Counting moments

These days I am considering my life as a child, remembering in my bones, remembering in my sinews.  As I watch blue jays in the back yard, I remember my first or second blue jay, a wonder of a bird.  There are wonders still to be unpacked from my past.  I return to counting my age in days.

I return to counting my age

The way every small child does.

I am

Fifty-nine and a third

Plus two days.

Each moment counts,

Doncha know,

Each moment counts.

I count mine.

If I were you

There's something about keeping a long-standing appointment, even when it has been cancelled, even when it has morphed into a cup of coffee in my favorite chair.

If I were you,

Which of course I’m not,

If I were you

These are the questions

I would ask me.

If I were you.

Instead

I sit in this hour

In the blue chair.

I do not sit

With you.

I ask my own questions,

Even have an answer or two.

I watch the birds

In the backyard.

The cat prowls

The living room.

Soon I leave to meet

With the client I told

I have a long-standing appointment

At 9 A.M.

Every Wednesday morning.

I will see him

At 11.

Soft blanket, blue

I had my first known seizure before Christmas 2010.  When the family asked what I wanted for Christmas I asked for "soft things."  They gave me a soft navy blue blanket and a soft hippo puppet.  My therapist has soft red pillows.  It's amazing to discover such anchors, to realize "soft things" bring me home.

Perhaps I have done enough

Of looking back

For now,

Integrated enough

To move on

To the one next thing.

There is always

The soft blanket,

Blue.

It will bring me back

Any time I need

Any time I want

Any time

I lose track

Of who I was

The soft blanket

Blue

It can carry me home

Only then to move on

To the one next thing.

I still look to see

It is rather odd to post things to a daily blog, to an unseen, mostly unheard from, audience.  Some days I am most popular in Russia.

I still look to see

How many hits I got

Today,

Whether I am more popular

In the US

Russia

Or the Ukraine

As if it really matters

Even though

It doesn’t really matter.

Still I am curious

Who is looking

And from where.

Waxwings

Maybe I should have called this Airplanes or O'Hare.  Or Homage to Bensenville.  Still... I'd rather pay attention to the waxwings, even if they're only in the distance, between airplanes.

We hear the waxwings

In the distance.

They mingle with the airplanes

Coming in to land

On the runway built

On the O’Hare expansion.

It demolished an entire neighborhood.

We saw it die

One house uninhabited

At a time,

Until the neighborhood

Went completely dark.

Now the airplanes

Begin their braking

Over our house.

We still hear the waxwings

In between airplanes.

Blue jays

I remembered blue jays as primarily grey-blue.  With their disappearance due to the West Nile virus, I had forgotten what stunning birds they really are: grey-blue, yes, but light blue too, with white and black.  Up close they offer much more contrast than I remember.  A pair landed in the backyard, picking seeds next to the garage bushes.  Are those a male and female? I asked my beloved.  To us they look the same, he said, but probably they can tell the difference.

We assumed they left

Down the West Nile… but no.

Or maybe they merely

Took a very long trip.

Sometimes the best therapy

Enough said.

Sometimes the best therapy

Happens at night

Under covers

Of sheet and blanket,

My beloved, sound asleep,

Next to me,

And the large grey cat:

He sometimes deigns

To grace our bed,

Occasionally speaks

In the words of his people.

Sometimes the best therapy

Happens at night.

One world at a time

More Nora Gallagher.  This time from Things Seen and Unseen.  There is plenty to do, to contemplate, to figure out, to experience, in this world before moving on to the next.

When asked what he thought

Of the afterlife

Thoreau was heard to say

One world at a time.

One world is enough

For any of us

To imagine,

To contemplate,

Even sometimes

To bear

Without going on

To the next one

Before its time.

One world at a time.

Now is the time

For this one.

This space

Sometimes a space is more than a space.  Sometimes something is holy, not by anything we do or say, but really only because God has chosen to inhabit it boldly.

I write this for you

My client who is not here  

Today.

I write this for you

My therapist who is also

Not here

And never will be.

I write this for me

For all who have been here,

For all who will be here,

For me who sits

Calm and quiet in this space

I have made;

In this space

I have loaned.

This space

Is more than an office.

