21 february 2010

what am i here for?

i am here
to
be
here.

SAW reflections

i heard about Squam Art Workshops (SAW) for the first time leading up to the inaugural gathering in september 2008. i sensed SAW would be something that i would want to be a part of in the future - the near, touchable, tastable future.

after hearing about attendees' experiences at that first SAW happening i knew for sure i wanted to be there in september 2009. i felt my heart leaning, stretching, leaping towards this. and, this reaching for me, wanting me, inviting me. yes, yes, yes.

attending art camp. in the woods. surrounded by familiar beauties - some known, some soon to be known (and, once seen - oh so familiar they were/are). all of us, turning towards the shimmering light, the brave rising and the sweetest soaring.

september SAW was on my list for 2009. it was to be. no question. it simply would be. it was the future i was living into. a passage, a healing, a baptism, a renewal and a leap.

from the time of that first knowing, through registering and to arrival: i experienced the deepest darkness before the dawn (connected to the physical death of my sister/babe, bella, and my great grief journey); i honored the new ground i was standing on (claiming my new way of being in the world and in relationship with bella - our awake and alive relationship) through baptism - getting my nose pierced; and, i listened to my heart, followed spirit's guidance and chose an adventure - leaping north, to new england, creating new life and new work.

september SAW 2009 intersected with grounding in my new geography and contained all of the elements of my journey to arriving there: passage, healing, baptism, renewal and leaping.

passage: making the journey further north and back with this radiant being and my creative neighbor, Katrina (also one of my "fire*side beauties" - more on them later...); witnessing when i was feeling overwhelmed, self-conscious, afraid, stuck and on the edge of shutting down and giving myself the space to have my whole experience - being even bigger than i've ever known myself to be; and, bravely and boldly speaking my truths.

healing: embracing a large circle of women who, by simply being, have been an important part of my healing and living journey these years. jen gray, Christine Mason Miller, Susannah, Denise, Schmoopy, dar, Kirsten, Liz, Thea, Jeanine and Elizabeth - i bow to you, you have kept me warm and inspired. along the dirt path, at the table and around many fires, i welcomed a creative community of women with whom i am continuing to journey. these are my "fire*side beauties" (many of them are listed/linked on the left side of this page): danielle marie - a rock star; ab - a blossom; Lauren - a sassy sister; Jen Lee - a pioneer; jenna - a guide; Helen - a love; Vivienne - a warrior goddess; Heather - a treasure chest; and, Katrina - a lighthouse.

baptism: claiming and naming the ritual, healing and creative arts practice i am building and the creative community i have longed for and found.

renewal: time by the bonfire, beside the lake, under the stars, in the rocking chair and underneath layers and layers and layers of blankets. a kick*ass art-in-nature class led by Christopher Frost - all day, outdoors (my true, true home). refreshing my writing practice in a class led by the delicious Jen Lee. and, "Breathing Space."

leaping: a vow to cultivate play, vitality and being big and a request for my creative community's support in this.

i am - soaring on...

going to art camp!

by this time tomorrow i will have arrived at SAW/Squam Art Workshops.

a journey a year + in the making...

i know this experience will be a heart-opening, wing-widening, soul-lifting & home-coming good time.

i will return here when i return.

may your days & nights be filled with color, ease, magic & love, love, love.

xo,

gem

off... from goose42 on Vimeo.

dear city

dear city - city of LOVE,

i chose you nearly six years ago. much to my surprise.

it was the right choice. i found a home here. for this i am most grateful.

i remember all those days these last six years whispering to you, "i love it here."

this, too, is right - leaving you now & leaping north to a new adventure, new home, new work, unknowns, learnings, old & new beloveds.

i am ready. i am so very ready.

you have taken such good care of me.

providing shelter in that little blue house with my little blue house roomie (who will always be my "roomie" - wherever i go) & in a nest of my own.

offering sweet & nourishing spots.

indoors - a chocolate cafe; favorite indian, sushi, middle eastern, japanese & vegan restaurants; the pizza joint with my favorite pizza; the library; movie theaters; cafes & coffee/tea shops, where i wrote, read & shared tea dates; candlelit spaces to listen to live music; places to study spirituality & energy work; yoga studios; the gym; and, places to worship.

outdoors - green squares; spots by your rivers; restaurants with outdoor seating; your city streets - i walked & walked & walked...

thank you for my work. mostly, for the collection of beings with whom i worked - they have been family.

thank you for the proximity to family to journey & heal with.

thank you for offering an endless string of life*saving beings who listened, taught, helped, healed, inspired & loved me.

