.
spaces close up and voices grow louder
the din of existence an ever-present echo
i see you
i hear you
i approve of you
or not
there is no off button
no way to unplug
(though we all pretend, often)
we are slicing hearts open
and living out loud
from a distance
cacophony bleeds music
.
I ended 2013 with a whimper. Quite literally.
The day after Christmas, I had my gallbladder out, ending a three-month period of trying to figure out the return of symptoms I first had nine years ago. Symptoms that, back then, I thought were the result of a problem with my kidney. Now I wonder if I had something going on with my gall bladder all along, and the kidney issue truly was an incidental finding. A lucky one anyway, as that problem truly had needed to be fixed, and sooner rather than later.
Then, on New year’s Eve, I went to the cupboard to get some champagne flutes, the special crystal ones my sister gave me almost 30 years ago, and on the way back across the room, I slipped on a dog bone and fell right on my behind, smashing all three glasses and cutting my right hand in five places in one fell swoop. (Fortunately, no stitches were necessary).
So perhaps I ended 2013 with a bit of a bang, after all.
Either way, it was a year I let go of gladly. Not that it was all bad, certainly it wasn’t. But I am ready to get on with life, to move forward, to heal and work and get busy again. Ready to stop worrying about my health and fighting a medical system that seems to get worse by the day. I yelled a lot in the last three month. I refused to sit by and wait. I refused to have tests and get sent to specialists that I believed had nothing to do with my symptoms. I fought for antibiotics and consultations. I was angry and bitter and frustrated and disgusted. And mostly, I was tired of being ill.
So I’m ready to let it all go, with the turning of a calendar page.
I’m ready to see what happens next in the book of my life, ready to write a new chapter.
It’s cold today, snowing and blowing in classic January-in-Western-New-York style. But I’m ready to get back to work.
And fortunately for me, I don’t even have to go out into that weather to do it.
I’ve already made the commute from my bedroom to studio (though of course, I’m still in my pajamas). I can drink as much tea as I like once again (though I’ll try not to get too carried away). I can get back to normal (at least my normal, which we all know is slightly off-center).
I’ll still be a klutz. I’ll still be 51 and getting older by the minute. I’ll still be a hermit who spends much of life in pajamas, working away in a tiny studio.
But I’ll be smiling, and that will make all the difference.
2013, I hardly knew ye. Yet you were mine, just the same.
I’ll remember you, always.
.
standing on the line
between years
looking back at one
toward another
this path has no end
circling the earth
in one bold stroke
drawn freehand
today i walk it
like a tightrope
arms outstretched
knees wobbly
tomorrow i bring out
my pen
begin again
word by word
.
::
This post is part of Reverb 13:
I was so honored to be asked by the lovely Kat MacNally
to contribute a prompt to this year’s reverb13!
Day 20: The mirror never lies, but everything in it is backwards.
Look at what you see in the mirror. How does it change if you view yourself
with eyes that can only look forward?
::
a string of tomorrows
beaded with promise
wisdom and experience,
drawn with patience and empathy
old scars that have healed,
new ones to form
sunrise, sunset
a heart refusing to grow bitter
a mind refusing to be defined
a soul, still learning
a hand etched with time
silence
beneath forever’s
painted sky
::
This post is part of Reverb 13:
Day 19: How will you practice self-compassion?
::
.
i offer this hand.
.
to the world, to you,
.
to myself.
.
::
This post is part of Reverb 13:
Day 18: In the midst of living, did you find moments to breathe?
Were there moments that held you in the embrace of peace and quiet and
pure contentment? Did these moments catch you by surprise or
did you create the space for peace to find you?
How will you make space for greater peace in 2014?
::
I’ve learned to find peace in many places. In books and in words, through running and simple, repetitive chores.
But my favorite place for peace is in my garden, which is just a bit ironic because the truth is, it’s always in a state of chaos, as any garden that doesn’t have a full-time caretaker will be.
But no matter… I still find peace there. Most mornings in early summer, I head out there for my first cup of tea, sit in a favorite spot to sip and listen to the birds.
I fight the urge to get up and weed, or deadhead, or control, and try to just enjoy this place that used to be lawn and driveway and mud and is now my very own postage stamp of paradise.
Even the work of gardening brings me peace, a day spent in the sun with nothing to do but plant and weed and tidy restores my very soul. (Mulching, not so much.)
The lessons I have learned in my garden spill over into my life, daily. Patience, of course, being the most obvious.
The cycle of life. The force of nature. Rest and renewal. Death.
True love.
It’s all there, in amongst the chaos.
Now that it’s winter, I will find my peace in front of the fire, dreaming of spring and green and my garden.
Waiting to inhale.
::
This post is part of Reverb 13:
Day 17: What word did you select to be your traveling companion in 2013?
What word will you choose to guide you through 2014?
::
.
Words.
I cannot choose just one.
And really, I prefer to let a word choose me.
So I shall wait, and listen.
Sometime in January, or February,
I will hear an echo.
.
This year was ordinary magic. And fifty.
But then, in truth, it was neither of those things.
In truth, it was chaos and catching up,
illness and patience,
writing and family.
It was, again and again, a beautiful mess.
A gift to be cherished, this life.
A gift.
::
This post is part of Reverb 13:
Day 16: Habits and addictions, some are silly, some serious;
when we have issues without answers, they can hold us so tight
that we stop moving forward with the life we intended.
Were you able to loosen those fetters this year, and if you were successful,
how did you manage it? Did you accept outside help, or work alone?
If you still feel that grasp of addiction or hurtful habits,
what will you do differently in the year to come?
::
.
i embrace the questions.
.
whether this is habit or addiction, good or bad,
matters less than the lack of answers.
.
for me, this is the riddle of life
and each day is an unfinished puzzle.
.
i am perfectly mediocre in my lack of perfection,
and my flaws form the map of my existence:
one without legend or destination.
.
i embrace the questions.
.
::
This post is part of Reverb 13:
Day 15: Give us a sensory tour of 2013. How would you describe the year
that’s passing in terms of Sight? Sound? Smell? Taste? Touch?
::
.
if your smile
lights up a room,
then you are my sun
.
the timbre
of your voice
rolls over my skin
in a melody
of remembrance
.
the scent of snow
on a cold dark morning
wraps me in a warmth
that has no science
.
i dream of
raspberry lips and
chocolate sighs
sealed with salty
kisses
.
one fingertip
tracing miles
of a journey
held fast
with borrowed
twine
.