This space

Holds so much more

Than I can name.

I write this for all

Who share it

And even for all

Who won’t.

It cooled enough

It's amazing what difference a weather change makes.  Opening the doors and windows to the outside world, even listening to distant traffic noises, helps me feel connected to the world, to consider what's next, and then, only then, what's next again.

It cooled enough

To turn off the artificial air,

Open the windows and doors,

Listen to the outside sounds,

Consider again the birds

In the backyard,

Listen to the distant cars

On the Elgin-O’Hare

Which goes neither

To Elgin

Nor to the airport

Instead it offers

A convenient shortcut

To the doctor’s office

In Hanover Park.

It cooled enough

To consider what’s next,

And then,

What’s next again.

Crises

So many crises... some of them mine. Even last night's dreams had me flowing from crisis to crisis.  I am grateful for coffee and breathing and beginning again.

It is only Tuesday

Ten or twenty crises

Have arisen,

Been vanquished

This week alone.

Who knows what tomorrow

Will bring?

I am so grateful

That the dreams last night

Were only dreams.

I sit in recovery

Coffee in hand

I marvel at the fact

I am alive.

I breathe in,

Exhale,

Begin again.

Whoa

Perhaps I should title this "Challenge."  Whoa seems more true.  This is not my challenge.  These are not my regrets.  I have broken many rules, and sent many regrets.  I am grateful for the times I was not caught.  I remember sitting in my mother's living room, me, a divorced mother of one. She named for all to hear how, as a child,  I always owned up to what I did wrong.  She used an example which I vividly remember was a lie, a creative lie, but a lie nonetheless.  I confessed, to the entire family's surprise.  I admit... I rather enjoyed the surprise.  I got away with a lot growing up, at least I think I got away with a lot.  This side of parenting, maybe they knew a lot of it all along.

Whoa. A new challenge.

Regrets must be sent today

For some rules broken.

Quiz

My daughter has chosen a college with perfect weather.

I took another

Of the multitudinous quizzes

On social media

This morning.

Apparently the one place

In the country

With perfect weather

For me.

Is Denver, Colorado.

I must be channeling

My daughter.

Or maybe she

Is channeling

Me.

We will drive 14 hours

To Denver

At the end of August

Drop her off

In perfect weather.

Acceptance

Our brain is a funny thing.  It is wired for survival.  Sometimes we need to work at re-wiring.  Saber-toothed tigers, after all, do not wait around the corner these days.  Our brain is an interesting thing.  It is also wired to learn new things, see new possibilities.

I sit with a client

She feels rejected

By the world.

I wait for her

To feel rejected

By me.

I imagine it will come.

Like me

She wants to learn

How acceptance

Lurks in the bushes,

How acceptance

Lives next door,

How acceptance

May even be found

In the cereal aisle

Of the grocery store.

Like me

She wants to learn

To find the places

Acceptance hides.

Early enough

A hummingbird AND a tree full of cedar waxwings.  Who knew there would be such a reward for getting up early this morning?

I got up early enough

To witness the hummingbird

In the bee balm,

My first hummingbird

Of the year.

Then

As if to say

See what you miss

By sleeping later

The mountain ash filled

Momentarily

With cedar waxwings.

Now there is one lone robin

At the very top

Of the mountain ash.

He is

Silent in the sun.

Some mornings I wake up as a child

I believe all of us live with a small child inside of us.  Sometimes she wakes up and demands attention.

Some mornings I wake up

As a child

Surreptitiously

Seek approval,

Perhaps a pat

On the head,

Or simple reassurance

That everything

Will be fine.

This child wears

Black patent leather shoes

Frilly white anklets

A lavender checked dress

With smocking,

She has her hair cut

Pixie style.

She is three.

Some mornings I wake up

The child wakes with me

Simply

Demands attention.

Change

I could just as easily titled this Clouds.  Or Sun.  Today, though, the weather feels metaphorical of life.  So Change it is.

The sky was completely blue

This morning

Early.

It has now returned

To clouds

Then sun

Then clouds

Then sun.

The cat is hopeful

The sun will answer

His morning sun needs.

Now clouds again

With hope of sun

Momentarily.

