The High Road- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In this life, there are so many potential paths to take, but I realize that there comes a point when the avenues are fewer and the places to run disappear.  Then we must pick only one direction and then we must stay our course or stand still.   We could allow ourselves to fall behind.  In which case we might as well lay down and die.
I remember a time when my life, like a circular intersection, the kind you find all over the place in Washington D.C.,  held many roads to choose from.  All those paths were easily accessible, all leading somewhere different.  Then there came a time when there was just the fork in the road.  There was the easy lane or the higher plain.   The simplest way was straight and direct, flat, barren, with no surprises.  I'd walk with someone there, but not beside them, only in relative proximity.  There would never be anyone else to encounter and my travel companion was not excited about the journey.  It would be a lonely road, but I knew where it lead and I could manage it.  The tolls were paid in advance, the road would be smooth in most regard as long as I kept my head low, my pace steady, walked on the straight and narrow.

The high road is sometimes a lonely place, often a winding way, riddled with potholes and fallen trees, dark stretches where you can't see what's coming, but it's never dull, always worth traveling.  There have been people on my path who make the journey exciting and others who take my hand as I walk, some who push me up a hill, others who need to be carried and this has made me feel useful on my venture.  Sometimes I run.  Sometimes I fall.  Sometimes I roll down the hill, other places I stand to look back at where I've come from, but I can no longer see the beginning of this road.  The fork has vanished and there is no going in reverse.  The high road is a hard road to walk at times, but it's never disappointing.  It leads somewhere I've never been and it's all I can do to stop myself from excitedly asking, "Are we there yet?"  I realize this road may have no end or perhaps there will come another fork, a crossing, maybe even another crazy wheel with spokes of paths to select from.   I don't know.  I don't have a map and like a man, I won't ask for directions.   What I will ask is for you to walk beside me.  I promise you, it'll be an interesting journey.

Sealed with a kiss

Mother's Day 2010; I walked the empty, sunless beach, curled my bare toes against the cold, wet, gritty sand.  A chill rose from my feet to my head and my blonde arm hair sprang from goose-pimpled flesh.   I called out, cautioning my children to stay away from the surf.  "You'll be freezing if you get wet and we're not leaving.   I'll want to walk a long way.  We just got here, stay dry".  Pointless directions; they were soaked within seconds as I expected they would be.
I kept one eye on them as I strolled and the other on the dogs, who were happily galloping free, sniffing everywhere, scaring up sporadic congregations of seagulls.  Leash laws are lost on me.   Probably because I was busily watching kids and animals, I didn't take careful notice of my own direction and only became aware of the perils to myself  when the pungent scent of death reached my cold nose, startling me to look down.  I didn't scream, but rather let my mouth gape open in awe of what I took in.
I called my children and with them came the dogs.   All drew near and all were shocked by the smell, all were fascinated and thrilled as I was by the large, dead seal.
We stood there, talking about the open chest, admiring it's broke ribs, missing heart, the left behind section of lung, what else might be absent internally we pondered.  It's head was off too and lucky for us, a clump of seaweed sat where it would have, should have, once had been, making it's decapitation easier to accept.  Aside from the smaller dog wanting to roll in it, I found nothing wrong with our insatiable curiosity and desire to explore its lifeless remains.  My son encouraged me to speculate on the size of the shark who'd killed it, sent it's lifeless body into waves to be washed up to shore for us to enjoy.    I found myself spinning a tale of a hungry shark and a sacrificial seal, the circle of life came pouring from my mouth.  My daughter wanted to "keep it".  I contemplated the large Hefty bag rolled beneath the seat in the back of my Jeep.  I kept it there for those occasions when something messy had to be transported home, which is often the case when you live with kids and dogs and not so far from water.   It would be kind of nuts for me to bag this guy up and bring him home so we could dissect him further, wouldn't it be?
A shovel, pail and a bitchen stick right here on the sand would be experiment enough and as it turns out, it was.
We spent an hour, maybe more, lost in the seal.  Then we moved on, watched the speedy sandpipers rush away from waves on their toothpick legs, then  continue seaching in freshly wet sand for whatever it is they eat, before hurrying away again, like a fast forwarded video tape when the surf encroached on them.  Dolphin came by, cavorting together in the stillness beyond the rough waters.  Delightful to see, but not as wondrous as the rotting sea lion carcass.
I often forget the lesser holidays; like Saint Patrick's Day, Memorial Day and often even Mother's Day, but I never misplace this memory.   I can still feel the temperature, sense the chill, taste the salty air, smell the tide, feel my insides literally rolling up with the excitement over the remarkable, unexpected find.   And I never cease to marvel at the endless curiosity of my children,  recalling their oohs and aaaahs.   Morbid maybe, but memorable, highly memorable.   It was a good day.  I'll take it.  

The waiting is the hardest part

I like it when life is hard.
I like it when life is easy.
I like it when I am actively working towards something, anything, as long as there is work to occupy me.  Easy or hard, work is good.

Currently I'm waiting.
I could be working towards something as I wait and maybe I am, now that I think of it.
Working on improving myself.
Always working with my children because they never stop growing, changing, becoming something new.
But, still I feel as though, more then anything, I am waiting.

