- Crucial Conversations - Kerry Patterson
- You are a Badass Every Day - Jen Sincero
- Decolonizing Wealth - Edgar Villanueva
- Lakota Women - Mary Crow Dog
- Molly's Game - Molly Bloom
- Dare to Lead - Brene Brown
- The Universe Has Your Back - Gabrielle Brown
- Let Your Life Speak - Parker J. Palmer
- Energy Leadership - Bruce Schneider
- Co-Active Coaching - Henry & Karen Kimsey-House, Philip Sandahl, Laura Whitworth
- Life Forward - Pamela McClean
Dia de Los Muertos
I had the desire to put up an alter for my Dad for the Day of the Dead. I don't know why, it's not my religion or custom but it felt right to me this year. So I grabbed the album I gave him from our wedding, poured a gin martini (for me and D as well) and lit a candle in his honor.
We were eating dinner and we toasted him, telling the girls stories of him. I've been talking about how he liked to design my Halloween costumes and Nancy told them how he liked to carve pumpkins. I realized a photo with Ginger was right above the altar I setup. I got her old collar, her "senior" picture, and a dog treat to place out there too (it took about 4 times before Willy stopped eating the treats and let it sit for the night). Maddie added her illustration of a wolf. Now we were really celebrating with the afterlife.
A little while later as we sat down to watch a movie, I checked Facebook - a habit I've been trying to get out of doing regularly. A friend had posted an image of a dog that is looking to be adopted. I was struck by how much she looked like Gingy. It seemed strange with the events of the day, including a kid asking what my favorite animal was and me saying, "Gingerdog" (at the time it struck me that I even mentioned her). The day of the dead altar added another level of emotion since she was an afterthought in the whole exercise. We were watching Coco as I learned about the dog, her name was Maddie. She was slightly older than the years Gingy has been gone.
Sweet Amelia woke my up Saturday morning with the same light kiss Gingy would sometimes give me (since I told her about it the night before). I couldn't let the prior days events go; I went to meet the dog. Out of all the old friends I've circled back with this year, this was the biggest mind trip. I knew how crazy the stories were that I was building in my head. I kept thinking if this was truly meant to be something more, Gingy would give me another sign. Almost to the Petco (a 30 minute drive), Meet Virginia came on the radio. It took me a minute and then I just smiled.
When I pulled up to the store, the dog and foster caregiver were outside in the parking lot. I approached them and went straight for the dog. The women warned me she needed me to move slow. She was like a mini-Gingy but much more timid, she licked my face and I sat down on the asphalt. It wasn't my old friend, but it was someone eerily similar with very familiar mannerisms. I got to pull her ears, and rub her cheeks, she stood on my feet and leaned on me when I sat down on the ground, tucked one ear back while the other stayed normal. I kept waiting for her to crawl in my lap like my old friend did the day she died. I told the woman my story, what mind tricks I was playing on myself. I wasn't on Maddie's radar really, but she was on mine. It was like staring at someone waiting for them to show you they care but it didn't happen.
Still I'm not ready to put the whole experience down. I told D I can't make sense of it all and that I want him to go meet her so he can talk me down of this crazy ledge. My heart is leading here and perhaps I'm just trying to get those golden years with Gingy back.
You can't go back and I don't regret a day I spent with that dog, except for the baby years when she got less attention. Still, I think my friend came back to me this weekend and I want to honor her as best I can.
We were eating dinner and we toasted him, telling the girls stories of him. I've been talking about how he liked to design my Halloween costumes and Nancy told them how he liked to carve pumpkins. I realized a photo with Ginger was right above the altar I setup. I got her old collar, her "senior" picture, and a dog treat to place out there too (it took about 4 times before Willy stopped eating the treats and let it sit for the night). Maddie added her illustration of a wolf. Now we were really celebrating with the afterlife.
A little while later as we sat down to watch a movie, I checked Facebook - a habit I've been trying to get out of doing regularly. A friend had posted an image of a dog that is looking to be adopted. I was struck by how much she looked like Gingy. It seemed strange with the events of the day, including a kid asking what my favorite animal was and me saying, "Gingerdog" (at the time it struck me that I even mentioned her). The day of the dead altar added another level of emotion since she was an afterthought in the whole exercise. We were watching Coco as I learned about the dog, her name was Maddie. She was slightly older than the years Gingy has been gone.
Sweet Amelia woke my up Saturday morning with the same light kiss Gingy would sometimes give me (since I told her about it the night before). I couldn't let the prior days events go; I went to meet the dog. Out of all the old friends I've circled back with this year, this was the biggest mind trip. I knew how crazy the stories were that I was building in my head. I kept thinking if this was truly meant to be something more, Gingy would give me another sign. Almost to the Petco (a 30 minute drive), Meet Virginia came on the radio. It took me a minute and then I just smiled.When I pulled up to the store, the dog and foster caregiver were outside in the parking lot. I approached them and went straight for the dog. The women warned me she needed me to move slow. She was like a mini-Gingy but much more timid, she licked my face and I sat down on the asphalt. It wasn't my old friend, but it was someone eerily similar with very familiar mannerisms. I got to pull her ears, and rub her cheeks, she stood on my feet and leaned on me when I sat down on the ground, tucked one ear back while the other stayed normal. I kept waiting for her to crawl in my lap like my old friend did the day she died. I told the woman my story, what mind tricks I was playing on myself. I wasn't on Maddie's radar really, but she was on mine. It was like staring at someone waiting for them to show you they care but it didn't happen.
