A few (okay 100) things I have done in the last 48 hours

1. Checked my email.
2. Felt warm and snuggly in my house under only one afghan.
3. Watched Survivor.
4. Put on my pajamas (only one layer).
5. Brainstormed a few more crafty Christmas presents.
6. Turned off the light before turning over to go to sleep.
7. Opened my eyes wide when rain started to blow sideways against the bedroom window.
8. Let Millie up on the bed because she was wandering from my side of the bed to Jon’s side in a nervous puppy pace.
9. Got up to turn on the news to see what they were saying about the weather.
10. Said to Jon, “If we hear a tree start to fall, I want us to quickly roll off the bed onto the floor.” (he humored me and said it was a smart idea).
11. Looked out the window to see the wind blow.
12. Got back into bed to snuggle with Jonny and Millie.
13. Watched the numbers on my clock go to blank.
14. Watched the numbers on my clock turn back on.
15. Got out of bed to look out the front window and get a flashlight.
16. Put on a pair of socks and got back into bed.
17. Saw huge sparks fly from a transformer on the power line near our backyard.
18. Watched the numbers on my clock go to blank.
19. Happily let Jonny get out of bed to get two more covers for us and fell asleep again.
20. Woke up with Jon to figure out if he had school.
21. Looked for the corded phone for twenty minutes.
22. Found another flashlight and lit five candles.
23. Got back into bed.
24. Contemplated heating soup in the new fondue pot my boss sent us for Christmas.
25. Realized I had no idea how to call my boss since her phone number was on my computer.
26. Went back to sleep for a couple of hours.
27. Figured out how to call my boss (she was great and just said “enjoy the day”).
28. Listened to Jon call places until he found someplace that was open and had heat.
29. Got out of bed and did a jig when realized the hot water heater was still working (it. is. gas. equals. hot. water. yippeeeee.).
30. Went to Fridays for some food and then the mall (we thought we were going to be sneaky and get Christmas shopping done…along with thousands of other people who watched the numbers on their alarm clocks go blank. it was crazy.).
31. Went home to check on Millie and the power (still off).
32. Realized one of our neighbors lost a huge fir tree (thank goodness it fell to the street and not on their house).
33. Lit candles and put on four layers of clothing (including a new sweatshirt from old navy. merry Christmas to me).
34. Got in bed under five layers of covers.
35. Watched Jon realize that he didn’t have his iPod.
36. Got up and helped Jon look for iPod (could not find it).
37. Blew out candles and put on shoes.
38. Went to Jon’s school to see if he left it there (found out school was still locked because of no power).
39. Went to fred meyer (grocery store) even though they had no power. bought nutter butters, pound cake, bread, cheetos, chocolate doughnuts, water, five candles, dog food for Millie.
40. Sat in the passenger seat as Jon drove toward home through streets with no lights.
41. Decided to eat dinner at our favorite sushi restaurant (they never lost power).
42. Drank three mugs of tea and felt so very warm.
43. Sighed as we realized our neighborhood was still dark.
44. Saw a truck from the power company in our neighborhood.
45. Felt really hopeful.
46. Walked over all the debris on the front walk.
47. Put pajama pants back on.
48. Lit ten candles (thank goodness for zena moon).
49. Got back into bed and thought about how this is kind of like a romantic adventure.
50. Saw the lights from a power company truck shining through the window of our bedroom.
51. Kept watching the clock, hopeful that it was going to turn on any second.
52. Played several rounds of ziggity (a card game by the makers of cranium).
53. Let Millie on the bed (selfishly so she could keep us warm).
54. Read the New Yorker.
55. Listened to NPR.
56. Ate a nutter butter.
57. Blew out all but two candles.
58. Ate another nutter butter.
59. Fell asleep (woke up every now and then to confirm that yes, indeed, the numbers on the alarm clock were still blank).
60. Slept for eleven hours.
61. Woke up to put on more socks (power still off).
62. Walked out to the living room to look at the thermostat (48 degrees).
63. Went back to bed and read more of the New Yorker and then slept for a few more hours (yes, Jonny was sleeping too).
64. Ate some doughnuts and wished for coffee or tea.
65. Thought about calling my grandma to let her know how we were doing (then realized that I, of course, cannot).
66. Fell asleep again.
67. Woke up and called the electric company but was on hold for over thirty-five minutes so finally gave up.
68. Sighed because it was simply too cold to do anything in the house but stay under the covers.
69. Contemplated opening the Christmas gifts from my mom (didn’t).
70. Decided to get up and shower (thank goodness for hot water).
71. Was warm for the first time in fifteen hours.
72. Lamented about the fact that I have no idea how I will finish Christmas presents (contemplated taking the sewing machine to Starbucks and working there).
73. Had several silly arguments with my husband (the bed was really not big enough for us to spend twenty hours in it frozen like popsicles...romatic adventure over).
74. Slept for another thirty minutes (I think but really had no sense of time).
75. Realized, along with my husband, that it was three p.m. and we had only eaten doughnuts all day.
76. Decided to go out and get warm.
77. Apologized to Millie that she couldn’t go.
78. Got dressed (and thought that it would be a good idea to put my clothes in the dryer to warm them up but realized I, of course, could not do that).
79. Heard Jon say that we better get power soon or he was going to run out of underwear (to which I replied, “check the dryer” [phew]).
80. Went with Jonny to get some food.
81. Went to Barnes and Noble and looked through lots of crafty books (and bought one).
82. Drank a huge warm coffee (gingerbread soy latte).
83. Went to Joann fabric (to get some fleece to make more presents).
84. Decided that if the power was still out tomorrow we would go to a hotel.
85. Felt the warmth of the heated seats in the car and thought that it might be a good idea to sleep in the car tonight.
86. Realized that the stoplight by our house was working.
87. Saw lights on in our neighborhood (started getting excited).
88. Saw our outside light on (started doing a jig in the car).
89. Started thanking the electric company aloud.
90. Walked inside to a house that was a balmy 53 degrees.
91. Turned on some lights.
92. Turned on my laptop.
93. Thought about how we had been a bit melodramatic about this experience (and was thankful again that we have power and that the heater is whirring away).
94. Drank some hot tea.
95. Said a prayer with Jonny for the people who still do not have power.
96. Brainstormed a few more crafty Christmas presents.
97. Put on my pajamas (only two layers).
98. Watched Battlestar Galactica (and cried a little).
99. Felt (kind of) warm and snuggly in my house under only one afghan.
100. Checked my email (and wrote this blog post).

