handstories

blythe days

    I'm just back from such a good week-plus with my sister, such bad photos on my part, oh well...  

    We drove from her place in Providence up the coast of Maine.  It was my first trip to the state.  Really, really beautiful.  Loved seeing new views of the Atlantic. 

    One of the places we stayed had this view at 5:30 am.

    There was a bench at one with a plaque that read, "Sit and enjoy the view Doris loved, "The wind was no blyther than she".   I did.

    Popham Beach was so windy and cold, the sand stood up in little peaks, and it was amazing in every direction.  

    On another beach we walked and walked.

    There were beautiful things,

    and unusual,

    and clams the size of size 10 feet!

    Heading toward our place at the beginning of twilight.

    There is more to share, but the ocean... it was at the center of everything.

seeing

    Maybe folks are tired of seeing this piece?  But it's consuming, filling, pulling and pushing me.  Today, looking at this "stair" space.  Thinking about light, lightness- how it lets us see through and clearly, and lifts.

    Pink was added into the cracks of it.  You might think that is the light, cheering things up in the dark corners, but pink is part of the weight here.  I've talked about pink before, and am at peace with it now.  Still, when it comes to the past, it represents squashing oppressive slaps in the face feelings.

    And now adding blue dots to wander through it all.  The cool peace of blue.  Blue that holds space, endless possibilities & hope.  Remembering the conversation with the contractor twenty years ago, holding the light robin's egg blue paint chip out to him in the soon to be bedroom.  "You don't want blue, it's cold, you won't feel relaxed in here."

    "Blue," I said.  I still love it, and if I had the energy, the rest of the house would be the same color.

    Blue, a way through and true.

sides of the moon

    Time lost all meaning last night.  Cold and then hot, a wrong number phone call at 1am (it was all I could do not to call this person back at 7am and ask how he slept?). three nightmares- of assaults, murders and suicide pacts, and a cat on my feet, who would not be moved.

    I woke up delirious, and then, first thing, Moon said, "I want to be like                         ."   (That blank is a member of my family, someone we had stopped to see on our way to the ocean last week.  A person who, being around, or even talking to requires a whole lot of self-talk and self-armoring on my part.)  

    I think I looked at Moon as if he had just announced that he wanted to bite the head off of a chicken.  After regrouping, I asked him why?

    "I like his attitude, and he's got good hair."  (Both sides of Moon's family tree make the fear of baldness a justifiable worry.)

    Hmmm.  How different things can look from another angle.  A bend in time, age, roles.  A tilt of the head can move the darkness, or at least allow some light in.

    In spite of all of this, or maybe because of, it's been a peaceful day of being lost in stars and moon.

    Wishing us all some sweet dreams.

(This is the next addition to Mo's pennant.  A golden moon pieced out of scraps from Jude and Deb.) 

an ocean of moments

    We're home.  It was a very good trip.  I found two agates...remembering us kids tagging after mom across rocky beaches in her quest for them.  Constantly asking her how much longer until we could go to the sandy beach?

    A rainbow of petals met us on the first day.  Guessing they were remnants of some celebration.  I hope it was a happy one.

    Some seaside stitching.

    And salt water painting with handmade watercolors from here (extra fondness for the pan of  "spark" which adds a magical shimmer)

    There was wonderful ocean time- wading, walking, watching, and even some beach bike riding.  Also, a sweet small train ride between two beach towns, along the coast, bay and trees.  While on it, we saw a blue heron take flight, and pelicans diving in the water and flying.

    We also saw the edge of the camp lake where K. and I were outdoor school counselors in the fall of 1979 (he was a senior and I was a junior in high school).  Where we first held hands while on our first beach walk together.

    Speaking of hand holding, while soaking in the sea, when I asked a certain sixteen year old for a hug, he offered his hand instead.  Don't tell him, but his was a much better offer!  It lasted while strolling, wave watching and listening to his latest insights about life...

    The smoke from the distant wild fires was at the shore too, so no stars and there were other-worldly sunsets, but still, the beautiful powerful waves... 

    ...where my soul feels at home.

wonderment

    Writing about the windows has stirred up some things.  Thinking more about the blue room story, and how it is circled with other stories and memories, like ripples in a pond.  Sometimes I'm dazzled by how interwoven and connected things have been in my life.

    I suppose that this is true for all of us, and to be expected, but I'd rather feel amazed.

    The other night I dreamt that an eagle landed on me.  It landed fast, hard and heavy.  It had a foot on each of my shoulders, talons pressing in, with it's body behind and head resting on mine.  At first I was terrified, but then, as it wrapped its wings around my head, covering my eyes with it's feathers, I realized that this was an amazing gift, I stopped moving and tried to take it all in and hold onto the feeling.  A sense of lightness.  

    It's still with me.

    There are some things going on that are tiring, and at times frustrating, but still I'm feeling very full of wonder and trust that things will all work together and be fine in the end.

 Wishing you all the same.

in search of safe keeping

    There was storm painting in watercolor class today.  

    I'm running a bit on empty these days.  School, home . . . technical difficulties inside and out.  

    There was a lovely half hour with kindergarteners yesterday . . . making Valentines.  I started singing- "You Are My Sunshine", "Love Is Something If You Give It Away" and "Red River Valley".  Old favorites.  It's been a long time.  We were all happy, singing and humming together, and then a boy with a bloody nose happened.  Sigh, it was swell while it lasted.

    And then came home to the news of the latest school shooting.

    I started this piece way back here.  On the day Blue's classroom window was shot at with a BB gun, a few days before the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting. 

"Bubble" 

    Later, driving Moon home from school, talking about the shootings, I asked him if he knew what to do if it happened at his school?  

    And then proceeded to give him advice and suggestions.

    And then stopped and said, "I can't believe I have to talk to you about this."  

    And then arrived home, where I sat and cried for the children.

carrying on

    When things are fine, and sad, and not fine at all, when there's nothing you can do about what has been, or is . . . 

    The school is going through a hard situation, all of the right things are happening, we're keeping on, doing what we do.  Sometimes that's all you can do.

    This cloth is helping.  I'm loving it more each time I pick it up- for it's ease and possibilities.  I don't know what it will become.  I'm imagining a silky orange spot, if I can find one.  A heartbeat.  A moonbeat.  I'm so glad it can keep going, too.