That is the quality of the light today. It's brilliant outside - sunshine for the first time in several days. Illuminating the water and ice remaining from our first winter weather of the season earlier this week - there is a sparkle to the very air. There is quite the breeze blowing - carrying away those water droplets while the meager warmth in the sun begins its bid to say good-bye to the ice.
In truth - I love the winter. The cold air, the weak sunshine, the bleakness of the landscape...there is something soothing about it to me. Bundling up to go outside or, even better, staying indoors in front of a cozy fire in the fireplace, watching a good movie in the better company of The Oracle.
Ah - my loving husband. He sits across from me right now watching YouTube videos of chicken wing recipes. We are going to a New Year's Eve open house this evening and he is planning to bring some kind of gooey chicken thing - wings & drumsticks bathed garlic & honey - or some-such.
Not my cup of tea but there will be several guests there who will, along with The Oracle, gather around the slow cooker and groan & moan with glee over the ooey, gooey goodness contained within.
Men - happy around food and drink in the company of like-minded souls. When we gather with this group of friends it is one of my favorite things about them. Men with facial hair (as most have some), dressed in jeans & flannel shirts. A few cowboy boots in the mix, some LL Bean shoes and even a pair or two of slippers. Talking and laughing.
No drama. No, not even from the women. :-)
We gather together in joy, friendship and love. Everyone will bring something to complete the evening's food offerings. There will be laughter, loudness and even times for quiet contemplation. Small conversations between old friends. Larger conversations that will ring out with the happiness of our gathering.
It's the perfect way to say good-bye to an extraordinarily difficult year and to welcome in a new one - filled with the promise of a blank slate on which to write a new history.
One that has peace, serenity and good health in equal measure.
Long time...no anything. As mentioned in previous posts, life certainly was more than challenging in 2015. As the year comes to a close I have to be honest and say...
...good riddance!
I will be so very glad to see time move into 2016 that I might actually stay awake for it. I can't remember the last time I was awake for the change in year - it just hasn't mattered that much. One year moving into the next is just the passage of time; nothing particularly special about it. But the coming change...may be something I not only need to see but may take a picture of. Whatever catches my eye at that precise moment - could be a throwaway, could be profound. Either way - the artist within me will capture it in some way that resonates with me.
I'm not one to make resolutions but the coming new year may also be an exception in that regard. I've spent so long in a dark cave of depression that I have neglected my physical health. I'm seriously overweight, I'm ducking doctor appointments and in general ignoring myself to the point of danger.
So the first thing on the personal schedule in the new year - beyond getting back into the swing of working after a 2 week break - will be to make a series of appointments so I can get back on top of my health. Which should, in the long run, help with the depression, with general energy levels and desires to be productive.
And yes - we have been away from work for 2 weeks now. Part of it planned and part of it not. I got my every-few-years-at-the-holidays bout of bronchitis. Diagnosed 4 days before Christmas in fact; it came on fast and as part of this "New Life Resolution" thing I've got going on - I got to the doctor as fast as I felt the symptoms rising.
Drugs - are a good thing. By the day after Christmas I was starting to feel like myself again.
Of course that's quite the loaded thought these days - feeling like myself. I'm still not sure what that is exactly but I do know - unequivocally - that it has GOT to be better than the "myself" I've been feeling for years.
I lost my way a bit on the idea of allowing the artist within me to come out. Too many upheavals in the past year have been allowed to get in the way of any hope on my part of immersing myself in the sacred sounds of the piano, the spirituality of needlework, the God-given gifts of my photography.
The storminess outside of me became the tornado within me; consuming everything in its path without regard for health, well-being, mental stability or even basic happiness.
I have willed that storm to subside...and am focused on that artist within again. To the point where I am working hard on the piece above - one of Beethoven's most beautiful piano sonatas - the 2nd movement of The Pathetique.
This is significant my friends - incredibly significant in my life. Because this piece of music was once the playground of another pianist in my family - people I don't speak to or of anymore for so many reasons that have been the major part of that aforementioned storminess.
The Pathetique was this particular family member's favorite piece of music. And whenever one of my music books would fall open to the notes of it - I'd run away in fear and anguish. As if the very notes held my life's torment within them.
My friends - they don't. They hold nothing within them except whatever Beethoven put there and whatever I bring out of them for myself.
For. Myself.
It took such emotional strength to let my fingers even rest on the piano keys with this music open before me; such physical strength to tease the notes out of my very soul - to let that glorious music speak to me in my own language.
Not the language of pain or abuse; rather the language of a person slowly recovering. A person learning who she is again.
That is the order of our day today. A quiet morning - indulged in a lovely, decadent second cup of coffee.
And now - fresh bread is baking, laundry is whirring and soft, gentle music pours forth from the Bose docking station.
This soundtrack music is - well, it's just...hmmm..........
I really have no words. I have - feelings. Oh, so many of those. This music stirs my very soul, the essence of my being. It is the musical form of my Tao.
The movie - Saving Sarah Cain - is a gem of a little film. A story of true redemption. About a person who seemed - unredeemable. It is a story about acceptance, honor, sacrifice and the kind of true love that goes so deep its roots are not traceable. It is a film I highly recommend to anyone...no matter where you are in your life, Sarah Cain will remind you of a part of yourself that, perhaps, you have ignored - or worse, forgotten - in the rush and hum of life.
Life - it does intrude, doesn't it. It steals time so quietly that it's almost too late before you realize it. You must be vigilant - ever-protective of those quiet moments that can just come upon you.