my senses can assault {poetry thursday}

my senses can assault.

sometimes I am prepared.

smell
lily of the valley blooms in May
(and in perfume, soap, lotion)
a freshly opened tub of ponds cold cream
yes, this will be you.

hear
a line in a song by Kenny Rogers
(“if I close my eyes, it doesn’t hurt quite so bad”)
your voice as I make applesauce
it has already happened, so I am ready.

touch
two pairs of soft fluffy indigo socks
(one mine, one yours)
a long flannel nightgown
memories of past Christmas mornings.

see
the picture in my studio
(we walk on the beach holding hands)
the turquoise on my right ring finger
I know you will be here.

but taste.

even my tongue can interrupt
the simple cadence of my day.

the cold, tart cranberry juice
hits my taste buds,
a usual event.

but today
it is this flowered glass,
similar in weight, texture, color
to the small faceted juice glasses
you would fill with this sharp red liquid
and put before me at the kitchen table,
mixed with the taste of peanut butter still on my lips
and the aroma of this tangy fruit juice.

the unlikely combination that leads me back
to you.

grief has no manners
no understanding of time and place
no tact
no empathy.
they say it comes in waves,
but I think it sucker punches you
whenever the hell it feels like it.

********

I started this poem a few months ago when I was eating peanut butter on toast and drinking cranberry juice out of a new glass used for the first time. Poetry continues to be a way to push through the grief. I stopped everything and just started putting the experience and emotions down into a poem.

Revisiting a poem and stepping back from it and finding a new phrase or stripping down an idea to the image you want to convey, I am enjoying this more than I ever imagined. I love poetry.

