Letting go: 09.21.2013

As the warmth slips away towards the equator, and the grass stings my bare feet on mornings I make time for the shower, I am letting go of helplessness.

It's a growing up, this taking charge. Knowing that each moment is a choice, and choosing strength and presence over a five-year-old whine, a fear of reality, and a place of being stuck.

With the tinge of orange creeping into the maples, and the red poison ivy fluttering into the road, insisting that I pay attention to my step, I make room for a new season of commitment. I intend to be here each Saturday. I intend to make my choices more consciously. I intend to let go of the victim haunting me, urge her to step aside as a fuller, stronger self rises to the surface.

I am sorry for neglecting this blog while the summer slipped by so effortlessly.

(I would rather you not apologize for what you have done to me, says Anthony DeMello. I would rather you tell me that you have changed, that you have become awake.)

It's a time of change, autumn, isn't it, even more than spring perhaps? Don't forget to notice its presence, before the cold settles in for the long haul. Boost your stores of self-worth, intention and strength, as you fill your shelves with lacto-ferments and sacks of grain.

Those are my thoughts, as I let go of the summer session of Literary Traces. See you on the flip side.

Letting go: 09.20.2013

I was so afraid. I was elated. I was many things. I still am really.

Hey, you in there….are you listening. You terrify me. Just like the other two. Scared out of my mind. Each of them holding a special type of terror.

First there was the unknown fear. Not knowing what to expect. Not knowing if he would just die. That happens sometimes, you know. No reason. Just dead. Poof like that.  I had no clue what I was doing. Everyone said I’d be fine and once he got here I’d know what to do. They were right….But I didn’t know that at the time. Eventually, to save my sanity, I had to let go. He would come. Everything would be fine. And, it was.

Then there was the fear of my own death. I had so much love for this new life. He was growing. I felt amazing. Then….then all of a sudden I didn’t. Then I thought I was going to die. Every night, every nap, every time I closed my eyes - I could die and just not wake up. I started to hate him. That’s the next fear. Hate. I was horrified that I hated this, this, this thing inside me. Just his presence meant illness, loneliness, heartbreak. All of it. In the end when I found out he was fine, when I found out that I would be fine after he came….I let go. Two days later he came. I had let go.  Everything was fine.

So far we have: The fear of the unknown, the fear of death, the fear of hate. Then there’s you. I hope you are listening.

I was never afraid of the day the others came. I was looking forward to it. I welcomed it. I knew that meant new beginnings. New hope, more love, healing...And I know there's more love with you on the way. I just….I’m so scared of the day you come.  See, before it was them making the choice to come. They told my body that it was time. This time its the doctors. Its my history. A burden you have to carry. I know it will be fine. This happens all the time but I’m having a really hard time letting go this time. I’ve known it for a while now. I’ve even consciously tried to let go, like the other times. Something is different. I’m still scared, I still can’t let go and now you will be here in 3-4 days.

What makes you so different? Why can’t I let go?

Letting Go: 9.18.13

Letting Go

It's when I see someone who looks
just like him
and I let my heart fill with light
instead of my eyes with tears

because I've stopped asking
why why why

Sometimes the light hurts
and sometimes it's a release
like a gratifying knuckle-crack

Sometimes I even laugh out loud

It's when I take the microphone
after ten minutes of deep breaths
and thinking I might
perhaps
say something witty
when I have the thing in my hands

but I don't 
say something witty

My hands tremble 
but I open the notebook anyway
and read

I don't worry about what anyone
might say about it after

It's when the sun sets 
and I crumple up the list
the one with only 1/10 the items crossed out

I don't make the sauerkraut
I crawl in bed with him instead
and wrap myself around his still-small body 
the one that will push me away before too long

and when his breath regulates to the sleep-rhythm
I whisper my dreams in his ear

Letting Go: 09.17.2013

The end of the summer is on the horizon.The weather here has already made it's shift from humid to crisp. There is a scent in the air that makes every ounce of my being feel hopeful and renewed.

I am happy to watch the mercury fall and the summer slip away. It was one of the hardest of my life. There was an enormous amount of change that I didn't cope with very well. I didn't adapt the way I would have liked. I didn't go with the ebbs and the flows. I fought. I hung on. I slipped away from who I am and who I want to be.

Good bye summer. I will happily let you go.