thank you for the whole of these six years. choosing you six years ago makes perfect sense now as i see the whole of my time here...

xo,
gem

across the river & back again

yesterday late afternoon, a trip across the river to my parents home for the evening & night. a walk with our fam's angel dog. breathing in the quiet, fresh, small town air. exhaling the city air & noise. our favorite pizza. mint chocolate chip ice cream. Marley & Me. a walk into town with dad for coffee (for him) & tea (for me). encountering neighbors along the way. sitting & sipping hot beverages on a familiar bench, one i sat on for the first time nearly 28 years ago while eating an ice cream cone. to bed just after 10 p.m. with her stuffed animal love tucked beside me.

waking at 6 a.m. rising to pain (still) in my left knee. in the shower, asking: "what is this pain in my knee telling me/trying to tell me?" listening to the answer.

stepping out of the shower & after some healing stretching, back into bed to write. then to read.

rising again. making my way back here, to my nest in the city. a smoothie. reading this post.

aware of a chain of aching hearts these days. a string of losses. first days, first occasions & first anniversaries of the grieving variety. deaths of children, grandparents, spouses, animal loves.

i sit here on this 3rd may saturday. the 3rd anniversary coming up. life as i knew it altered, shifted course (annihilated, disintegrated?), broke open on a 3rd may saturday 3 years ago. on this 3rd may saturday i can speak this, "i made my way."

so much i could say about what i mean by this ("i made my way") & not wanting to be misunderstood. for now, this - i made my way through. i crossed over. and, i am here. after the year+ of shock; after months/seasons long stints in the pitch black; after the devastation; after crawling, limping, walking around in the rubble. i am here. i weep & sometimes i sob, in thanks-giving, for my life, for my love, for my belief in the good/god/light...

listening to this song. to all who are tending to broken open hearts i sing you this, i pray you this, because i believe this, "Lights will guide you home..."

this mid-march weekend i...

• chose the winner of the blossoming give*away! to all who entered & shared what is blossoming in your journey, please know that i received in my heart each & every word. i am wildly inspired by each of you. now for the winner...the winner is: Michele!
  
• tucked myself into bed on friday night by 9:30 p.m. & enjoyed a bliss*full night of sleep.
• made home*made st. patrick's day cards for my momma & poppa.
• posted another "the goods" list.
• shared a day in the city with my momma. we ate french toast with bananas & nutella; a cheddar, bacon & apple scramble with sweet potato fries on the side; and, pizza from our favorite spot. we drank fresh squeezed orange juice & chai tea. we walked & walked & walked. we giggled & shared stories. we enjoyed seeing many members (the irish!) of our tribe wearing green & being merry. {my momma is 100% irish & she loves being irish & she gave this to her children - as well as her irish maiden name which is the middle name of her three chicks.} we had manicures & pedicures - my toes are a deep aqua & my fingers are a sparkly pink. we shopped & i bought this dress.
• packed up an overnight bag for sleeping across the river at my parents' home on saturday night.
• went for a walk with my momma & our fam's/my parents' doggie dear.
• knitted.
• watched an incredibly moving film, Taking Chance.
• voted.
• read a sweet & colorful piece of bella's writing, which my momma had found & hung on my parents' refrigerator door. the title of this piece is: "Who I Am." bella wrote about traveling the world, loving making people laugh, playing in the ocean... oh, i do hope & trust you have your very own kind of bella*love. i do. i do. i do. one thing i know is that we are all at the root/the source bella*like: full of light, love, laughter, generosity... how amazing is this?! lucky, lucky, lucky me & you & us.
• watched this video - discovered here.
• made corn bread muffins.
• looking forward to a nourishing sunday evening & night...
  

"In today's sharp sparkle..."

Obama 2009 Inaugural Poem: "Praise Song for the Day" by Elizabeth Alexander



Praise song for the day.

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others’ eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.

A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, “Take out your pencils. Begin.”

We encounter each other in words, Words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; Words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, “I need to see what’s on the other side; I know there’s something better down the road.”

We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by “Love thy neighbor as thy self.”

Others by "first do no harm," or "take no more than you need."

