checking in {life and AW}

As you may have guessed from yesterday's post, I am on a trip. Training today for an editing project I am working on with a group of fantastic women. Because I am back in Indiana, I have been able to spend some time with my mom. Lucky me, I get to join her later this afternoon when she meets with her attorney to discuss her will. How am I old enough that my mom wants me to go with her to talk about her will? Yesterday, we did have some fun shopping at the mall I call Keystone at the Crossing - two new outfits from JJill as my early (very early) birthday present.

As for AW. I am behind. Very behind. I take a breath. Last week was intense for many reasons and I left on Saturday for this trip, going back home tomorrow. I am tired. The thought of getting up early when I am already dealing with a three hour time change is more than I can deal with. So I let go of the morning pages. Hope to write them tonight, maybe tomorrow in the airport. I brought AW with me so that I can read Week 4 and finish the Week 3 tasks, begin Week 4 tasks. But if all of that has to wait until this weekend...I take another breath. I am still excited and committed to this process, but life does sneak into my plans. And I have to let that go. Guilt, panic, guilt, shame. Letting go of this is part of the process...at least my process. (And can taking a hot shower followed by a long nap be my artist's date this week? I am so tired with the time change and lack of sleep due to an uncomfortable bed, new surroundings in this hotel, late night arrivals, and late night conversations. I admire all you parents out there with young kids who sleep so little. You are amazing people.)

senses. airport.

{smell} The air is stale but seems fresh after getting off the airplane. As I walk a little farther, I begin to smell the carts of fried food. Cinnabons, pretzels, french fries. I am glad I have time to eat.

{hear}
Beep, beep, beep as the cart whizzes by on my left. People talk. Quiet, loud, annoyed, excited, silly, happy, angry tones all around me. Monotone recorded voices remind us not to leave our baggage unattended. Friendly, tired voices call people to their gates. "Just one tonight?" Yes, yes, traveling alone. Eating at a sit down restaurant all alone can be a pleasure, yes, a pleasure, even in an airport. "May I take your order." Hamburger and a Sam Adams please. "May I see your ID?" With pleasure. People talk on cell phones as they sit alone at their tables. I hear a man in annoyed tones who appears to be talking to himself. Then I see the earpiece. Do we know how odd we look talking to no one?

{taste}
I bring the pint of beer to my lips; the rich flavor hits my tongue, then slides down my throat. I smile. Though I don't often drink beer, sometimes a cold beer makes my heart a little happy. And then a hamburger with cheddar cheese. In the last year, hamburgers have become my airport comfort food when I have enough time to sit and eat at a "nicer" airport restaurant. Not sure why. But I am just going with it. As I walk to my terminal, I pull a piece of wintergreen gum from my purse and pop it into my mouth. Fresh breath. Just like that.

{see}
People rush by me on all sides. Pulling their luggage behind them, some almost push each other out of the way. The fear of missing a plane on their faces. Long hallway through the G terminal. Moving walkways as far as you can see. People dressed in jeans, skirts, high heels, flip flops, suits, shorts. Many seem unaware that they are in Minnesota in January. Dreams of someplace warm, anyplace sunny, abound. I am jealous. When I sit down to eat, I pick-up the napkin to unwrap the silverware. For a moment I am confused. Plasticware. Then I remember. Terrorists. Right. No knives. People will steal the knives and try to hurt other passengers. Will they really? Sadness just for a moment. I watch the other diners, other people who are lucky, like me, and have arrived on time with enough of a layover to eat a meal sitting at a clean table in a quieter nook of the airport. A young man with a much older woman. Grandmother and grandson? She laughs as he animatedly tells his story. A woman sits alone and talks on her cell phone, pauses to order, then returns to her conversation. A group of six people get ready to leave. Time to get to their gate. They seem excited. The waitresses hurry with orders, food, drinks because they know their customers are passengers who have a firm agenda. My gaze moves over the words on the last page of a book I started earlier that day.

"It was only a smile, nothing more. It didn't make everything all right. It didn't make anything all right. Only a smile. A tiny thing. A leaf in the woods, shaking in the wake of a startled bird's flight.
But I'll take it. With open arms. Because when spring comes, it melts the snow one flake at a time, and maybe I just witnessed the first flake melting."

{feel}
Tears sting my eyes as I read. My heart catches as I find myself hoping with the narrator. I do not want the book to end, so I savor the last few words. As I finish my beer, I note that feeling of drinking a beer on a mostly empty stomach. So no, I won't have another, thank you. I pick up my heavy backpack and swing it behind be, putting one arm through, then the other. I drape my coat over my arm and pick up my other bag. The nervousness of the time kicks in as I walk down the long hall to my gate. Then I see that they aren't boarding yet. A sigh of relief. Find the bathroom. Then back to the gate. Sit down. The calm of having enough time. I reach into my bag and pull out the next book, smiling to myself as I run my hand across the smooth cover.

