Never Out Of Mind

August 26. 2014

I'm thinking, no matter what I post today all that matters is that I write something because the last time I was here was back in July and ever since I've wandered off from This Being Alive - 

out of sight but never out of mind, lovelies.

It's been a good wandering. 

Barcelona for my summer writing program; 

a baptism of 
sun
walking
dogs
map reading
new friends
the trill of Spanish in my ears
writing
cervezas 
hands in the air

I fell in love. big big time.














I had the joy of teaching my Scratching on Paper writing workshop to the fabulous Upward Bound students of East Stroudsburg University. Shout out!

We 
wrote
shared
listened 
read
questioned
did yoga too.

+

Draped snakes around our necks? 

why? why?


I feel an urgency to play catch up, to connect, to let you know I'm still here. I've felt odd and cranky, like knowing you need to call a good friend but for some reason can't pick up the phone. You want to talk but feel full up? 

This summer, I've been deep into being alive.

what a concept! To live rather than think about it. hmmmm

Instead of taking time to be the recorder of my experiences, like blogging, other than my never-ending scribbles in notebooks, I've been on a quest to enjoy them. I've had outbursts of God, I am so happy right now. This has happened repeatedly, especially in Barcelona. (I've got my apartment picked out!)













I love

feeling it 
saying it 
sharing it.

Try it: I'm so happy.

When I feel those weird autumnal pangs and the familiar melancholy sweeping over me, it's starting, I'm going to remember and repeat my summer mantra until it washes over me, like the sun through the stained glass at Sagria Familia.

I am so happy
I am so happy

xo

b

Sky From My Window

sky from my window ~


Barcelona 2014

On June 23rd, I moved Dad into a Memory Care Unit. That particular day, he didn't smell so good. Rather than wait for help 

a problem of mine

I gave him a shower. 

"Should I strip down?" he asked.
"Yes, Dad."

He stripped down, used his walker and wobbled into the shower. I soaped his head and back. He took care of the rest. 

                                              *

Three days later I was on a plane to Barcelona for a second summer of writing workshops, craft seminars, severe jet lag. 2 weeks. This is a dream. Si?

I've had problems accessing my computer and email which is both frustrating and a relief? I may not get back here again? [my computer] Even now as I write this, it's taking very long to load my photos. I have a class to attend in twenty minutes. 

For now I can say this:

I love:

mucho dogs here walking without leashes
old women in shirt dresses.
tiny streets and wide avenues
bikes
skateboards
beautiful women (+ men)
incredible sinks in el bano
tiles
trees
a railing to hang my drying panties on


This list says nada of the mountains and valleys of feelings. 

This Being Alive is sitting by a window looking out on the green park. It is raining. The first time since I've been here. It is almost two o'clock and I have not had a cerveza. This is good. Maybe because the rain has cooled things off. Or the tea is just as good.

I miss my family; the girls, the dog, cats, my garden.
My husband, Michael, working in Los Angeles. 
Our family life is a fluid thing, 
This is what we say.  

We are fluid. 

I'll say this before I run to class ~

It's never too late to do something new, to find an open door, a kind of freedom. I've danced all my life with my need for this freedom, the balance of motherhood, family, responsibilities,

showering old dad?

+ 

wanting to walk streets I don't know, 

all my myself. 

besos y abrazos,

xo b

Nice Turn Of Events

Butterfly by Krista



Sunday
May 18. 2014


Maybe it's spring. The way it bursts out of the gate, first the snowbells coming up in the snow, then, I don't know, purple crocus tucked by the rock in the backyard, magnolia teacup, the blaze of the forsythia, crazy yellow. Next thing I know the irises are waving their tall and slender selves, the apple tree blooms + turns flush with green leaves. The yard where I walked up to my thighs in snow all winter is freshly mowed. 

Maybe it's that Michael came home from Los Angeles for a couple of weeks and life felt a little more normal, or a little less lopsided. Having your husband working on the opposite coast is challenging, especially through the hardest winter I can recall. 

But west and east
point b and point a
it's how we fell in love in the first place. 

~ that's a good story

Maybe I'm noticing more moments of gladness after what feels like years of a thrumming worry running through me/ not that I was always worried. But you know the underground stream.

Not that it has disappeared, it's in my fat cells. 

It's about allowing the gladness.
















like it's possible that it can be a natural state of being.

Like wearing really red boots, I don't have any but still..., or hearing the Happy Song on the radio when you pull in the driveway and you start dancing with your kid until the whole song is done, or smothering a graham cracker with peanut butter and sliding a piece of chocolate on top followed by eating, or the first grader who comes up and says in a very sincere voice - 

Ms. Jackson, I love you. we'd just met that day!

Or the other sincere first grader who shared that she had repeated first grade but wasn't quite sure she was ready to go to second. 

I knew exactly what the kid was talking about. 

Why leave, I like it here!

you got to flow with the river, kid.

I don't have to be fretful. Nothing personal, Henny. 

I can sweep my barnyard without watching the sky.

I can sweep and walk and sleep and love + dance and be awake in the middle of the night and miss my guy and wonder about Dad and hang with six year olds or my John Deere and still,

be filled with a kind of gladness instead.

It's feels like a nice turn of events. 













namaste, lovelies.

xo b

Something Like That

Lobster and Turtle, friends


May 5. 2014

I didn't make it here yesterday as Dad ended up in the hospital over the weekend with pneumonia. Yikes. He was quite a confused boy, especially when the EMT's came to get him. Lorraine, the nurse at the home where Dad lives said on the phone,

Your father has a fever. He's just NOT himself.

