Fall ramblings

This is going to be very short... a list of things enjoyed over the weekend:
Went to Livingston, came home with a cat (a tortoise shell, 4 yrs old, named Meara) and a locally worthy bike (Specialized Rock Hopper named Gypsy)
Chopped the rest of the pallet of wood to size, loaded lots on the deck, the rest down below
Repotted plants, revamped bath area, and several kitchen drawers
Got to talk with my precious ones (sons, daughter in love, and grandkiddos)
Played with cat a bunch
Took my maiden ride on the bike, east on Woodchuck road
Listened to the chuggles of the stream
Was amazed at the crisp chill of air
Was equally amazed at the Hoary Comma butterfly that settled in the sawdust

And so it goes

With over a foot of snow last weekend, and no plowing done from our road association (roads are still too soft to handle the big blade), we have been getting more than our share of exercise, scooping snow, spreading wood ashes and such. When not scooping or hauling wood, I have been working on my masterwork (she teaches me every time I attend her) glass piece, and I am going to attempt a photo of that here. You will see some pieces not yet foiled in the upper part of the tree, left side as you look at it. Anyway, just so you know, this has been my venture in art for the past year or so. It actually helps keep me balanced, considering all the world developments.

St. Paul, Minn Sept. 1 2008

When people wonder what I am so upset about, these are the words that inspire me:

PRISONERS OF THE CAMPS

JULY 1, 1937 MARTIN NIEMOELLER, CHURCH DISSIDENT LEADER, ARRESTED Martin Niemoeller, one of main opponents of Nazi racial ideology in the Lutheran church and one of the founders of the oppositional "Confessional Church," is arrested. He is sent to the Sachsenhausen concentration camp in 1938 and spends the next seven years in concentration camps. After the war, Niemoeller's condemnation of bystanders to Nazi policies will become a call to early action. His words: "First they came for the Communists, but I was not a Communist - so I said nothing. Then they came for the Social Democrats, but I was not a Social Democrat - so I did nothing. Then they came for the trade unionists, but I was not a trade unionist. And then they came for the Jews, but I was not a Jew - so I did little. Then when they came for me, there was no one left who could stand up for me."

As those of you I most love know, I am very angry at the way the Right Wing has seen fit to abuse the constitutional rights of those who do not agree with them at the Royal .... er.... Republican Convention.

Is it surprising or disappointing to you that so little of what is happening is hitting the main news? Well, I guess if there is no glitz, flash, or pizzazz appeal, it doesn't get covered.

The waters, the leaves

I don't know where spring went. I think it slipped in and away between the last snows and the torrents of rain that have made the rivers swell around here. Walks up the hill draw our eye downward to our feet, our fingers lift the lush leaves of the plants, and we find flurries of tiny blooms that promise an assortment of berries, come the season. A month ago, as I was in Nebraska with my ailing Dad, BiL told me of a sighting of a wolf and a golden eagle on the same afternoon.
I might have known the signs, as I might have known the signs of my Dad's passing, but was I in denial, that I did not see? The lessened eating, the determination on his part that he would "never get out of here," the seeing of things he could not explain.... I thought it was all from the infection, not pre-death.
He passed, in the earliest hours of the morning following his birthday party. (He'd told my sister that it wasn't much of a party.)
From then on life has blurred, I often lose track of what day it is, I hurry along on one day, collapse inward the next.
Walks on the hills have helped me tremendously, as have a couple journeys on water in my kayak. BiL is steadfast in standing by me, whatever my demeanor at the moment.
The eagle and wolf were doing the work of cleaning up a mule deer carcass, the doe apparently having fallen of old age. I was up there today, admiring the bones, the darkened flesh, the empty eye sockets. It is graceful. It is in balance with earth, as I seek to be. A storm is trying to birth from the west but I think it is drawing north now.
A couple days this week a small hawk came and sat on our front railing. Both times I was the only one to see it. From the size, I think it to be a sharp shinned hawk. To see it up close is stunning.
If I did not believe in the power of our web of existence, I would think I was going crazy right now. Instead I mark the unique and rare as welcome companions to this time of transition.

Time off

It is, after all, the weekend, and I have to retrain myself every time I get a day off from the work I do, the work that is so much from my heart. I remember long ago, experiencing job burn out, closing my eyes to sleep and seeing the steam and water pipes of the packing house behind my eyelids before dozing off. This week it took a full day for me to drop the emotional link to the folks I get to work with.

Before I left work Friday I was already wishing I could stay longer to see a couple of people in the hospital one last time. I knew better. Yet I felt torn. I could not stop thinking about them through dinner with friends, nor through a concert later in the evening. The next morning I felt a little better. Sore joints in my hands told me I needed time off to physically recover from the rigors of the week. I was not able to be very productive, and that's fine. I realize that I need to let down time be down time, and not try to cram a days worth of cleaning into it to justify it. I did some light dusting and some serious art work. I read. All of this helped me 'let go'.

Today was even better. I slept in and it felt wonderful and nourishing. Again, I put in some glassworking time, and later in the day, was able to take a snowshoe walk with BiL. I always grumble a bit as I am putting on the gear, but once I get over the inertia (as BiL calls it) I am always delighted to be crunching along on the snow. Letting my eyes refocus on the distant snow covered hills and peaks relieves my stress in indescribable ways.

Tomorrow we may even ski. BiL tends to be an obsessive worker in his teaching, but he is also pretty incredible at knowing when to manage some break time. My thanks to him.

Live well.

I can hardly believe it has been so long since I've last checked in here. Wow. I am married now. That's huge news. But in reviewing my last entry, I want to write that I am continuing to learn from my hospice and palliative care peeps.

Imagine this, that you suddenly see the end of your personal tunnel. What do you do? Who do you call upon? And how does all of this touch those who are close to you? The answers are as many as there are individuals. Some of you reading this already have more than theoretical answers. For the rest of us, we can only suppose.

More to come.

Surfacing into the yellow leaves

Our household has been alive with swirling energies, as my bodyworker cohorts would say. The winds these days seem to mirror the movement of furnishings inside our home,necessary to make way for our flooring re-dos. Is it just coincidence that as our household foundations have been renewed, I've been experiencing the need to reaffirm my inner grounding?

I work with the ones close to the end of their lives by choice. The past week has brought transition for more than one of them, and today I am feeling the grief. I know it is an expectation of working with this population, yet each time it hits, I am awed, amazed. How incredible the quality of connection these ones have, despite the body's weariness. I am overwhelmed with the preciousness of the time I was able to get to know them and be with them, not because it has come to an end, but with the experience of how deeply even this short time together impacts me now.

I know that, for my own inner protection, I could choose to distance myself from these people as I work with them, but I deliberately choose instead to meet them with the same vulnerability and clarity with which they greet me. Yes, it pains more deeply that way to say good-bye, but I would not want it any other way. They receive the gift of presence that I offer with no reservations. They inspire me to do the same.

So today I turn inward, seeking quiet to better hear all they taught me. I'll walk and let the golds, yellows, reds, and greens minister to me, drawing me back up again.