Saturday, January 28, 2012

Place your burden
at the feet of the Lord of the Universe
who accomplishes everything.
Remain all the time steadfast in the heart,
in the Transcendental Absolute.
God knows the past, present and future.
He will determine the future for you
and accomplish the work.
What is to be done will be done
at the proper time. Don’t worry.
Abide in the heart and surrender your acts
to the divine.

- Ramana Maharshi


Friday, January 27, 2012

Come Closer Still

In this house, there are thousands of corpses
You sit and say: "Here is my kingdom."
A handful of dust moans "I was hair."
Another handful whispers: "I was bones."
Another cries: "I was old."
Yet another: "I was young."
Another shouts: "Stop where you are! Stop!
Don't you know who I am! I am so-and so's son!"
You sit destroyed, astounded, and then suddenly Love appears.
"Come closer still," Love says, "it is I, Eternal Life."

- Jalal-ud-Din Rumi

 - rather fitting, all that ashes talk, given that your son just got a tattoo with a wee bit of your ashes in it, and that the next day, I bizarrely stuffed a handful of those "leftovers" from his jar into my pocket, scooped up from where he dropped them, and cast them around the garden and off into the wind.

Also fitting, all that Love Appearing talk, given that I was just coming in the door thinking if I wrote a post today, it would be about how it is none of my business if I am in love again in this life. I could say No I Won't, I could say Yes I Will, but truly - I have no idea. And even if I did, it wouldn't matter. Clearly, what I want or don't want is not so much the way things go. I have a vote, if and when someone arrives and offers up. But whether that offer arises or not, whether I am loved and in love again in this life, is not up to me. In a way, it is none of my business at this time.


Monday, January 23, 2012


It's a rough day here today. Seems like a lot of rough days lately. Overwhelmed. Everything feels chaotic. And I - feel useless. To be more specific, I feel like I have no use. I'm good at a lot of things. I have skills. I have a super-de-duper high IQ. In the Before, I knew I had been helpful. I'd been a teacher, a therapist, a family coach ~ a lot of helpful things. I was good at these things, but I didn't love any of them, at least not in a way that sustained me. In the Before, I was in the process of leaving my life as a therapist. We were moving somewhere warm, in part so I could get a farm job and just wait on something to claim me, wait on the universe to ask something of me, rather than my trying to figure it all out. Well. We know how that one happened.

So here I am still alive. Lately I am feeling like a very useless engine, a vestigial organ in this life. Maybe exaptation will happen here. But I know well enough that the Universe doesn't have to use you at all.


and a weird sideways something - first, a reminder: since matt died, I have been looking for a farm so I could work with animals rather than humans. I am as alright as I can be when I am out with the non-humans. I often feel like I could be okay if I had the autonomy of my own farm. Or I had felt that way; the last months that feeling has gone away.

so I had this appointment today for an intake interview as part of a government study thing going on. I knew I would likely be required to answer questions about matt, and about trauma, so I was already feeling tired, emotional, and a little wary. It was a long and rather tedious appointment, with the interviewer being somewhat batty, not understanding her computer or her cell phone, and rambling on about this and that while wondering why her computer wasn't doing the "flashy" thing it was supposed to. While she was waiting for it to do what it was supposed to, she asked what I do for work. When I told her I worked on a farm, she shared that she used to raise sheep. She went on for awhile about her sheep - and I thought, well now, what are the odds of that? at least while we're making small talk, I can hear about her animals. After several minutes of talking about sheep and how she was "organic before it ever was such a thing," she said:

"my youngest daughter died in a very tragic way, and I never got through it. I went to bed for two and a half years, and when I woke up, I sold the house where I had lived with her and bought a farm. Those sheep saved my life."

Uh, what?

Oddly specific, that.



Monday, January 16, 2012

is it time?

My step-son just left. Not unusual for him to show up after work - he works third shift, so if the phone rings at exactly 7 am, I know it's him. It has been so nice to have him here. He moved out of state very soon after his dad died, and in true 18 year old fashion, didn't keep in touch very well at all. I missed him. I prepared myself to live this life without him too - but we made it. He came back here this past summer, showed up relatively unannounced, carrying all his belongings, and looking for a job. He was going to move in upstairs here, but the landlords have been dragging their feet on renovations. He has a great job and just bought a new car.

Today, however, he came over to tell me he's moving out of state again, back to Virginia. I think it's alright. I'm going to miss him again. He's my buddy. My friend, as well as my kid. We talk about his dad all the time. We share so much. But this post isn't about Jake.

One of the reasons I have not let myself think about leaving here is that I can't leave with Jake living so close. It would be weird for me to move when he had finally moved in upstairs. It would be strange to have waited so long, only to leave once he comes back and gets established here again. But with this news,

With this news, maybe I have to

Maybe I have to start thinking of leaving this place too.

no no no no. This is where we lived. He is everywhere here. I do not WANT a life without him in it. We lived here. I do not WANT a "next chapter" in this life.

