tight knots, loose ties & and everything in between…

Last week I posted photographs of fabric fraying with this quote: “Once the fabric of a just society is undone, it takes generations to weave it back together.” —Deepak Chopra

Well, it sure sparked some interesting dialogue. Right now, I do feel that it could potentially take generations to weave our society back together. However, as a rather optimistic realist…I wholeheartedly believe we can. Don’t we all want to feel safe, loved, connected and purposeful? What if we focused on our similarities, not our differences? Threads.

Humans need threads—tight, loose and in-between to other people, places and groups. How we choose to connect our threads is up to us individually.

Are we going to weave from a place of FEAR or LOVE?

When we’re anxious or fearful we tend to look outside of ourselves to make sense of our feelings. It’s so much easier to scan for someone or something else to blame than to be self-reflective and take responsibility for our emotions and actions. I would sooooo much rather blame someone else than acknowledge my own bullshit. I’m working on it. It’s a process.

Right now, it seems to me that politics are filling some sort of identity gap where other threads should be continually and carefully woven.

WHY? Why now?

Our party affiliation won’t ever bring us homemade soup when we’re sick, pick up a middle-of-the-night call when we’re in distress or just show up, even when we don’t understand what we actually need ourselves.  

after the storm…

Last night we had a wild storm—tornado warnings, wind, heaving rain, lightning and thunder. I’ve always loved storms. After it passed, the neighborhood was eerily quiet. My daughter, Willa and I stayed up until things settled down.

I get up really early, always have. I don’t like to get up in the 4s…however, anything after 5:00 works for me. I fed our cat, Karen, headed out to get a coffee at Dunkin’ & listen to my book, City of Girls by Elizabeth Gilbert—sooooo good, and survey the storm damage. We only had leaves covering our deck and a few small branches here and there, nothing major to report.

I ended up at the bottom of the hill at Town Neck Beach. I was the only one in the parking lot at 5:25am…rare actually. Another car pulled up, a man got out and walked onto the beach in the rain. There was just something about him that I found quite intriquing. He didn’t seem sad, but clearly he was in a thoughtful mood. A fisherman wondering about his day perhaps? A visitor seeing his long-planned day at the beach with his young kids thwarted? Or perhaps just a guy on his way to work who likes storms as much as I do.

He took pictures of the stone sculpture that somehow survived the storm. I can’t imagine that someone built it in the dark between 11pm and 5am. It’s design is structurally mighty impressive. Damn.

I waited for him to get into his car, then I got out to get a shot of the sculpture as well. Walking the beach I found myself looking out at the exact spot a friend’s ashes were scattered a few years ago in one of the most sorrowful and stunning moments I’ve ever witnessed in my 52.8 years.

The beach reflected the generous spirit and remarkably unique inner wildness of her this morning. I know she would’ve loved the images in this post and be grateful that I didn’t mention her by name. That was simply not her style.

Sinclair Lewis & prairie stories…

I just finished reading Main Street for the third time. First, I was 20 (college), then 25 (just married) and last week at the uniquely tender and remarkably nostalgic age of fifty-two.

Lewis’ character, Carol helped me understand both why I had to leave South Dakota and why the prairie is so doggedly a part of my identity (and my art)…even though I left nearly three decades ago.

“The days of pioneering, of lassies in sunbonnets, and bears killed with axes in piney clearings, are deader now than Camelot; and a rebellious girl is the spirit of that bewildered empire called the American Middlewest.”

― Sinclair Lewis, Main Street

Main Street—Burke, South Dakota

i was going to write a post about…

ego death and then about a bunch of stuff I’m interested in right now. I find myself wanting to post less and less lately. For what it’s worth, here’s a list of my recent sparks. I see patterns emerge when I look at what’s taking up most of my thought time.

Sarah Blondin’s mediation on the INSIGHT app: Our Warring Self vs. Our Infinite Self. The time I showed up as a warrior for far too long when what was require of me was heart space. I noticed. I hope I can keep noticing. https://insighttimer.com/sarahblondin/guided-meditations/our-warring-self-vs-our-infinite-self

I really miss my Dad...the term Fatherless Daughter just hits me at the oddest times…especially with my girls are home from college now. Damn.

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/35-hilarious-quotes-about-fatherhood-from-jim-gaffigan_n_5b3a9b01e4b05127cceb56ea

You Tube discus throwing videos, The National Senior Games are really soon. This is also about my Dad and connecting with my inner young athlete again.

Bowen Family theory https://thebowencenter.org/theory/eight-concepts/

Addiction is a primary, chronic disease of brain reward, motivation, memory and related circuitry. The brain uses an equal opportunity reward system, unable to distinguish drugs from behaviors or thought loops. https://www.asame..org/resources/definition-of-addiction

Low residency MFA programs, writing workshops, retreats where I could write, do some chores and go horseback riding out west. Any suggestions would be most welcomed. (Most google searches now.)

Patti Smith, Robert Mapplethorp, Andy Warhol, Janis Joplin, Sam Shepard…1960-70s New York City photographs.

