In the Rainbow: A Note to CC

You're a great boy Clarence. Seeing this picture of you and Olivia snuggling broke my heart today, and I know your family misses you so very much. But I'm sure you are at peace and you took all that love with you. We'll always remember you. Be sure to greet Marley and Figaro for me; they'll teach you the ropes up there, show you the best sleeping places, and suggest the tastiest wet food. And if you can CC, send your Mom a message to let her know you're ok and that you loved her most and you know she loved you most too.

My First Mother's Day

The smell of something delicious woke me this morning. J.D. greeted me at the dining room doorway with a kiss and "Happy Mother's Day baby's mama." He had the table set and a special breakfast made. We ate together and enjoyed homemade waffles, scrabbled eggs, skim milk, and a small glass of orange juice. After a good meal with our silly kitties running around our feet, J.D. cleared everything and washed the dishes. And I got to lie back down and relax.

It was very sweet. I have to admit, I sort of wondered if he had anything planned. Knowing J.D., I thought he would. But I decided not to say anything and just see.

I'm lucky. I yoked my soul to one of the very best.

To Propagate Light

Purgatory, Canto 15:

“What meant Romagna's spirit, when he spake
Of bliss exclusive with no partner shar'd?”
He straight replied: “No wonder, since he knows,
What sorrow waits on his own worst defect,
If he chide others, that they less may mourn.
Because ye point your wishes at a mark,
Where, by communion of possessors, part
Is lessen'd, envy bloweth up the sighs of men.
No fear of that might touch ye, if the love
Of higher sphere exalted your desire.
For there, by how much more they call it ours,
So much propriety of each in good
Increases more, and heighten'd charity
Wraps that fair cloister in a brighter flame.”

“Now lack I satisfaction more,” said I,
“Than if thou hadst been silent at the first,
And doubt more gathers on my lab'ring thought.
How can it chance, that good distributed,
The many, that possess it, makes more rich,
Than if 't were shar'd by few?” He answering thus:
“Thy mind, reverting still to things of earth,
Strikes darkness from true light. The highest good
Unlimited, ineffable, doth so speed
To love, as beam to lucid body darts,
Giving as much of ardour as it finds.
The sempiternal effluence streams abroad
Spreading, wherever charity extends.
So that the more aspirants to that bliss
Are multiplied, more good is there to love,
And more is lov'd; as mirrors, that reflect,
Each unto other, propagated light.

La Maison en petits cubes

Each day measures more. Now one-third of our lives together. Brick by brick and stone by stone into the wall of Our Time. Increasingly, it becomes difficult to remember a time without you. Today we recalled together when we set out, young, going to a new place, only you and me. Here, we've stayed with modest increase; it's still just you and me. Holding your hand in the dark. You let me wear your gloves because I forgot mine. You walk slowly with me as I limp. Eternity is now. In the end we both believe the only mark you leave on time is the impress of love. I am sure husband, time will remember us.

My Cupcake Ring

Yesterday following my MRI scan, J.D. took me out for dinner. After dinner, sitting in our quiet, dark car, he reached in his pocket, took my hand, and carefully slipped a ring on my finger. Obviously, it's not a diamond or anything expensive. But I think the gesture is even sweeter. He saved the red heart decoration from a cupcake at his office. Love tokens have their value because they remind us our sweetheart loves us, but they're extra special if they show us we're thought of at unexpected moments.

Homemade Valentines

Kindness in words creates confidence.

Kindness in thinking creates profoundness.

Kindness in giving creates love. ~ Lao Tzu

These are the Valentines I made for J.D.'s Great-Aunt Juanita and her fellow residents at the assisted-living home we visited. I don't know any of the other people there, but I thought that perhaps it would be nice for them to receive a card, even from a stranger.

Anam Cara

Anam Cara: Friend of my soul
Yesterday we went for a drive to a place we like called Rockwood. We went on a serene 1.5 mile hike, with wooden bridges and winding paths. While hiking, J.D. enjoyed planning a 25 mile hike we could do in Idaho. He described crossing Redfish Lake by boat and then going up the mountains. He grew more and more eager as he visualized it.

The trail at hand was busy with lots of people enjoying the 70 degree weather and fall color. But after awhile we got away from the crowds and reached the top by ourselves. Then we stopped to hear the wind moving through the trees. While the yellow leaves rained down, we stood holding hands.

There are a few moments I think you always remember and for which you have nothing but gratitude; this will be one of mine. But mostly, I'm grateful everyday for J.D. and what we have together.