I am not ready to move. There is also Boris to think about. Here, if I leave for a bit, my folks are near enough to take him for a few days. He is getting older, and while he may be perfectly fine traveling or adjusting to a new place, I don't know that I have it in me to take that adjustment on without Matt here. Boris is 11 this year. It is twisted and bizarre to find myself thinking of what I might do when he is gone. Makes me think I am rushing our time here together, and I feel like a jerk. There is also truth that when he is gone, I will likely leave the country for awhile, join the peace corps or something similar. Just that thinking of that life implies -  more loss, more death, more things to go through without matt.

I also have visions of Bo and I just off on adventure, new places, new trips. We'd be fine, he and I, if we took off on adventure. It's just fear and sadness that hold me back, bracing myself against any calamity, and then the sadness that that bracing is now part of me.

And then I start to think about packing our home, about where the hell would I go anyway?, about change and distance, about everything.

It's all too much, so much. To even wonder what could be. What I know, what is and has been so quietly circling, is that this world has shrunk too small for me. There is no interest calling me; there is nothingness. But with this news from jake, and with my job winding down soon, I think it is time - maybe to just start wondering. Very very gently just start wondering.


Friday, January 13, 2012

book suggestions?

People, I am bored.

There's way more to it than that, of course, but boredom is a very bad thing for me. Boredom added to, well - this - is extra doubly bad. My work hours have been reduced to a tiny amount. Netflix perusal is often a frustration. There is only so much yoga or running or avoiding running or yoga one can do. The garden is under snow. The seeds have been ordered. Cakes have been baked and delivered. Monthly cooking sessions are scheduled with Ronald McDonald House. Honestly, at this point, nothing holds much meaning for me. Thinking of more things to do or something new to learn - it's just not happening.

I stare at the bookshelves and feel immensely - bored. I have a stack of non-fiction from the library, but I am already so far down I can't convince myself to care enough to open one up. That is serious apathy. I'm thinking maybe fiction would help. I've read through my step-son's suggestions at least once. So - lay 'em on me: I need some good fiction suggestions.

Um. Keep in mind I am not a fan of sudden, unexpected death with resultant "transformation" endings. If you love a book that has that element, at least let me know it's in there.


And, an odd obscure fact for today, Friday the 13th: both friday (named for freya, a correlate of the goddess Venus) and the number 13 (for the 13 lunar months in a year) were once considered sacred and holy. As with so many formerly sacred things, they were eventually deemed evil or unlucky. Apparently, back in the day, friday the 13th was considered especially lucky, and you were meant to celebrate venus by making love all day. Over here, boredom and sadness overtook me and I napped most of the day. Not exactly a venus celebration, but least I was in bed.


Sunday, January 8, 2012

a story in 2.5 parts

2.5. Today is 2.5 years. I don't usually think in years. It is hitting me. It is hitting me and I cannot stop crying.

 I was at work today. Looked up at the clock just as the time hit 11:35 am, the last time I saw you alive, my love, two freaking point five years ago. I could not stop crying. Washing jars and bulk tanks, sanitizing same, carrying boxes, cleaning off eggs, heating milk, cooling milk - crying. As I was filling the jars, crying again, I sent a text to a friend to just say - it is two and a half today and I cannot stop. Cannot stop. We sent some texts back and forth about the secret ingredient in this week's yogurt orders being widow's tears, and whether that would make it like the scenes in "like water for chocolate," and all of our customers would find themselves overcome by tears and sadness when they open up their jars.


And just then, as I was crying and laughing just a tiny bit, my step-son called. He was driving down the highway and started describing just-happened events to me in great detail: so I'm on the highway, and I'm looking at the sky. There are all these clouds, the sky is mostly clouds, and then there was one break in the sky - this one beam of light, he says. So the beam of light shot through this one cloud, and the cloud it lit up looked exactly like two people, one sitting with their back against the other's chest, you know, like one has his arms around the other. Everything else was dark except for that one part. And you know what it looked like? It looked exactly like that photo of you and dad together on the couch, you know that photo that Nana took when you guys were there, the one with his arm around you. It looked exactly like that. So I had to call and tell you.

So through tears and laughing, and whilst balancing the jars I was still filling, I told him - well, you have impeccable timing, as I am sitting here at work and I cannot stop crying.

The rest of our conversation went on as normal for us. You are never apart from our words, my love. We talk about you all the time. Your son is pretty neat. I am so glad for him, to have him here with me. And nice one, babe, with the clouds and the timing and the method of delivery.


and the .5 part of this story - I finished up my batch of widow's tears yogurt, cleaned everything, and was ready to head home when one of the owners came out and told me they will be laying me off in three weeks. Could be bad, could be a gift. Too soon to tell.


Two point five my love. That is crazy talk. But it feels better to be sad like this. Better than the blank, angry, clueless, shut down person I often am. It feels softer, better, to be sad.