sodium light circles

It's snowing again and I've just removed freshly cleaned, warm flannel sheets from the dryer and put them on the bed. Been inside all day, waking up slowly and reconnecting. Music, laughter, my heart still beating fast every time he enters the room.

The sun was gone by 5pm and now the leftover skyglow mixed with electric park lights show round shadows below the trees across the street, their barren branches blue and yellow in reflection. I can just barely see the corner of one pond and its sodium light circles. Tonight is packed with a variety of fun and activities- old friends in town, new friends filling bars, snow falling to coat it all in magic. But in this moment of incense filled peace I am trying to remember, again, to breathe and make it deep, pulling out all the old junk and waking up the cool restful spirit hidden somewhere down below.

what is love?

I don't usually do email forwards but I got this one from my mom today and just had to help it keep existing somewhere in the world... because it's right.

A set of kid responses to the above question.



'When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore.
So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love.'
Rebecca- age 8


'When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.
You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.'
Billy - age 4


'Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.'
Karl - age 5


'Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.'
Chrissy - age 6


'Love is what makes you smile when you're tired.'
Terri - age 4


'Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.'
Danny - age 7



'Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more.
My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss'
Emily - age 8


'Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.'
Bobby - age 7



'If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,'
Nikka - age 6



'Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday.'
Noelle - age 7



'Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.'
Tommy - age 6

what comes next

I'm ready for it. This liminal space is so itchy. Every time I realize I am in transition, I am grateful at first. Transition is the reality of our existence. Our moments of solid existence are only short-term illusions we use for security. Ah, so many nice things to learn in this rich space. That lasts a couple of days.

Then it becomes what it now, standing on tip-toes and trying to see into the next world, the what-comes-next and turning my back on what's going on now. My motivation drops, daydreaming skyrockets. Facebook usage reaches obsessive levels. And all other escapes.

So where are the daydreams rocketing to now?

1) Getting into Teach for America. Using creativity towards teaching and starting at the back of the race with a huge learning curve. I am so motivated when I feel behind but capable...not that I know I am capable of this but am hopeful, anyway.
a) the summer institute training session and the hope that it'll be in Chicago this year so I can at least enjoy not traveling those months
b) coming back and having a classroom in which to try- try to make sense, try to explain material, but most of all, try to inspire kids to step beyond what they once thought possible for themselves. I'd be so happy if just one student decided to go to college when he/she thought it wasn't in their future.
c) admittedly, making some money with which to budget, pay off credit cards and maybe even save a bit of
2) Some spring trip. Probably to Mexico and I hear Oaxaca calling. I part because I really want to go and could use some warm sunshine by then. And partly so I am not terribly jealous of my partner running free this summer. Petty, I know.
3) A "semester" without school, just a job (hopefully!!) And all the freedom in that. An improve comedy class. Roller derby. Volunteer at a soup kitchen. Guitar. Book club. Writing here once a day. Art. I bought two old windows and am itching to pour out onto them.
4) Not feeling so itchy but inside a whole new chapter instead.

Okay, well, glad to see I got a lot of work on my thesis done, graded the tests from Wednesday and studied for my exam on Monday instead of writing here and uploading new photos. Are we there yet?

trip to the dentist

I just had my first procedure at the dentist in over 4 years. Was motivated to go back after working on Nubian mummies in our biological anthropology department. They had lots of sand in their diet and it wore their teeth down fast. There’s no way to explain the horror of looking at an abscess- all discolored and deep, sometimes spreading infection to the face where you see holes that were eaten away by infection. Nasty, it’s so nasty. So decided to think more about my own dental health and start with this recommended procedure. It was a type of cleaning called “scaling” where they go under your gums and clear out the tarter etc that has accumulated. It’s as charming as it sounds.