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.

on the eve of autumn: Sacred Life Sunday

today is the last of day summer and here is what my , what i also name "worship", looks like today:

*watching this. jen gray rocks. i laughed hard and cried just as hard while watching this beauty. here's another link to "Say Hey" by Michael Franti.
*relaxing in bed for hours this a.m. watching season 4 episodes of Gilmore Girls. eating a small fruit salad made with raspberries, apple chunks, banana slices and a sprinkle o' cinnamon.
*tending to my little nest after returning home late last night from a shift*full, whirl*wind time, 32.5 hours, in nyc. dishes. dusting. unpacking. making a grocery list. opening mail.
*thinking about this post from a superhero and how relevant it was when i read it a few days ago and how i lived my own version of this while in nyc. Andrea's post wrapped itself around me like a blanket on friday night - saturday morning, offering comfort, connection, security.
*a long late morning/early afternoon walk in the sun in my home city. stopping to purchase one of my favorite treats, a made with goodness and care chocolate chip scone from a natural foods market. also purchasing some butternut squash soup to warm and eat in the upcoming autumn days. i love, love, love autumn. if i had to name a season that primarily represents me and my way of being in the world it would be this season. from my auburn hair to my love of pumpkin pie to my commitment to living a life where others feel refreshed, nourished, warmed and cozy in my presence and in the world (which is how autumn makes me feel).
*making brunch. a mushroom, green onion and spinach omelet with sweet potato slices sauteed in a little bit of olive oil.
*listening to this golden song by Jill Scott. one of the many songs i've discovered while participating in yoga classes in my yoga studio of choice.

and, you? what does your worship look like today?

on your 43rd birthday

happy birthday, brother.

this date arrives faithfully year after year. 4/4. as i approach this day, you arrive. you enter my mind and heart space. you walk in at the start of april, blasting through the front door without warning, a phone call in advance to announce "i'm coming" or even a knock. you'd think i'd remember after all these years that it's april and you're coming. perhaps i'm the april (forgetful) fool. your entrance can't be restrained. it's like breath in my body. it's just there. it emerges. makes its way in. you make your way in.

you are a part of me. we are connected. we are sister and brother. in our way. in the way that i see it and in the way that my heart and wisdom understand it.

i remember. your big (literally, you being 10 years older) and playful presence all those years at the beginning of my life. then the sudden and seemingly absolute physical absence and the presence of the absence. now as i sit, i recall some absence, some distance, even when you were present in the beginning.

the last time i saw you was when i was 9; you were turning/had just turned 20. it was spring/nearly spring. it was the day of your maternal grandmother's funeral. it was a rainy day. bella hadn't been born yet. i realize as i write: the last time i saw you was when you were just about/had just turned 20 and the last time i saw bella alive in her physical body was when she was 20 years, 5 months and 6 days old.

for so many years (i.e., 19) what i remembered most about that day was that you didn't (couldn't/wouldn't) look at me and i wanted you to. for so many years it was the day i was rejected, abandoned; it was the day that my hope of being the recipient of something i desperately wanted and needed was taken away. i was little then and i placed my hope (of being the little sister cared for, loved, guided and protected by her biggest brother) on you. i wanted you to feed me, to satisfy my wild, tender, colossal hunger. misplaced, childlike, yes. honest, yes.

three years ago, after some intentional digging, i found a phone number for you on the internet. i called and left a message. i tried again and we spoke. we spoke some more. fragments. awkward. bits. me trying and spinning and trying. then somehow (again, as natural as breath emerging in my body) there was releasing and allowing. the last time we spoke (so brief) was about 7 months before bella's death. you said you would call back; you didn't.

it is okay. somewhere, in a place beyond words, in my heart, i understand. i am not pushing, pulling or pumping anymore. you do not need to be who i wanted you to be. what i grieved all those years was the loss of who i wanted, who i hoped, who i (thought i) needed you to be. all you need to be, though, is you as you are. this is enough. plenty enough.

today i wish for you what you wish for you.

you, brother, are present in my heart.

thinking of you, wherever, however you be.

thank you for your presence.

happy 43rd birthday, c.

love,
your sister

tiny bird

the egg hatched.
i have broken through.
here i am.

"...to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,
learning to sing in my new nest..."
-from "Please Call Me By My True Names" by Thich Nhat Hanh

allow glow slow world

i come here not knowing what i will write or speak of. this happens sometimes. sometimes i just need to come here and allow.

allow. when i look at this word i see the word glow. when i look at the word glow i see slow. in slow i see world.

allow glow slow world.

tonight, while walking home from a kundalini yoga class, i noticed that i was inhabiting my body. calm. still. rooted. yes, even in the 20 degrees (feels like 13 degrees) weather. centered. not rushing. weaving. flowing. one step led gracefully into another, into another. no effort.