The Wages of Love

A recent scrapbook page. It's a picture I took 9 years ago at the Vatican. The words came from Galway Kinnell's poem "Little Sleep's-Head Sprouting Hair in the Moonlight." My shortened, ambiguous version of his line "the wages / of dying is love."

A small candle at midnight

Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born.
Every Morn & every Night
Some are Born to sweet Delight.
Some are Born to sweet Delight,
Some are born to Endless Night. --Blake

I have been given many beautiful things and a great deal in my life. Most of all I'm grateful to the people who love me. I've been thinking a lot lately of the randomness of life -- of the people suffering in Myanmar and China, of people born into terrible circumstances, and of people who never really get a chance. I don't think there is a "reason" for a lot of the suffering in the world, other than the freedom of the earth to move in earthquakes, the freedom of the wind and sea to rage, the freedom of people to hurt, oppress, or ignore others. And sometimes people make their own lives difficult; we all have the freedom to do that too, and I know I'm often guilty of this. Recently, I've felt hopeless. The pain in the world feels so profound. Sometimes it's easy to lose hope when we see either random events or intentional acts hurt the most innocent. But I realized today that regardless of any "reason" for any of it, which I just don't see, there is an importance in how we react. We should care. We should give to those who need our help. And we should keep alive the spirit of love, generosity, and hope. We should do everything we can for each other: "What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult to each other?" And as long as we believe that love is stronger than pain and fear and hate... we add a little light. We can't give up hope or the darkness around us is indeed deep. I may not believe in a reason for pain, but I believe there is always a reason to love.

Love only

"Love only is replenishment of halves" -James Merrill

Mars is continuing to do ok. He finished his antibiotics last night, so that's good. We also found out about the biopsy. Evidently the type of cancer Marley has is vulnerable to chemotherapy. We haven't decided what to do though; we're still seeking information and opinions from the doctors. One concerned, kind veterinarian said 2 of her dogs had chemo; one reacted well and lived for several more years, while the other puppy got very sick. We're just taking it one step at a time and letting Mars recover from surgery for now. I'm grateful for each day.

Marley is very special to me. When J.D. has been at work every weekend and during the week often from 9:00 am to 11:30 pm, Marley has many days been my only companion. Overall the last six years of my life have been at times lonely and stressful, but I've always had Mars. He also had a difficult early life, which we can only really guess about, but I think it's safe to say it was not happy based on the fact he was abandoned by his original human (and still to this day is terrified of brooms, cleaning supplies, garbage cans, etc.). I've always wanted to make up for that and give him a safe place, where he knows he's loved. I thought recently about when I was in kindergarten and the teacher read Black Beauty to us, and I guess that's the sort of story Marley and I have had. When Marley came here I wanted him to feel "My troubles are all over, and I am at home."

I'm truly grateful everyday for the opportunity we've had to find each other.

Why I love you

You share the tasks and joy of everyday life with me.

You still work when everyone else ditches early.

You always leave a cold Diet Dr. Pepper out for me when you restock the fridge.

You always try to finish your book's chapter before going to sleep.

You are my indisputable friend.

You eat wheat bread instead of white for your peanut butter sandwiches.

You are all I really need.

It also helps that you love me too.

A gorgeous day

"There are years that ask questions and years that answer."

--Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God, chapter 3, page 21.

Maybe this is a fruitful year. Maybe this is an answer year. If it is, it's not an answer with any detail. Just a solid "yes"-- which would be enough.

Today was a really good day. J.D. and I went at 6:45 a.m. to a presentation put on by the Alumni Association about buying a house. We found some helpful information and enjoyed bagels. I also love an excuse to drink coffee early in the morning, although I don't like making it myself. We discussed our "must haves" together.

Tammy's Must Haves:

Lots of windows, natural light

A washer

A dryer

A big yard, room for a garden

J.D.'s Must Haves:

A roof

Four walls

A door

Electricity

J.D. doesn't even need windows; he'd be happy living underground like a mole, as long as he had lots of other lighting. J.D. certainly doesn't have a lot of "musts." I do want someplace nice, not perfect or anything, but nice. Later today I taught class, and went to lift weights at the gym. Then I downloaded music from itunes and walked to the park nearby with the fish on the bicycle statue, where we took Olivia to play. I watched some ducks swim in circles and decided to swing, even if there were other people there. It was really, really beautiful outside today. It was the sort of day that one feels lucky to just be alive. My euphoria days are pretty lacking in the city, and I haven't really felt that way in years, but today was like a release because I experienced a little of the old ecstatic energy. Divinely lovely day.