{and know}
The companion of a good book is a wonderful sort of friend to have as you travel across the country.

(Quote from the last page of The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini.)

be gentle, seek strength

This week has been full of lots of time in my head...not sure what to put out there for others to read, see, judge. Trying to remember to be gentle with myself...and connect with the strength I know I have inside me. As I was driving yesterday, this song came on the radio and I have been humming it ever since. Thought you might want to hum along too.

End of the Line

Well it's all right, riding around in the breeze
Well it's all right, if you live the life you please
Well it's all right, doing the best you can
Well it's all right, as long as you lend a hand

You can sit around and wait for the phone to ring (End of the Line)
Waiting for someone to tell you everything (End of the Line)
Sit around and wonder what tomorrow will bring (End of the Line)
Maybe a diamond ring

Well it's all right, even if they say you're wrong
Well it's all right, sometimes you gotta be strong
Well it's all right, as long as you got somewhere to lay
Well it's all right, everyday is Judgment Day

Maybe somewhere down the road aways (End of the Line)
You'll think of me, wonder where I am these days (End of the Line)
Maybe somewhere down the road when somebody plays (End of the Line)
Purple haze

Well it's all right, even when push comes to shove
Well it's all right, if you got someone to love
Well it's all right, everything'll work out fine
Well it's all right, we're going to the end of the line

Don't have to be ashamed of the car I drive (End of the Line)
I'm glad to be here, happy to be alive (End of the Line)
It don't matter if you're by my side (End of the Line)
I'm satisfied

Well it's all right, even if you're old and gray
Well it's all right, you still got something to say
Well it's all right, remember to live and let live
Well it's all right, the best you can do is forgive

Well it's all right, riding around in the breeze
Well it's all right, if you live the life you please
Well it's all right, even if the sun don't shine
Well it's all right, we're going to the end of the line

sung by the Traveling Wilburys

{self portrait tuesday} a first, a last

One of the first pictures of us together. I think about what she must have been thinking, "I am holding my daughter's daughter." I wonder if she realized that she was going to be my first friend. She taught me to give and not worry about what I received in return. Together we would laugh and laugh and laugh. She let down her defenses with me; she let me in. In this picture, she is so young. She always looked like this to me. I used to rub Pond's cold cream on that face; take off her make-up then put it back on for her. How she must have looked after I made up that face. She was patient and fun and silly and honest.

The last picture. The last time I saw her alive. Before we moved to the pacific northwest, I knew we had to visit them. A last drive from Indiana to South Carolina; we stayed for a couple of days. In the middle of the night before the morning we were to leave, I woke up with a wicked flu, so we stayed for two extra days and were there on my birthday. What a blessing. Two more days I wouldn't have had. She took care of me and we talked. She showed me a family genealogy book no one knew she had. We looked through old pictures. On the morning we left I insisted, as I always do, that we take pictures. And even though I was still sick, not wearing make-up, and feeling pretty crappy, she made me laugh and laugh as my husband took our picture. Then I hugged her good-bye; we were both crying. I started to get in the car, then walked back over and hugged her again. I got back into the car, and Jon began to back out of their driveway. If I close my eyes, I can see her standing there waving, crying.

I ache because it was only a few days prior to her death that I really understood the role she had played in my life. Through a conversation with another, I realized she had been the first person to let me be whoever I wanted to be. And I wanted to tell her that I finally got it. To let her know that through this acceptance I had become the person I am now and that she was my dearest friend. And I was going to be able to tell her in person because I was flying for a visit that Wednesday. My visit had been planed for weeks, but she had been hospitalized over the weekend. She was doing better they said, no need to rush your visit. You will get here as she is feeling stronger.
Tuesday morning, 2:45 a.m. the phone rang. My aunt. The hospital had called her, and things had taken a turn; she and my uncle were on their way. "Will you hold the phone up to her ear when you get there? Even if she is in a coma, will you do that for me?" I asked "Of course," she said tears in her voice. She understood. I just had to tell my grandmother what I had realized, but more importantly, I just wanted to tell her thank you.
We didn't know that she had already died.
I know that people say she already knew. But I wanted to tell her. And I wanted one more last picture. One more last day.

