Fully Loved

In June 2008 my cousin Judy lost her husband of 41 years. Somehow I hadn't realized that the illness he was diagnosed with years ago was fatal but it was. Since his passing I had seen her only once, at the family sedar, in April 2009, where we did not have a lot of time to talk. In fact we have rarely had significant conversation time, though I have always been very fond of her.

Yesterday I drove to her house, upon arriving, we flittered from topic to topic in a vain attempt to update quickly. After a bit we settled down with some fabulous pizza and nice bottle of wine. This morning into afternoon, before other guests arrived, we continue our rambling conversation while tending to straightening, prepping food, and repotting plants when we saw we still extra time.

Judy knew her husband for 54 years, they graduated from the same high school. They did not marry immediately, in fact Judy met someone else whom she married and had her first son with. Clearly that marriage did not last all that long. She quickly reunited, I think that's the best way to describe it, with David and was with him all these decades.

My view of their relationship was very limited through my adolescence. Also given that I only saw them about twice a year at family gatherings I had no idea of the complexity, the happiness, the struggles, that made up their marriage. After David died she wrote a beautiful letter where I learned so many things about his life which made realize how much I lost not knowing him. He was always so quiet at families occasions, Judy so vivacious, busy, with a full laugh.

After this visit I am awed by the beauty of their marriage, though I imagine it may have been colored by grief so that it more rose than beige. Even so to be loved like that, for so long, must be an amazing experience. Longevity in relationships is not exactly something I excel at, my cynical nature, my restless soul, and my walls hold such things at bay. At least that's what I think it may be. Maybe I am just damaged, or maybe I haven't met that person that breach my fortress, or perhaps I have not figured to let someone in enough to love me that well.

"In many ways our last years together were among our happiest." How lovely is that. Knowing that this illness was fatal, going to appointments together, never knowing which bad turn might spell the end, and yet her view is that they were happy together. I suppose it's possible knowing that your time is limited, each day has a different scent, a promise of exuberance because it might be the last time you did that particular thing. To be able to say you know in your heart that for your mate, you were it, the smartest, the most clever, the sexiest - for four decades? How remarkable.

She asked me if I had heard of The 100 Things Challenge which I had not. In the past several years I have pared down extensively, especially with my last big move in March 2009. Judy's house (in fact each of the three she has owned and that I have visited) is filled with beautiful things. There are so many things to look at, to run your finger across, fabric that begs to be touched. I suspect that if I had her belongings I would have found it significantly more challenging to reduce the way I have because I have always lusted after her living spaces. In thinking about what she would give up, I imagine many of the things she would keep would be related to David, things they bought together or that he built for her. I think just those two parameters would easily take up half that goal of 100, if not more.

One of the tasks that she has struggled with was what to do with David's ashes. He had wanted them scattered in Muir Woods but in conversations prior to his death she said she didn't think she could do that. He told he really didn't care all that much really, that he wanted her to do what was best for her. She thought about burying them outside his workshop on their property but realized that she do so only in a format that allowed her to dig them back up if she ever moved. Her good friend said not to do it in that case. She finally came up with something that made the most sense to her. In the last five or so years Judy has been making art, decorative boxes, furniture, collage prints and so forth. She made a box, decorated with paints, gel films of photos in its interior, and topped with symbols of David's passions. It lives in her bedroom now. She has told her younger son that when she dies she wants to be cremated as well, to have her ashes mixed with David's so they will always be together. Beyond that she doesn't care what happens to the ashes, just that she rests with him. Recalling that conversation now I am tearing up at the depth of devotion, the solidarity that is conveyed by her sentiment. I am awed by their love, my only sadness is that I never know what was in front of me all those years.

In which our heroine enjoys solitutde

I've been alone in this house for a week, and what an awesome week it's been. No seriously, I am loving being alone a lot, a lot. Joe left last Thursday morning, that night I built my first fire. Sure I use a half of a started brick but it still takes attention to make these things work. Every night I have lit the stove, some night going easier than others but I love it.

On Friday I started doing the morning pages from The Artist Within book and already I have made some good insights, venting, it's just been good practice. I never did get around to the artist date, and today I finally finished reading the first week chapter but I did do three of the exercises from the Workbook. I call the week a success.