Moments of such perfect peace that they take your breath away. Moments that allow the quiet to settle on you like a warm, comfy blanket; cocooning you in peace & serenity.
Sounds good, doesn't it?
Seek it, my friends. Seek out that kind of quiet because if you don't - as The Oracle and I have learned in such dramatic fashion in the past few months - you might lose a piece of yourself and never get it back.
The Oracle and I have been on a self-imposed exile since the last weekend of July. We cleared our calendars of obligations and commitments so that we could focus on ourselves and each other. At first we said - let's do this thru the end of August. Then we said - thru the end of September.
Now...it's thru the end of the year. We do what we have to and we delicately pick thru what we want to do - and even in that we are judicious about what we say yes to. We have focused our time, attention and energy on - just the 2 of us.
It's been - rewarding, boring, exhilarating and peaceful. A time to renew our own Tao both as individuals and as a couple (though I think The Oracle would look at me in that oh-so-tolerant and bemused way at the word "Tao"). A time for deep, personal reflection. Some days it's a time to talk - so much talk, so much conversation. Other times, like today - it's quiet.
I sit here - typing away madly. The Oracle sits across from me - just idly surfing the 'web. We break our stride every so often to look at each other - maybe ask a question, maybe talk about something we are thinking about.
Sometimes - we just sit quietly and say nothing at all. Because in that silence, we say so much. We hear God between us in that silence. His grace fills us, sustains us, nourishes us. His love - is our love.
Well - haven't had much to say in the past month or so - clearly.
Except that I've had far too much to say and no desire to articulate it in any way. These have been darks times in my life, my friends. Dark times indeed. The very darkest to date.
Yet, now there is light. With constant prayer, being ever vigilant over my thoughts, my words, my every physical movement...
...I have finally reconnected with the joys in my life.
Wandering thru a dark woodland you are scared by every movement, every sound. The very shadows hold portents of negativity and fear. Each action you take is measured against the risk of a simple footstep.
It's exhausting. It wears you out like nothing else; your very breath becomes something to be welcomed and avoided in equal measure.
Frankly, my friends, I've been thru just one too many of these "dark times" in the past decade or so. I am so - over - these feelings. I just want to - be me.
To even find out what that means...a new journey at an age and time in life when most people have already answered that question - who they are.
Since I have spent the better part of 10 years fighting off darkness, demons and the expectations of others...I am delayed in finding out what I expect of myself.
No more delays will be allowed. This ship is sailing and nothing is going to make me turn back now. With God's grace, I found my joy again.
I found that part of me that can sing with abandon - on the inside. A major stress point in my life the past few months has finally resolved itself; and in so-doing as revealed a clarity and truth that I didn't expect.
You see, dearest ones, my marriage fell apart this past summer. For reasons far too complicated and personal to ever recount in any space of any kind - my 32 year marriage formed cracks that quickly turned into canyons. Divides so wide that The Oracle and I soon lost sight of each other.
If I'm to be truthful - these divides began about 6 years ago from forces outside of our relationship. We never noticed those cracks; they were small, subtle. Fissures deep in our souls that finally grew to a size that we had to notice, but choose to ignore.
Finally, the great canyons between us opened up and it seemed, for a long while, that we'd never find ourselves - or each other - again.
We fought - hard. Like warriors in trenches, we were bombarded by our own inadequacies, our own faults, our own pains flung like grenades at each other. And in between, long silences of such incredible anguish.
Darkness. Devoid of light from any source.
But fight we did - in it to win it as the saying goes today.
With God as our commander and ceaseless prayer the only rules of engagement we had, we retreated in a haze to find strength to get back in the trenches. Day after day, struggle after struggle, battle after battle. We persevered with God's enormous grace we remained committed to this relationship begun when we were just children really...making grown up decisions that would reverberate through our lives for 30+ years.
And in a moment of such exquisite harmony and gentleness, joy finally broke thru the smoke of a marriage broken in two. It's impossible to find any other source but God himself; speaking thru the all consuming darkness to tell me - Kris, be calm my child. Words spoken to me in stillness many weeks ago, their impact finally felt in the past few days.
This marriage - that has defined my life for so long now - has been brought to beyond the breaking point. And with God's love and strength to guide us, we have put those broken pieces back together. The whole of the thing looks - different now.
Like the Japanese art of Kintsugi - the practice of mending broken things with gold. The philosophy that the breakage and repair is part of the history of the thing, not something to be hidden but something to be embraced.
Like this bowl, we will never be the same whole that we once were. The canyons that we have repaired will always retain part of their own shape. The landscape of our marriage, indeed of who we are...those scars show a battle hard-fought and hard-won.
A battle born of true love, a fight waged to keep the total darkness at bay.
I am no fool; I know there will still be dark times ahead as we navigate this new way of being - getting used to the scars.
Yet joy - has been rediscovered. And it has changed, like the cracks in the tea bowl above. My joy is different - and in many ways it is far more beautiful now than it ever was.
The battles have made it beautiful. The battles have made me - beautiful.
She was but one of 2,996 innocent people whose lives were cut short by an act of terror so unspeakable in its scope that even now - 14 years later - it is difficult to comprehend.
Hers was a “soft” countenance and spirit – meaning that everything about her was kind, non-threatening, approachable - she was a perfect reflection of all that was good in humanity. She loved her family fiercely and was devoted to her parents. Those parents are dear friends whose lives have been ripped to pieces by the acts of monsters.
