Hello, Friday: we are here.

{a breath for being here when we get here}

Thank you, week!

This is the 376th week in a row we are chickening here together….

What worked this week?

Getting close to the ground.

Even if I didn’t want to close my eyes. Just getting on the floor and breathing, looking at my space (external and internal) from a quieter perspective.

Next time I might…

Remember the mechanics of grief and exhaustion

I know how these work, maybe even too well. But sometimes I forget.

Right now, for example, the number of times I have left my bedroom for the living room to retrieve my laptop to write this but returned empty-handed (because I forgot what the mission was) is up to five.

I would like to remember that this is how it works, and this is normal, so I can be wonderfully patient and compassionate with myself, instead of momentarily wondering if I’ve lost my mind.

My mind is right here. It’s just processing bigger things. And that’s legitimate. You’re doing great, mind. This is just a thing that is perfectly understandable, even in the moments I can’t remember why.

Upcoming biopic if it were based on this week…

Trust Equally In The Wisdom Of Everything Ends And Everything Is New Again

8 breaths for the hard, challenging and mysterious.

1. My sweet beautiful lover and I heard-and-received the understanding that we need to part ways even though we don’t want to be apart. We know this is right, and also we are both heartbroken and aching and distraught over this. A breath for every moment we have been given to love each other: treasure.
2. The pain of this is absolutely agonizing. A breath for breathing into this.
3. Nothing has ever hurt even remotely like this, and life has already given me a hell of a training in endings and loss and all forms of Everything Ends, and nothing has hurt like this. I suddenly found myself sitting on the kitchen floor, not sure how I got there, one hand pushing against the wall, hyperventilating from something that is beyond tears. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe, and I didn’t even remember how to be scared about can’t-breathe. For a moment, my mind flashed a picture of me in an ambulance. And then I realized this was Wise-Me was trying to get through to me by sparking a memory of a short story by Etgar Keret. It’s a very short story, just a paragraph, I probably haven’t read it in ten years, but it’s about how when you are in the throes of an asthma attack, each word has meaning: “I love you” or “ambulance”; choose wisely. Yes, I just looked it up. Here is the whole story, well-translated by Miriam Shlesinger:
   

   When you have an asthma attack, you can’t breathe. When you can’t breathe, you can hardly talk. To make a sentence all you get is the air in your lungs. Which isn’t much. Three to six words, if that. You learn the value of words. You rummage through the jumble in your head. Choose the crucial ones–those cost you, too. Let healthy people toss out whatever comes to mind, the way you throw out the garbage. When an asthmatic says “I love you,” and when an asthmatic says “I love you madly,” there’s a difference. The difference of a word. A word’s a lot. It could be “stop,” or “inhaler.” It could be “ambulance.”

   A breath of breath — for me who hurt so much she forgot how to breathe, and then remembered through the power of words.

4. Usually I fall asleep moments after my head comes to rest on my lover’s chest, his fingers tangled in my hair: I feel him kiss my forehead and then it’s morning. But the night we knew, I found myself awake in his arms all night, listening to him breathe, not remembering how to sleep. A breath for me.
5. There is nothing more I want to say about the hard of this week, so here is a pebble. A breath for pebbles and I am here.
6. Another pebble, another breath.
7. Again. A breath.
8. Inhale, exhale. May all misunderstandings and distortions, internal and external, dissolve in love if not in laughter. Trust-more love-more release-more receive-more. Goodbye (and thank you), mysteries and hard moments of this week.

8 breaths for the good, reassuring, delight-filled.

