Recapturing a lazy Saturday morning

Dragon Mood? -- enjoying a lazy Saturday morning

Do you know it's been ages, ages, I tell you since I had a lazy Saturday morning to post here? I think back on all the times I wrote in this blog 'back in the day' when days felt longer, the sun traveled a more relaxed circle in the sky and time had no end in sight.

Nowadays, things feel accelerated. Everything is speeding by, at such a pace, it takes deliberate intention and effort to sit down, breathe and relax. And maybe write a bit here or there in this blog.

S and I celebrated our 24th anniversary this past Tuesday, October 26, 2010. Twenty-four years! I can hardly imagine it. Our relationship began innocently enough, coworkers at a work conference held in Hilton Head, South Carolina. We were both married, husbands and children at home, awaiting our return. One night, that last night in Hilton Head, turned my world upside down, S's too. And it was all so very innocent. All we did was share a bed and feel feelings. Amazing thing.

We celebrated our anniversary by going to hear Bob Dylan and his band perform at the MSU Auditorium in East Lansing. I had bought the tickets as a surprise for S. She and I rendezvoused in Wixom, in the Meijers' parking lot around 5:30, drove to Dusty's in Okemos for a quick, light meal and then off to hear Ol' Growly himself. It was a rockin' concert, loud and fun to move to the beat of the music. I felt good about buying the tickets, taking the initiative on celebrating our anniversary, and S thanked me numerous times for doing this for us. Maybe it was the strange windy weather, but something felt different in the air; youth and energy and maybe even a little bit of hopefulness. All this from an old poet minstrel, from another age, another century even.

Josh and Leah continue to be in my thoughts. I listen to music driving to work and I can get tears in my eyes thinking about them, their undiluted joy and happiness at being together, and all that life has waiting for them.

Caroline and Ron experienced the death of a friend this past week, a good friend and motorcycle brother. He died in a motorcycle accident. I haven't had the opportunity nor the heart to ask about the details, but J.D.'s death fuels one of my worst fears, that Ron and Caroline would be hurt or die in an accident like that. I feel so irrational about this, my fears so irrational (what are feelings but irrational?), that I have to keep a really tight leash on myself so that I don't say or do something inappropriate. Like call them up and scream in to the phone, "I TOLD YOU SO! I DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE BEFORE ME!" (sigh) Like I said, inappropriate.

Work is getting better. Slowly, baby step by baby step, things are getting better. I have a disappointing morning or an unproductive day, but I also have good days where things are cookin', things are humming along and I think, wow, I'm really busy and this feels good.

I had my first candidate start a short-term assignment this past Monday and two more candidates will begin working next week. Yay! Yay for me!

(sigh) It's past noon. Morning is over, time for 'lazy' has passed. Things to do, places to go, people to meet!

Where am I?

Dragon Mood? -- travel-weary

This post reminds me of a long-ago movie called If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium.

Because of the generosity of several family members, I was able to attend the funeral for my Uncle Hemie. This involved some travel logistics, logistics I will summarize in this way:

• Night One - mid-Michigan
• Night Two - Chicago
• Night Three - Beaumont, TX
• Night Four - Houston, TX
• Night Five - Madison, WI
• Night Six - Milwaukee, WI

Suffice to say, that by Night Seven, I was rather tired and ready to sleep in my own bed.  Which I happily did!

Remembering Uncle Hemie

Dragon Mood? -- sadly remembering

A death in the family, no matter how much it may be expected, still comes as a shock ...

Two weeks ago, my cell phone rang shortly after eight o'clock. Looking at the screen, I saw the call was from my sister. Hmmm, I wondered. This is an unusual time for her to call.

She was calling to tell me of our Uncle Hemie's death. He had died that morning, Wednesday, June 9, 2010, around 5 a.m. The remarkable thing was that he and my Aunt Doris had actually talked with one another shortly before his death.

Uncle Hemie was 88. He had lived a full and vigorous life. These last two years, he struggled, breathing with the help of an oxygen tank 24/7, his world drastically shrunk by his poor health.

I will miss Uncle Hemie.  He was such a gentle man, soft-spoken but a master at telling stories, many of them filled with humor and his droll wit.  His eyes were the twinkling sort.  His hands were thick and well-worn, burnished with hard work and do-it-yourself projects, and I often saw him with his fingers interlaced as if in silent, private prayer.  He was a spiritual man and a faithful believer.  He looked forward to being with Jesus in heaven.

