird either way.

So, troops, I'm going to make some Sleepytime tea, pop some Tylenol, and wrap myself up in "pinky", the old blanket Mom gave me years ago. And pray that this bastard is gone by morning.

see *Run Like Hell