Attic Ramblings

There is a certain heaviness I cannot seem to shake, except in moments. Two nights ago was one of those moments--hanging out in Adrian's attic with him and Sarah. His record collection and memorabilia stored in that finished space, accessible only by ladder. Chillin with some cider, cheese and crackers, sprawling on pillows and talking about Georgia O'Keefe and tarot readings... It took some serious opening to get to that point, to get past the clouds I've been feeling surrounded by. But there is a point of laughter you get at, sometimes, when you just see a flicker of the way life should be. Felt a little irresponsible, sure, like teenagers--but these planned once a month support group meetings have become my treasures--and my moments of clarity.

Connections arise in these moments of truth. I told them about my latest exploits in the life of Margaret Fuller, and Sarah told me that she used to do the lights for a one-woman show on Margaret in the late 80's. Laurie James, Fuller actress and historian, had given her a couple books which are still in Sarah's attic, which she will pass on to me. This seems a fitting calling of late-- to bring Margaret out of the attic of this place where I live-- and let her light walk along the shores yet again. I am convinced there is magic in this place, perhaps imbued by sacred dancers centuries ago.

These explorations into past and present bring me to life, more than the holidays. I have not been able to bring myself fully to the spirit of Christmas-- though now fully decorated, I feel surrounded by unrest in this house. Today, arising early, I might slow down and take in the light. I suppose it isn't really "Christmas" in its commercial sense that I long for, but rather the pace of Advent and the awareness of Solstice. I blame work for getting in the way of Christmas, but maybe it is Christmas that is getting in the way of the holiday? (though work is not helping either...time feels crushed as we race toward the end of the fiscal year...)

But may these candles continue to glow and quiet our days, and may I find my way out of the attic and into the light.

Connections

I'm very tired...but just need to send myelf a little reminder that connections are happening like fireworks everywhere.

Flaws

The absence of writing is, yet again, the sign of an overcrowded life. More than anything is the feeling that life is spinning out of control. And when life begins to spin, I find myself falling into "control freak" mode- getting edgier than I would hope and more intolerant of mistakes than I would like to be. It is sometimes easier to just take things into my own hands than to have to tolerate and make room for others' mistakes. So while I offer the advice-- "Why not just forgive one another our mis-steps?"--to put this into practice is something I struggle with.

My husband is the king of excuses for his rough actions--lack of exercise, lack of sleep, hunger, lack of time, and beer. It is always one thing or another. The list is endless.

For myself, I would simply add it up to character flaw. I like a sense of order. For some reason, I have a mind that is exceptionally attuned to details; I remember more than my share of dates/times/and who said what and when others don't... I get irked.

On the other hand, this character flaw has also made things very interesting--- in poetry writing for instance, the search for the exact word is an art. And lately, it is this over-attention to detail that has unearthed history and nurtured surprising connections. I have been an ardent and furious researcher, and found great meaning in this search. I now feel inspired by a mission to share that rich story with others.

I sometimes feel alone in my excitement for this story. Do others really care? Fellow poets and researchers do. We're a select group, I suppose. To outsiders, we might appear odd. Maybe I can make my message compelling enough to reach a broader audience...

But to begin, I must grow a kind heart. If only I can find a way to curve out those edges, to smooth the angles, and to grow an accepting heart in a world of continuous inaccuracy and disorder.

Making Room

Children are asleep in our bed tonight. "But I want to give you guys room," Camille says while still requesting these new arrangements. Elisa is less concerned about her parents' comfort. As long as we leave the light on in the hall. "It's ok Camille, we will move you to your own bed when daddy gets home."

Is there room? This seems to be the question on my mind today...room in my schedule is a big one-- is there room to get everything done? Is there room to reach out to those who might ask more of me? Old friends, new friends, husband, children, community members, family, coworkers, and what about strangers? Is there room for all? I am a habitual overscheduler--though this seems to work ok for me, downsizing mentally as I go along, it drives my husband crazy. Is there room for all I want to do? Probably not, but we'll work it out.

And what about making room for new ideas--giving up control of all my "know-it-all" ideas and letting someone else take the wheel to see where it goes? This might be the hardest one of all to make room for--humility.

It is a quiet night; I have about 5 dozen projects on my mind...surely not room for all. But I'm letting them stick around for now.

Morning

It was not a good morning, of no one's fault but my own. Something in me snapped, and I said words I regretted, in tones I wish I hadn't used.

It's a stupid thing really-- how we get triggered. A misplaced set of keys for one. A misplaced set of dates for the other. One's weakness becomes the other's unbearable nemesis. And what seems like breathing to one, is to the other an impossible handicap. Will we ever learn to assist each other, work together to make this a true union?

Or is the problem much deeper than keys and calendars?

For today, I can only renew my intention to practice lovingkindness. Beginning with myself.

Peace

Is this a season of peace, or of chaos? Every December it seems I feel particularly sensitive to an air of negativity. Today at church, things just felt busy...even though the weather kept some away I'm sure. People who are usually friendly seemed stressed, though there were definitely connections and moments of light. I have felt upbeat and positive about life, for the most part, just a little disorganized, and disappointed that I can't seem to get this together. I guess "Disoriented" is the word to express my state in a season that is supposed to feel like home.

I guess it is just taking me a bit to acclimate to the season. Trying to keep track of all the things that need to get done.

Meanwhile Lance tells me I'm staying up too late... but it has taken this long to get my bearings.

The compass of our lives seems to point in two directions, as we spend half our time arguing over which way it should go. Wouldn't it be easier to leave it to chance?

Outside the garland and bows are up. Camille and I made her puppy dog ornament together for school. The tree is lit with lights, but missing its ornaments.Second week of advent, and the wreath is finally ready to be lit.

Slowly, my eyes grow heavy and droop...Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace.

Let It Snow

I am sitting in the sunlight streaming through my inlaws window, reflection of the snow against my back. It is a lazy Sunday morning, a good respite from yesterday's full schedule of Christmas shopping and birthday party, dance theater class and house maintenance, car repairs and inlaw visiting. My feet ached last night, as I lay on the couch watching The Wedding Planner (my Achilles heel...), interspersed in commercial breaks with Bloodsport (and we wonder why I have an Achilles heel at all???). The remote was out of my hands, of course. There is a kind smile I can only imagine, as I slip away into dreams...

And now back to the morning reality, the stories put back on the shelves where they belong. We crashed on the couches here. The snow outside kept coming down, so we stayed over at my inlaws. Church today, but it's been a good slow morning so far. I don't need to worry about cleaning this house; I only need to look out on black dirt fields covered with pristine snow, sunlight gleaming, the house fully decorated from head to toe with garland and bows.

I sip on another cup of coffee and return to present. All is well.