(link to more SPT personal history posts here)

some inspirations {AW}

imagining with 52 Figments
listening to the soundtrack from something's gotta give
reading the time traveler's wife
waking up early with mary oliver
eating chocolate
reflecting on brokeback mountain - if you have seen the movie and wish you could talk about it with others, visit the movie's web site. people have shared some of their stories and feelings after seeing the movie.
drinking mug after mug of green tea
taking moments to see the world through the camera lens. but also realizing that sometimes you need to put the camera down and soak up the world around you.
and truly, the biggest inspiration of all has been reading the blogs of other participants in the AW group. I am moved again and again by the stories, honesty, and creativity. I continue to realize that I am not alone.

senses. a movie.

{smell}
The popcorn is the first thing your nose finds. But I am in Seattle, so coffee is the next. There is the popcorn, candy, pop concessions guy and the coffee barista concessions guy. Later, after the popcorn has been devoured, I smell my wool sweater as I bring the corner of my sleeve to my eyes to wipe a tear.

{taste}
Popcorn, of course. And cherry coke. The bubbles, the fizz, the syrup, the way it slides down my throat. My special treat when I go to the movies. Love it.

{hear}
Stirring music that danced with the scenery, the feelings, the acting on the screen. A few moments invited audible laughter, but throughout the story, the people around me were quiet. Words filled with emotion, simple and complex feelings, love, pain, sadness, fear, hope, anger, happiness. A day later, I still feel haunted by these words and the feelings they invited with their resonance.

{touch}
In between my husband and my friend, I am the keeper of the popcorn. I hold the bag in my hand and feel the course fluffs of popcorn in my hand as I bring the pieces to my mouth. I move the bag from one side to the other so they both can reach it. Halfway through the movie I grab my husband's hand, and I do not let go. The sadness invites the need for reassurance. With each breath it is as though the feelings I see on the screen are also felt by me. As though the words of the actors reach out from the screen like a hand, and the palm of that hand gently touches my chest. An understanding. The literal feeling of human emotion as an action inside. Tears, laughter, smiles, a creased forehead. As I get up from my seat and put my coat on it feels a bit like a cloak of protection.

{see}
An incredible old theatre that is now a movie house. The large red curtain opens as the previews begin. The movie we have come to see starts and within the first few minutes my eyes are reveling in the vivid, gorgeous scenery. Right there with them as they ride up those hills. The wonder of new love, joy of hope, fear of pain on the faces on the screen. A glimpse into 60's Wyoming, true love, lies, marriage, a cowboy's life, family. Another time. Would the fear be as wide and deep today? I don't know; my own fear is that it is. A beautiful, inspiring, sad movie that illustrates its truth without fear. We sat in our seats as the credits rolled. Partly because the three of us did not want to move; partly because my friend was crying. And as we saw the last two words on the screen, "The End," the big red curtains closed. It was such a simple moment. The End. The curtains close. The story ends. But we will not forget.

{and know}
Beauty can be found in the spectrum of human emotions...beauty. Do not be afraid to feel.

waking up {AW}

So far, the artist dates are my favorite part of AW. A scheduled date with just me. And a time when I have to stop my usual patterns and do something different. Get out of the house. Take a pause when I am working. Think of myself. Let go of answering the phone, email, pleasing everyone else.

This week I went to the zoo. One of my favorite things is to just stand and watch the sea otters play, swim, eat. I could watch them for hours. My heart fills with joy and I feel lighter as I watch them. I envy their ability to swim, float, play, tease, share, pause and groom one another. The laughter bubbles inside me and flows out in a giggle as the daughter otter steals food from her mother. Over and over. The mother tries to teach her to share by giving her a bite but eventually the daughter wins and takes the entire piece of food. I have to stop myself from talking out loud to them (well, I must admit that I do when no one is around).

I did not accomplish the morning pages every day. And I really appreciated that others were honest about this on their blogs - this was harder this week. I did do them four out of seven days. And I will keep going. I see the benefit to the extent that I am kind of afraid of them. This may be silly, I know.

As I looked back through AW on Friday, I was stopped short by Cameron's section on attention. The way she wrote about her grandmother. The tears came to the surface in the middle of the cafe where my husband and I were sitting. Partly because of the letters, notes, and cards I have from my grandmother, but also because I am beginning to notice that I am finally paying attention in my own life. This began to happen before these two weeks of AW, probably when I started my blog last fall, and AW is reinforcing this. I feel like I am awake. Awake in my own life for the first time in a long time.

Good morning.

a breath, a blessing

Sometimes when you let go of the expectations that surround a relationship, your thoughts can become just quiet enough to hear what the other person has to say. And every now and then what they have to say will amaze you.
This happened to me this morning.
A peak inside the soul of another. A meeting of two spirits who do not always understand one another.
A blessing. A blessing.

A reminder to take a breath and quiet the mind just a bit before I speak, before I listen, before I judge, before I let my anxiety take over, before I give in to the pain of the past, before I move, before I pick up the phone, before I forget.