Still I'm not ready to put the whole experience down. I told D I can't make sense of it all and that I want him to go meet her so he can talk me down of this crazy ledge. My heart is leading here and perhaps I'm just trying to get those golden years with Gingy back.
You can't go back and I don't regret a day I spent with that dog, except for the baby years when she got less attention. Still, I think my friend came back to me this weekend and I want to honor her as best I can.
Run
Run in the deep dark night.
Run towards the morning,
the new day.
Leave all worries behind,
do not get dragged into the shadows.
Run towards the new you
and don't look back.
Run towards the morning,
the new day.
Leave all worries behind,
do not get dragged into the shadows.
Run towards the new you
and don't look back.
Joy is...
M and A telling me stories and making me laugh.
Silence and a good cup of coffee first thing.
Sharing 18 years of adventures with Andy.
Conversations with an old friend.
Hearing people's true stories.
Feeling healthy in my body.
Creating something I love.
Remembering my dreams.
Willy wanting to be held.
Making connections.
Moving my body.
Planting stuff.
Breathing.
Love.
Silence and a good cup of coffee first thing.
Sharing 18 years of adventures with Andy.
Conversations with an old friend.
Hearing people's true stories.
Feeling healthy in my body.
Creating something I love.
Remembering my dreams.
Willy wanting to be held.
Making connections.
Moving my body.
Planting stuff.
Breathing.
Love.
coming hoME
The stories I tell myself swallow me.
I forget how to come home.
My heart is dark.
I constrict.
Ease is a friend that waves from afar.
It waits for me to come over and say hi.
Peace blooms from a seed.
I let go rather than control.
The moments come in waves.
They beg for me to unfold and embrace.
Joy sneaks in.
A feeling of lightness lifts me up.
I've been silent and missing.
But it's always there buried below my worries.
Connection follows.
I share my heart with others.
Reaching out warms me.
Love surrounds me like a warm blanket.
It is delicious and overwhelmingly everywhere.
The rest falls away.
I forget how to come home.
My heart is dark.
I constrict.
Ease is a friend that waves from afar.
It waits for me to come over and say hi.
Peace blooms from a seed.
I let go rather than control.
The moments come in waves.
They beg for me to unfold and embrace.
Joy sneaks in.
A feeling of lightness lifts me up.
I've been silent and missing.
But it's always there buried below my worries.
Connection follows.
I share my heart with others.
Reaching out warms me.
Love surrounds me like a warm blanket.
It is delicious and overwhelmingly everywhere.
The rest falls away.
Dad
The feeling of steadfast love and support. A warm smile and a sweet tone. A joy for life and a curiosity for learning. Laughing. Laughing.
Why we need poetry to survive
The poet Mary Oliver passed this week. She visited me many times in my life. In the quiet moments I hold so dear, she made me feel less lost in my journey. Her words gave me hope that this great experience called life is truly just that - great - and not some meaningless consumption of resources and emotions.
Mary held true to her calling and embraced her journey. I admire her bravery to be a poet; to taste her daily experiences and distill her observations; to hold dear the things that many of us don't stop to digest and define for ourselves.
I aspire to live life with the same fervor. At my best, life feels poetic: not perfect but beautiful in the way it unfolds. Potentially half way through my days, at times feel as if I have failed. Lately though, I've been wrapping myself in a blanket of love; trying to make peace with my past and stepping toward each a new day as an adventure. My 43rd wish is to meet my yearnings, my sadness and joy, with open arms.
Don’t Hesitate
Mary held true to her calling and embraced her journey. I admire her bravery to be a poet; to taste her daily experiences and distill her observations; to hold dear the things that many of us don't stop to digest and define for ourselves.
I aspire to live life with the same fervor. At my best, life feels poetic: not perfect but beautiful in the way it unfolds. Potentially half way through my days, at times feel as if I have failed. Lately though, I've been wrapping myself in a blanket of love; trying to make peace with my past and stepping toward each a new day as an adventure. My 43rd wish is to meet my yearnings, my sadness and joy, with open arms.
Don’t Hesitate
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise, and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the
case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise, and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the
case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.
–Mary Oliver
2018 Reads
Deep Thoughts 3.0, Chapter 2
Mom, have you ever traveled to another planet?
He's eery, like a catfish.
Misunderstood lyrics:
Take me to Dutch showers like dog in the side of the light.
I can tell you my secrets so you can shop in the night.
I believe my destiny was two firths and maybe a right.(Hozier - Take me to Church)
Honeydew; couldn't escape if I wanted to. (ABBA - Waterloo)