Beginning with the moment my first child was born I have tried to “hold on to moments as they pass”. I knew, without being told, this time would go screaming by and I would be a little sad when it was over. So, I paused. Often. And I treasured. Yes, I used psycho-mommy-under-the-breath-voice once in a while. And on occasion, psycho-mommy-over- the- breath- voice. But mostly, I cherished. For the last 17 years, seven months. I have gently gathered moments. And done my best to be present in them. To breathe them in. Saturday I watched my daughter reach for the hand of her high school principal and accept her diploma. And I closed my eyes. Safeguarding one more time, the memory of her. Of that moment. But I wasn’t sad. I was instead, overwhelmed. With gratitude. And excitement for her. With honor and a deep sense of humility. I have been blessed to be part of this beautiful life, who is now 6 feet tall with shining dark brown eyes and a sparkling voice when she sings. And I hold on to the moments as they pass. And I wait.
moments as they pass
I have just a little air…
to breathe. So, I used it tonight to talk to my daughter. Her world, at 17, was collapsing. All in one night. All 17 years of it. Boom. Or at least that is how it felt. I told her to just keep breathing. That as real and scary as these feelings were, she needed to go through them, not around them. That they weren’t bigger or stronger than she was. (As strong as they were). I told her not to be afraid of them. To look at them straight on. Embrace them. Feel them. And know there was the other side. The sooner she went through them, the sooner they would likely subside. Otherwise, she was destined to live avoiding. Living in fear of this thing called life because of the feelings it might produce. I told her to Embrace her mistakes. Learn from them. To give herself permission to make them. A lot. Man, I hope she can repeat this all back to me in a month or two. I hope I believe it when she does.
springs hope…
I’ve been a little short on hope lately. At times, it seems to disappear altogether. I know it’s still there. Just obscured. Hidden behind barriers of discouragement and frustration. Facts and reality. And because it isn’t something I can’t conjure up. I can’t produce it. Sometimes, I have to wait for it to reappear. Unfortunately, waiting… not my strong suit. Especially when Hope is such a driving force behind this new journey of mine. Going forward without it can be difficult at best. Well, this morning, it was there. Right there. Smiling at me when I woke up. I didn’t ask it any questions, like where the hell have you been?, I just smiled back. Then I reached for the book beside my bed. On life in Seattle.
2054 miles… approximately…
I have tried to write about the distance between him and me. The actual miles. Not the other kind. And I can’t. I know that some days it feels like 2054 miles. (Approximately). Because it is. And sometimes it seems like the miles disappear completely. But it’s not long before they reappear and I am reminded that for now, for now… I hold his hand figuratively. I have conversations with a phone to my ear. I see him only on a monitor. And tonight, I will close my eyes and he will close his. 2054 miles away. (Approximately). And we will dream of tomorrow. One day closer. Or maybe I’ll have that same dream where I’m Alice in Wonderland in this house that’s way too small and the doorways keep getting smaller and smaller. One day closer, either way.
for better or worse…
… I heard him say the words. He looked into my eyes. And said them. In front of witnesses. On April 20, a very brave man held my hands and accepted this wonderful challenge, called marriage. I felt something very familiar at that moment, the moment where all I could hear was his voice, and all I could see were his beautiful blue-green eyes. I felt exhilarated and safe at the exact same time. I know the two don’t usually go together. But that’s what I felt. I have felt that way for the last two and a half years. And there has already been better. And worse. So much more of the former. I am thankful for both. The better is easy, right? But I am also thankful, looking back of course, for the worse. It has taught me. Enlightened me. Forced me, to dig just a little deeper. To drop. To let go. To bend. To meet someone halfway. Sometimes one step more than halfway. And to find my true self in all of it. So as dark as it can feel, while in the middle of it, Worse has an up-side. If you keep going. May I always keep going. Holding the hands of this very brave man.
and then…
Yesterday, I was in bed staring out the window at the fog. Just staring. And rather than grabbing my camera, I just laid there. By ten o’clock when it finally burned off, I felt a little regret, but not much. This morning, I woke up to more fog. Despite my sluggishness, I got dressed, picked up my camera, one lens and went in search of some beauty. Reluctantly. And then I was there. In it. In its silence. In its grace.
