Women at Rest

How to Be Alone by Tanya Davis

I. LOVE. THIS. I love this so much I want to marry it. I love this so much I'm posting it everywhere I can. Poetry made visible and oh so soothing, inspiring and lovely.

"If you're happy in your head then solitude is blessed and alone is OK."

Please give yourself the 4-minute gift of watching this.

Things to Think by Robert Bly

Think in ways you've never thought before.
If the phone rings, think of it as carrying a message
Larger than anything you've ever heard,
Vaster than a hundred lines of Yeats.

Think that someone may bring a bear to your door,
Maybe wounded and deranged; or think that a moose
Has risen out of the lake, and he's carrying on his antlers
A child of your own whom you've never seen.

When someone knocks on the door,
Think that he's about
To give you something large: tell you you're forgiven,
Or that it's not necessary to work all the time,
Or that it's been decided that if you lie down no one will die.

Photo by Michelle.

Reciprocity

I wonder whether you understand

how deeply tired I am.

How some days even multisyllabic prayers

require more energy than I can muster.

Please help me, I whisper in the morning light.

Three of your favorite words.

I'll handle it, you reply.

Three of mine.

The Word

 
Down near the bottom
of the crossed-out list
of things you have to do today,

between "green thread"
and "broccoli" you find
that you have penciled "sunlight."

Resting on the page, the word
is as beautiful, it touches you
as if you had a friend

and sunlight were a present
he had sent you from some place distant
as this morning—to cheer you up,

and to remind you that,
among your duties, pleasure
is a thing,

that also needs accomplishing
Do you remember?
that time and light are kinds

of love, and love
is no less practical
than a coffee grinder

or a safe spare tire?
Tomorrow you may be utterly
without a clue

but today you get a telegram,
from the heart in exile
proclaiming that the kingdom

still exists,
the king and queen alive,
still speaking to their children,

—to any one among them
who can find the time,
to sit out in the sun and listen.

Tony Hoagland

Photo by (and of) Amanda.

The Lake of Beauty

Let your mind be quiet, realising the beauty of the world,
and the immense, the boundless treasures that it holds in store.
All that you have within you, all that your heart desires,
all that your Nature so specially fits you for —
that or the counterpart of it waits embedded in the great Whole, for you.
It will surely come to you.

Yet equally surely not one moment before its appointed time
will it come. All your crying and fever and reaching out of
hands will make no difference.
Therefore do not begin that game at all.
Do not recklessly spin the waters of your mind
in this direction and in that,
lest you become like a spring lost and dissipated in the desert.

But draw them together into a little compass, and hold them still, so still;
And let them become clear, so clear — so limpid, so mirror-like;
at last the mountains and the sky shall glass themselves in peaceful beauty,
And the antelope shall descend to drink, and to gaze at her reflected image,
and the lion to quench his thirst,
and Love himself shall come and bend over, and catch his own likeness in you.

Edward Carpenter

Photo by The 10 cent designer.

Lucy Belle Blazek Hart

Lucy in the Spokane River, May 2010

My sweet little dog Lucy suddenly and unexpectedly crossed the Rainbow Bridge 48 hours ago. It happened soon after I wrote this blog post, while walking the Dobies along our favorite stretch of the Spokane River. Lucy was excited, happily wagging her stub and hippity hopping into the park when she suddenly slowly laid down on her side and let out a cry. I fell to my knees and held her as she took her last breath. It happened that fast. One second she was here, she was fine, the next she was gone.

We are all stunned and heartbroken, to say the least. We think it was a heart attack. All of her litter had heart problems, and Lucy outlived all but one other littermate.

Words can't do justice to any of this. Not the experience, not the shock, not the love, not the grief.

We've all been embraced with more love and support than I've ever experienced before. Not just me, but also Lucy's brother Silas and all who love Lucy. It is much needed and appreciated by us all. This is an inexpressibly painful and confusing time. All I want is Lucy back. My friend Paula nailed it when she wrote on my Facebook wall:

It's your love spinning round so fast looking for her that's making you hurt. You won't stop missing her but the spinning will settle to a warm place in your heart in time. As you know.

Those of you who know me at all know that my dogs are my kids. All the love in my heart is poured into them. Lucy and I fell in love with each other 10 years ago when she was a crazy cute little 4 month-old puppy. That love grew and grew. She was (still is) the most beautiful and wonderful girl in the world, something I told her every day we were together.