Later on Friday I picked Greg and Janet so all of us could visit with Alex and Allyson Gray, where we also got a personal tour of CoSM their amazing project, community hub in process. After a lovely visit we drove to High Falls to have a fabulous dinner at Northern Spy, a restaurant that Greg thinks I should introduce to BC. We stayed up way too late chatting, given that we had an early morning hike scheduled with Matt and Chris LaBarca. I confess that I was hesitant about the walk given the forecasted single digit temperatures. Given my commitment to not be defined but presumed limitations I headed out with the boys (Janet decided on quiet time). I am so glad I went, even though I haven't looked at the photos I took yet. The cold was not so bad and I was proud of myself for not giving into my negative voice.

We swung by so Greg and Janet could pack up before we all headed to the Egg's Nest for a hearty brunch. While we were still at the house I had a moment of panic because I was enjoying the company and knew I would soon be alone. Instead of giving into fear of solitude, of feeling lonely I decided to be in the moment - another common mantra of these last nine or ten months. It turned out I loved it, and have cherished every moment alone since.

In addition to writing every morning, I have gone for a walk, one with a significant incline every morning, except yesterday because I headed out early for a day with Sunny. Once I return I often do push ups or weights or stretch a bit. This morning I toyed with not going, instead I changed my route to a more challenging one. During the walk back (down hill how I love you) I realized that I had not truly answered one of the exercised from the work book so I pushed myself so that when I returned home I amended what I had written. Once back at the driveway I was smiling, feeling good, glad I pushed myself to head out. I have been eating extremely well since being here as well.

I am loving finding my own rhythm and feel incredibly blessed to have this time in this lovely place (I will post photos soon) to dig into myself deeper, to make friends with myself. Instant messaging earlier today with BC, she wrote "I love you" and I realized that I was close to being able to say that to myself. This is amazing. It feels so tentative, moreso than with a lover or close friend. It is terrifying and exciting to think I might say that to myself and really mean it, without a codicil of 800 pages of except for, only when etc. Peace within is something that cannot be overestimated but is hard to achieve.

Knowing Love and Regret

Since tomorrow starts the school holiday for The Kid, we had an extra family movie night that just wrapped up. Earlier today I went in search of The Wizard of Oz at the nearby library but all their copies were already out. The librarian suggested checking out the movies in the children's section and we discussed what I knew had been seen to try to figure out another decent choice. I found The Last Unicorn, which I had never heard of but had been a favorite of the librarian as a child (evidently she was an young as I thought!).

The first excellent thing about this dvd was no previews, it went straight to playing the movie. What a concept. I almost wept with joy. Another excellent thing, the songs do not rhyme, the lyrics are complex and real, not hokey. Yes the unicorn turns into a beautiful woman but unlike Ariel, she does not give up her identity and hang up her horn. The Kid purports to not like scary and while there are some tense moments (on a kid scale), and the red bull imagery is far from friendly, she took it in stride.

On the verge of reuniting with her kind the unicorn reflects how she is now different from the rest of her species because she now know regret and love. It is interesting that the two are interlaced, it is also a great message, even to an almost nine year old who has now experienced divorce. She and I talked about how all experiences change us and also it is part of what makes each one of us special. While I know BC is happier divorced, there is a flip side because of the changes for her daughter. Though it was a hard decision for me to leave my last relationship there is the acknowledgment of the love that was there and the sense of regret that it did not go in the direction I had hoped.

Is to know love to also know regret? I suppose it is because love and growth always means there is a path we did not chose, because love doesn't stay the same, growth means sometimes we need to say good bye to people, places, patterns that protected us in the past but no longer serve us. Usually I say I don't "do" regret or guilt, largely that is true. But there are some things I do regret in the immediacy of something I did, or while processing something larger that I blindsided myself with; however I do not stew in regret. If something I did or experience produced regret I try to learn from; if love went wrong, I also try to learn something more about how my heart, soul and brain work to see how I can improve. So does the unicorn truly regret permanently, do we? I would like to think that we know regret but we do not live there.