1. I have known this was coming, there was no surprise in it. Exactly one week before it happened, I wrote in the secret s-word society that I knew he would be exiting my life soon, because everything that is no longer congruent has been easing its way out of my life — it is, after all, the Year of Easing & Releasing, and I knew this was next. I wrote that one day very soon he would come to me and say, “Sweet girl, I love you so much and I don’t want to leave you, and I need to go”, and I would say, “I know, it’s time”, and we would cry, and that is what happened. And I’m glad it was that and not other ways of exiting, for example, he could have exited in a heart attack from working sixteen hour days seven days a week in high-stress conditions, or in a car wreck brought on by stress and fatigue. A breath for the treasure in not being surprised, because I don’t like that kind of surprise. And a breath of gratitude that I didn’t need to say what I was ready to say — hey my love my love my love I can’t have this in my life anymore — because knowing it was hard enough.
2. The beautiful boy and I fit more pure unfiltered love, sweetness, passion, joy, intensity, adoration, play, wild adventure and genuine happiness into these last fourteen months than other people get in decades or lifetimes. Even as it hurts (so much!), I have endless appreciation and gratitude for all the gifts of this connection and this love, and I am not someone who believes in the myth of the value of longevity that our culture pushes on us. Everything has the potential to have a just-right healthy vibrant lifespan, and I plan to always choose quality over quantity in all things. A breath for the wisdom of this, and my full heart.
3. I have experienced breakups before that fall into the category of “mutual”, but invariably one person is more ready for the ending. While I don’t wish this pain on anyone, there is a certain comfort in knowing that we are both equally torn up about this, in the same turbulent experience at the same time. We have to trust truth, this is what is indicated, and also it hurts like hell. A breath for the odd little funny grace of not being alone in grief.
4. I’m going to be okay. If life has taught me anything, it’s that stones come and go, but the water is always there. I can scream and cry and beg DON’T LEAVE ME STONE I LOVE YOU STONE COME BACK TO ME STONE, but the purpose of a stone is not to stay forever, it’s to jostle me from my stuck places and lovingly nudge me back into the stream of aliveness. Flow is the answer. Stagnation is not. Thank you, stone. Thank you, river. A breath for trusting life.
5. I had a beautiful time at Waltz Brunch, dancing for hours with people I enjoy and cherish, leading and following, feeling at home in my community. This felt especially important this week, with so many shootings in Portland and the city feeling dangerous and unwelcoming to me, it was good to have a place that felt like ahhhhh this is where I belong. I especially enjoy when there are new women in the lesson and they see a woman leading and realize this is a thing, and it’s possible, and they get so excited and happy. A breath of yes and thank you.
6. Even this unbearable sadness has joy and beauty in it, because the reason I am sad is that of course I don’t want to say goodbye to the intense passion and our magical pull and the deep wells of sweetness, our perfect-fit embrace. The way he sings to me in the car, or how he writes I love you on the small of my back with his finger when he thinks I’m asleep, as if my back can’t read. A love-breath.
7. My lover was supposed to leave today but I asked him to stay the weekend, partly so we could have time for goodbye, but partly because he doesn’t know what weekends are, and I would like him to experience just once what a human weekend in Portland feels like, with sleeping in and walking in the park and brunch and restfulness. So we are doing that. A breath of thank you.
8. Thankfulness. Everything is okay and so much is good. Nothing is wrong, even when I want to believe it is. Now is not then. All Timing Is Right Timing. Thank you for this grand adventure. A full breath of deep appreciation in my thank-you heart.

Sparklepoints, superpowers, salve, fake band of the week!

Operations completed and forward movement!

Despite being overwhelmed by heartache, I was able to channel the qualities, superpower and theme for the 2016 calendar and handed it over to Richard for design magic! Hard to believe this is already the fifth year we make a calendar!

Also making progress — like a Fairground Stripper! — on initial preparations for the Sweet Honey ops and Operation Shed Shed Shed, and decided to put another mission on hold until spring, and that feels good. Thank you, fractal flowers.

I now bestow upon myself a quintillion sparklepoints, and you are welcome to do the same for you.

Superpowers I had this week…

The superpower of really feeling the difference between 5% yes and 120% yes, and the power of graceful exits, both of which I used on The Facebin and a project that wasn’t feeling joyful.

Powers I want.

I want the superpower of Deep Beautiful Trust In All Is Well.