Straddling Divergent Belief Systems

Dragon Mood? -- intrigued

If you call yourself a Christian, then do you immediately reject the idea of reincarnation? Is it a concept that is so foreign to you as to make it unimaginable? Unbelievable?

This article, written by Robert Lanza, M.D., touches on the tantalizing theories and inevitable tension between quantum physics and our ideas of living and dying. Here's an excerpt:

We think we die and rot into the ground, and thus must squeeze everything in before it's too late. If life -- yours, mine -- is a just a one-time deal, then we're as likely to be screwed as pampered. But experiments suggest this view of the world may be wrong.

The results of quantum physics confirm that observations can't be predicted absolutely. Instead, there's a range of possible observations each with a different probability. One mainstream explanation, the "many-worlds" interpretation, states that there are an infinite number of universes (the "multiverse"). Everything that can possibly happen occurs in some universe. The old mechanical -- "we're just a bunch of atoms" −- view of life loses its grip in these scenarios.

Biocentrism extends this idea, suggesting that life is a flowering and adventure that transcends our ordinary linear way of thinking. Although our individual bodies are destined to self-destruct, the "me'' feeling is just energy operating in the brain. But this energy doesn't go away at death. One of the surest principles of science is that energy never dies; it can neither be created nor destroyed. When we die, we do so not in the random billiard ball matrix but in the inescapable life matrix. Life has a non-linear dimensionality −- it's like a perennial flower that returns to bloom in the multiverse.

A series of landmark experiments show that measurements an observer makes can influence events that have already happened in the past. One experiment (Science 315, 966, 2007) confirmed that flipping a switch could retroactively change a result that had happened before the switch was flipped. Regardless of the choice you, the observer, make, it'll be you who will experience the outcomes −- the universes −- that will result.

I see a chasm between belief systems here, and one that I'm straddling uncomfortably, like a cartoon character with one leg on the dock and the other on a boat pulling away. I believe Jesus will accompany me across the river Jordan to "the other side" while at the same time I believe that my essence, my energy will go on after my death. How can I make sense of it all? Rationalize it and balance it and make some cohesive explanation? Oh dear!

June weekend recap

Dragon Mood? -- catching up

Much has happened over this past week and curiously, I simply haven't felt like blogging about it. After having received the news of finally, finally securing a job, my mind has been in a whirl and my emotions have been swinging around enough to make my mind look like it's been sitting still.

Here's a recap of this past weekend's events:

• Friday evening, my sister and brother-in-law, Ruth and Paul, as well as their three children, Aaron, Luke and Jess drove up from Chicago to spend the weekend. Friday evening, we drank wine, ate munchies, ordered pizza, exchanged stories, and toasted ME on the occasion of my new job. Jess, Luke and Aaron also surprised their parents with the news of an informal 30th anniversary party.


• Saturday was a day of errands, scurrying around buying cards (belated graduation for Jess, anniversary for Ruth & Paul, Father's Day for Dad, belated birthday card for Joanne) and small gifts, such as they were. While I now have a job, I still don't have any money coming in right now and it felt very odd to allow myself the freedom to spend money. What a curious feeling!


• Ruth & Paul's party began at 5, but I arrived at John & Kari's lovely home in DeWitt around 4. Ruth, in particular, felt a bit discombobulated at not being involved in party and food preparations -- she was told to "get out of the kitchen." Well!
  
  Aaron, Luke and Jess did a great job of putting the party together. I know it's something they're unaccustomed to, but they did a bang-up job! John & Kari are gracious hosts and put everyone at their ease.
  
  It was enjoyable to see people whom I hadn't seen for quite a while. S and I visited with Ruth's good friend, Anne, a retired attorney now living in Birmingham, Michigan. It felt good to be open about our relationship with her. Paul's dad, Roy, was giving away as well as selling copies of his new book, a first volume (of many) on preaching guides based on the church year. If you're not Lutheran, don't worry if you don't understand. It's all very detailed and parochial. Roy was understandably proud of his efforts.
  
  Luke and his Aunt Mary finally had their drinking time! We worked on three bottles of wine through the evening. We did have some help killing off the old soldiers, but I took precautions to drink loads of water and a piece of bread when I got home.