Honest I don't know where the time went

Life continues to be a whirlwind. Mostly in good ways, some are hard though I admit. Since I last posted I have been in Cleveland OH, Croton NY, Northampton MA, Freedom NH, Northampton MA, Croton NY, Cleveland OH, Brooklyn NY, and at this very moment in Marlborough NH.

Right at this moment I am enjoying a beautiful quiet in a tiny room, in a house that is like a rabbit warren of spaces and doors. It is so lovely I cannot begin to tell you. The likelihood that anyone will come looking for me for at least another hour is about nil. The silence is lovely. Just the clacking of my keys, the sounds of sipping my too sweet, rapidly chilling coffee. Why am I in New Hampshire again you ask. My dear friends Greg and Janet are featured artists at this event and I am serving as their driver and manager. We drove up on Thursday to hang their art and get settled before their talk on Death Valley at Antioch College over in Keene. Both events were, at least in part, the brainchild of their good friend Rowland Russell, with whom I have had the honor of breaking bread with a number of times over the years. Thursday night we retired to our rooms in Hill House (last night renamed Horse Hill House by Ash, the fabulous cook/sommelier/gardener of Glenbrook because of the carousel like horse sculpture jauntily place on the roof line this summer as a prank) and in the night solitude I decided to knit with the only noise being the clink of my metal needles every once and again.

Okay, I know, some of you are scratching your heads about my travels which have been ongoing since March. There may even be some head tilting by my mention of Cleveland. I have a tiny, teeny little secret that I have been holding back from you my dear, devoted and beloved readers. I have a sweetheart, BC (Butch Charming, as my dear friend Dru dubbed her early on, and charming, romantic, sexy and thoughtful she is!). The gods have quite the sense of humor and saw fit to find me someone wonderful in the land of Ohio. So you will continue to see references to Cleveland as time moves forward I suspect. It's okay, you can laugh, snort even. So far things are wonderful and I have been working on keeping my balance in the ways I have decided are important in order not to lose myself. My suspicion is being long distance helps and I am happy to keep it that way as we figure out the path we want to be traveling on together.

Freedom NH is the new home base for Dance New England and it was quite a busy camp with a new site, more people than ever, new programs, a new bookkeeper added to the usual crazy stew that is camp. It was perhaps the most challenging camp work wise since my first, not the way I had hoped my tenth year in the job would feel, but life is what it is, yes? The new site has it's own beauty so that I did not miss Poland Spring too much, though I longed for my old office's coziness and privacy, the wooded areas that I had pitched my tent in other years.

In Northampton I visited some dear old friends and stayed with my good friend Michele. It was so good to get closer to our old rhythm as friends after the last few bumpy years and recreate the friendship with the knowledge that we can go through a rough patch and be okay in the end.

I am enjoying the quiet in this tiny room with one window and two doors that each lead to bigger rooms, hunkered in the middle of the space of this building. In recent days anxiety has been creeping in a bit, for the first time in a long time. On one hand I try to remember that this is no longer my every day or even every week reality and attempt to greet it with grace, to look for what the discomfort is telling me. The other hand panics a bit because it is hard to notice anything except the sense of impending doom which is the color and scent of my anxiety. Through feeling it, trying to avoid it and listening to it, it seems to stems from a lack of time alone, where I know no one will come into my physical space, where I can lay about in my worst clothes, eat ice cream from the container whilst standing at the open freezer door with no fear of being stumbled upon, caught in the act of total incorrectness. To just be, unencumbered by "being on" that is required around most people. While it is relatively easy to not be particularly "on" with Greg and Janet, there is no separate room in their incredible loft, no way to shut the door literally and figuratively on interactions. When sharing the home with BC there are spaces to retreat to, and we can be quiet together (so nice!) there is still that want to be in contact more because we are new, and it is just not the same (as she knows and respects) as being completely alone for a few hours. The last time I can remember having space like that is mid May. Simply too long for this isolating extrovert to go without such time.

The other piece of this is my lack of a place to use as a home base. I am working on a place, ideally somewhere in NY, to retreat to between visits to Sunny's to work (eventually take over the bookkeeping for their business), doing office management for Greg and Janet, as well as trips (10-14 days at a time) to stay with BC. There are some leads developing but nothing is known and I suspect it's getting to me a bit. I have hopes of a cabin in the New Paltz area, so pray to your special deity that this cabin or something similar manifests soon.