The Salve of Deep Beautiful Trust In All Is Well

This is a softening salve. I start with my feet, and as I breathe and rub little circles in the soles of my feet, I feel into forgotten truth.

I feel the pulsing hum of life and the the vibrating jewel of the center of the sole of the foot. I feel the way my foot changes as I imagine I can breathe through it.

I feel the earthiness of earth and the support of the floor.

I feel so much, because I have let things soften, and I have let things soften because I have remembered, maybe not always consciously but somewhere deep inside of me, that I am okay and the ground is okay, and stumbling is okay, and hiding is okay and waiting is okay and striding forth is okay, and whatever I choose, I am good.

Playing live at the meme beach house — the Fake Band of the Week!

This week’s band is :

Received Like This

Their latest album is How Very Peculiar, and, of course, it’s just one guy.

Quick announcements!

While clearing out the house, I discovered a hidden stash of the gorgeous Stone Skipping cards! $22 for an extremely magical deck of cards plus shipping, or for $30 (plus shipping) we’ll add a cheery red Playground mug, since I found some more of those too! Tell the First Mate if you’re interested.

How was your week?

Come play in the comments. Share something from your week, take a breath, or just say hi! No rules, my format doesn’t have to be yours, we’ve been doing this every week for years now and there still isn’t a right way.

Everyone belongs. We let people have their own experience. We’re supportive and welcoming. We lovingly refrain from giving advice.

And of course it’s always okay to comment under a made-up name, whether for play and delight, or in the interest of Safety First.

Wishing you a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious day, a restful weekend and a happy week to come.

It’s fine if it’s not Friday anymore. There’s complete chicken amnesty — jump in whenever you like. Blowing kisses to the Beloved Lurkers too!

a list

last week was my mother’s yahrzeit
one year (by the hebrew date) since she died
my brother and I made a list of mom-things:
Ruth-pursuits!

we had a lot of fun adding to it
and I think of that list as a secret guidebook to reclaiming
the process of [mourning]

it brings ease

that way I didn’t have to think about what to do
on this hard day
just look at the list
as if it were a tray of delicious colorful amuse-bouche
pick whichever appeals most in the moment

for example: immersing

immersing myself in creative process
— writing, drawing, garden, cooking —
because those were things she loved
and watching a movie (but only the happy parts!)
because that was how she watched movies
and, the ultimate Ruth-pursuit,
listening to Roy Orbison full blast top volume

maybe only for a few minutes though
since my capacity to listen to Roy Orbison is somewhat smaller than hers

full blast

this makes me laugh since she was such a quiet sensitive person
who didn’t like noise at all and never blasted anything
but get some Roy Orbison on the radio
and suddenly it had to be FULL VOLUME
and if you were in a car with her
then it was windows down bass thumping
like she was suddenly the rowdiest teenager

she really loved Roy Orbison
it was weird
but also sweet

so that was how I spent the day

doing Ruth-like things
that is to say: sitting on the couch and reading
with tea and apple slices

she liked sleeping in
and puttering
her painting classes in the evening
working on a secret art project or
reading as many books as possible on a topic that interested her
or just sitting and thinking
wrapped up in a blanket or three

ne’ila

I didn’t want to go to a synagogue on yom kipur
I didn’t want to be one of the mourners
I didn’t want to do anything other than
get quiet, turn inward
and call in qualities for the new year

tuning into my own internal sense of the essence of absolution
undoing and dissolving connections to any
lingering distortions
connecting instead to the wisdom in my lineage
releasing the rest

and when my jewish friends
said “hey forgive me for my transgressions please”
I translated that in my head to mean:
“I love you so much and want to be reminded that you love me too”

here is a red balloon of releasing filled with the
superpowers of absolution and always-loved

more lists

my plan that night was to sit quietly and name things
(yes, a list!)
to call in what I want to feel, remember and experience
in this new year

my friend Natanya was unexpectedly in town
and I asked her to join me
we sat in a quiet neighborhood place
with a small glass of ginger-infused whiskey
and it was lovely
really really lovely
exactly what I needed

volume

there was this moment: we were pausing in reflection
in our list-making
and I wondered-thought
okay so probably mom wouldn’t think this was the best thing
but I bet soul-Ruth approves whole-heartedly!
and just then
as I thought this

the song Pretty Woman by Roy Orbison came on
and they turned the volume all the way up

all the way up

until this moment there had only been
soft quiet background music
and suddenly, out of nowhere, ROY ORBISON! TOP VOLUME!