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P.S.

One of the new songs I downloaded and now really like is by

The Wailin' Jennys-- "Heaven When We're Home":

Don't know what time it is,

I've been up for way too long and I'm too tired to sleep

I call my mother on the phone,

she wasn't home, and now I'm wondering the street

I've been a fool, I've been cruel to myself

I've been hanging onto nothing

when nothing could be worse than hanging on

And something tells me there must be something better than all this

I've fallen many times in love

and every time it's been with the wrong man*

Still I'm out there living one day at a time and doing the best I can

Cuz we've all made mistakes that seem to lead us astray

But every time they helped to get us where we are today

And that's a good a place as any

and it's probably where we're best off anyway

It's a long and rugged road and we don't now where it's headed

But we know it's going to get us where we're going

And when we find what we're looking for

we'll drop these bags and search no more

'Cuz it's going to feel like heaven when we're home

It's going to feel like heaven when we're home.

There's no such thing as perfect,

and if there is we'll fnd it when we're good and dead

Trust me I've been looking

but tonight I think I'll go and take a bath instead

And then maybe I'll walk a while and feel the earth beneath me

They say if you stop looking it doesn't matter if you find it

And whose to say that even if I did it's what I'm really looking for

It's a long and rugged road and we don't now where it's headed

But we know it's going to get us where we're going

And when we find what we're looking for we'll drop

these bags and search no more

'Cuz it's going to feel like heaven when we're home.

* The one line that doesn't apply

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Someday we'll be "home," it will probably have four walls, a roof, a door or two, and even electricity. Most of all, it will be home with J.D., and I'm sure it will feel like heaven.

Missouri Zen

Last night we went to the candlelight walk through the Japanese garden. It's designed for quietude and meditation, with little nooks you can duck into and stone paths that lead away from the main walkway. But it was impossible to find a quiet place last night. Everyone was walking the path yelling. Groups of adults spoke loudly, as they measured the distance with their feet and mouths; children cried and screamed, and one little boy was afraid of dragons in the bushes; teenagers shouted at each other, pointed at people, and laughed self-consciously. Daddies reassured babies that it was "only a half-mile to the carp," and I even heard one woman say to her husband: "Get the kids, let's go over there, there's more zen." There was general commotion and hubbub. Everyone kept walking the circular path, making noise all the way.

Here was the world, moving along, making a great din, going nowhere, but intent upon finding some destination. Here were families grouped together, reassuring each other in the dark, telling each other there was some purpose for this walk, that they were "almost there," searching out a more desirable place. Everyone needed to make some sound to been "seen" in the dark, where individuality could melt away, leaving us a single procession of bodies. Whether it's one life or a thousand lives lived in the same manner, this was Samsara: suffering, needing, wanting. Everyone keeps walking around the circle because everyone else is, and we cry to be heard because we're not so terrified by the darkness as by the silence.

And there I was, at first annoyed by their noise and ignorance, then listening to them, paying attention to their conversations, playing my role as the onlooker. I was just as unquiet, although I made no sound.

Finally we just stopped walking. We stopped caring if everyone seeking zen around us kept talking about Branson or dragons in the bushes. We smelled the warm September garden. We saw the candles and lanterns wavering on the water. J.D. pointed out the North Star. We wandered over a rock pathway to a bench by a little waterfall and sat with our foreheads touching, like at our wedding. We both thought about our wedding but didn't say it at the time. We just were.

I'm not a Buddhist, and I don't pretend to understand zen, except I'm pretty sure you can't locate it, quantify it, or buy it as a spray-on in the gift shop (damn). While, I believe in reassuring each other in the general darkness around us, sometimes we most need to just be comfortable with not saying anything. Often the most beautiful place is not a "where"; it's just stopping to be with your companion. If others choose to hurry, screaming through the garden, that's fine; we'll sit and wait; we'll look at the moon.

Kissed by a dog

Sometimes you feel blue, so the universe sends a big, fluffy dog to give you a slobbery kiss. On my way home a little, old lady said "hello," so I stopped to say "hi." When I did, her HUGE dog pounced on me, with his paws on my shoulders, giving me a giant kiss along the side of my face. I walked home laughing; it's good to be liked by dogs and children.

The lady also asked me if I had a dog. "No, I have a cat." --Do I ever. Here is Marley going crazy for some catnip. This is his aerobic exercise. He's kicking it with his back paws, trying to open the lid.