Now that the summer is done, so is the bulk of my paying work, another area that is creating some stress so I will have to work on finishing the tasks associated with those positions as well as put time into my other smaller gigs, and finding new ones. It has occurred to me that I need to create a bit of schedule to my days in order to take care of the various tasks and goals on my plate, one that is flexible enough to be done regardless of where I am physically. One would think that after being self employed for a dozen years I would have this down better, but my work and life flows change so much, plus I am so loathe to rigidity and structure that I am afraid I have made it worse. Well there is always time to work on things and improve them, yes?

So this is where I've been, and what I am working on most immediately. I will work on being a better, more consistent communicator as well. I really lost track of time and had not realized it had been so long since I posted.

The first of my sins

It’s true, it might even be obvious. I am greedy.

Sometimes my greed is simply and ordinary – I want more shoes, I pour over handbags on the computer, or even more basic I want more money because while it can’t, or shouldn’t buy love, it does buy some peace of mind.

Deeper down what I yearn for, what there is never enough of, is love. It is why it’s so hard to stay single. It’s part of why I like flirting – flirting is like small droplets of love, never enough to quench one’s thirst but it is so good one can forget how unquenchable their need is for a brief moment.

Since embarking on my latest journey, a sort of quest of myself even, I have been reminded of the love of family and friends almost daily. It is like a drug, a highly addictive drug. This is not bad, I do not even think I am unusual in this greed, this insatiable need, it consumes all of us, though perhaps some of us are more cognizant of its role. Many times I have painfully aware of how it runs my operating system. This time around however I hope to use it to better myself, to stop trying to fighting my need others, that I need their love, their adoration. This time I’d like to be more aware of disbursing what I need and receive in an outward direction more gracefully, more consciously of this innate drive we all share. I want to appreciate daily the love I have in my life, to have more faith that it will not all suddenly shrivel up and retreat from me. The last few months I have received a precious gift of acknowledgment and support, and yes love of friends and family; I have received amazing reconnections with people; I have been reminded how long some dear ones have been in my life and despite long bouts of absence there is no change in our feelings, in our connection.

I have been blessed; in fact I have been for a very long time. I am grateful for my blessings as I am grateful for the difficult times – they are both tools of teaching, of self knowledge, both lead towards enlightenment. I am not aiming to be the next Buddha, or even a bodhisattva but I do think part of our role in life is to strive towards that place of graciousness, of loving non-attachment, to see the light in everyone, of becoming more peaceful and complete within ourselves. So I will use my greed in the most positive ways I can find – to gather more love in order to distribute it widely with great passion towards others, to offer support and hope, to walk the right path for me.

(Just one version/image of a dharma wheel)

How to fall in love without even trying

People meet on the internet everyday. There are plenty of friendships developed over those cables and phone lines. At some point people developed something that moved beyond personal ads like the one I used to read for hope and amusement in Village Voice too long ago to count. In fact that is how Sunny met her husband of, dang, twenty years! She answered his ad, a xerox copy of that ad resides in a plastic red heart-shaped ad. To this day she laughs over his "nices" and "vices" list on that piece of paper.

TGF and I met over the internet but not at a site like mat*ch.com, and certainly not e-hypocrisy given their policy of not working with anyone who does not identify as heterosexual. She joined a listserv that I had been a member of for the better part of eight years. We bantered mostly onlist but eventually a bit off as well. At some point we spent more and more time off list emailing. She wrote about craving chocolate and I offered to send her some excellent stuff (some argue that since being bought out the quality has gone down. She freely sent me her mailing address 2500 miles away. Then realizing her potential mistake emailed me back asking if I was a stalker or a serial killer. My reply that I was no serial killer but being a stalker was always a possibility. See, bantering.

It's hard to explain how we went from emailing a few times a week, to every day, to the first phone call, to talking 5-6 days a week in a span of less than two months but that's what happened. On the phone and over email we talked about relationships (she was just leaving a long-term one, I was in an long-term open relationship), our families, passions (her include muscle cars and all things Coke), yearnings. Everything really. The attraction built incredibly fast, she has one of the best voices ever which is a big thing for me. We also fought during this time, a foreshadowing I'm sure of what our therapist calls our "core issues".