• Sunday morning I was moving slow, but drove into town to meet Aaron at his grandparents' home to pick up some large terra cotta pots that nobody seemed to want and had been languishing there. Aaron did the heavy lifting while I stood by.
  
  Shortly later, everyone else joined us after finishing the church service they had attended. We all said our round of good-byes and I left.
  
  S and I prepared to head up north to attend Dobie's visitation. We took a brief nap, showered, dressed, loaded up the car and the dog and left about 4. We arrived there after six and paid our respects at the funeral home. Surprisingly, mutual friends of ours, Michelle and Sue, had also driven up for the visitation -- people we haven't seen since December -- so we got to visit and catch up with them as well.
  
  We finished the day by arriving at the home of S's sister, Michelle, and her husband, Jim, to spend the night. I showered, said my good-nights and crashed. S and Michelle sat up and visited for a while.


• Monday morning, S and I dressed, left Cisco with Michelle, and headed back down US-27 to attend the funeral. Kevin made some absolutely delicious Bloody Mary's for us to drink later in the day ... but we all got a pre-funeral taste of their spicy, vodka-infused lusciousness!
  
  The funeral was well-attended and many people recounted loving memories of Dobie. As I had feared, there was an incident regarding who constituted family when it came time for seating the family. Thankfully, there were enough people who recognize Joanne as Jeanne's partner and also recognize her significant contributions over these past months, that Joanne sat in the first row, right next to Jeanne through the service -- as she should have.


• We finished up the day by driving back north to change our clothes, visit with Michelle for about an hour, pack up the dog and head back downstate. We first visited our home in the pines, switched bags and clothes and cars, and then drove the second leg of the journey back here to our pied-a-terre in the city. Whew! Such a lot of driving!

And that was just the weekend!

Reflections on Dobie

Dragon Mood? -- the anticipatory waiting is past; now, it's sadly waiting

Earlier this week, I had contemplated writing a blog post about waiting. I was in a waiting mode about a prospective job. S and I were in a waiting mode, wondering about Dobie.

Dobie, Jeanne's father, aged 102, was beginning to decline. Jeanne's partner and our good friend, Joanne, had called us Sunday to forewarn us. He had stopped eating, his breathing had become erratic and the family had called Hospice for intervention. Today Joanne called again to say that Dobie had "passed on," this morning around 7. Jeanne and Joanne and all of Jeanne's family, all of their waiting was over. Our waiting was over. Most importantly though, Dobie's waiting was over.

S and I had the privilege over these past three-and-a-half months to have a number of meals with Dobie, Jeanne and Joanne. It's remarkable to see someone who is that aged, to watch their eyes, to look at their skin, to hear them engage in conversation and interact with others. They have lived so long, have witnessed so much, experienced so many things, from a common-sense standpoint, you would think you'd feel some aura or wellspring of fullness, completeness, overflow -- you know?

But I didn't experience that sensation around Dobie. He felt small, frail and rather diminished. Though his mind was generally quite sharp, he had lost much of his hearing which in turn, inhibited conversation and was quite isolating for him, I imagine. I never saw him walk further than from his bedroom to his Lazyboy chair and then onto the dining room table. He went from walking slowly to walking tentatively to sometimes shuffling.

Rather than having things to look forward to, virtually all of Dobie's conversations centered around the past and past events. Most of my conversations with him were focused on events of the 1920s, 30s and 40s. We rarely spoke about current events. He seemed disinterested in politics or social issues or even the weather. If we talked about the weather, it prompted him to remember some past weather event.

What is that like, to grow so old, to become so "used up" that there's very little left? Is it painful or simply boring? Do you care or is it easier to disengage? Do you patiently bide your time, waiting your turn to die? Better to wholeheartedly ignore the inevitable? Is that what old age is about?

S and I tried several times to "get inside" Dobie's head, but typical of many elderly people, particularly men, he was not given to personal reflection or observations. One time, S asked him point-blank for some general advice and Dobie's response ended with, "Keep your mouth shut!" We were a bit stunned at the harshness of his words, given that he appeared such a gentle and unintimidating individual. Perhaps we never knew the real Dobie. Maybe, that part of him had already disappeared, already used up?

Dobie's life, his very personhood remains something of a mystery. We can neither add to his life nor take anything away. It is what it is. And it is not ours to embellish, to diminish, nor to judge.