Her wedding to her gregarious, wildly successful fiancé was to have been early October 2002. By now there would likely be a child or 2 running around – she'd have made a wonderful mother, loving her children with a ferocity that is equal parts love and fear. Any child of hers would have been a much beloved niece or nephew and would have been deeply spoiled grandchildren. She was cherished by anyone who knew her. She had a thriving career – much sought after in the fields of real estate and finance. Her future was bright – filled with promise and surrounded by love.
The end of her life can be summed up in a few, meager sentences: Heather Lee Smith woke up at 5:00am on September 11, 2001. She kissed her fiancé good-bye as he snoozed and she grabbed a cab to Logan Airport. She went to the American Airlines counter to get herself on a stand-by waiting list where she was able to board Flight 11.
And just like that, Heather’s story ends. No more memories to be created.
The stories of nearly 3,000 other people ended on the same date – leaving a hollow place in the lives of so many. Think of how many people in your life would miss you should you leave them suddenly - think beyond your family, to your friends, coworkers, the guy at the coffee truck who always gives you a kind smile with your morning shot of caffeine. Is it 10, 20, 50, 100, 200 - likely more? Each one of us touches a few hundred lives in the course of our existence – multiply your own “number” by 2,996 – the number of actual victims of 9/11/01. It’s more than staggering isn’t it – all those people with a howling void in their lives.
Like so many others there isn’t a grave for Heather’s family to tend; no final resting place the family can visit for holidays, birthdays or no special day in particular; no place to leave Heather’s favorite flower - the humble sunflower. No physical place to ensure she is never forgotten. For her parents and their family & friends there will be nothing more than a marble panel or granite sculpture at a public museum to mark the final resting place of their much loved daughter. They have their memories of a life cut short at age 30; her mother once said to me that the hijackers stole her future.
As I have said in years past – we talk of these things, these unpleasant things like the pain and suffering and terror of the passengers, the nightmares in the WTC when people jumped rather than be trapped when the buildings collapsed, the brave souls on Flight 93 who forced the hijackers to die never reaching their target – so that we remember. 2,996 lights were extinguished by pure evil and we must remember them; we must show great courage in remembering them, for the memories can be so painful.
But remember them we must. For their sake, and ours. We must remember the sacrifice they made unwillingly. We must remember those who perpetrated this crime against the innocent people of our country. We must remember the pure nature of the victims and the evil nature of their killers.
Remember them we will – as Americans we share the burden of grieving for the victims of 9/11/01 and their families. If we forget Heather or the other victims, or if we abandon their families & friends, we do so at our peril.
What an absolutely glorious morning. Crisp air that hints at the coming autumn; bright sun bringing warmth without the harshness of summer's light. The last of the Hydrangeas in a small vase on the deck; fresh coffee on the table beside me. The Oracle, my gentle husband, curled up next to me.
On days like this - struggles seem very distant and all things seem possible.
Like the fingers of Michael Jones, passing so lightly over the piano keys, my spirit feels incredibly delicate yet as clear as the opening notes to the magnificent song above.
Life - has continued to kick me around more than I would like. There are good days, like today, and I revel in them. Like a cat giving cherished "bumps" to a beloved human, days like today are metaphorically bumped by my very soul. I drink in the scents on the breeze - Lemon Grass from the deck plantings, Basil from the herb garden, the sweet smell of decaying plant life and the dampness from the deep woods behind me.
It all gives me hope that maybe, after 5 weeks of the deepest, darkest torment and pain of my life, the good days will finally outnumber the bad.
Because the bad - are bad. The put your head down and push through kind of bad. The days where you don't want to make eye contact with anyone because you know they will see into your heart; defenses are nil. The kind of day when you go out to lunch with an old friend and insist that you sit outside on a very hot day so you can wear your sunglasses and the friend won't see the pain behind your eyes.
A succession of those bad days puts you down for the count in equal quantity.
But then a day like today comes - and you believe in the deepest places of your existence that the struggles you have faced with such courage - you really believe that you will overcome them.
With air this beautiful, that smells so sweet...how can it not be possible.
Hmmm - I started this new blog to give me a place to release inner thoughts, to put my words "on paper", as it were, to rejuvenate my inner artist.
Since my last post is a month ago - I'm counting that as a not great effort.
At. All.
Life - has spent quite a bit of that time kicking me around. Hard. The past few weeks I've been barely functional - dragging my sorry self around mostly going thru the motions until I can collapse in bed.
It's been a dreamless sleep for these past weeks; for which I am truly grateful. Any dreams my sub-conscious might conjure up would most surely be nightmares.
Times like these give a person - pause. Reflecting on decisions made that are long-past correction; coming to terms with difficulties that you never thought you'd experience.
Realizing that perhaps, just this once, God has over-estimated your strength and indeed given you a far greater burden than you can possibly bear. In fact, wondering what exactly the Heavenly Father thinks of you since he seems to truly believe that you are capable of more emotional endurance than YOU believe one person should have to experience in multiple lifetimes.
It comes at you from all sides - no angle of life-impact is left out of the mix. And it attacks your Faith - the Faith that saved your life once upon a time, the Faith that nourishes you daily with its rare and unparalleled beauty. That one area of life that provides a calm moment in what has become, at best, a sea of irrationality.
When you realize that even that calm moment is harder to pursue and achieve - you have to stop the clocks, clear the social calendar and "go to ground" - something you thought you were done with having to do.