New York Times Persian Food recipes I want to make, but probably won’t.

I want to go horseback riding out west and in Iceland.

What’s dominating your thoughts and google searches today, this week or year?

on perspective…

PERSPECTIVE noun

:the capacity to view things in their true relations or relative importance

I don’t always want to see things from other points of view or walk a mile in another woman or man’s shoes. I don’t have to first feel empathetic or sympathetic before I actually understand my own thoughts.

Maybe it’s best to let our perspectives have their way with us, initially anyway, keep what’s informative and then get curious about how other people view things.

The key I suppose, is not waiting so long that rigidity sets in and we become unable to change course, even as we acquire additional information.

My Perspective

“Shoulda taken a break, not an oxford comma Take what I want when I wanna”

—Billie Eilish lyrics from my strange addiction

Instead of rushing in to validate someone else’s perspective the way I’ve been conditioned to do, understanding what’s happening to my own nervous system regarding an event or circumstance seems well worth practicing.

I’m gonna take a break…more than an oxford comma. After all, I’m not often being chased by giant predators as my lizard brain endlessly tries to trick me into believing. I usually have the time to take a minute.

Thank you Willa, Lucy and Ellis for introducing me to Billie Eilish. Damn she’s really something.

women of deliberate backbone

ancient, adventurous, creative & protective

I’ve been so inspired the stories of women lately exhibiting remarkable backbone, even in light of very challenging circumstances. I think we all have a little more backbone in us when it’s required. As I created the stories of these women and the various backbones they’ve had to summon to carry on: ancient, adventurous, creative and protective.

What type of backbone is required of you right now?

a key to successful relationships…

HUMILITY noun

(CAMBRIDGE DICTIONARY) the feeling or attitude that you have no special importance that makes you better than otherslack of pride

“Pride makes us artificial, humility makes us real.” —Thomas Merton

—Loyola Marymont University philosophy professor, Jason Baehr writes in “Humility and Strengths”

“… Minimally, a humble person is aware of, rather than oblivious to or in denial about, her limitations.

But such awareness is not sufficient for humility, for a person could be aware of but chronically irritated by or defensive about her limitations. As such, she would be less than humble. Accordingly, humility also involves accepting or “owning” one’s limitations.

…humility involves a fitting awareness and responsiveness, not just toward one’s limitations and weaknesses, but also toward one’s abilities and strengths.”

Humility is about knowing ourselves—our weaknesses, strengths and where there’s room for growth in our understanding of both.  The more I read, I think this trait may be the key to lasting relationships.  

Pride and arrogance don’t build a lot of trust in one another and in turn make forgiveness of our transgressions much more difficult.

Now, if that isn’t a thought worth pondering on this day of celebrating LOVE, what is?

Happy Valentine’s Day 2019!

SOURCE: https://www.rawstory.com/2019/02/trait-key-lasting-romance/

more prairie stories…

 

 

horizontal mystery ship—for Dad

HORIZONTAL MYSTERY SHIP

when you leave at seventeen
rarely home
more than two weeks at a time 
months, years and decades
can be surprisingly unreliable markers of adulthood

only once
in the summer of ‘88
a recent college grad
wide-eyed and wanderlust-fueled
my tonsils required more
I stayed a whole month

once healed, packed, and in possession of necessary visas
off to the southern hemisphere
a young pioneer 
in search adventure
and different stars

now, when visiting 
after a lifetime lived elsewhere
grey hairs visible
no matter my efforts
I find myself
sliding into a peculiar second adolescence of sorts

driving Dad’s truck 
windows down, hair blowing 
mile after mile of expansive, wild beauty 
the prairie 
a determined cellular homesteader 
forever staking a claim in my blood and bones

I want to sneak out to the bar
play Space Invaders
sadly, no longer a standard
unlike 1982
drink beer, eat junk food
and avoid the endless expectations of being a grown-up

Looking back with midlife sensibilities 
I realize
those late nights in high school
tenth grade, I believe
laser focused, playing Space Invaders
provided a surprisingly valuable education 

initials entered, quarters stacked
protect the bunkers, defeat the aliens
monitor the horizontal mystery ship with vigilance 
my peripheral vision unknowingly trained 
to notice things beyond immediate scope
bonus points pinged
while friends waited impatiently

twenty more minutes, please

under a waning August moon
only one lunar phase ago
I was still my father’s daughter
a middle-aged, South Dakota teenager
pretending time actually plays tricks
wanting desperately to disregard reality 

one more visit on the calendar
one more phone call
cheeseburger or ice cream cone 
one more evening watching
Everybody Loves Raymond
M.A.S.H. 
or Mayberry RFD

twenty more minutes, please

quarters stacked no longer
Space Invaders
the nearly forgotten teenage relic 
of a heartbroken
fifty-something
fatherless daughter

once again, 
I am protecting my bunkers
monitoring a new horizontal mystery ship
paying very close attention
to what's just beyond my immediate scope

just twenty more minutes, please