The draw was so intense I think it fueled some of our fights because we saw, or more accurately sensed that we represented big changes for ourselves, each other. But I do wonder how many couples who meet over the internet fight as intensely as we did before they have looked into each others eyes. Oh those eyes. Did I ever mention her gorgeous blue eyes? Her eyes are so expressive, I can call up about a dozen visions of her eyes representing a dozen moods. The first time we met, we each flew from our respective homes to Vegas, one of her favorite places. We flirted, touched, walked in the opulence that is Vegas, and had tense moments, probably out and out fights. All in the three and a half days. I remembering thinking that that weekend would be my only chance to actually see her. There was an irrational set of fears that she and all that could be would disappear so I searched endlessly through many shops seeking a charm for the bracelet I didn't own that would represent her somehow, some tangible evidence, a fetish item that I could look at, touch long after she had evaporated.

Neither one of could say what we knew before Vegas, nor could we speak those three little words in person. I fought within myself the entire trip, "say it, don't say it". I could have stripped a field of daisies in those three days. The first meeting only confirmed what I knew: that she had my heart; it also confirmed that this was not going to be a mellow, low key relationship. I was right and that's just fine by me. It is a relief to yell with emotion and not have to turn right away to comfort the other person. Just like I have never been as open hearted, I have never been more in touch with my anger which is a good, if challenging thing.

It is so true that love comes when you're not looking at least as often as when people haunt the halls of love.

Saana Bella: The gift of love

She and her sister, Marcelle (nee Marcel) arrived in a small purse carried by Sarah B. Together they weighed twelve ounces and both could fit in my small hand at nine days old.
Quickly they grew out of the cardboard box, even more rapidly they, especially Saana, climbed out of the playpen scored from Freecycle. We worried about Atticus's response to the kittens as he has always wanted to be an only child but within hours of a feisty hissing from Saana he was smitten. First with her but then he took Marcelle under his wing as well.


We swore we were not keeping these babies, denying how in love with them we were. Quickly we forgot the bottle feedings and daily wash load of poopy towels. Atticus made it clear that he believed we got these little beings for him as he watched over them, bathed them and napped draping his gray body around them.


Saana never let TGF dress or undress in peace for every time she bent over Saana jumped on her back leaving her hunched over trying to coax a kitten off her back. She made Wyatt share his snacks by taking the dried chicken strip pieces out of his mouth.

A stuffed miniature dingo came with a kid's meal from one of the fast food places and Saana carried it around in her mouth alternatively like a kitten or her kill, trilling as she roamed the house with it.
Saana reached up on your legs to ask to picked up just as a toddler raises her hands and say "uppie". Impossible to refuse her sweet, pleading eyes. She had taken to asking for morning cuddles with me, going under the covers, resting her head under my chin. With her two front paws she would grab fingers when she wanted to be stroked.

Saana was fearless of everything, life was a banquet of adventure and she wanted to sample all that there was out there. It is hard to be angry at her spirit, even if it was that gusto that caused her death. She was the only one of the cats that had no fear of anything, including cars.

This morning TGF noted that Saana was not around when we went to bed. She had disappeared before and upon her arrival back at home received a stern talking to but it had little long term impact as her absence this morning proved.

"I think I saw Saana under the car." The tone in TGF's voice told me everything but I held onto a whisper of hope. We went out the front door, before crossing the threshold she looked at my feet which were clad in socks and said "You're going like that?" Across the street, under the Purple Beast I saw something and my heart stopped. At the first break in traffic I ran across still hoping against hope that she was saving her energy.

Down on my knees I reached underneath. TGF saw the truth as I reached to touch her fur and returned to the house for a cloth. Sobbing I reached for my girl and held her, there in my shoeless state on the asphalt. TGF came back, draping the pillowcase over her; she carried her back across the street to lay her on the ground below the house steps. She went into the house and I sat on the steps. Gently I lifted my baby into my arms and stroked her fur, tickled at her belly. Her body was stiff but her ears were still soft and malleable, her tail sprung back awkwardly when moved. I talked to her, wondering if we had found her earlier if she would have lived, with the next breath hoping she didn't suffer and that her end came quickly without pain.