And so - you go to ground, you retreat within yourself and try to reconnect to that voice, that voice that spoke to you when it saved your life; that voice that guided you through what you thought would be the worst experience of your existence.
In search of that voice that you hope will get you through the current experience - which makes the "other" worst experience...pale to nothing at all.
That voice - God's voice - speaks inside my head. He says to me, over and over again - "Kris, be calm my child." He implies that the burden I carry is a shared one, that he is ever-present, by my side.
I try to be calm and to feel that presence. My success rate right now is about 50%. Which is a vast improvement over 2 weeks ago.
You keep telling yourself that "this too shall pass"; your inner-circle of amazing friends assures you that it will pass. You trust them - not because they have equal or greater experience with this burden but because they love you and you love them. You trust them - because you know that if it all falls apart, if it doesn't "pass", they will be there to help you pick up and move forward. You trust them - because they never lie to you and they only want the best for you.
God - is my innermost circle. And he told me to "Be Calm" - and while my heart races and thumps like a freight train inside my body...I just keep repeating the words.
On Sunday morning just past we woke to the sound of - empty faucets. After a few hours of fiddling, driving back and forth to the local plumbing store (thank God for the word "local") and generally mucking about - The Oracle determined the culprit was - the well pump.
The submerged well pump, in the 325 foot deep Artesian Well. Once this was determined there was a distinct, pause, in the house and then - the air became blue. We will spare you the sounds and syllables.
A phone call to a local business recommended and we had the appointment for replacement for Monday AM. Which meant 24 hours with no water.
Not the best of situations but we managed to get thru it. A new, and larger, pump was installed and water began running freely from all faucets. Took me the better part of the week to get caught up on things like doing the dishes and laundry.
It added a stress level that we decidedly did not need.
No.
The work week wasn't much better. Oh, no disasters befell us but at a time of year when you expect that things might - slow down a bit - they have not.
And so it is that we reach Saturday and feel a bitt - wrung out.
Of course the news of the week doesn't help this situation. Not in the least. We won't belabor any points as they are just too painful. But...
Baby parts sold for profits.
Four Marines and One Sailor murdered by a Muslim terrorist.
Iran nuclear deal-that-is-a-disaster.
One of these by itself would be tough to take but all three in just a few days...the mind does more than reel.
Is it January 20, 2017 yet?
In the meantime, it is a vacation we need - most desperately. The mini-breaks we take here and there help in the short-term but what we really need is a pack up and getaway on a jet plane kind of vacation.
Since that won't happen until November - oh yes, my dear friends, we will be jetting away for 10 days in a much warmer place in November - we have a couple of days planned this coming week to head to the one place that heals our very souls.
The humble Misquamicut Beach in Westerly, RI. We'll definitely manage 2 days mid-week; we may even squeak out 3 days but that's unlikely.
We'll take what we can get at this point. We haven't been to the beach at all this summer and as it is our go-to place for rest and meditation, even The Oracle observed towards the end of this past week - "If we don't get to the beach SOON it's going to get ugly."
I have been told I'm mercurial, a real free spirit.
I choose to take that as a compliment...because sometimes I think it's someone's nice way of telling me I'm moody. I prefer to think of it as being hard to pin down.
The truth is - my moods are, in many ways, like the tides. Reliable, shifting with the pull of an external force. Extreme highs, far out lows. I do my best to find the middle ground that keeps me focused and balanced.
This past week has proven to be an impossible task. I am - definitely off-balance today.
The Oracle suffered an eye injury at the hands of a new eye doctor; a 4mm corneal tear. He said it felt like he had broken glass in his eye - poor man! Since Tuesday this has been a bad scene - eye gel every 4 hours to stave off infection; eye patches, lots of sleep & rest. The Oracle doesn't do "sick" very well and this past week has been awful for us both. (Yes, there will be a complaint filed with the State once The Oracle is given the all clear; a poorly trained, unlicensed member of the doctor's office performed an eye pressure test with a machine that actually touches the eyeball; took her SIX tries to get the right contact...in both eyes. It's a major miracle that she didn't tear both his corneas - which would have left him, essentially, blind for about 5 days...moron.)
All I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the groundAnd my eyes fill with sand, as I scan this wasted landTrying to find, trying to find where I've been.
I can relate. We really do have a scorched earth situation in my mind; aggressive music is the order of the day for certain. My job - well, it nibbles away at me some days. Most of the time I can restore myself on the 45 minute commute to our oasis of a home but others days, like yesterday, the sum total of myriad stresses of the week took their toll during that commute. By the time I got home I felt like those nibbled pieces would never return, leaving craters on my body in their wake. I walked thru the house, darkened the bedroom, laid down and slept for an hour. I never do that. Maybe a 15 minute lie-down after work but not a full out, dead sleep nap. And I slept for 10 solid hours last night (though I confess that was aided by the ever-delightful little dark peach colored pill known as - Ambien). Today I'm not feeling much better, to be honest. My mood is very low; I feel abused - like I've been spit out as an unsavory appetizer by a whale shark. How's that for poetic.
