Let us think instead about...

This:

And this:

And this:

 

Because right now the terror, the heartbreak, the shear sadness of Marathon Monday is big. I keep thinking of that story, about how when everything is going wrong something beautiful is being born, quietly and secretly. And I am thinking about how so much love and care and kindness was generated. But also I am being quiet and keeping my eyes open for things to think about instead.

Like this: 

Sunshine

Every little bit counts.

Radio Silence

I have been drowning a bit of late. All the noise felt overwhelming, and all I wanted was to be able to sleep in peace. So I have been, as they say, a bit depressed.

And I was supposed to go on my first retreat. For a week. Here. Which I was very excited and nervous about and had spent a lot of time figuring out exactly how to take care of Lil while I was gone, and the logistics, and all that. To be honest, I was hoping for some serious transformation, and to return home not depressed, and refueled.

I drove out there this past Friday and they were not expecting me. NOTE: Being a good doobie, I had absolutely done everything I was supposed to and had a printed out confirmation letter in hand inviting me to come for this particular week and everything.

Still, the reality was they were not expecting me. They were in fact closed, as the majority of the sangha had gone down to DC. They had meant to call me but I'd been left off the list. They were very sorry.

So I cried a little by myself in the woods behind the big beautiful meditation hall (which is, by the way, on the dude side of the road).  And some very nice nuns and monks came after me and invited me to stay and explained it would just be free form retreat for a few days, till everyone came back on Tuesday. Or maybe Wednesday, they weren't entirely sure.

They were very kind. But again, not expecting me. I stayed for a night, and felt so lonely and not expected that I ended up driving home again, where my poor husband's whole face swelled up about half an hour after I got home. I jumped right back into the fray of caring for my family.

Even the less-than-24 hours I spent there was helpful. It reminded me that I have a community that loves and wants me here, at home. And to slow down and to appreciate again. And that sitting meditation is extremely powerful medicine. I drove away thinking that was enough.

But I realized, once home, that  I was very disappointed.

I know, theoretically, that big transformation is now what we get. I know little daily moments of routine and beauty and small steps are what we get.

I know that control over the past, and the truth, and other people is not what we get. I know recognizing that I am safe, and comfortable, and alive in this moment is what we get.

I know humans are impermanent and complicated. I know mother earth and father sun and the roses and the daffodils and the mountains and the rolling hills are lovingly abundant.

I know there is no solution, no fixing of problems. I know there is nothing wrong with me.

I know.

But it has been so hard. It has been so dark for so long. It is hard to remember warmth, and light, and spring.

I found this quote by George Wilson a few weeks ago in an article in the the Atlantic. He is talking about having his foot amputated without anesthesia, but it pretty much sums up my feelings about pain:

"Of the agony it occasioned I will say nothing. Suffering so great as I underwent cannot be expressed in words, and fortunately cannot be recalled. The particular pangs are now forgotten, but the blank whirlwind of emotion, the horror of great darkness, and the sense of desertion by God and man, bordering close upon despair, which swept through my mind and overwhelmed my heart, I can never forget, however, gladly I would do so."

We all feel this way sometimes, right? We all suffer so deeply. Which is why stories with happy endings endure. We need to know that suffering is not always the end of the experience. In fact, the happy ending is not the end either. There is no end. There is only change. Always changing.

So this too shall pass, I keep reminding myself. This too shall pass. All will be revealed and soon I will have another story to tell. Another fairy tale. A story up to me where it ends.

But for now, dear universe, forgive me if it's still a little quiet around here. 

 

Existential Loneliness

There is a cure. Martha Beck explains it beautifully on her blog, but basically it entails spending a lot of time NOT alone, even when that feels like placing your palm in a hot frying pan, and exposing yourself as much as possible to situations in which the basically positive nature of the universe can reveal itself to you.

So.
I got a massage.
And:
A haircut.
And:
My brows waxed.
And:
Accepted several gifts from my mother in law, including a trowel door knocker and several brand new sports bras.
And:
I let myself and Lil be leisurely this morning on our way to school, which was very pleasant and allowed me to breeze into dance class in a much better frame of mind.

I cried in dance class, because I love Maria so, and I had this great realization. I realized that it is a choice to inhabit one's life. It is a choice to be here now. I have the decision making ability on that. What?!?

Teachers are so amazing. I am so grateful they are all around us all the time.

How do you define awesome?

I asked for awesome this week.

Here is what has happened so far (bear in mind it's only Wednesday):

1. Went in for routine prenatal and discovered no heartbeat. Then spent all night cramped up and bleeding.

2. Broke off a tooth while self-soothing with Chinese food.

3. Drove to NH with Lil Bub only to discover my favorite yarn shop there has closed.

Now.