i stepped out into the cold (after yoga class), walking the same pavement i've walked before (many times before). for the first time i saw the word "MANGO" etched in the cement. i took a step back. confirming, yes!, that word is "MANGO." ha-ha-ha! mangoes were one of bella's last & most celebrated discoveries on this earthly plane.

after last night's tears/sobs, over-sleeping (a necessity today, it seemed), waking with swollen eye lids, a headache dancing along the edges of migraine territory and a challenging day at work...i made my way to this yoga class and i made my way home (on a number of levels). bella put the mango on top.

what's the mango on top of your day?

a word about bella...when i speak of bella i could easily call her by her other names, how i am coming to know her, discovering her, in our love adventure. i could call her my reflection; we are all divine reflections of one another (as i understand/experience it). i could call her spirit. i could call her wisdom or guide or goddess or ancestor or joy or light or divine love or wonder or goodness. when i speak of her, i am speaking of all of this and the simplicity of this: she is eternal life and connective breath. she lives in me and i in her. we are source.

simple

on this last day of this november & minutes before december arrives i offer this glimmer: experiencing the simple magic of freshly purchased multi-colored mini lights now adorning the big front windows in my little nest. what's more is that i have the capacity to experience such magic even though in the minutes before i put up these lights i was walking the streets of my city feeling such heart-ache...may there always be room for *magic.

bless you, beings.

morsels

*today i am remembering how i felt during my visit with c & her dear ones in portland, maine. i remember not as a way to hold on or attach myself to some other moment or time; i remember as a way, simply & powerfully, to honor the essence of my being: open-hearted, peace-full, calm, grounded, delighted, grateful, mindful & in awe. what is the essence of your being?
*this evening after a satisfying day at work i came home and made some delicious pumpkin muffins. i love pumpkin & i am happy, happy that it is pumpkin season! my little nest & my heart are warm from the oven and infused with the scent of pumpkin. what scent would you like your home & heart spaces to be infused with?
*this afternoon while looking at a photo of a newborn girl (my godmother's newest grandchild...especially delightful as she is the mother of all boys and until yesterday was the grandmother of all boys!), i felt an ache. i hadn't felt this particular ache before. sometimes (sometimes the "sometimes" is "often") when i encounter children (from newborns to teens) and young adults, i am reminded of bella. while looking at this babe, my heart ached and longed and remembered. i remembered bella's human body at the beginning & in the same moment i remembered bella's human body at the end & i remembered everything in between. all in a moment.
*exploring this site. hearing & feeling the call to cleanse and detox.
*cleaning my desk & office space. de-cluttering.
*this great quote sent to me by my beloved friend, k:
"My beloved child, break your heart no longer.
Each time you judge yourself, you break your own heart.
You stop feeding on the love which is the wellspring of your vitality.
The time has come. Your time. To celebrate. And to see the goodness that you are.
You my child, are divine. You are pure. You are sublimely free.
You are God in disguise. And you are always perfectly safe.
Do not fight the dark. Just turn on the light.
Let go, And breathe into the goodness that you are."
-Swami Kripalvanandji (Bapuji)
*dancing to this song this a.m. i have been profoundly inspired by Kris Carr, who dances to at least one song per day. this is now an integral part of my daily routine! what are your favorite songs to dance to?
*receiving this poem via "Letters from an Open Heart 10-17-07" at the perfect, perfect time:

Long Afternoon at the Edge of Sister Pond
by Mary Oliver

As for life,
I'm humbled,
I'm without words
sufficient to say

how it has been hard as flint,
and soft as a spring pond,
both of these
and over and over,

and long pale afternoons besides,
and so many mysteries
beautiful as eggs in a nest,
still unhatched

though warm and watched over
by something I have never seen -
a tree angel, perhaps,
or a ghost of holiness.

Every day I walk out into the world
to be dazzled, then to be reflective.
It suffices, it is all comfort -
along with human love,

dog love, water love, little-serpent love,
sunburst love, or love for that smallest of birds
flying among the scarlet flowers.
There is hardly time to think about

stopping, and lying down at last
to the long afterlife, to the tenderness
yet to come, when
time will brim over the singular pond, and become forever,

and we will pretend to melt away into the leaves.
As for death
I can't wait to be the hummingbird,
can you?

what are your morsels?

nourishment

i returned from a scrump-didly-umptious visit to portland, maine a few hours ago. i was visiting with one of my soulsisters, c, and some of the dynamite people in her life--her partner, a doggie dear, a magical soulfriend and a couple of her colleagues from work.