Abandoned tanker car in a defunct railway yard in northern VT
Aggressive. Abandoned. Yup - mood is very low indeed. Anyway, back to the job. I am an Executive Assistant to a Fortune 100 senior level executive. He is demanding, can be either extremely fair or incredibly unfair; he is also a little mercurial - one day he's an open book, the next he's closed up tight. It's taken me over 3 years to train him to even see that I'm there, that I am more than just a body at a desk. Once I got him to figure that out, it's been a pretty good gig. His management team is amazing. Six other senior-level executives whom I support in varying ways and who all show me their appreciation each and every day. In all this - I am blessed. Sometimes they can each be proper wankers - but can't we all. It's the staff or the people outside of our area who can eat me alive. They don't let me do my job; they think they know better or they just beat me up until I give them the answer they want. In fact, the more someone chews away at me to get what I can't give to them, the less likely I am to try to find a workaround for them. They fail to recognize that since the "big boss" believes I walk on water - then I do. He trusts me to do my job, to know my shit and to only bring things to him when I feel I've exhausted all other options. I do far more than manage 7 calendars, answer phones & schedule meetings. I do all the office management for the needs of nearly 90 people. And I don't screw up...ever. I'm one of the best in my division, indeed one of the best in the company. I've had nearly 9 years to build up my reputation as someone who lets nothing fall thru the cracks, who is always prepared for every eventuality and who is usually one step ahead of everyone else. And the staff - they know this. Yet there is always a group of them that think they can pull one over on me, go over my head to get what I won't or can't give them. Trust me - my boss and his directs don't like to play that game, especially when it comes to me. Because they know I don't lie and I move heaven & earth for everyone, all day long. It's nice to know they have my back that way yet it is utterly exhausting to deal with these people day in and day out.
I never opened myself this wayLife is ours, we live it our wayAll these words I don't just sayAnd nothing else matters
At the end of such days as these lately, The Oracle is my soothing balm; he calms me with his presence. His words of comfort - are just the right thing that smooths my ruffled feathers and brings down the anxiety.
And he wasn't able to be there for me this week. Not his fault - not at all! He was suffering, poor man, and I hated to see that. On top of everything else - it's just been...
...a wasteland. And so here I am, pouring my heart out to the Internet. Putting the words out into the void in the faint hope that they will leave my heart and mind, giving my soul some rest.
Photography - it is one of the sweetest spots in my life.
My inspiration and motivation for it comes in fits and starts; I can go weeks not even touching the camera bag and then - BAM! - you can't keep the camera out of my hands.
Sunset on Anna Maria Island, west coast of FL.
Of course vacationing in a place like the west coast of Florida gives many opportunities for gorgeous photographs like the one above and the one below.
Sunset on Anna Maria Island, west coast of FL
And of course living in New England - it's a bounty of opportunities nearly every day. And that's where the motivation comes in.
Inspiration is everywhere and I used to carry all my camera equipment in the car wherever I went. It's how I got images like this one:
Lake Terramuggus in Marlborough, CT
For some reason, years ago, I just stopped carting the equipment around. Maybe I got bored... there was a time when what I saw was all one-dimensional and flat. No inspiration was going to come when I could barely see colors. Believe me, even though I tried the results of those efforts during that time were - not publishable.
These days the camera goes where I go only when I travel. A dear friend recently purchased a gorgeous house in the northern mountains of Vermont and it's given me ample opportunity for some really unique and, quite frankly, jaw-dropping photographs.
Lenticular Clouds forming over the Summit of Mount Washington in the White Mountains of NH.
I need to find a way to hold onto that feeling in the pit of my stomach when I capture such pictures; it's a fizzy feeling. Laughter bubbles up from deep inside my soul - joyous, happy laughing at my great good fortune to be present for such visual feasts as this.
Early morning fog on the CT River in Northern VT; White Mountains in NH in the background.
The laughter can turn to happy tears as I contemplate the wonders of nature and the handiwork of God. It can be - overwhelming.
Holding on to those feelings during the grind of daily life these days can be daunting. But I must find a way - with the bad news in the world coming in from every side I feel that I need to cling to those things that give my soul peace.
My camera bag. My tripod. The Oracle. My Faith.
These are the things that matter. All else is just - static.
Brilliant blue sky. Warm sunshine (not too warm...). The air is still. The birds sing and chirp. The hummingbirds continue their yearly and epic battles, those petite ninja killers.
And I sit in The Oasis...pots of herbs, veggies, flowers and grasses adorn pretty much every inch of space that we don't need to walk in.
From a beautifully overgrown pot of Basil to this luscious Hibiscus - our Oasis is just brimming with greenery and color. Since we are surrounded by wildlife that enjoys sampling anything in a traditional garden - we grow everything in pots on the deck. Deer might be willing to come up close the house to nibble on a Tomato plant but they don't come up on the deck - ever. And while we have had woodchucks eat away at a pot of Parsley...we have finally gotten rid of that particular pest by eliminating their hideaways and burrows.
We really are blessed beyond measure with our home. Built in 1978, we purchased it in 1989. It sits on one pristine acre of land that, at one time, had 68 trees on it. We are below 40 trees now - took us 15 years to get to this point! There are still a few skinny trees that could come down but that's always a rather tense discussion in the house; The Oracle would rather let it all go back to nature and while I agree with that - it's only to a point.
Anyway, I digress. The true beauty of our home - our Oasis - isn't in just the house or the property. It's what is behind us that makes this truly an island of serenity in a world growing inward.
When we moved in back in 1989 there was a large woodland area behind the house. A rambling stonewall went from one property to another, marking a property boundary that time has forgotten about. Beyond that stonewall was just - woods. We took several walks thru them in the early days of living here. Dense forest is all it was - tall Oak trees growing side by side, the forest floor littered with leaves, decaying limbs and struggling undergrowth.