I know that Lucy is still with us in spirit. I've been talking to her -- consoling her, reassuring her -- and trying to listen to her as best I can. Lucy's dad Bryon, stepmom Stacy and I have a session with our longtime animal communicator Polly Klein of Tonglen Healing Arts for Animals next Tuesday.

Silas is grieving too. He's sad and confused, and he's getting showered with love not just from me but from others he loves including zena moon workerbees Max, Abby and Shelby. Part of working here includes loving the Dobies, which they do. A lot. As Max said today, "How could you not love Lucy?"

My heart aches and my stomach hurts and my eyes burn from crying so much. And I am so incredibly grateful I was there with her, holding her sweet self and loving her as she passed.

I am grateful she didn't suffer, or have time to be scared. I am honored that she and / or God (or however it works) believed in me enough to choose me to attend Lucy's sacred passage. The connection Lucy and I recognized in each other 10 years ago is timeless. Right away we knew: she's my girl, I'm her mama. I believe we're still together in spirit, and that one day we'll be together even more intimately than we were here in the Earth realm.

I am grateful for the angel / man who stood vigil while I cradled and wept over her body for 30-45 minutes, calling Bryon and my parents. I wanted to stay there holding her forever. I kept hoping she'd suddenly take a breath and be here again. Finally my legs started hurting and I asked him to carry her to my car. He picked her up like a little baby.

I will never forget the tears in his eyes or how tenderly he laid her in the backseat, arranging her so she was settled and comfortable, fixing her ears that had flopped. (Her ears always flopped.) Or how he said that's how he hopes to go, in the sunshine, enjoying yourself up to the last possible second, then being held by someone you love as you pass quickly.

There's more -- so much more -- but that's all I'm up for right now. I want / need to share more about my girl because she's so amazingly special. Whether you comment or not, I know you are holding Lucy in your heart. Thank you.

And thank you, God, for our Lucy.

Good morning, Life

A day off. What to do, what to do? A delicious quandry. A summer day filled with possibilities. My to-do list is filled with gratitude in action:

• Pray. Self-explanatory.
• Go for a run. Gratitude for a healthy body.
• Attend the noon AA meeting. Gratitude for my sobriety and the good life I've both been granted and am choosing.
• Have dinner with Mary and Jill. I don't have to bring a thing! :D Gratitude for friends, being on the receiving end of generosity. Last night I was treated to dinner by an old flame, followed by a super fun gathering of lovely new (to me) friends. Welcoming, embracing, breathing it all in.
• Walk the Dobies. Gratitude for their good health. Lovelovelove my babies.
• Write. Because this is what I'm meant to do. After muffling my voice for years, I'm grateful to accept my God-given purpose by doing it.

A good day doesn't have to be big, splashy and flamboyant. Life is not a pie-eating contest.*

For me, simplicity reigns. Listening is good. Hugs matter. A 30-minute run is enough. Short blog posts count.

*Possible title of a future book...

Take Time to Rest, Be Joyful

A poignant, personal story and wise advice about swimming in turbulent waters from shamanic healer/author Sandra Ingerman. This lifted my spirits!

We often forget how to take care of ourselves. We keep going, going, going. We can get caught up in our list of what we should be doing. If you have a long life ahead of you it is not possible to stay healthy physically, emotionally, or even spiritually if you are not taking time to go within, spend time in nature, regenerate, and reflect.

Read the full article here.

Acceptance

"We do not move forward by resisting what is undesirable in our life today. We move forward, we grow, we change by acceptance. Overcome not by force; overcome by surrender. The battle is fought, and won, inside ourselves. We must go through it until we learn, until we accept, until we become grateful, until we are set free."

Alan Tomkins

(My friend and wonderful veterinarian in Spokane.)

Honoring Sorrow

The other day my friend Olivia tweeted, "Grief makes everything overwhelming," a truth if ever there was one. I'm planning to write more tomorrow, Elliott's birthday, but I hit a Big Wall of Grief today. At first I just thought I was crabby and hormonal until I realized I'm feeling profound sadness viscerally missing my boy. God DAMMIT I HATE DEATH.

So, suddenly yet completely, today became overwhelming. For about an hour I tried to power through -- kept working, told myself it's only packing candle orders, simple enough -- but I can't do it. Pushing myself today feels like cruelty.

"Cradle your wounded places like precious babies," wrote SARK. That's the quote on zena moon's honoring sorrow candle. I'm honoring my sorrow by taking some gentle time off to cradle myself. Honor sorrow, honor Elliott, honor love, honor life.