The dental assistant was Russian and a lovely woman, Ulga. She was very gentle and very sweet, apologetic for all the times she hurt me. After the first polishing, she tried to wipe off the spray of sand-like chemicals that they use on your teeth and distribute around your face with pressurized water. The sweep of her hand was so soft and caring as she called me Frosty the Snowman. Then the dentist joined us. He too was very nice. Seemed a bit dopey but not unintelligent. They renumbed my gums and set to work on the scaling, his tool making the high-pitched noise that one associates with dentist nightmares. It hurt, I won’t lie. The bottom, especially was sensitive and I kept my hands clasped at my chest. Twice the pressure tube shot off the instrument, sounding like a gun and hitting me in the chest. I screamed the first time, but just jumped the second- like an old war hero. He laughed and said it happens all the time. Hehehe. Ha. The whole scaling took maybe 10 minutes, which is apparently a new thing. Used to, before this nice loud tool, that they’d spend 3 hours on the whole mouth. They sure still charge like it’s a 3 hour procedure- $460. Ouch.

At the end, he set my chair upright again and asked if I had any questions. He said I had to start flossing deeper, as Ulga had showed me (yes it hurts) and to wash with salt water for the next couple of days. I pressed the Kleenex Ulga gave me to my mouth to wipe off the spittle and it came back all bloody. Nice. Washed my face and spit repeatedly in their bathroom then headed home. The rearview mirror in the car showed pockets of blood between my teeth- charming, indeed. The numbing is wearing off and the taste of blood is lessening. Going to get soft cheese enchiladas with a friend and stop frowning. New flossing technique and a water pic it is. Don’t care to do this again any time soon.

Lesson learned, and what I am passing onto you. Go to the dentist. Get your teeth cleaned. Regularly. It’s worth it.

a walk spent pondering

Walking across campus, I had my nose stuck in my current fun book Shantaram. It's an incredible true story of an escaped Australian convict who broke out of a high security prison during the day between two gun runners, exiled himself to India, ends up living a slum, is imprisoned again, fights in Afghanistan, writes the book three times because prison guards keep taking it... wow, anyway. The writing is deeply engaging and I excuse myself to read it because I think it makes my thesis work better. So I am bopping along, reading about this huge cholera outbreak in his slum and how he has to help the people fight it without doctors, and hear a girl behind me on the phone with her dad. It went something like this,

"Daaaad, it's not that bad. I mean, besides the pass, it's not too much."
(It was about money, clearly. The pass, I had to guess, was a ski pass- somewhere between $250 and $490, depending on the mountains included)

"Dad, that was the pass! I didn't spend THAT much in the last month."

"No! It's not that much. And I took back $130 worth of stuff yesterday too."

"What?! That's ridiculous! That's what you give Lisa and she's in grad school."

"A thousand dollars?! A thousand dollars. No, that's what you give her. Don't even tell me that. That's ridiculous. Oh, I'm SURE that's her budget. Don't EVEN try to get away with that."

And she faded into the crowd in front of me. I had let the book drop to my side and started eavesdropping on this amazing conversation. Instead of feeling grateful for whatever financial aide her father gave her (and I assume it's more than $1000 a month) she felt fully entitled to it, angry and indignant that he'd cut anything out. And juxtaposed to this book (and the reality of life in a great deal of the world) where one bucket of clean water is a treat for most families, I was struck by the depths of disparity on our earth. I had thought of it this morning, too, when I turned on my clean running facet to rinse my toothbrush and eyed the tub, thinking about a bath tonight. How LUCKY I am, how blessed.

And yet, anyone and everyone amidst whatever is given to them, has the ability, and oftentimes the propensity, to feel sad, angry or as though they got the short end of the stick. Myself included. And inside this realization is a tightly packed ball of questions about the nature of humanity, the role of the spiritual and the quality of happiness. Every time I pull out one string of that knot, further complexities are revealed... I won't bother to bore with the process. But it gave me some sense of clarity to see this mess and my shoulders relaxed some on the way back to the lab. Good stuff, this chaos we have here. Good stuff.

American Chop Suey- a family recipe

My mom is scheduled for another surgery tomorrow to remove a patch of cancer in her lung. I don't like being here and she and my father being so many hours away. Wanted some way to bring them close for a moment or two.