until the end of the song
and then back to the quiet music of the style that had been playing before
and no one commented on this

it just was

so thanks, soul-Ruth
for that
and for the sweetness

sweet mercy

I love how it was not any song of his but this song
which has the word MERCY
like a musical pun
on the yom kipur essence of true forgiveness in quality form

no one could look as good as you, Mercy

what if the song is speaking directly to MERCY!
what if mercy is what I want to meet
what if mercy turns around and comes back for me

that is the funniest thing I have ever thought of
and I think on some level it is also true
in the way that things are true

and this definitely fits mom’s sense of humor

so she wasn’t just dropping by

in song form
to say goodbye
but to make a joke about forgiveness
so that I would smile

the song also has the line “won’t you pardon me”
another hidden pun
thank you, mom who loved words and wordplay and layered-meanings
and had so much to say about everything
in her own inimitable way

bees

I am burning a beeswax candle for my mother today
inside of one of Elissa Bromberg‘s stunning ceramic pieces

bees as in bee as in be as in being
(being, not doing)
and bees as in honey: sweetness
and honeycomb which is the prettiest pattern
tiny interlocking compasses

sweet is the word everyone uses to describe my mom
she was so much more than that
but yes, also sweet

a list for a new year

beautiful well-timed exits
finding/revealing the treasure
a wonderful lightening

the superpower of seeing only beauty
in all things

unapologetically taking up space

choosing towards freedom
joyful liberations
because what is releasing
if not to liberate and be liberated

sustenance and sustainability
safety and support
absolution and always-loved

trust in my wise instincts
insist on supportive environments always
turn up the volume on things that
require volume

stone

today is the unveiling of my mother’s gravestone
my dad told me they put a bar code on it
apparently that’s a thing now
they do it automatically

so you can scan it with your phone and go online and
be interactive or whatever
share your grave-selfies (double-meaning!)

though apparently
if you give the gravestone people the death-stare (sorry)
and tell them they have two days to get rid of it or heads will roll (sorry)
they will remove it for you

mom would of course be incensed
(I’m seeding a delayed-reaction pun here, so you’ll have to wait for it)
at the idea of bar-codes on gravestones
but soul-Ruth with her tambourine and laughter sees the absurd humor in it
and says “oh, life!”

and both of these things can co-exist,
and knowing this is treasure

treasure and grace

I think a lot about what she would like
sometimes what I’m pretty sure she would have liked and what soul-Ruth likes
are not the same

life is finite and qualities are not and
I am here now and
my yes is to be in a state of grace with
soul-Ruth
to wish her peacefulness-always and honor her essence
enjoy things she enjoyed that I also enjoy

and it seems funny now that we don’t all do this with each other all the time
because of course we can share this soul-level sweetness and peace
whenever we want

peace

Roy Orbison says:

give me room to travel on my way to a place where dreams all fade away

and an old friend who (I hope) will one day be my friend again used to say,
let’s light a stick of incense to burn away all karmic residue

let’s do that
mom didn’t like incense (there it is)
and she would raise an eyebrow about the phrasing
but she’d find the idea interesting
and soul-Ruth appreciates ritual and sweetness in all forms
so let’s do that

and wish for

peace
peace
peace
peace
peace
peace
peace
peace

easing & releasing
everything dissolving into love
because that’s what absolution is

no one could look as good as you, mercy
you look so good to me, mercy

quiet sweetness
at full volume

♡

pebbles and stones