We figured at some point whoever owned those many acres of land would sell it - unable to resist the filthy lucre to be gained from selling a couple hundred acres of land to a builder. Even in a town like ours - with one acre zoning for building houses - it would be a killing for a construction company to acquire.
Fast forward about 10 years and at a local annual fall fair, we encounter a booth with topographical maps of town. As would anyone, we swiftly identified where we live - eager to see what lay beyond where we used to wander in the woods.
The gentleman manning the booth watched us and then approached - "Do you live there?", he asked. "Why yes, we do.", we replied. He looked at the map, then us and his expression was one of - envy mixed with joy.
"The man who owns the land behind your house once thought to sell it to a builder", our man informed us. Even confirmed something we suspected for many years - that there is a variance road that leads deep into the woods from the road we live off of. Then he revealed the reason for his envy and joy - "He had a change of heart and when he dies he has deeded the property to the town for open space."
Open. Space. Stipulated in the man's Will...unbreakable.
I recall we simply stood there rooted to that spot. Staring, slack-jawed, at our man. I think one of us might have squeaked out a "Really?"...beyond that, my memory is frozen at the moment we learned that for however long we lived here - the land behind us would remain a lush, untouched forest.
No neighbors - ever. No disruption to the serenity of our backyard - ever.
Even now, 15 years later - as I look out at that dense green space, grown thicker over the years with undergrowth and big green ferns as far as you can see - I am struck silent by the grace of our good fortune.
On the busiest day in this neighborhood - when people have guests over, music blaring - we can retreat to this glorious space and let all that hubbub just...fade away.
As I get older, I am less inclined to travel; thankfully The Oracle feels the same way. And while we will take trips to that most excellent, magical home-of-friends in VT; and every so often head south to the pristine beaches of the west coast of Florida - we are becoming more and more apt to stay home for our times off from work. Even in the wintertime, there is a cold, clear beauty to the forest behind us, to the silence of our Oasis.
True - there are foreign places on my Bucket List - the Highlands of Scotland, the cosmopolitan thrum of London, the vast beauty of Tuscany. And maybe someday we'll get there.
In the meantime, I live out the majority of my Bucket List right here at home - where I have an Oasis to escape to, I have a piano indoors to soothe me and I have The Oracle by my side, with his quiet strength and gentle ways.
The muse is quiet today. It was a bruising week and I'm in need of some peace and rest.
I shall get both in abundance - at least for today. The Oracle is off to his weekend shooting league - tactical, self-defense shooting. He hasn't been in so long that mice had taken up residence in his gear bag! Poor man...he was out of the house by 8:00am with a spring in his step I haven't seen in awhile.
It's always a good day to go shooting...
For me it's about household chores. I know, you'd think that with the need for peace and rest that would be the last thing I would need or want to do. Except that on quiet Saturdays when The Oracle is off doing something that he truly loves - I enjoy picking up, puttering around and getting caught up on things. The birds sing outside my windows, the fountain in our outdoor living room burbles its way into the house. And there is, of course, a soundtrack to my day.
The great Sara Bareilles. She gets heavy play from me...her lyrics, her voice, her style - when it all comes together in one person it's simply sublime.
Music is the blood that pumps thru my veins. Whether I listen to someone else or play someone's creations on my piano or sing to the Lord at church...music fills my soul with renewal, letting me know that all things are possible. I can find healing in lyrics such as the song above, I can find solace in the strains of a perfect Mozart confection and I can release some pent-up aggression with the likes of Billy Joel.
And so it has, as I said, been a very difficult week. Chiefly because I've been dealing with a health issue that looms large and threatening.
I am losing the hearing in my left ear. In 10 months I've gone from nearly perfect hearing in that ear to a significant diminishment of the upper pitches of sound. It's noticeable enough that my regular Ear, Nose and Throat doctor has referred me to a hearing specialist in his practice.
I had that appointment this past week. The doctor - ridiculously well-educated with both an M.D. and a Ph.D. - achieved at the same time. Well-published he's done some pioneering surgeries and treatment for ear disorders.
He's also a total asshole. I mean a serious dick. Assumes he knows what you are going to say and interrupts you. Took me 10 minutes to get out my story. Diminished hearing, everything sounding muffled on the left, physical pain with certain sound and sound sensitivity.
Once I got that out...he began to listen more closely to me. In the end, I believe he understands that a 52 year old person with demonstrable hearing loss isn't hysterical or looking for a quick fix.
The fact is - the hearing loss I have now is permanent and unexplained. I had an MRI to rule out the only thing that could be a problem - an auditory nerve tumor.
Thanks be to God.
Which still leaves us with the unknown reason for this loss. So it's on to hearing tests every 3 months with consults at the same time. Until the doctor gets enough data to tell him more about what's going on. There aren't many options because no matter what the underlying cause, I'm losing my hearing on the left.
Hearing aids will definitely be in my future. The doctor did say that's about the 3rd or 4th option and I'm hoping it's far in the future.
To say I'm scared - is an understatement. I'm trying to hold it together and not think too far ahead of the next hearing test. And yet...
...the things that truly feed my soul are aural. Music in all it's already-mentioned forms. My beloved birds. My Mozart.
My music.
To lose even a part of that........................................
My mind can't go there.
And so I push on, dealing with the sound sensitivity in any way I can (which usually means blocking my left ear with my index finger). The doctor says this part of the situation is happening, oddly, because of the loss of the high pitches. Not hearing them actually makes me more sensitive to them...and trust me, at times the pain is physical, like tiny knives stabbing my inner ear.