And here is Mars licking plastic, his favorite amusement.

Connection

I'm reading The Waves today and am overcome by Woolf's cutting sense of isolation. Her writing pulsates with the desire for connection, but it's the very thing she denies again and again. Reading Woolf is like walking on glass. I only read her on my bravest days, or when I already feel alone and she becomes a strange opiate.

At first reading The Waves is like sitting in a pretentious coffee lounge, full of MFA students being "different" and smoking, until the tweed-wearing professor walks in, coughs meaningfully, and sits in the center, leather chair. It's dramatic, it's acting; it's Woolf stretching for greatness. It's nauseating.

Then half-way through, it's clear. Suddenly the cacophony of voices melts away, and it's just one voice painfully talking to itself:

‘Had I been born,’ said Bernard, ‘not knowing that one word follows another I might have been, who knows, perhaps anything. As it is, finding sequences everywhere, I cannot bear the pressure of solitude. When I cannot see words curling like rings of smoke round me I am in darkness—I am nothing.

Everything in a human life is "finding sequences." Our desire for relationship makes us constantly search for the meaning between things, for the connections, for those links that spell out the purpose of our existence. And sometimes it's just the desire to touch something and say, "here it is; I've got it!" All the while, you know it's slipping away faster than you can clutch it. Woolf insists on this gap, this loss, ultimately this silence of the self because no one will ever really understand.

The two great women writers in my reading are polar opposites. My beloved Eliot gives me faith in human relations, while Virginia breaks my heart.

http://etext.library.adelaide.edu.au/w/woolf/virginia/w91w/section16.html
The picture is my own.

"Married Love"

You and I
Have so much love,
That it
Burns like a fire
In which we bake a lump of clay
Molded into a figure of you
And a figure of me.
Then we take both of them,
And break them into pieces,
And mix the pieces with water,
And mold again a figure of you,
And a figure of me.
I am in your clay.
You are in my clay.
In life we share a single quilt.
In death we will share one coffin.

By: Lady Guan Daosheng (1262-1319), written to her husband.
Translated by: Rexroth & Chung

07.07.07

I just finished Middlemarch for the 3rd time today. I remember Professor Glajzer from my undergrad college, who said it was one of the greatest novels ever written, in his opinion for its plot intricacies. We didn't read it in his class, but I read it for the first time after he recommended it because surely, I couldn't miss out on "one of the greatest novels ever written." (Such is the guilt of all lit. students).

Indeed, I am amazed by Eliot's ability to weave in and out of several layers of narrative. She was an immense genius, and I don't use that word lightly. Of course, not everyone enjoys Middlemarch; many don't have the patience for 19th century prose in general, and even less for George Eliot in particular. But I love her. I don't just love her for her immense brain... and I do mean that in the slightly monstrous image it implies... I love her vision of humanity and her heart. "What do we live for if it is not to make life less difficult to each other?" (712). What indeed? That's my credo; that's what's ultimately important to me. Life is the collection of people that we've given hope, friendship, and love. There is an immense morality there as well. It's our job to make the world less difficult "to" each other. It's the Buddhist dictate to "do no harm" along with the Christian invitation to "Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep" (Romans 12:15) and a connection to the thought of Martin Buber, the Jewish theologian, who wrote that ultimately "everything is gathered up in relation" to both the divine and the human (The Eternal Thou, 246). It's an incredibly impossible morality to achieve constantly, but it's the most ethical that I know.

For Eliot saw another truth about religion, the narrow, harmful effect it can have if it does not constantly check itself against the plight of fellow human beings: "There is no general doctrine which is not capable of eating out our morality if unchecked by the deep-seated habit of direct fellow-feeling with individual fellow-men" (601). Extremism in any form is focused on thinking of the "self" in relationship to "god," never thinking about the relationship to fellow suffering mortals (unless it's formulated in a vision of converting, commanding, or controlling them). It's easy to abstract "god," to whatever reflection of oneself is most desired. But it's much less easy to believe something absolutely when we must consult the suffering of others outside our narrow perspectives. If we really thought about our constant impact on others, the world would be a far less painful place.

Lilies

"...by desiring what is perfectly good, even when we don't quite know what it is and cannot do what we would, we are part of the divine power against evil -- widening the skirts of light and making the struggle with darkness narrower" (381). George Eliot, Middlemarch

These are the only lilies that survived long enough to bloom this year in my tiny 1 x 1 ft. square garden. People cut down or stepped on the others. It's difficult growing flowers here. But I keep trying.