I asked my mom last week for a recipe of a dish she used to make a lot when I was child. I'm eating some beef now and had a nice pound of ground grass-fed local stuff from the farmer's market. The recipe is simple- just the beef, onions, celery, elbow pasta, spices and canned tomatoes. Made a special trip to the store today just for the elbow pasta; my current shells wouldn't work. I took down all of her advice, including not using salt or going crazy with the pasta. The ratio of elbows to the rest of the dish is very important. And like a good daughter, I didn't heed the last warning well enough. The dish was perfect, including my mistake. Had to mix the plates separately to get the balance correct. Just like she used to make, but with gluten free pasta and fire roasted tomatoes for half the bulk. Paired it with a salad and toasted bread, served rice milk on the side and it almost felt like home.

I know tomorrow will go fine and the following chemo will too. It's just so much more difficult not to be there to hold she or my father's hand. I hate to think of him sitting alone in that waiting room, the way he bends over, hands clasped in front of him, rubbing them together from time to time- the only time I truly see him worry. I'll call but it's nothing like putting my hand on his back, looking for any excuse to make a corny joke. I had to be here for school but sometimes I don't understand why I follow this society's prescribed priorities.

So here is to taking a big breath and sitting down in all of this, giving them my greatest love from all the way over here and knowing it's the best I can do. Here's to a good day tomorrow and ever increasing returns...

American Chop Suey

1/2 lb ground beef
2 small cans of stewed tomatoes
one onion
garlic
celery
one cup cooked elbow pasta
cumin or other spice of choice


1) Brown the meat and set it aside
2) Saute the onion, garlic and celery. When at desired softness, add tomatoes. Season and taste repeatedly until you like it.
3) Add drained, cooked pasta and browned meat.
4) Serve with salad and bread. (If you are our family, make sure to precede the meal with at least 15 vitamins and plenty of calcium rich milk to wash them down).
5) Keep up good conversation and focused listening throughout the meal. You'll digest it better and leave the table feeling loved.

cleanse

Started by cleaning the apartment. One of those deep cleans that involves moving the table out of the kitchen, washing the walls, and using chlorine-free bleach in the bathtub. The stuff that's barely noticeable but seems to wash out a film.

Fall cleaning feels so different from its spring counterpart. No opening of the windows and letting the wild world wind sweep out stagnation. It's more lighting the boiler for the first time and prepping for more potential time inside. A Bob Dylan day not The Flaming Lips. Nice parallel to the internal world.

Skipped coffee too. Made a full pot of potent green tea and enjoyed thinking about all its armies of antioxidants rounding up the radicals and sending them out to sea. I notice that I've been worried more about health lately, hoping that if I take care of myself it'll reflect onto those close to me. Chiropractic, physical therapy, yoga; but what I know to be true for others, I have to hold close for this body too. That means taking care of the mind as well- breathing, calming, taking a little time with the crayons. Actions that lead to relaxation but can be so difficult. I always want to put it off until tomorrow. No more waiting.

I've sat for 5 minutes trying to say more, but that's it. Writing again is quite difficult. There's no internal daily dialog to lead the way, just short clips that belong on the fast facebook update. As I head to the store to buy healthy fuel for the bodies that reside here, I will take a moment to describe an apple in detail to myself, to listen for the hum of lights and the soft turning of grocery cart wheels; if I'm lucky, I might even hear my own breath...

the first day of fall

The first of these is usually just a stream of consciousness. No need to fight it...

Been so long since I have written in this thing. Life hasn't given much room for it lately... or I've given my stretches of internet time to facecrack. Let's be honest here.

But it's the first day of fall, when the short bursts of time that rocket summer stretch with the shadows under changing color trees- at least that's how it feels to me. So, maybe, with some forethought and determination, it'll be possible to set aside a breath or two and a little room to write.

