A Lovely Little Poem

i stumbled upon this wonderful poem a few days ago in an old New Yorker.

Before Air-Conditioning

The sweetness of the freshness of the breeze!
The wind is wiggling the trees.
The sky is black.  The trees deep green.
The man mowing the enormous lawn before it rains makes goodness clean.
It's the smell of laundry on the line
And the smell of the sea, brisk iodine,
Nine hundred miles inland from the ocean, it's that smell.
It makes someone little who has a fever feel almost well.
It's exactly what a sick person needs to eat.
Maybe it's coming from Illinois in the heat.
Watch out for the crows, though.
With them around, caw, caw, it's going to snow.
I think I'm still asleep.  I hope I said my prayers before I died.
I hear the milkman setting the clinking bottles down outside.

--Fredrick Seidel

Butterflies

a few days ago, i went to the garden of our local park to take some pictures, something i have not been able to do for the past month or so.  the flowers in the garden were awash in butterflies ~ big, beautiful, bold butterflies on steroids.  i've never seen butterflies quite so large.  i became completely hypnotized by their languorous, luscious beauty and carefree flight.  it was heaven.

as i watched the butterflies sparkle in the air, i was reminded of a Rabindranath Tagore "Firefly" i intend to have engraved on my tombstone:

"The butterfly counts not months but moments,
    and has time enough."

i may have taken a picture or two, but i fear they will be blurry.  the butterflies never quite stopped beating their wings.

that evening it poured rain ~ a steady, strong rain coursing from the sky.  this got me to wondering, and worrying about the butterflies.  where do they go when it rains?  how do they protect their delicate wings?

here's what i learned from the Children's Butterfly Website:

"Butterflies hide when it rains.  They usually go to the same places they do for the night.  Some butterflies hide under large leaves, some crawl down into dense leaves or under rocks, and some just sit head down on grass stems or bushes with wings held tightly.  If the rains are exceptionally hard or of long duration, many of the butterflies become tattered or die."

recently i have been like the butterfly hiding from the rainstorms in my life.   but yesterday, it finally stopped raining.  yesterday, i learned that my husband is free of the cancer he has been valiantly battling for the past eight months.

today i emerge from under the leaves, head now up, and spread my wings to fly, once again, back into the sunlit sky.  a bit battered and worn, you'll find me dancing with the flowers.

Happy Birthday To Me

today is my 59th birthday.  never in my wildest dreams did i believe i'd grow this old.  so old, in fact, my best friend says i can no longer claim that i died young.  she's right, of course, and i am grateful... grateful to have lived 59 amazing, wondrous years, with many more to come, i hope.

i've never been particularly age obsessed... never fudged when asked my age... and, in fact, i've found i've rather enjoyed growing older.  with each passing year i've felt freer, less self-conscious and shy (a true bane of my youth) and much more willing to do what i love, say what i think, go where i want, and damn the consequences.  with age i've been liberated.  i've discovered a comfortableness with who i am that is absolutely glorious.

but, as with all things in life, there is a down side to getting older.  friends and loved ones grow ill, family members die.  how can this happen?  the essential, vital beings in your life slowly begin to disappear, and you feel as if you are vanishing too.  this year i lost my nephew Mateo and my brother Greg within a matter of months.  the pain is still acute.  it is hard to breathe, hard to eat, hard to sleep.  i miss them so much, and have a difficult time carrying on in a world without their physical presence.

yet, they are always with me.  i see and feel them everywhere.  my love for them grows deeper every day.  my memories are strong and untroubled.  these are the comforts that will help carry me through the pain and into a peaceful coexistence with their deaths.

a few weeks ago, i had lunch with my father's life long best friend, Don Marine.  he brought with him some pictures from my youth.  this is one of the pictures he gave me.

Iowa, 1960

in this picture, my father, GR, dead for 20 years, sits in front.  my mother, Pearl Ann, dead for five years, sits behind.  my brother, Greg, dead for 3 months, is by my side.  they surround me.  they protect me.  they love me.  they have left me to travel the river together, until i can again be by their side.  this image breaks my heart.  this image comforts me.  it is a wonderful birthday gift that i will treasure for all my birthdays to come.

infinite worlds

"The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself." 

 ~ Henry James

this quote perfectly describes what i feel every time i photograph.  when i explore with my camera i discover a multitude of new, astonishing and mesmerizing worlds.  so wonderful... and so addictive.  and, in truth, you don't even need the camera.  all you have to do is really look at the infinite worlds around you.

Pipilotti

"The task of art is to contribute to evolution, to encourage the mind, to guarantee a detached view of social changes, to conjure up positive energies, to create sensuousness, to reconcile reason and instinct, to research possibilities and to destroy cliches and prejudices."

this is the opinion of artist Pipilotti Rist.

anything to add?

Pema

in looking over my last post, i realize i'm sounding a bit too doom and gloom.  while life has certainly been difficult these past months... that's life.  no one is immune from the bad.  and always, along with the bad, comes a bounty of good.

when we first learned Lou had cancer, and would face such daunting treatment, i had a major panic attack.  i could barely breathe.  having seen both my father and my mother through cancer, treatments ranging from chemo to radiation to surgery, hospice and, ultimately, death, i was terrified.  i truly feared i would not be able to hold up for the man i love the most in this world.

that's when my BFF of all BFF's, my BFF to thank God for, sent me an amazing little book, The Pocket Pema Chodron, a collection of over 100 short selections from the writings of the acclaimed Buddhist nun.   everyday, after meditating, i would read one excerpt.  this daily ritual, along with a mind clearing walk, allowed me to make it through each day, with its enormous ups and downs, and still look forward to the next.

from the book ~

"Fundamental richness is available in each moment.  The key is to relax: relax to a cloud in the sky, relax to a tiny bird with grey wings, relax to the sound of the telephone ringing.  We can see the simplicity in things as they are ... [this richness] is available always to everyone.  In raindrops, in blood drops, in heartache and delight, this wealth is the nature of everything.  It is like the sun that shines on everyone without discrimination."

this book helped open me to the moment, however good or bad, whatever it might bring.  so many wonderful lessons in this tiny book.  i recommend it to all.

spring

at long last, i return.  it has been a brutal winter... too much illness, too much death. 

with spring's arrival, things are beginning to look brighter, and my life is returning to a steadier, calmer rhythm.  

i have learned much during this dark, cold winter... hard, valuable, primal lessons that will serve me well as my life continues its steady progress toward its inevitable end.  lessons we try so hard to avoid, to push aside, but that always seem to find us wherever we may hide.

lesson one, regarding grief and mourning...

"it hurts just as much as it is worth."

 ~ attributed to writer Julian Barnes