I will let go of my expectations. I will offer a hand to those I isolated up there and help them down. It is unfair to leave them there with my unrealistic expectations of perfection. As I help them down I will allow myself to come down as well. I will leave perfection for myths and fairy tales. I will embrace my reality with it's many flaws. I will find perfection in all that is imperfect.

I will let go of my emotions. Emotions that I keep bound and caged, away from the eyes of others. I will allow myself to feel exactly how I feel without apology or embarrassment. I will be gentle on myself and no longer beat myself up for being human.

I will let go of grudges and hurt feelings. I will allow myself to feel them but I will no longer dwell on the things I cannot change. I will move forward and only look back with a smile.

I will let go of fear. Fear of rejection, fear of ridicule, fear of being afraid. It ruled my life this fear. It is time to let go. Just let it go.

As the cool breeze falls across my face I let it all go. I let go of past mistakes, bad decisions, hurt feelings. I let go of it all. I let it go to wherever the thick humid summer air is going. I don't apologize. I don't regret.

I just let it go.

Letting Go: 09.16.2013

"What is it about us human beings that we can't let go of lost things?"

Leslie Marmon Silko from The Turquoise Ledge

All three of us, my sister, brother and I are named after St Anthony of Padua, the patron saint of finding things. There was so much invoking of his name growing up that St. Anthony started to feel like a long lost Uncle who lived far away but was present nonetheless. (A side note: If you were to gaze upon the dining room wall you would find family photos of my parents, brother, sister, grandparents, aunt, uncle, cousins and Pope John Paul the Second. We weren't blood related to the Pope, but his being Polish, Catholic and the first Polish-Catholic Pope was enough to earn him family wall status). St. Anthony was also 'in da house' in the form of statues, pictures and holy cards. The unshakable faith in his abilities to locate lost things never wavered. He always had our backs. Somewhere along the way, I graduated to a first name basis. Whenever I would lose something, I'd say this prayer:

Tony, Tony look around
The (name lost object) must be found
By (make a deadline: Friday, 2pm, one hour, immediately)
And I thank you in advance, Amen.

He never fails me. Before I adjusted the prayer with a time frame, I thought his powers were waning. But then I realized he was on Saint's Time, which is very different than Human Time. So it helps to be clear in the request. It is also imperative that you make an effort and still look for whatever is lost. You can't just pray and then kick back with a cuppa. It just doesn't work that way. I have friends who call me up when they lose something to say the prayer. I'm sure it would work fine if they said it, but perhaps they feel I have an 'in' because of the family connection.

I will be honest, I don't know how well it works for lost dreams, childhoods or loves. Finding the place where love soured, the gathering of instants that led to misunderstanding, the uncomfortable pile upon pile smothering the raw and real of the matter because it was just too intimately painful to look at...until the heat from this emotional compost pile erupts into flame, these things I do not have a Saint for. Finding keys, a parking spot, an apartment or job are better bets.

I remember the moment we said the final "D" word. We were in couples counseling and things had come to a head. It looked like there was no way out of the pile upon piles. We lost our way and took two different roads home. I had been holding on for so long, holding on to assuage my biggest fear, trying to keep the container from leaking, but just couldn't anymore. And when I loosened my grip, I watched in horror as it all slipped through the cracks.

We married in a redwood grove and part of the ceremony was a handfasting. Our hands together, as if in prayer, and a cord was tied around them. A simple knot, as if one were tying a shoelace.

Now as I tie this True Lover's Knot
You two are joined as one
Gentle are the bonds of this union
Pull one way and the bonds are strengthened
Pull the other and they are loosened 

The cord was lifted off of our hands and we kept it in a safe and special place at home. Even when we separated, I never lost track of it.

After we filed our papers for divorce, we chose a day to go back to the redwood grove with our dear friend who officiated the ceremony. There, we put our hands together once again. The cord was placed over them. Words were said and then the cord was untied and cut. Our spiritual bond severed, we buried each half in the grove.

That hot summer day in the shade of the redwoods was devastating. The kind where you can't breathe anymore, where you buckle to your knees and wonder if there is anything out there resembling a God, where you look around and what you thought was a trajectory of your life lays in a muddy puddle. All the hopes, ideas, dreams of what love is buried in the earth.

But time has a way of offering soft perspective on the hard edges of life. I didn't stop breathing. I do believe in something bigger than myself, call it God if you like, and the muddy puddle was one of my best teachers.

The truth of the matter is I never let go of the man I loved and married. I let go of the marriage, of that rendition of our relationship.  But never the love and affection. We are still friends today.