At the end of the appointment the doctor was still an asshole but a knowledgeable one who is taking an aggressive yet conservative approach. I do appreciate his candor; I don't like his impatience and brusque manner. I'll give him one year...if I can get used to his style and if he can help me even a little, I'll stay with him. Otherwise it will be on to the next specialist.
In the meantime, we search for relaxation thru music and the beauty of this time of year in New England.
I'll be spending time in that space today. Finally finished the deck restoration (as you can see, it's a 2-level monster!). And the deck furniture in the foreground was delivered a mere 45 minutes ago. The aforementioned fountain still burbles right outside those sliding glass doors. It beckons me to take my delicious second cup of coffee and go outside.
What we have here in a conflagration of final allergy messiness. Laryngitis accompanied by a sore throat plus exhaustion. It's an unwelcome combo to say the least. Cuz I'm lucky like this. It's become an annual thing - this laryngitis business. And so far as I'm concerned it has definitely outstayed it's welcome. Again. Ah - this too shall pass. And I did aggravate it yesterday but all in a good cause. For it was the annual department picnic. Organized by myself and some dedicated co-workers, this was our 6th year at the gloriously beautiful Wickham Park. Reserving their largest pavilion gives us access to two very large charcoal braziers, some dozen picnic tables, several large serving tables and the all-important - bathrooms.
Many people contribute to the success of this event. Our senior leaders buy all the meats, breads, beverages and paper goods. The employees volunteer to bring potluck items to round out the picnic smorgasbord. Everything from ethnic foods from India and China to traditional American fare like macaroni salad. Chips. Dips. Guacamole. Cookies. Brownies. Oh my! And there is a picnic soundtrack contributed by yours truly. From the above (which I can't stop listening to - it's playing as I type this...again) to the below.
A long-standing personal favorite; I'd have to say that Boston is one of my all-time favorite groups - ever. It's a great mix of music from all over the spectrum.
All thru the day - I am on duty along with the core planning team. Seeing to the set-up, clean-up and everything in between. Laying out food, making sure there is enough of everything available, refreshing beverages in coolers, monitoring the cooks for burgers & dogs served hot & fresh.
It's a great day - everyone relaxes, there are plenty of games to amuse those who need it and ample conversation that you don't normally get during the busy workday.
Which is why my voice is nearly non-existent today. I had the chance to talk to friends at work in a way that isn't the norm in the office. Casual conversation, not centered on work or the demands of those around us. Refreshingly we learn that we are all just human beings with lives outside of the cubicle farm...rich lives, filled with family & friends and pursuits beyond protecting the bottom lie of the fortune 100.
And in the 6 years we've done this picnic - the weather has always been glorious. There were a couple of years - like yesterday - that were a little warmer than we'd like but...no rain. Very little humidity, light breezes blowing thru the woods around the Pavilion.
It's a great day. And an exhausting one for me. So I left the party a tad early, drove home in the quiet and stayed that way once indoors. Went to bed early and was plagued by odd dreams.
I might need a nap today. And more silence.
It's all good though. Great way to kick off the summer months for 70 hard-working people.
It's an ephemeral concept; fleeting yet slow all in the same breath.
There are days when you feel as if you've counted every minute on the clock. I find those days usually happen...at work.
***le sigh***
Then there are the days that go so fast it's as if they finished before they even started.
This past Friday was such a day. For we went to a wedding Friday evening - an event so romantic that it brings tears to my eyes just thinking about the experience.
The bride - a very dear and close friend from work - spent the past 13 months planning the wedding she had been dreaming of since she was 7 years old (she's now 31). I'm fairly certain that the time of those months, to her, definitely felt like they finished before they started.
She worked so hard on this wedding to create the perfect memories for her, her new husband and her family & friends.
She exceeded even her own, wildest expectations.
From the ceremony to the cocktail hour to the meal to the music - and every possible detail in between, this really was a wedding to be put in the spotlight.
The bride, never a conformist - walked down the aisle on her beloved father's arm to this song. Knowing the story of the bridge & groom, this song is the epitome of their meeting, their courtship and their wedding.
And, I suspect, their entire marriage will play out this way every single day. Because the love they hold in their hearts for each other eclipses everything around them - but at the same time welcomes you into that precious inner circle of beauty and truth.
And as they wing their way to their romantic (of course) honeymoon in a tropical paradise, my heart fills with gratitude that this beautiful young woman - inside and out - is my friend.
No - that's not quite enough.
She is a friend - we laugh, share stories, tell each other deep dark secrets. And yet she is more - like a daughter I think - she holds a special place in my heart. One that has never been filled before.
Like a friend - when she got engaged I was giddy with happiness for her. But like a daughter - I was so pleased that she found a man who would cherish her and treat her like the princess she deserves to be in his life.
Like a friend - I ooh'd and aah'd over the wedding plans as she revealed them to me. But like a daughter - she made me so proud of her attitude about marriage, about her maturity and commitment to her childhood dreams to make this wedding the fairytale of her dreams.
Like a friend - I grinned from ear-to-ear to see her walk down the aisle. But like a daughter - she made me burst with joy at her happiness.
Her wedding was a fairytale and she was the princess of every little girls' dreams. The force of her personality brought it all about - and it will ensure that her life with her new husband will be filled with the richness of their love, respect and adoration for each other.