Read more poetry on this Thursday by visiting Poetry Thursday.

a shower

One of my favorite places to be is the shower. I close the shower curtain behind me and close out the world. It sometimes feels like the only place where I am myself and alone. No email, no phone calls, no pulling from the rest of the world.

When I am in the shower, I brainstorm and think and think and think and sing and meditate and chant and let the hot water beat against my back and stretch and sometimes sob and remember and try to forget and think some more. I also, sometimes, allow myself to let go and simply breathe…to simply be present in the moment with the water streaming over all of me.

This afternoon, I found myself thinking about my yoga class tonight; thinking about the intention I want to bring to the class. My thoughts turned to chanting and I suddenly started chanting to Ganesh. A mantra chant to the elephant god who is the destroyer of obstacles and represented by Om. The sounds swirled around me as I chanted a bit louder with each repetition. My thoughts shifted a bit and it was as though I was chanting this for all the people I know. Then as I continued, louder, sound vibrating off the walls of the shower, it was as though I was chanting for the world. As I lifted my arms above my head, this chant that creates space in my body and helps me tap into hope and determination became a chant to create these things for the world.

The coolness of the water moved we away from my focused singing, and I slowly quieted my voice. I picked up the soap and turned it around and around, between my pruned fingers, until the suds were thick. I soaped up my body with the intention of cleansing anything that came up during my chant. Then I let the water rinse it all away.

An unusual shower experience, but one that brought me out of my head and into a new, peaceful space.

continuing to seek the sexy {self-portrait challenge}

I look in the mirror with my brightened "redish" hair color and new bangs and wonder who the woman is in the reflection. I look different with bangs. I feel...of all things...sexier.

Sexier.

This was a bit unexpected. Especially because sitting in the salon wearing that cape that cuts me off at the neck (not to mention my hair in tin foil and then wet and stuck to my head), invites me to feel anything but sexy. In fact, I fight with myself internally as I sit there. Fighting the negative self talk that bubbles up. This afternoon, as I looked in the mirror, seeing my face, remembering all that I learned during the mirror meditation, I found myself smiling back at me.

And I thought, "I look cute and just a bit sexy..."

At the end of last month, I mentioned that I want to write and talk more about marriage/romantic relationships here on my blog. And bringing in the sexy...well, that is something most people in long-term relationships need to do more and more. Sometimes as the level of comfort increases, the need to bring in the sexy falls to the side as we stop "courting" one another. Yet, there is always this true need to feel desired and desire another. Why do we stop? Why do we forget? What are we afraid of? All questions to be examined on another day...

For now, I am just going to keep on the sexy red slip. Even if it is layered over jeans and under a sweater (it is December after all). Never know what might happen when someone comes home to see this sexy woman who is me working away on the couch in such an outfit...

(see other interpretations of the theme "red" at self-portrait challenge)

hooray for you (a little challenge)

I am heading to Los Angeles later today for a quick long weekend trip. Inspired by Ellen’s show yesterday, I want to challenge you to something while I am gone:

To say something positive.

About yourself.

Today.

Right now.

Think about it for a moment.

Let it be a strong statement full of beauty and truth.

I challenge you to even leave it here in the comments so you can declare it in writing (if you want to leave it anonymously, that’s okay, go ahead and do that).

I challenge you to say it out loud. To you. Declare it to yourself. And after you say it, I want you to imagine a huge auditorium full of people applauding. Imagine all of us out here in blog world giving you a standing ovation for your bravery and truth.

(I know, I know it sounds silly, but I ask you to do this. For you. Right. Now. We spend so much time letting the negative self talk take over. Just for today, seek the positive.)

a meme {poetry thursday}

I was surprised by the places this meme took me and am so glad that it was this week’s (completely and totally optional) idea at Poetry Thursday. Because of this meme I realized that I have loved poetry for much longer than I realized...

The first poem I remember reading/hearing/reacting to was "Fog" by Carl Sandburg. In fourth grade, my grandparents took me to Sandburg’s home and bought me a copy of this poem. I read it over and over again in grade school. I love the image of fog coming in as cat’s feet. Such a simple yet incredible gorgeous image. He is still one of my favorite poets.

