a little space

Come near, that no more blinded by man's fate,
I find under the boughs of love and hate,
In all poor foolish things that live a day,
Eternal beauty wandering her way.

Come near, come near, come near--Ah, leave me still
A little space for the rose-breath to fill!

--William Butler Yeats

the sun is shining
the fog is lifting
words of beauty speak again
my eyes have opened
my heart is grateful
friends have drawn near &
still left me space for breath to fill.

blessings to all who read here today. peace.

emotional dump

warning: this is NOT a feel good post...

how long is it o.k. to stay in a funk? what is socially acceptable? personally acceptable? I feel like sh.t. my head has hurt for several days and I have felt nauseous too. if I didn’t know better, I might think I was pregnant. yikes! maybe that’s the issue. I am experiencing the pains of pregnancy and childbirth, but right now it is with nearly grown children…loss of dreams…loss of hope... when can hope return? how many times must we experience "death" so that we may be "reborn?" the dying is getting tedious. I don’t want to do it anymore. I signed up for Italy and I got Auschwitz where I am one of the "able-bodied" who must continue to work and work and work and feel the pain rather than the more swift alternative of certain death.

when does the "living death" lift? when will the clean air start to fill my lungs again? and the original question...how long is it o.k. to stay in a funk, because everyone seems to want to pull me out of it…occasionally even myself…but more than not wanting to be in a funk, I am tired of the yoyo…the pendulum…the highs are too high and the lows are too low…swimming with the dolphins…high…bitter words and stalled relationships…low…sitting on a sailboat, listening to classical music, surrounded by blue seas...high…watching your children self-destruct…low. I am tired. really sick and tired. can I pull the covers over my head and wake up in a few years like rip van winkle? is it better to just hang out at the bottom of the pendulum? numb, but safe? my friends say, “drink a margarita”. “go for a drive in the sunshine.” “don’t try so hard.” “breathe.” yea. whatever.

sorry for the funkiness...don't say i didn't warn you...where do you hang out on the pendulum?

Home

Oh it is hard to re-enter the "real" world. Why do we have to? Can I not just stay in that moment-to-moment glorious, watch the sea waves, feel the sunshine, sit with friends glory?

It is gray and cold here. Volumes of e-mails await me along with a huge project for work. My kids demand attention in a detached sort of way. There is dog fur everywhere and the house needs a good cleaning. All I want to do is sit on a boat and listen to the waves lap against the side.

I have tried for two days now to catch up on e-mail and look at what has been happening in the blog world, but it has been to no avail. I have decided to say “hello” for now. I am back and I am not. Returning to Seattle feels more like a foreign country today than either Mexico or France. Am I a stranger in my own home? Where is home? Home is where the heart is. Hmmmm...I think I will sit with that for a while today.

waking to a new song

In the movie, “Dan in Real Life,” Julliette Binoche’s character describes her perfect day as “waking up in a foreign country, not really knowing the language, ready for adventure, so amazing.”

I ran across those words this morning as I took a quick peek into my Paris journal. As I have mentioned here before, I have been dreaming in French since I returned from my trip. One of the outstanding lines is “Je ne parle pas Francais”…I don’t speak French. Many wonderful comments were left about the wildness there is in not understanding language and I plan to continue to ponder, collage and sort through what that means for me. Today, however, I was delighted to read my own words written shortly after I returned to Seattle.

listening to the patter of language around me…not having to partake or be responsible for what was going on…just listening...like music—listening to a song I could not understand, but still loving the melody and the message…a lullaby…a love song…written just for me…this past week was my love song to myself…a beautiful gift that only I could give.

When you do not understand the language around you, where do your thoughts go? Do you fight it and retreat? Or do you choose to hear it as a new song around you? Maybe it is a beautiful love song or possibly it is a fight song you would rather tune out. What is the language you hear today—wherever you are?

Peace.

"glory" photo from musee d'orsay

Easter Reflection

even in death and darkness, there is the light.
redemption. resurrection.
words of my childhood
words of my faith
words of my hope
the eyes of Jesus
death in the tomb
the light of new day
it is there
always there, heavenly Father
Mother of heaven and earth
light shines upon me and through me
the eyes of Jesus
head bowed
hair flowing
the cross & resurrection
new birth of Easter
hope
peace flows like a river from the light
to death and beyond
peace in the garden
fleeing the tomb
he is risen
she is risen indeed.

photo taken Easter morning 3.23.08 @ crown hill cemetery