I chatted with Mackenzie, the EMT, at the hospital. 

She said,

Your Dad shouted, Hell yeah! Rock and roll! as we were trying to get him in the ambulance.

So maybe he actually WAS himself. 

Two nights in the hospital and he is on the mend. It was a tiring weekend mixed with the beauty of sun and clouds and watching Claire run at a track meet and the gentle kindness of my brother, Rob, who drove over to lend a hand with Dad. 

Dad! Put your penis in the bottle! 
Huh?
PUT YOUR PENIS IN THE BOTTLE!

okay then.



I am thinking about how sometimes I carry you and sometimes you carry me, like lobster and turtle?

I am thinking about all the support I receive from so many people who live near and far. And all the people I care for and support to the best of my ability. Offered with spaciousness + love, rather than trying to be perfect, is way easier on the spirit. 

The smallest thing: 

a hug
a note
a cup of coffee
a helping hand
a phone call
cooking a delicious meal thank you, Michael xo
a listening ear

It doesn't have to be a fireworks show.

Take a moment. 
Breathe.

Who do you support? way to go!
Who supports you? thank them today

Hold that feeling. 
Feel the soft place to land.


















amazing, right? 

Running around, figuring things out, freaking out - 

not really what it's about. 

Leaning in, leaning on - it's a daily practice of trust.

feel the support
offer support
trust the love

It's like a really good peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

~ or something like that.

xo b

Let Yourself Fly

April 27. 2014

I want to write about Jesse finishing her radiation and how damn brave she is woo hoo and Michael coming home from Los Angeles and how happy we are to have him home woo hoo and drinking tea and eating french fries at the Mountainhome Diner with my soul sister from Vermont. I want to write about Claire's drawings and writing and my funny work life. And Dad holding his own at Mrs. Bush's Personal Care Home and my mother-in-law, Johnnie 88 years young telling me on the phone -

Elizabeth, I guess I'm still a work in progress. 

amen to that.

And how slowly slowly I'm getting that  

I don't have to believe everything I think,

which is a GIANT relief. 

Just for today I'm writing about being at the river with Claire last week. It was a warmer day. We found a quiet spot and watched the small plane pulling gliders 

up
up 
up

and then the rope detached and the glider floated over the trees and river and us. Four gliders were released into the sky and every time the rope let go, I exhaled.

Claire hopped from one foot to the other, then with a howl plunged in the cold river and like an otter popped up, hair all wet and shiny.

I just need to feel cleansed she said.

I did not feel the need to be cleansed. I did feel like I was passing the baton to my kid because I've always believed you should get in the water early in the season and stay in as late as you can 

take the plunge 

but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm losing my edge.

We ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Claire read out loud from Watership Down by Richard Adams. It's a wonderful story about rabbits and all that goes on in the warren.  Read it.

It was the very best kind of afternoon.

river
books
swimming
sandwiches
conversation
sky watching

= a universal heartbeat?

At the center of the universe is a

loving heart that continues to beat

and that wants the best for every person.

- Mister Rogers

xo b

A Kind Of Luau?

April 20, 2014

I'm holding back from writing about this brief exchange Claire and I had last night while I was reading in one room and she had the tv on in the other:

Claire, what are you watching?

Sex Sent Me To The ER.

Probably best to tackle that another day.

Then there's the above invite I received a few weeks ago to attend a sort of luau over the death of Jesus. Those of you who are old enough, doesn't this Jesus looks suspiciously like a young James Garner, or maybe James Brolin? It's the hair and beard combo.

After months of watching my warrior kid go through one cancer treatment after the next, and after this cancer "journey" comes to an end on Friday when she has her last radiation treatment - #33 

I passed on the Jesus celebration of death party.

I'm a card-carrying re-birther. 

In my girlhood, I'd be decked out in shiny patent leather shoes with matching bag, white gloves, a pretty Easter dress + yes, even some kind of hat or head thing to go off to church to see Dad share the good news in the pulpit, so handsome. Mom slipping me and my brothers yellow and orange lifesavers and the small yellow pencils to draw on the offering cards -some of the happiest days of my life.

Today I choose the church of the big bed.

Old cat.

Tea.

Books.

Markers.

Notebook.

Big surprise, right?

The resident bunny was up at six (not me), hiding eggs.

I walked with my tea around the yard inspecting the Bunny's handiwork for the hunt. Strolling got me thinking how busy we (I?) get looking under rocks, in dark closets, a junk drawer? anywhere outside of ourselves for answers to this mysterious life. 

The answer's gotta be here somewhere. 

I'm the frantic White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland?

seeking seeking scurrying scurrying 

i'm late i'm late 

Here's the twicky truth -

joy

beauty 

simplicity

love

breathing room
compassion

unknowable mystery

are always right in front of us

inside us

It's the beautiful mystery.

The old cat
The Bunny and the egg
Chocolate
Love
Jesus, James Garner and James Brolin

All mysteries too.

the peace that passeth understanding ~


Inside. 

Remind me when I forget this [because I will!]  Remind me that I don't have to look for love peace serenity joy compassion because

I am love, peace, serenity, joy + compassion.

And fear, worry, doubt. Yes, those too.

I can re-birth myself in every moment
From a church
or a big bed
the garden
even from a chemo infusion center.

re-birth yourself.

I'm reminding you.










xo b