that's mrs. mediocrity to you

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Tell us about one moment that you lived in 2011 that you will never forget.

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In amongst the chaos, it was a year filled with snatched moments. Breathing them in the way I would if I had just run six miles and was gasping for breath.

Appreciating them all the more for the way they filled my desperate mind with bits and pieces of beautiful.

In general, I share those moments of beauty here, but there was one that I didn’t, mainly because it was impossible to photograph.

In August we went to the Adirondack mountains to camp at one of our favorite lakes, one that is a favorite because it is small and because it feels like home.

And after we had been there for a day and half, the park ranger came by to tell us that we had to leave the next day, that all the parks in the mountains were being closed because of Hurricane Irene.

As he said this, there was not a cloud in the sky.

That night, we made a roaring campfire, the way we always do, and we made s’mores, the way we always do, and we wished we didn’t have to pack things up so soon.

Later, we walked down to the lake, to say goodbye.

No one was at the beach, it was quite late. Technically, I suppose we weren’t supposed to be there, either.

But what a sight.

The lake was perfectly calm, and in it, a million stars reflected back at themselves.

If it weren’t for the slightly darker silhouette of the mountains ringing the lake, it would have been impossible to tell where the sky ended and the lake began. A tiny crescent moon hung low in the sky, smiling back up at us from the water.

We all stood there for minutes that felt like hours, just soaking it in.

It was the kind if moment that I knew I could never photograph well enough, or describe well enough, to convey its magic.

But now, when I close my eyes, I can still see it.

I am there. On that beach, surrounded by darkness that is not dark but glittering, loons calling out love songs in the distance, and mountains looming as sentinels in the background, strong and silent and unseen.

I am there breathing in.

And I am smiling.

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{reverb11} check it out here

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If you could choose one thing that your children
will do or experience in a different way than you have,
what would it be and why?

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life.

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each one as unique,

individual,

magical,

as a snowflake.

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{reverb11} check it out here

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One Word. Encapsulate the year 2011 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing
that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word
to be that captures 2012 for you?

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Oh, this one is easy. That word, the one that best encapsulates 2011, would be chaos.

Somehow, I never got ahead of myself this year. I was always one step behind, always scrambling to catch up. I raced through this year with one eye on the clock and one leg out the door. I stood in my studio and spun around in circles, never quite reaching an edge.

My house has been a mess, all year. I was supposed to lose ten pounds, all year. My garden was a shambles, no, my garden was the definition of chaos, all year. Half of the things I planned to accomplish are still scattered about on the floor of my mind.

2011 was the year of not getting things done.

And yet.

I worked really hard, all year. And considered it a blessing. (Except for the times I complained about how overwhelmed I was, which okay, may have been every day.)

I fed a chickadee, and a nuthatch, and a titmouse out of my hand.

I hurt my knee, had surgery to repair it, and ran again. Also a blessing.

I wrote a lot of poetry and every so often, my heart clicked back into place.

I created and created and created.

I spent a lot of time with a camera growing out of my face.

I looked for tiny bits and pieces of beauty, and I found them, everywhere I looked.

I smiled more. I sought out the things that make me smile. I became easily amused. (It’s not so hard, you should try it.)

I spent an afternoon with my windmills.

I worked really hard, all year. And considered it a blessing.

I took care of my parents. I made lots of soup. I went to my mountains, twice.

I cried about shootings and earthquakes and abuse and intolerance and droughts and floods. And a cat that broke my heart.

When I could, I smiled through my tears.

I learned new things every day. About life, about myself, about the people that I love.

I read several amazing books.

I found a lot of hearts.

Did I say I worked really hard, all year? And considered it a blessing.

And after about 10 months, I opened my arms wide and I embraced the chaos. Gave it a big ol’ bear hug. Welcomed it into my life.

Because secretly, I know how bored I would be without it.

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I went back and looked up the word I chose last year, the word that encapsulated 2010 and then the word that I wanted to bring with me into 2011. The word I chose, for both, was crazy.

I think I did good, don’t you?

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And now I’m supposed to choose a word for next year. One to set the tone, to capture what I want 2012 to be all about. I’m a little nervous, considering that I was right on the money with last year’s.

So I’m going to go ahead and choose a word that I know I can handle.

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Words.

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And there you have it.

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{reverb11} check it out here

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and my

shadow.

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lately i’m grateful for

anything that makes me smile,

being surrounded by the

people that i love,

and you.

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wishing you a day filled with things to be grateful for.

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this is life.

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lately I’ve been:

searching my soul

caretaking

shifting

skeptical

catty

grateful

aware of my mortality

aware of my limitations

aware of my humanity

furious

full of joy

impatient

calm

forgetful

nostalgic

open

closed

and everything

in between

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opposites attract.

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Okay, it’s quite true that I’ve always taken the road less traveled, not exactly on purpose but just because that was always the one that appealed to me most.

Less traffic, less people, less been there done that. Out of the mainstream. Off on my own.

So where has it gotten me?

Out on a limb, up a tree, tangled in thickets? Dangling from a limb?

Perhaps.

Either way, it’s where I am. I took the road less traveled by and it has made all the difference. And though there are some days when I shake my head and wish I had chosen otherwise, in my heart I know it was the only road I could have taken. My feet walked that way naturally, and to have forced them to do otherwise would have been next to impossible.

Right now, my life is a crazy whirlwind of work and not enough time. This is not new, this is not a surprise. This is not my beautiful life.

Except, it is.

I know this, I know that this is the life I have. I also know that given my druthers, it is the life I would choose. Again and again and again.

It is the only life I know how to live, this life of listening to leaves rustle and kittens cry and whispers of words that refuse be silent.

This is my life. Yes, I could second-guess myself all day long, and on some days, I do. On some days, a 9 to 5 job in an office full of worker bees sounds like the perfect solution.

Here, I buzz around by myself and try to make it all work. Try to fit in a life around the busyness.

Some days, I think I should give up this blog and the other blog, reclaim that time. But I love this place. This place of words and pretty pictures. This place that is mine. Some days, this is my oasis.

So here I am, standing at a fork, again.

And you know what? My feet have already started down that same old same old path.

The one less traveled. Because that’s who I am.

Come along, walk with me.

A good deal of the time, I am all over the place, at least inside my head. There is a ticker-tape list of things to be done always circling through my mind. As soon as one thing gets checked off, another takes its place. And then another, and then three more.

Most of the time, that’s where I keep it all, right up there in my head where I can see it, even when I close my eyes.

Some days, though, it all starts to spin out of control, going so fast that I can no longer read the words. Vowels and consonants start to fly out at me in bits and pieces, I will catch a phrase or two if I’m lucky, but for the most part, life is a blur.

I keep going because I must, but I am just feeling my way along, arms stretched out before me, fingers searching. I have lost my insight.

Lost the voice that tells me to take a break and sit in my garden. Or the one that says, “Just breathe.” Or the one that whispers bits of wisdom in my ear.

Sometimes, life is like that. Oh, I wish it were not, but the simple truth of it is that no one ever said it would always be easy. We get spoiled by our own assumptions. We see other people who look like they have it so much better than we do. So much easier.

But if we are paying attention, and sometimes, even if we are not, we will stumble across something that will make us understand that through it all, there is life. That most precious of gifts. The cycles that drag us down can also be the light that lifts us up. Life is always going on.

Leaves sprout, flowers blossom, seeds form and then scatter.

But when that happens, new life begins to grow.

Maybe being scattered isn’t so bad, after all.