Today as I walked my dogs, I moved beneath a blanket of grey clouds, which sat so low, I felt as though I could reach up my hand, poke my finger through the fogginess and force a hole for the water to fall through.  I found myself waiting for the rain to begin, wondering when it would interrupt my walking, when it would force a change.  I'd walk an additional 1/4 mile and then another, then another, looking at the sky, telling it to begin to rain, pushing it to make the change.   The rain never started and eventually I stopped hiking, but not waiting and I went home.    Now here I sit, looking out the window still or maybe just again waiting for something that won't come when I tell it to.

I read Mary Oliver's Wild Geese, which so often soothes me, since I found her poetry in October 2010; it surprises me which line will reach out and touch me, each time I read it.  It's never the same, it's never what I expect and maybe that's why I love this particular poem.
"Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you harsh and exciting, like the wild geese".
I'm waiting for you to call to me world.  I'm waiting for the harsh, exciting sounds "announcing my place in the family of things".
Don't take too long.

Who Do You Love?

With Valentine's Day rapidly approaching, I'm thinking about the people I love.  What is it about them  that makes them so irreplaceable, so darned amazing? Why are they my beloved?

LOVE

I love my daughter, because she is different and beautiful, because she challenges me constantly to escape my own mind's limitations and to broaden myself beyond my comfort zone and to embrace the often unnoticed beauty that surrounds us all.

I love my son because he's cute, period.

I love my folks so much, not just because I should, but because they are there for me and they love me, no matter what.  Hey, they gave me my life, which I also happen to love, come rain or shine.  

I adore my siblings.  They've known me my entire life and like me anyhow.

I cherish my precious, darling girlfriends because they are amazing and they simply make the world go round and round and round.   My guy friends are rather incredible as well.

I love my dogs for adding humor to my day and forcing me to exercise.  That's it.  Otherwise they can go F themselves.

I love my kid's teachers for being patient and giving with them.

I love the father of my children for turning me into a mother, which is something I always wanted to be and for that I am eternally grateful.

I love my cousin Mike for wiggling his way into my life when I tried very hard to close the doors to myself and keep people out, because I wanted to spare them the turmoil that felt overwhelming inside.

I love my nieces and nephews for looking blindly up to me, when I'm not at all sure I deserve it.

I love my friend Kurt for writing a song to go with my unreadable novel.

I still have a place in my heart for my first boyfriend.  I'm thankful for all he taught me, for what we learned together about love.  I was lucky in my apprenticeship.

And... I love my last boyfriend. I'm glad for all the things that went right, wrong, up, down, for all of it.

And then there is you, if you are reading this, whoever you are, I probably love you for some reason.  I find a reason to love most everyone, because I believe we are all in some way lovable.  So, if you're in need, I'll be your Valentine...  (literally)

To Those Who Wait

They say patience is a virtue.  Unfortunately I can be less then virtuous at times.  Waiting and wondering can put me in a funk, but mostly I must admit, I find it exciting to wait and see.
Recently I watched as a friend's patience paid off.  She was exasperated, frustrated and even humiliated.  She avoided complaining about her woes and made small but purposeful attempts to alter her course and gain altitude in the slippery slope of life.  Well, her perseverance paid off and I learned that some very wonderful, necessary and incredible things have come to fruition for her lovely self.  I could not be happier for her and about it all.  She is a precious person who deserves some breaks in life and she's getting them.  Lovely would be the word I'd choose to describe this event and lovely is a good word to put to use for her as a whole, now that I think of it.
I have witnessed many cases of patience bringing good things in time.  Nice to reflect and be reassured by it all.  Reminds me to cherish each day, whether the day brings what I hope it will or maybe brings me one day closer to what I hope will come.  I am positive, because the evidence is all around me; that good things come to those who wait.

The "see" section of life

Conveniently enough, for me, life is a bit like childbirth. It would seem that I typically can't remember how difficult it is/was/will be.

More often then not, at the end of the day I seem to be blessed in my ability to focus on just the... 
beautiful baby/friend/sky/road/cake/smile/tree/favor/starry night/rambling creek/laughter, that is left behind and not the painful episodes themselves. 




Remember---- Breath. In. Out. Push-Push-Push.  Repeat.

Yes you can.

I said, "I can't".  He said, "try".  I said, "There's something wrong with me, remember?  I can't do this sort of stuff, I have a rod and bolts in my leg".  "Try once", he said.   In my head I called him an as_hole.  In my mouth I tasted bile from my nervous belly.  In my mind I pictured a trip the hospital due to breaking a screw under my knee cap, but in my heart I longed to give it a shot.
So... I jumped on the box.
Why do I ever say, "I can't"?
I'm racking my brain trying to think of things I've failed at and I'm drawing a blank.   Without a doubt I've missed the mark, changed course, stopped the process, but have I failed at something I tried?  I can't recall actually failing.  Not when I've truly made a genuine effort anyhow.   

I must remember to hold my tongue when I feel like saying - "I CAN'T".
Because, in most cases, I CAN and what's more important, I WILL, when I try.

Thanks to my friend Brandy for bringing me to the Crossfit gym.  I didn't think I could do it, but you make me want to.  You're one amazing chick.  Thanks to my other friend who unknowingly inspires me to risk injury and go all out with new sportsy stuff as well.

There is one thing that I CAN'T do.  I CAN'T ever tell you how much I love you, my "continuing sources of inspiration". (a'la SouthPark)