And me? I get to be caught up in their magic. And just thinking about that makes me cry again - in joyousness for their new life together.
And...as time goes by my only wish for this wonderfully special young woman is that her marriage is half as happy as mine is.
Because that is the true gift I could give her - the example of my own marriage to my beloved Oracle; the happiness we share, the compromises we make and the joining of two people into one life together.
Because 30 years from now, my beautiful friend will still be married to the man of her dreams and she will look back in wonder at how time...
The weekend. That magical time when the alarm-clock gets turned off, when you may indulge in a decadent second cup of coffee with your feet up someplace. When making bagels and scrambled eggs for breakfast doesn't have to be weighed against getting to work on time. It's Saturday. Sigh And it's a gloriously beautiful morning so far. A nice laze-about the bed, slowly waking up to birdsong and soft rustling of the leaves in the gentle breezes. Breakfast has been consumed and a 2nd cup of coffee is in the offing.
The soundtrack of the morning is as above. Benign music that teases your senses with fizzy, bright notes of joy. For that is the theme of the weekend - joy. This our last full weekend with no commitments to others for the next month. This is not to complain, mind you. Yet each weekend after this, thru nearly the end of June, we will have at least one day destined to be consumed by activities. It's all good. Lots of church-related stuff and that's doubly good for we love and adore our parish family; any time spent with them is a blessing in its purest form. And so this weekend it's all about - us. Tonite it's "Date Night". We have season tickets to a wonderful regional theater and we always go out to dinner before each show. We've been doing this now for about 12 years - and it includes the same restaurant. A jewel of a hideaway, a tiny place where reservations are mandatory, the food is sublime and the wine list is like stepping into heaven from a soft cloud. A place where, after all these years, we have our own table and get comped various and sundry treats including a random amuse-bouche, a tempting dessert or a house-made after dinner cocktail.
And a place where interesting music winds its way into your ears and your soul. Tomorrow will be shopping for new deck furniture; we've been restoring our 20-year old, 2-level deck for the past month and it is finally finished. Time for a new table and set of chairs to go with the crisp beauty of our newly restored deck - painted a lovely deep pewter with white deck railings. Classic. Just as this weekend will be. Classic - quiet, just the 2 of us indulging in the things that bring us... ...joy.
A single-syllable word that is one of the most difficult to define. In Christianity about the most perfect definition can be found in the Book of Hebrews, 11:1:
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
For the other extreme, Atheists (and to a certain extent - Agnostics), that sentence is the crux of all that is wrong with religion in general - and Christianity specifically.
But we won't be concerning ourselves with the unbelievers or semi-believers, or even non-Christians. This is to be a conversation - a sharing - of my faith journey. A journey that I continue on as we speak - growing, changing, expanding.
It is one that began in 1963 when I was born. Yes...revealing my age here and I'm OK with that. It's just a number anyway.
I grew up in a Christian family - a devout, faithful Christian family. My parents choose a fringe faith - nothing you've likely ever heard of.
The link above is to the Wiki on this faith and it's about as accurate as you'll find without the mumbo-jumbo of the faith's particular belief system. It is historically correct and represents the faith's tenets with clarity.
If you Google the name - you'll find references to a cult. And that's not too far off to be honest. It has much in common with the Jehovah's Witnesses...and any Christadelphian worth their salt would vehemently disagree with you on that point.
Christadelphians are a tiny sect in Christianity with very small worldwide numbers - 70,000 total in 120 countries.
Very small.
And for my entire childhood I dealt with the stares, derision and skepticism of my classmates when the subject of religion would come up.
In fact, it grew so onerous to deal with that I just started saying we were "Christians" and left it at that. Tone and body language can go a long way to get your point across, even if you are only 12 years old.
As with most children, I followed my parents in their faith without question or comment. Even in my teen years - when you would expect rebellious behavior - I largely never objected to going to church on Sundays, lectures on Sunday evenings and other related events.
In short - I believed. I believed in God, in his son Jesus Christ. I believed in the sacrifice made by Jesus for my salvation.
Christadelphians teach a very narrow view of Christianity. They don't believe in an immortal soul, they don't believe in a Trinitarian system, they don't believe in Satan as a physical being and it follows that they don't believe in Hell as a physical place and they don't believe in christening infants. Baptism is reserved for someone old enough to discern their faith and answer questions during an Examination after a lengthy period of study and mentorship.
What they DO believe is astounding - they believe that the Bible - all of it...Noah, Moses, Abraham, King David, Jesus, the Apostles, etc...was written only for them.
Like I said - astounding.
Christadelphians truly believe that salvation belongs to them - and them alone. And to go further, if you are a non-Christadelphian exposed to the faith and you fail to learn about it and follow it, you will have to answer to that at the time of Judgement.
Yes.
I believed all that to be true - until I turned 32. My beloved dad died at age 63 and for the first time in my sheltered, pampered life - I started to question the meaning of, well, everything. Including my faith - specifically the Christadelphian faith.
How could it all be just for them? For 50,000 people in a world with 6+ million - the only ones to be saved would be the Christadelphians? It made no sense.
It rang hollow - devoid of depth, acceptance, tolerance - all those things that Jesus himself taught us were so very important.
And so, 18 months after daddy died, I left the only faith I had ever known. I walked away with a heavy heart because my dad was a man of deep faith; he truly believed in all of it. And I knew that if he was alive, his disappointment in me would be catastrophic.
Yet - I began the first leg of my independent journey of faith; a trip that would take 15 years to complete.