When I ran across the street and scooped her up I flashed on an event that happened more than 15 years prior. I was working at a veterinary hospital. Late one night while I was at the front desk a couple ran in - the man was carrying his dog, sobbing uncontrollably. His dog had been hit by a car. Grief enveloped the space and I felt like I could not get enough air in my lungs. I swore while standing there taking information, comforting that I would never let an animal in that deep again. At the time Sybil, my beautiful Turkish Van girl gripped my heart and I swore she would be the last to hold me that tight. For better or worse I have kept my beloved animals at a distance. Few have gotten really deep and I have not expressed deep grieving over their deaths. Scully came the closest and I miss him always.

Until a year ago I had never seen the body of any of my animals when they passed. Living in western Massachusetts they all went off to die, or were taken by a coyote but I never saw it. Never buried an animal. In June 2005, we woke to find one of our foster kittens, Larissa, had died. Tiny, limp body with the softest fur. Robin, another foster, never woke from her spay but I never saw her. Late October, for the first time I had to put an animal down, my beloved Elliott - who had grabbed my heart in that way I swore against. Somehow my heart has become unguarded. I do think it's connected to my relationship with TGF - there is an unguarded quality with her and now it's extending outward. My love for Saana ran through my blood, touching all my cells. It is the same for all the animals, though they each have a special place they tug.

I am not angry about her death but the loss feels uncontainable and inescapable right now. I know that she was enjoying life completely right up until she was hit, that she was in her element - exploring and being fascinated by the world. I do want to know how to tell the universe that I get it, that I cannot be shut off from deep feelings and that the lessons can stop now.

The wrong time

I started out half watching as I often do, playing on the computer but the music not surprisingly sucked me in, the music is one of the key characters of this series. Until very recently I never gave Cold Case any attention but somehow, one day it sunk in. Sure the premise that they can solve cases that are decades old let alone one from just five years previous is stretching things.

Tonight's repeat, "Best Friends" was so incredibly sad, perhaps more so because it hit on so many of societies biases - race and sexuality. At first I thought the actress that played Billie was too feminine to be convincing as a butch, but it didn't really matter as the story grew, not one bit. I have been fortunate that my family and friends did not turn away when I came out, I have friends who have had much harder roads. But I have experienced peoples' distaste when I was with people of colour, or another woman. When it was both, I felt attacked from all sides with attitude.

The other thing that struck me was Rose's feelings about never forgetting Billie. I realize the circumstances in the episode (no spoiler here) that of course she would but so many shows create the story of first or early loves being so wonderful, perpetually seen through rose tinted glasses. That idea is so foreign to me. The closest I got to that was with Marz when I was in my early twenties, but the rosy glowed ended long before the relationship did. It was the first, perhaps only time, I understood at all the notion of "falling in love", that rush, the grand hope attached, throwing all caution to the wind. Yes, I was filled with cliches in those early days. Well as filled as I can get, which isn't very really. Poetic license and all that, reflecting back on that time for the purposes of well, poetic license. I never bought the prince charming stories, I never believed in forever, but what about the forever of love of someone even if you aren't with them anymore? I have exes i still ove regardless of the extent of our contact, but I harbour any illusions of what might have been, or what if's about reunions. I know some people do, Rose in the storyline certainly does which suits the purposes of hitting all those poignant notes.

I suppose this goes back a bit to my valentine's day post - romantic love being a transient state and overvalued. This is not to say that I do not feel romantic toward TGF because I do, but it is not a perpetual euphoria any more than the early days of endless sex is perpetual which overall is a good thing or else the animals at Casa de Cedar would rebel loudly from lack of food and attention. However the public message is that love is supposed to romantic and all consuming as well as problem free. Love takes work there are smooth days and ones that are bumpier than road riddled with frost heaves in Vermont. Rose and Billy never got that far, like many couples of all ilks but somehow their tales, and the rose tinted versions of couple celebrating 30 years together become the standard we struggle to measure up to.