No Ground

See?

Whenever you begin to depend on something or someone, it shifts away. Change is inevitable.

Pema Choedron is right: there is no ground to cling to.

On a lighter note, I just noticed that the letters in "begin" are almost the letters in "again". Funny, huh?

And right now all they are saying to me is "A Gin!!" Which is what I think I'll have for lunch. Probably accompanied by Tonic... and some food.

The Delicious, Warm Latte is Deliciously Warm!

Intentional Redundancy is Fun and Funny.

Resolution

Like fiction, Life is a series of conflicts and resolutions.

Our refrigerator stopped working this month. It varied temperatures wildly and sporadically for a few weeks and then completely stopped being cold. No freezer, no refrigerator, no sanitary food storage.

It was the same week that my car was in the shop, being repaired for an accident that wasn’t my fault. It all seemed a bit too much to bear. With a deep sigh, I shared this thought with my daughters:

Given time, most problems will come to seem trivial.

And that’s true. They do. Situations that seem so difficult to deal with at the time become nothing but mildly unpleasant memories. Either the problem gets solved, or the problem gets ignored long enough that it no longer is a problem. Very few drastic events stick with us in a drastic way for the long term if you think about it.

Time and Occupation are great healing forces.

For example, my pneumonia is gone. It didn’t kill me after all. One month later and there’s not even a trace of a lingering cough or shortness of breath. Thanks, yoga.

And other things are solving themselves as well, the way they always do.

Plus I have nothing but Occupation to keep me… well… occupied. In fact, in the car this morning I heard a song with lyrics about synchronizing watches. And I truly thought it said “synchronizing washes.” Because that’s how much laundry I do. Literally a few loads each day. So the thought of synchronizing them made perfect sense to my brain.

Plus I had laundry on the mind. Last night for a class, I wrote a story that takes place in a Laundromat. I wrote it just as a lark, but I was very pleased with how it came out. Sort of made me want to write a whole series of laundry-based stories. Maybe I’ll even post it here (if it’s not too much of a copyright infringement!!)

Because there’s even conflict… and resolution… about laundry.

Frozen

The words within me
My work at a standstill
Traffic reds and greens
Wend through the greying city

My heart afraid to beat
My words within me
Nothing moves an inch
Nothing seems to change

Come full stop
The cold seeps through
My words within me
My heart afraid to beat

Tree Timeless

Above the house, the tree is a green testament to the nonexistence of time. Within the house, the family lives their lives as if time were real. They sleep, they wake, they eat, they age. But above the house hovers the tree. And the tree knows.

When the woman sits outside, she soaks up the sun and the small, quiet sounds of the unfolding day. Always, her eyes come back to the tree. Up and up its length her gaze travels until the tree alone takes over her entire vision, until the green of its leaves and the blue of the sky behind them are the only two colors remaining in her world. Green and blue. Up and up above. No matter what the day, no matter what the year, the tree has stood beside the house, waiting timelessly. That is when the woman understands that there is more to her life than the daily happenings that she pays so much attention to. There is more to life than the living itself.

Life - Much More Ridiculous Than Fiction

I’m working with a client to organize an annual fundraiser. Today I had to send some paperwork through their “Organizational Positioning Department.”

I am not making this up.

How are the employees not laughing aloud multiple times each day? How are they able to say that with a straight face? I sure can’t.

I am still sniggering.

Sigh. So Me.

"I was being Patient! ... But then it took too long..."

Anya the Former Demon, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 6, Episode 1

Still... I Rise...

When I was a teacher long ago in my life before this life, we read a few Maya Angelou poems each year, scattered here and there. I've always liked the unstoppable persistence expressed in this one:

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Tidings of Comfort and Joy, Comfort and Joy

I'm going out to dinner with my friends tonight. We've been doing this fairly regularly, meeting up for a few hours with good food and wine when their kids have their nights with their fathers and I slip away from my family for a bit.

The company of women is wonderful - healing, fun, supportive. Today, I am grateful for friends in general. I know that no matter what I'm going through there are people out there who love me, who sincerely care, and who will stick with me through the ups and downs.

So that's on my mind today: friendship and appreciation. Reliance on the companionship of others.

And I know what I'll say, "Thank you for the friendship and support that you are offering me. I feel it, and I appreciate it. I return it to you. It really does comfort me."

Oh, Happy Coincidence!

I was eagerly working away at one of my fave public spots when I saw a familiar shape moving towards me against the light spilling through the windows. My attorney.

"Hey, Stranger!" I exclaimed. "How are you?"

It's the second time this month I've run into him when I'm out and about. He was glad to see me, interested in my work, and we exchanged pleasantries.

Then he told me that he is going to re-open my legal case and try again to improve things for me. I am overwhelmed with hope and gratitude.

Just a year ago, I had some horrible legal difficulties crop up, and he stepped forward and resolved it for me. Now, I know that he has not forgotten about me. He's a good man and a good attorney.

I feel so much better knowing that he's still trying to work things out for me. There is always hope!!!

Please, please, please, please, please ...

Laughter is the Best Medicine

I've been listening to a good bit of Garrison Keillor lately. I find his writing and delivery to be clever, intriguing, and very skillful. Plus he's just funny.

And that's always a good thing.

It's comforting to be in my car on my way to work or errands and let his soothing voice flow over me. Another person who thinks that these words, when put together just so, mean something worth bothering with.

Here's one of his jokes I heard this morning:

A man walks into a bar with a newt perched on his shoulder.
He tells the bartender that its name is Tiny.
"Why?" the bartender asks.
"Because he's my newt!"

Caught by surprise, I actually snorted aloud. Ah, the joy of bad jokes and good words.

Reflection

When I first open my computer, for just a moment before the dark screen leaps to life, I catch my own reflection. I am a portrait of myself with my environment behind me. I am caught unaware, not expecting my image and I clearly see the expression on my face as I wait to begin working- patient, bemused, eager.



I am older now. A bit drawn, my face slackened with difficulty. My eyes shadowed with fatigue. Often my head rests on my hand. I am a bit frail, a bit worn-down, and, altogether lovely. I approve of this woman, of what I have become.