I was forced to memorize "Theme in English B" by Langston Hughes in school and was so nervous reciting it in front of my sophomore English class that my knees were shaking (and I was sitting). I actually wasn’t forced to memorize it, I chose to. We had to memorize one poem from our literature textbook…any poem…I chose my favorite even though it was the longest. I hadn’t thought about this poem in a long, long time and reading it today, I could hear the cadence of my own voice in my head. I adore this poem and I am so moved to have found it again today.

I read poetry because it reminds me that I am not alone.

A poem I’m likely to think about when asked about a favorite poem is "House of Belonging" by David Whyte and "Love After Love" by Derek Walcott and "You Reading This, Be Ready" by William Stafford.

I write poetry because I am in love with taking an image or experience or feeling and peeling back the layers until the core of it remains.

My experience with reading poetry differs from my experience with reading other types of literature in that what takes me an entire book to discover/learn/see I can find in a just a few lines in a poem.

I find poetry revealing, gorgeous, wide, full of truth, hushed, daunting, candid, laugh-out-loud funny, noisy, tear-inviting, breath-catching, blissful…I find poetry is life.

The last time I heard poetry was when I read Langston Hughes aloud today. The last time I heard someone else read poetry was last Friday evening when I heard David Whyte read poems from his new book. I will forever hear his voice when I turn to those poems. He had this incredible way of repeating certain phrases so that you could synthesize the poem as he read it. He would then read the entire poem again. I found myself nodding throughout the reading and began to notice others doing the same. The way he read, this repetition of phrases, and the rhythm of his voice made it clear that he wanted to inject all the meaning possible into us.

I think poetry is like a gift to the human experience.

(To read "Theme in English B," click here. I hope you do…it is a poem you should know.)

***

Poetry Thursday was a weekly poetry project that I created and then co-ran with another blogger back in 2006-2007. The site is no longer online.

making sense of it.

Little snippets swirl in my brain as I again try to make sense of it.

A friend has the truly traumatic experience of watching her dog, her dear friend, die in the middle of the night. A seizure that lasts forty-five minutes takes the little beagle. Having lost her father almost five years ago, she knows this grief. She knows how it will bring it all back again.

A friend calls to tell me her uncle died suddenly in a car accident Monday night. I can hear her say, “it just doesn’t seem real at all.” We find our way to laughter in our conversation to give her mind and heart some space from the bewildering pain.

I catch the news this evening as I am getting ready to go and teach yoga. James Kim was found dead today in Oregon. This family has become known to everyone here in the Pacific Northwest in the last few days. An amazing blessing that Kati Kim and her daughters were found Monday. A blessing James has been found, but such a deep sadness for those who knew him and those who searched and searched hoping to bring him home safe to his family.

David Whyte read “The Hazel Wood” at the reading last Friday (a new poem you can find in his new book). Before he read it, he described the scene to us…how he was walking across the Irish countryside to meet up with a group of people and found himself suddenly in a horrific storm fearing his own safety. In the poem he describes how sometimes life is like a warm room full of people and life and security and other moments are like a raging storm where death makes a choice. A snippet from his poem,

its more like some edge we’re on, everything
sustained by an invisible thread
that’s just about to break, the storm a possible
death about to choose or not choose
one life among all other lives it sees below

I try to make sense of it. Of It. Of grief. (Of death.) I am, of course, always trying to make sense of my own grief, and I know that it is okay that it doesn’t makes any sense at all. And really, I know that I cannot make sense of it all, right now in this moment. But I will keep trying. I will keep turning the thoughts in my mind and then pause to breathe. I will keep finding moments of stillness to be open to the understanding that I will never really know. I will keep searching for a place where I can feel the space to know that what I believe is enough.

thoughts while wearing my favorite grey sweatshirt

If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.
The Dalai Lama

It has to start within.
With you.
You have to look inside
and find compassion
for the self.
(For your self.)
Stop being afraid
to forgive.
You.
Today.
Yesterday.
All of it.
Let go of the fear.
(What would happen if you did?)
Find your breath.
Now.
Breathe.
Open up
(your heart)
to kindness for yourself
Only then can you be open
to compassion
for others.