Good-bye Dobie. Godspeed. It was great to know you.

Mourning a friend who is gone

Dragon Mood? -- mournful, sad

Finding out that someone you loved and cared about is dead is painful enough. To find out that this person died over 11 months ago and I had no clue only adds to my sense of loss and vulnerability. I had no clue.

I found out this morning. The person that died was our therapist, S and mine, for over four years. Maybe it was even five years; I've forgotten now. His name was Pat Brice and he was an exceptional therapist. He was also a person who made me feel happy about being alive and hopeful about the future.

S and I started seeing Pat in August of 1998. It was a dark and bitter time in our relationship. Without going into gory details, suffice to say that Pat had plenty to address with us, regarding our relationship, as well as our parenting skills and individual mental health.

We saw Pat week after week after week, usually on a weekday evening. Sometimes we were his last clients for the evening. That allowed him to be a bit more relaxed about the length of our session. Many times, we would start the session talking about something other than "therapy." From those "warm-up minutes," I learned about Pat's love of nature, dogs, woodworking, bees, gardening, his wife and his daughters, his extended family in Wisconsin.

During sessions, I heard him speak about his own traumas growing up at the hands of nuns, a failed first marriage, working in mental health clinics, deciding to pursue a Ph.D, politics, working with kids who have ADHD and learning to deal with his own limitations.

Pat was kind of a gentle bear of a man. For most of the time that S and I saw him, he had either a mustache or a mustache and a beard. He was rather rotund; he could have played a perfect Santa Claus, including the twinkle in his eye. I remember us talking about our respective struggles with weight.

He was incredibly kind and gentle. He demonstrated manly, better yet, fatherly tenderness that spoke volumes to the little girl within me. He cried with S and me a couple of times, particularly when talking about children experiencing violence. He told us lots of insightful or instructive stories and theories and even shared a hypothesis or two on the "secrets" of the universe.

Pat drove a Ford Ranger that he loved. When it came time, S bought a Ford Ranger too. He shared a dozen or so pine seedlings with us that he had gotten from a friend. S planted them out in our diminishing pine "forest" while her grandma observed. He brought us a jar filled with honey from his bees. (Delicious!) We brought him cookies at Christmastime because he made no secret of his love for eating. He gave us a beautiful wooden "vase," complete with a snug-fitting top that he cut and turned on his lathe. It sits on our sidetable in the dining room where we can see it with every meal. S bought a beautiful gnarled piece of wood and gave it to him because she knew how much he loved wood.

Because he knew, as designers we love to design things, one night after a session, we spent quite a while strategizing how he could build a gate into his garden. He had a bunch of design constraints (all of which I can't remember) that only added to the fun and challenge of figuring out a workable and buildable solution. He told us about the ponds on his property and the fence to keep their dogs safe and spending time there with his wife.

All three of us enjoyed the outdoors so much, we joked and speculated on what people would think about having our therapy session outside on the clinic lawn. We held back our impulses and stayed inside.

S and I continued to see Pat for over six months after we bought the pied-a-terre here in Motown. That would have been October or November of 2003. I guess we did see him for over five years. Amazing.

We never had an official "last" session. Our lives felt more stable, less chaotic, our relationship more loving, less prone to poor boundaries and "magical" thinking. That fall of 2003, when a series of appointments was completed, I never scheduled more. I never really said "Good-bye" to Pat because there's always a next time, right? Before today, rarely has a week gone by that I don't think of him. And the same can be said regarding S and my relationship. We frequently reference "What would Pat say?" after a particularly difficult exchange or while struggling with a thorny issue. Usually, we can work it out, thanks to his good work with us.

It's nearly impossible to express just how sad I feel, now knowing that Pat is gone. He was such a source of love and care for me in this world. He sure didn't save it for a rainy day. He put it out there, hour after hour, week after week. He gave freely and willingly and lovingly. I suspect that there are many, many other people, clients of his who feel the same. The world ... my world ... feels poorer and drearier and a little less warm for Pat's not being with us here anymore. As a caring therapist, I have made him a part of me. I will always remember him and keep him close in my heart.