Dear Tomorrow,
I’m not one to wish my life away. But here’s the thing… it’s been a little crazy around here lately. Not the good crazy. The other kind. I have been packing to move, sorting, organizing, and purging. I feel lighter. Better able to breathe without the extra weight. And ready to take the next step. All that said, it’s been a challenging few weeks. Tomorrow, my life will get a little better. ETA 8:32 A.M.
Dear Tomorrow,
Please hurry.
Love, Ellen.
changes.
I’ve always seen the fog as a gift. There is a beauty in it that is unmatched. It’s a shroud. It feels safe and exciting at the same time. I love that. On a bigger scale, I want my relationships to be like that. And on an even bigger scale, life. I want life to be like that. Right now, it’s teetering on the edge of both. Changes, right? Forcing me to find that balance.
I lost a couple “friends” when my marriage ended after 18 years. I tried to help them understand. I explained. And then I stopped explaining. They left. And I learned that I can’t change what people make their minds up to believe. I don’t want to. Or need to. What they didn’t understand was that I was never after happy. But peace. And peace isn’t situational. Not for me. It’s not a mood or feeling, like happy. I can’t explain it to anyone. If you have it, you know. If you don’t, you know. and I’m sorry. But be encouraged. It’s there.
I found this picture today and it made me laugh. I laughed because that’s exactly how I feel these days. Part of me in one frame. Part in another. Part somewhere else entirely. Not completely anywhere. So, on a day like today, as I am seeing my life as some sort of collage full of random bits and pieces, this image struck me as amusing. And maybe… maybe, I should stop being so amused with myself and work on composition. Maybe.
grey st
“… I dream myself a million times around the world… “
more lyrics. They’re just lyrics. And I’m sure Dave Matthews didn’t have me in mind when he wrote them. But they seemed to fit. In two weeks, I’ll be making a move. And it feels like I asked, Mother-May-I please take two giant leaps forward, and she said, No, but you may take four thousand baby steps backward. The use of a childhood game in my metaphor was no accident, by the way. I am moving back to my hometown. Where I grew up. Or didn’t. The point is, I tried to avoid it and I heard myself saying out loud several times over the past few years, I did the best I could. But did I? Have I ever? People have told me it’s a step forward. It’s change and change is good. It’s just a transitional time. And I do try to see it that way. But in the middle of the night… when it’s me, alone with every memory of every bad choice I have ever made… about to pack up my life and leave it packed… it doesn’t feel … good. So, I close my eyes, and I dream myself a million times around the world. again.
heads
Anton Chigurh: What’s the most you ever lost on a coin toss.
Gas Station Proprietor: Sir?
Anton Chigurh: The most. You ever lost. On a coin toss.
Gas Station Proprietor: I don’t know. I couldn’t say.
[Chigurh flips a quarter from the change on the counter and covers it with his hand]
Anton Chigurh: Call it.
Gas Station Proprietor: Call it?
Anton Chigurh: Yes.
Gas Station Proprietor: For what?
Anton Chigurh: Just call it.
Gas Station Proprietor: Well, we need to know what we’re calling it for here.
Anton Chigurh: You need to call it. I can’t call it for you. It wouldn’t be fair.
Gas Station Proprietor: I didn’t put nothin’ up.
Anton Chigurh: Yes, you did. You’ve been putting it up your whole life you just didn’t know it. You know what date is on this coin?
Gas Station Proprietor: No.
Anton Chigurh: 1958. It’s been traveling twenty-two years to get here. And now it’s here. And it’s either heads or tails. And you have to say. Call it.
Gas Station Proprietor: Look, I need to know what I stand to win.
