3.21.15 Abandoned, as if it held little import

So much of our female lineage is forgotten. Erased. Discarded.

Abandoned, as if it held little import. 

And so, what is in a name? Not all things,  certainly, but a lot.

3.21.15 The Woods Shine

All along the entrance to the forest, and the mountain range , the woods shine with golden Beech leaves, against the darkened skies, the thick March snowfall, and the grey and white expanse of forest . 

3.21.15 As Tarantulas postured their protective threat on their beautiful furred brave legs

     When I was 19, I was living in a tiny house, in a barrio in Albuquerque, with my boyfriend. Waitressing , going to art classes at night at UNM, and falling in love with the great diversity of humans , the broad plains and deserts , the tapped out Rio Grande, and the Sandia Mountain Range that loomed over a then fledgling city of one story buildings. 

    

     The Sandia Crest was similar to our Mt. Holyoke Range here in this neighborhood , only 10,000 ' above sea level. 

     When it was 100• down in the dry hot city, there was a dusting of snow up on the crest. 

     A long languorous drive up hairpin turns delivered you to the wonder of the crest, where as far as the eye could see, there was desert, the city, and distant mesas.
Preparing to divorce, my parents traveled to see me once, not speaking to each other , like some bad dream of an I Love Lucy show.
     Like hanging with two not nice ever five year olds .we did go up the tram, of course, to the elegant restaurant at the top, for a ridiculous elegant meal.
     When they finally left, I grabbed a few friends, and went out to swoon in the relief of a hike in the foothills , barren and desert-rich ,
     as Tarantulas postured their protective threat on their beautiful furred brave legs,
and the wild creatures climbed the rugged hills all around us.

3.21.15 A difficult, yet important heads up

I often think about, and read about, dying. It seems a good thing to prepare for. It seems a good intention to have this day of ours, this moment, informed by. A difficult thing to do. Our primary motivation to consider dying is to smooth our own experience(s) in the future.

When you speak to hospice nurses or read well thought-out books about aging and dying, what you encounter is the lack of realism involved with a ‘dying with dignity’. Sherwin Nuland, author of “How We Die”, wrote, “The greatest dignity to be found in death is the dignity of the life that preceded it. “ Tough one, right? As a doctor, he writes about the mythology of dying with dignity. 

Sherwin Nuland was a surgeon, bioethicist, essayist, and Yale professor, (1930-2014). He wrote this book in 1993, and now has had this experience of dying.

It seems as if learning to live while accepting what is - is preparation for ease in our days, and more resilience as we age and approach dying. Less pain; more gain. Who wants to be caught up short in misconceptions and heartrending realities while something important is happening. 

Sometimes people die at home, surrounded by loved ones. Music? Whatever.That is THE fantasy. The dream. But most often? We die in a hospital. If you have known people as they died, you know how confusing and unpredictable the time of death can often be. The wasting away. The waiting. The exhaustion. The attempt at being up for being present for someone, while the process takes so much for them and for you. 

Here again, mindfulness, whose essence offers a way of simply being with what is, seems key. Yes, this is exhausting. Learning to say 'Yes there are all kinds of paradoxes here.'  Yes we all have regrets. Yes this is frightening. Yes this seems so far from the vibrant person this individual was. Yes, who we are as we lie dying is the same person who ran around doing all those things. Learning the ability to feel our distress, learning that we can then watch it go by, is key. In training for living a full life, no matter whether spring is late or we are ill. No matter what. In training for ease as we age and die.

Sherwin Nulan also speaks of the second important thing to learn about dying. That there always is the grappling with regret. “Unresolved conflicts. Breached relationships not healed. Potential unfulfilled. Promises not kept. Years that will never be lived.” This should not be a surprise to us, and I truly don’t want to find myself in a minute or in thirty years being all thrown by it.

 I truly want to learn about these two things in particular, the probable messiness of actual dying. The reality of accepting what is and is not, when we are old or dying.

I am moved to learn this for a very simple selfish reason. I really don’t want to be asleep at the wheel about these things, and then, OH! Find myself all surprised and overwhelmed and taken out at the knees by not in some way learning about these things now. Living a life that is informed by these wise considerations. Breathing and moving and making choices today that take these into consideration, as I make my breakfast, gaze at the newly fallen spring snows, acknowledge all that all that I would want to be different, and find the path to be at peace with what is. 

3.20.15 Pushing that which would develop beautifully on its own

When we write or create or have a job to do, we benefit from the good set up, the everything-in-place, and then the letting go.
Deciding what we are making. Mixing the ingredients. Placing it where it will be warm and dark, enabling it to cathect, and then rise. 

So much of life entails deadlines, external expectations, limits and necessity. Survival something every living thing predominates upon. 

And yet, how often do we unknowingly foster unnecessary pressure. 

Pushing that which would develop beautifully, if only we nourished it, stepped back, and set it in motion.

3.19.15 Hang on, everyone here in cold land. Because, before you know it

i

Hang on, everyone here in cold land. 

Because before you know it, 

we’ll have 90 degree 

thick sweat-rolling 

humid in the shade.