That list is obviously in reverse awesome order, but I would argue that none of it qualifies as awesome.

Still.

It is only Wednesday. And perhaps i did not use the right tool in my request, and awesome was the wrong choice of words, since by traditional and not Bill and Ted definitions, awesome can be a little terrifying.

SO. I wish to clarify:

Please send only traditionally defined as "excellent" experiences my way the rest of the week.

Thank you.

Bright Birds and Snow

It seems this winter that every Sunday is a day of snow.  I know spring is around the corner; I know it must come - it never doesn't, right? But it feels these days like the snow is forever.

Yesterday I did feel a lightening, because in the morning when I awoke I heard the birds outside. We are so lucky to have so many songbirds living and visiting in our yard, despite the cats. Lillie loves them, and we are slowly slowly learning their names as a family.  Cardinals are easy, but I have also been pleased to greet as friends  the sparrows that love our quince bush, the nuthatches, and the  little chickadees. We've even seen some robins about, which are one of our favorites, for obvious Nana-related reasons. The Mass Audubon site is stupendous, and I highly recommend it.

This week I wish for:
1. STABILITY: I wish to feel grounded, to feel safe, to feel all those false things about being in control that aren't real. I wish to believe in them this week. I think.

 Maybe really I want to transcend them. I want to recognize that there is always complete safety, as well as total free fall. This man, Neils Bohr, was no joke. His concept of opposites being complementary is affecting me like Occam's Razor once did. TWO TOTALLY DIFFERENT THINGS, THINGS WE THINK OF AS MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE, CAN BE TRUE AT THE SAME TIME. I put it in caps because I am still practicing assimilating this. I am still recalibrating around this idea, and capital letters are so reassuring.

2. JOY: I would like a little awesome sauce. Something awesome to come down the pike. Or maybe just the ability to notice something awesome.

As for last week, perspective was granted. My sister lost her job, and she was on the verge of hysterical meltdown, and I was able (Phbbbt, phbbbt, phbbbt, knock on wood with gratitude) to NOT absorb the hysteria, but the keep on enjoying life and remembering how fabulous everything actually is, and even to help her remember.  And I had a very scary meeting with a scary person, and I was able to ask for help, and help was granted (thank you thank you Katie-dear) and the meeting was much less scary than expected. AND even though I get nervous, I was able to trust my body to be ok, and I trained jiu-jitsu, the excellence of which I have trouble articulating. So, goodness.

In light of the snow and my developing affection for birds, I leave you with a little e.e. cummings:

                                                    this is the garden: colours come and go,

        frail azures fluttering from night's outer wing

strong silent green serenely lingering,

     absolute lights like baths of golden snow.

He was good, wasn't he? 

Green. Ahh. Green.

                                        

Sunday Again

The snowstorm did come. And it was impressive. And it was surprisingly nice to have a day of nothing/nada/nieste (or as the joke goes, nietzche).  I got to sleep in, such as that is possible in a toddler-house, and we all shoveled as a family, and drank hot chocolate, and took long naps in blankets all cozy and together, so it was good. But also there was not much space, so I did not write an entry.

And it is snowing again this morning, a week later.

I like the quiet.

Which there will not be much more of today, since it is Lillie's birthday party this afternoon. Some of her friends are sick, which means it will be a very small party, but I think a good one nonetheless - dragon-themed and full of purple and gold balloons.  Jason and Lil are making cupcakes as we speak.

As for me, this week I want only one thing:
1. PERSPECTIVE:  I want to keep perspective. It is so tempting to get caught up in drama, in how awful things are, in how full of CRISIS and TRAGEDY the world is. Which is true. But also when the storm comes there is beauty, and there is quiet, and there is always a scale on which usually our very scary monster turns out to be quite manageable.

And as for the list two weeks ago:
Comfort came and went. I think this is a long term goal. A thing I must continue to practice practice practice both giving and receiving. Flexibility I felt. I felt nice and flexible and fluid. I think the increase in exercise helped with that, so NOTE that please.  Abundance of food worked out well, but in a relaxation of boundaries. I have been limiting a lot what I ate. I have been eating a lot of shoulds, and not so much of the wants, and so I decided to pay attention to the abundance around me and if I wanted lemon macaroons then so be it. Lemon macaroons in abundance! NOTE that too.

I just found Cheri Huber's practice blog and I am loving it. She is talking so much about ego and being clear and uncovering and I am so grateful for the thinking I wanted to acknowledge my appreciation for that.