Saturday, December 12, 2015

12.12.15 Off wobbling into the night


     The night is warm, with a soft westerly wind ruffling through town, as I step out of a big family gathering, teeter on (yes) high heels, and make my way out to the car. 
      Someone is having a smoke out the front door, and puts it out hastily, as if...I don't know. Who knows, but as I wobble by (wow, these shoes are so weird!) I say something about the beautiful evening in Hatfield, the sky light enough to see, the color deep luxurious blue. 
     I ask if he's ever been further down the road, where it turns to dirt, and he says, "No, why?" I tell him it curves around and turns to dirt and descends into the farmer fields on this side of the river, and comes to an end by the river itself, a beautiful overlook off a small cliff, down onto the beach below, and the waters and the other side, which I frequent.
     I tell him there is a path to the left, with rich foliage and reams of wild roses climbing up the trees come Spring, where the flood plain lets you wander about, along the streams, beneath enormous old growth trees. 
And yeah, I do go on. A bit. Passionately, yeah. I don't get out much, but still, it's such a place to take your breath away. 





     He is smiling now at me, actually interested at how amazing the place sounds. I wave so long, and toddle off, wondering how women wear this things all day, sometimes.
     Remembering a client of mine years ago with all kinds of back problems and foot problems I'd work on, who said that years as a Secretary, when these shoes were mandatory, did it. 
     I laugh as I try to catch sight of the cracks in the darkness, in the pavement, to make sure I don't fall over, and end up stuck there, beetle on their back, flailing. I can just imagine. 
     I laugh harder, and hold onto the row of cars as I walk down the dark street.
     On the way out of our house, when we left, my husband held my hand as I swore about the heels sinking in between the bricks on our walk, laughing that I was into wearing them to this annual affair; just this. Kinda fun. I laugh when I remember us all getting out of the car, and Kevin asking Declan if he wanted to carry the Lasagne or help his mother walk in!! God. 
     But the gathering was family, was wonderful. I parked on a stool next to my sister-in-law, who I am terribly fond of, and have so much respect for, and got to say hi to so many in his family, who of course have become mine. 
     My nephew who used his life blood to get our cottage ready to rent, when everything went down, this spring. His wife, who was a hero. Their kids, including the one whose wedding we sadly missed, but caught the photos and video and news. 
     Two of my three kids, with my daughter-in-law, so I was instantly in heaven.
     So nice, to be out and about, just touching base with so many important ones, out there from our life. 
     And an hour was good.. I was fully toasted by then, and without further ado, I motioned for a few to come on over, and I quietly said goodbyes, and was off, stealth visit, down the steps, toddling on toward the car, on this glorious December night.


Friday, December 11, 2015

12.9.15 Dante Woo and I went out into the mild evening ,

           the forest surrounding our house quiet... the sleepers fast asleep , the night owls beginning to stir.              
           Everything seemed for a moment suspended .. between fall and winter . 
           Until I realized that was simply my mind chattering, and in truth, the earth continues it's orbit as it always has, 
           as I sensed the moon and earth's relation to the sun and all things shift shifting - 
           as we all now do yawn and close up shop and take a deep breath of night air and go put ourselves to bed.


12.11.15 As settled as you like

Growing up, the three things there for you always 
were your dogs and cats, your siblings, and the forest. 
Always, I most love the cold wet dark days, 
when you can walk and walk, 
and everything is muted- the colors and the
 sounds and the noise of growth and expansiveness. 
Where everything feels soothed and calmed and as settled as you like.


 

12.11.15 In an Alabama airport, with my five month old 35 years ago



     He was five months old, and I was in an airport in Alabama, on my way to a Seventh Day Adventist 'hospital', which was really a big long building filled with deeply religious young people performing hydrotherapy on a whole bunch of very sick people, and what were doctors who were knowledgeable of the beginnings, once again, of naturopathy.
     They fed you a vegan diet, extolled the virtue of hard work and long walks in the sun, and were horrified if you ran out of diapers and had to put in a load on a Saturday.
     But I learned to do Constitutional Hydrotherapy, which fixed me, after operations and other fun things wouldn't, and taught me my second lesson in Naturopathy.
     The land was flat, filled with Yuchee Pines, rich in Native history, the soil red clay, filled with wild flowers.
     The diet was delicious, and my small one learned to stand up and pull himself along coffee tables and chairs, while the whole room of patients smiled and cheered.
     I left and followed their protocols, and was well in 12 months. Life- so full of so many surprises.

12.11.15 Long ago and far away




Long ago and far away - my next younger brother,
of 5. Visiting me in NY. 
1973. 20, and 18. 
I remember sitting outside for a quick photo before he was on his way, so I sat on one of those weird white metal benches, and he climbed on my lap, threw his arms around me, and smiled. 
One of my baby brothers, then.

12.11.15 In the woods today,



    all was dark and sprinkling, echoing the sound of rain pattering on everything. Dry leaves done falling down to the forest floor, rocks and stones and fallen trees with their embellishment of Coriolus vericolor, in shades.
     We clomped up the cushioned path, the ground giving way with each step, from endless years of Pines shedding their needles, when they will. Until the entire range became blanketed with this soft covering.
      Even today, I love to open my mouth to catch the rain, the drops falling straight toward me from the sky above. I love to settle down on the ground, while the scent of pine and humus rises up and circles around.
     As the grey sky above undulates with wind and cloudcover. While all about me is dark and cool.
     I love to feel the cushion of years beneath me, and imagine being born here, in the forest, with some legs and fur, or wings and feathers, or bark and small tiny new leaves. 
     Waking up to life you have been given, going off to grow and stretch and do what you will.