I was rushing out of Hale today, skipping part of my office hours to grab a cheap burrito. My lunch bread was moldy and I felt like spending money. I was beelining for the crosswalk and run into one of our senior professors, standing in the street, eating an apple and looking at the trees. In our seminar with him, he always told us when to go to the mountains to see the aspens peaking. After my weekend in Telluride where yellow crept up the mountains, setting green trees on fire, I had been thinking of him a lot. We chatted about the best times, places and mood of the day to view the changing leaves. He said he was only eating an apple for lunch because he had an appointment in 20 minutes. As I ran across the street, dodging cars through an unchanged light, I realized he had put the first day of fall before a hurried meal. I barely heard this voice yelling from a faraway, nearly forgotten place in my head, "=======SLOW DOWN========!"

Looking back on this time two years ago (http://itsastretch.blogspot.com/2007/09/ground.html) I was trying to do the same- slow down. Breathe. Close the mouth, open the eyes and pay better attention to the fillings of life. I was recovering and starting anew. Why not again? Now is always a good time for that.

something's changed

Felt like writing a little update about what’s going on here, to put it in perspective, to help me understand why I just now realized that I leave on Friday and haven’t really done much to prepare… and why that doesn’t bug me. I have a feeling this will be a rambling piece.

I’m staying with my parents in a Dallas high-rise apartment; a one bedroom apartment. I sleep on a Princess and the Pea blow up mattress in the dining room area, sweetly privatized by a bamboo screen my mom bought. Or I sleep there sometimes. Other times I sleep on my mat in the living room, loving how the floor straightens my back, while a long time girlfriend sleeps in the bed.

I’ve had two so far, long-time girlfriends, visit for overnights. First LeeAnn, on my second night here. We’ve been friends for 23 years and are closer now than we’ve ever been… except for maybe when we lived next to each other and spent every summer day playing Barbie and tag. While she was here we talked. A lot. And it was beautiful, raw, honest and wise. The other was my friend Rachel, Rachie. We’ve known each other since 3rd grade, but have been close friends since freshman year high school. Again, we are closer now than we’ve ever been. I love that my parents know them and take them into their apartment like daughters. I love that four people can exist in this place and not feel cramped… perhaps it is the 31 floor view of the city that keeps the space open. Maybe it’s just how I’ve changed.

Because I have felt this incredible calm as of late. Maybe since March. I don’t know what it is and I don’t know where it came from. Really started to notice it around Take Back the Night- this event that spiraled large into my life and required (or at least I chose to give it) a lot of energy and time and passion and patience. On the night itself, I was barely nervous, and not at all upset that it was cold and rainy. We met anyway. We marched anyway. And even though the crowd was relatively small, it happened, I enjoyed it and the world felt perfect as it was. Since then, there’s been an easiness about things, even when they are really hard. Even when I’m really angry or sad or not in control like I’d like. It’s as though there’s an extra level of foundation under it all, holding me up and helping me feel secure. My friend Tim said he’s noticed a change from my pictures. I’m guessing this is it, but I don’t know what that means.

And here, at home, I feel it as a presence in the moment. Times when, in the past, I might have been distracted or distant or impatient with the situation, thinking of the next adventure or someone I should call or see or some chore I should be doing, I am here. Totally here. With my nephew, I treasure all the little moments we get to spend together, and he shows he notices in his hugs. With my parents, I listen more carefully and feel a closer partnership. With my friends, I suck up every moment and feel a profound gratefulness for the depth they give my life. I haven’t felt annoyed or anxious or any of that stuff. Did someone slip a valium into my water bottle?

So rambling indeed and I’ll leave out the details of my new Netbook, the rooftop pool, long runs around the city, people I haven’t seen in 11 years. And just settle on a new, wonderful stage in my life prompted by this peace. It’ll change. Everything does. And heading to Thailand with my greatest curly-haired adventure on Friday will prompt something new, I’m sure. In the meantime, I feel like savoring, rolling it around my tongue like a good wine, hoping the aftertaste lingers.