it was sacred time. time filled with this kind of merriment: good morning & goodnight hugs; enthusiastic welcomes from the creatures (animal & human) in c's life; yummy pizza; cups & cups & cups more of tea; a trip to the farmer's market on saturday morning; a women's hike on saturday late morning/early afternoon; sitting outside in the sunshine enjoying sunday morning breakfast--sharing/unrolling a cinnamon roll with three other beloved people, sipping hot cocoa & nibbling on a tasty bagel sandwich; changing leaves; crisp air; smoothies; gazpacho; sunday afternoon hours in the kitchen preparing (slowly, lovingly & communally) an apple custard pie; hot cocoa made by c's partner; walks on the beach; heart-opening & heart-widening & inspiring & centering conversations; rest-full nights of sleep; a saturday afternoon lunch which included a vanilla nutmeg milkshake & sweet potato fries; stars; a sliver of the moon; a movie; receiving the gift of guan yin; a sunday evening walk in downtown portland; music; and, fresh & non-toxic air.

i am oozing, oozing, oozing with gratitude & inspiration!

some relief...

oh, there is *so very much* to say. and, in the spirit of self-care i am choosing not to write in-depth about all of it tonight. i need some resting time before i climb into bed and close my eyes for delicious hours of dreaming & tangoing with the spirits.

for now, i will say that this morning i experienced an opening. i made a discovery. i have been pressing up against this discovery for weeks now, with increasing intensity (or, perhaps it is that this discovery has been pressing up against me...or, both?!) . my discovery certainly contains ideas i was already thinking about (for years & years). i look at it and i think kindly: "of course. it's simple. basic." and, yet, this morning, i really received it and i am holding it with a deeper (and uncomplicated) knowing.

here is my discovery: i don't need to be any other way. there is nothing wrong with me. there is nothing lacking or missing. all i need to be is me. fully me. i don't need to apologize for being me. i don't need to hide. i am enough as i am. [what a relief!] moment to moment. i am doing the best i can. i need to respond to the internal calls not the external (real and/or assumed) calls, pushes, pulls or demands. my home is with me and i create the house rules. it's time to come home & rest & be. and, remember, again & again & again, i am not separate. remembering these words from Desiderata, "You are a child of the universe/no less than the trees and the stars;/you have a right to be here."

i do look forward to returning here after some time away. tomorrow evening i am flying north to boston to visit with some beloved friends, friends who are family. i am looking forward to warm embraces, hands to hold, belly laughter, tears, cups of tea, soul-full conversations and other kinds of magic. i am looking forward to being in a new physical space. i am looking forward to exhaling and exhaling more...

may we all greet each other at our own front doors and embrace ourselves and welcome ourselves home. bless you.

where i've been...

hello, dear lovelies!

i haven't felt called to this space for quite some time. it's not that i didn't want to come here. it's just not where the universe was inviting me to spend time...tonight, i am invited here & i am grateful.

i've been spending my time:

*having (or, perhaps more accurately, "continuing to have") doggie dreams. i dream of a doggie companion. i love thinking of names for this doggie dear. names like: luna, abe, red, dazzle, walt, izzy, rosie & halo. what are the names of your doggie dears and/or the doggie dears you dream of?
*renting Netflix delights. here's a treat that i invite you to check out: Mrs. Palfrey at The Claremont, a charming movie about friendship.
*reading Fabulous Friendship Festival by the radiant & true SARK!
*enjoying visits from special friends from california. friends who are family. while visiting together we shared yummy food & chocolate & walks & conversation (each night into the late hours) & sunshine & slumber parties & laughter & more laughter & stillness & silence & our visions for the future & the current landscape of our hearts & what it feels like to be mommas & daughters & sisters. who are your "friends who are family"?
*listening live to the music of a gentle & miraculous being, with whom i have the privilege of enjoying friendship & a weekly tea date. yippee!
*being what i name, "swirly twirly." my soulsister, kl, sent me an e-mail with these magical words (a new & empowering & affirming way to relate to my experience): "Swirly Twirly...Like a beautiful fairy princess riding the wind." i do love fairies!
*practicing ahimsa (non-violence). i intend to write more about this in another post...

yes, yes! i am on the edge of something & receiving many invitations from the universe to play along. one of these somethings is (today) letting go of the space that i intended to move into in 8 days! it's not the perfect space for me, i know. i feel at peace & relieved that i know this now for sure & i can move on (and, i will be getting my deposit back!). there are so many lessons in the upsets & abrupt shifts.

now, i am creating options and a new & perfect home space. and, learning to ride the waves grace-fully.

and, you? where have you been?