Anton Chigurh: Everything.
Gas Station Proprietor: How’s that?
Anton Chigurh: You stand to win everything. Call it.
Gas Station Proprietor: Alright. Heads then.
[Chigurh removes his hand, revealing the coin is indeed heads]
Anton Chigurh: Well done.
I watched this movie again this weekend. Not sure why. And while my life doesn’t have a lot to do with an evil man hunting down 2 million dollars, it does stand to benefit from some of the script. Sometimes, my life is a mess. A beautiful mess. But a mess. And I’ve been wondering lately, if that’s because I’ve been afraid to “call it”. Maybe I have been afraid of everything I could lose instead of seeing everything I could win. And maybe I’ll lose it anyway… if I don’t call it. Sometimes… I think my life has become more about being afraid than life.
and sorry, I don’t remember where I copied the text, or I would cite it. some things will always be a mess.
time to go.
There’s a line from a song, “… if you’ve never stared off into the distance then your life is a shame.” (Counting Crows) I’ve done a fair amount of staring off into the distance. Especially in the last few years. Maybe too much staring. Not enough doing. Too much distance. Not enough now. So, I made a decision. I hope it’s not a mistake. I hope if it is, I learn something from it. I think it’s good to stare once in a while. But, for me, it’s time to take a deep breath and go.
still. but alive.
Sometimes you find yourself in a situation you never thought you’d be in. Exactly the opposite of what you’d be in. I found myself there a week ago. A simple matter really. and not worth revisiting… but at the time, it made my head spin. Literally. I removed myself from it and sat alone in this room. in a place I now lovingly refer to as the twilight zone. I was doing well at feeling sorry for myself and a bit self-righteous, when suddenly I saw nothing but this light through the window. It was clear. and black and white. and still. but alive. and until a fire started in a restaurant up the street, for those few minutes, the only thing that mattered. Maybe the only thing that should have ever mattered.
I was writing this morning. About dreams and summer. I was writing about a second cup of tea and the view outside. About the sounds of morning and the promise of the day. Then I looked to my right. At my kitchen. At dishes that clutter my sink. The trash I gathered to go out. A dead rosemary plant. a floor that needs swept. and a clock that says 8:21… The promise of the day.
walking with
I try really hard to treat people like I want to be treated. (yes, sometimes I fail. I do fail.) It took me a long time to see that I am included in that category. And I am still learning what that means. But today I actually heard myself tell someone close to me that she should be as kind to herself as she is to others. I don’t mean spa-day, although maybe. I mean being kind. being gentle with ourselves when we’re hurting. being patient. setting boundaries where others are concerned. and being careful to walk with people who constantly surprise us by doing the same thing.
the calm of july
Last night, I had a conversation with someone about living a life that is about who we are instead of what we do. And I realized that as I was talking, I was speaking the words to me. I had just spent most of my day off wrangling finances and working on quarterly taxes and managing client billing. All things that need to be done, right? But by midnight, I felt like I had lost a day. A summer day in July. And I felt like the only thing multi-tasking did was make me busier. to what end… ? Tomorrow is July 17th. And I’m going to do summer. Brunch. By the pool. That’s all…
and again…
It seems I am always being brought back to a place of Quiet. Waiting. Listening. Usually after a humbling experience that I hate while I am in the middle of and grateful for afterward. I have often wondered how much time I would save by being humbled first. waiting. listening. waiting some more…
at the very least I might not have to apologize so much.
the need not to forget
And the lesson is just this… when we forget to cherish… to celebrate… even for a day, the very things we love can vanish. They not only can, they will. I forgot. So, the focus became small needs not being met and petty differences, instead of just being grateful for the very rare experience of true love. To go forward with that regret, is weighty but to stay in the regret is deadly, so on I go. Again. And again with hope. That I have learned something. That I have learned what precious means. That I have learned to protect precious things, loosely. and well. and not to forget…