Tough week

Dragon Mood? -- heavy sigh

This morning, upon hearing Robin Roberts of Good Morning America say this has been a tough week, I thought, "Yeah, it has been a very tough week." The horrible killings at Virginia Tech have been uppermost in peoples' minds. And ... if you weren't thinking about it, the media would be sure to remind you with graphic images, endless repetition and obsessive analysis. (To which I respond: pick up the remote and *click* off.)

There was another tragic, senseless death in our midst. Here in Motown, in the community "village" we live in, a little girl, five years old, died Monday afternoon while playing outside at the grade school within walking distance of our home. She was playing in an inner courtyard of the school when a flagpole snapped under heavy winds, fell and killed her. S and I listened to the school principal, trembling with emotion, on the local evening news describe staying with the little girl in her last moments of life, awaiting the ambulance. Ironically, just an hour earlier, I told my sister on the phone that I had skipped my usual walk with the dog that afternoon because the winds seemed downright "scary." Sadly, that was more true than I realized at the time.

On a far less momentous note, I returned to a prospective employer's site earlier this week to take a "tube test." Basically, I was asked to perform tasks on the computer with a 3D CAD modeling software and prove that I can do what I say I can do. The hiring manager gave me two tasks for that one hour. The first one I created as requested; the other, I couldn't complete in the time given. I got "stuck" and failed to think "nimbly" and consider a work-around in the given time. As the minutes ticked away, I got more and more frustrated with myself and the task at hand. Unfortunately, I kind of "froze up."

As the manager walked me out to the reception desk, he acknowledged that none of the other candidates had been able to complete both tasks in the time given. In retrospect, I know he was trying to make me feel better. But, I am unaccustomed to failure and don't let myself off the hook very easily. I've continued to replay that hour and the conversation afterward over and over in my mind. I won't allow myself to internally call myself names (like "stupid" or anything similar), but I can definitely feel the hardness and rigidity of my upbringing, especially in the face of anything less than perfection. ArrrghhH! It's tough to run into one's vulnerabilities, especially when looking for a job.

I am still feeling very badly about my performance on that tube test and suspect I undermined my chances for the job. I have been preparing myself mentally all week for the phone call telling me that I didn't get the job. Others might label that as "negative" thinking, but I feel like I'm protecting myself. More disappointing news about employment and jobs is not something I need right now.

After the requisite dose of daily self-pity, I knock myself upside of the head and remind myself to look around. Look around at what's happened to others this week. Parents of a little girl. Families and friends of 32 innocent people. They have something to feel badly about. Their lives are forever changed. I just experienced a temporary setback this week. It's a mere bump in this road we call life.

Differently?

Dragon Mood? -- wiggling and squirming, wondering how I'm gonna answer this question

In a post celebrating her sixth blog anniversary, Dooce says this: "Is there anything in my life that I wish I could go back and do differently? Yes. One thing. I wish had worn more sunscreen. You?"

So, here's my answer, Heather ... and the rest of the world:

• I definitely should have continued working on my art after ninth grade
  
  
• I definitely should have worn a Giant Maxi-Pad to my commencement instead of that skimpy little tampon ... what with wearing a white graduation robe and all!
  
  
• I definitely should have told my dad to take a hike when he "strongly encouraged" (read "pushed") me into studying computer science instead of commercial art in college.
  
  
• I definitely should have drunk more at my wedding reception.
  
  
• I definitely should have learned how to fight more fairly with my then-husband. Storming out and not returning for hours on end is no way to resolve conflict.
  
  
• I wish I had studied lots more history in my earlier years.
  
  
• I wish I would have taken photos of all the calendars I made over the years for ELFCO, the East Lansing Food Cooperative. Damn, all that creative energy undocumented!
  
  
• I wish I would have watched my children as they slept more. I was usually so tired myself or craving some quiet, I would find a place to curl up and replenish.
  
  
• I wish I would have sketched and doodled and kept all those remarkable sketches and doodles in cool sketching notebooks like Moleskines all these years!
  
  
• I wish I could have taken in the fact that I am a physically beautiful woman and not internalized so many shaming comments I heard my mother say about her own body as I was growing up. Now, when I look at earlier photos of myself, I see a woman who was generally trim and healthy-looking. So much wasted energy agonizing over my appearance!
  
  
• In the same spirit of energy conservation, I definitely should quit obsessing about death. When it's time, it's time. When my time comes, ready or not, here I come. And changes or no changes, regrets or no regrets, it's been and continues to be a wonderful life!