Now sun.

Now
Clouds

Closure

This therapy thing is interesting.  A lot of attention is paid to "ending well."  This is, ostensibly, for the client.

I found myself hoping

For a last session

Or two.

Now I wonder

Who is closure for?

Who really

Is closure for?

Who is the closer?

Who is the closee?

In paid relationships

Such as this

Where is that boundary

Crossed?

So much promise

I see bee balm next to thistles.  My backyard is not exactly orderly.  Neither, I think, is the Kingdom in which we live.  I am grateful to Robin Currie for her sermon yesterday on the Sower and the Seed.

Rain is promised

For this week

Yet sun still appears

In patches

For short moments

Then disappears

So the promise

May be fulfilled.

I understand

The corn grows higher

This year

In the fields

Of southern Illinois.

My backyard entertains

Bee balm

Next to thistles

So many seeds sown

So much growth

So much rain

So much sun

So much promise.

Umbrella

We wait for our daughter's return from camp.  She will surely have opinions on the umbrella color and style.

In between rains

We assemble the patio furniture

Just to show

We can do it

Without her direction.

Now we await her input

On the umbrella

The color

The style

Anchored in cement

Free standing.

Again

We are in between rains.

We await her return

For input

On the umbrella.

Choices

I had lunch this week with a potential colleague.  Every such encounter offers me options, choices, if I allow them.  Every encounter with every person we meet offers options, choices as well.  Way open, way closed.  Options.  Choices.  A veritable cornucopia of possibilities.  Some of them are mine.

I have options

She said

Before she left my office

And moved out again

Into the world.

I have options too,

More than I have named

Until now.

Every choice I make

Opens up the possibility

Of something new.

I delight

In helping people

Find the connections

They need

To take their next steps,

To see

They have options

Like me

Like the woman

Who left my office

To move

Back out

Into the world.

Useful

Several interesting conversations this week.  My trainer asked me if I keep a daily journal of my medical symptoms.  I told her I blog... but the blog is way more than medical.  I found myself naming, to a fellow therapist, that part of my vocation has always been to apply for positions I knew would not consider me a viable candidate due to my gender and/or political position.  I have delighted in the interviews, and sometimes...rarely... but sometimes... I have been called.

This week I realized

Part of my vocation

Is to apply for positions

Which may never

Consider me a match.

Still

All the information,

All the experience

I have accumulated

Is useful

Somehow,

Has been useful

Somehow,

Will be useful

Somehow.

And somehow

I know this is true.

Do you keep a journal?

She asks.

I know she thinks particularly

About medical things.

Yes

I say

I blog.

Yet

Medical things are really only

A small piece

Of the whole.

Bright pink

Amazing to me what brings back memories.  Sometimes it's just a particular color.

Bee balm

Bright pink as the color

Of my favorite summer dress

Age 6.

I wore it

To the San Diego Zoo.

I remember the tigers

The California cousins

My bright pink dress

Just like the bee balm blooming

Next to the backyard fountain

With two children

Holding an umbrella.

The backyard fountain,

Now a planter

With marigolds and celosia,

Even amaranthus

And next to it,

Blooming,

Bright pink bee balm

The exact same color

As my favorite summer dress

Age 6.

You must read this book

Thank you, Martha Durham, for recommending Nora Gallagher's Moonlight Sonata at the Mayo Clinic.  I finished it on Monday, recommended it to a client yesterday, and dreamed about it last night.

You must read this book

She said

I know you will understand.

So I did

Though I got stuck

In chapter one

On two stated facts

Which were not true,

Stuck for three days

Until I decided it was time

To move on

To chapter two,

And get with the story.

This morning I dreamed

I went to the Mayo Clinic

They allowed patients

To fly small planes

While they awaited

Test results.

You must read this book

She said.

I did.

I sat with a client yesterday

You might

Want to read this book

I said

Watch out for the two wrong statements

At the beginning.

The rest

Is true to life.

Off-ness

Everyone else, it seems, took the holiday weekend off.  Me?  I am taking today off.

I take today off

To pay attention to

My off-ness.

She sings upstairs

We will miss the singing.  Still, she will arrive to sing again.

This

The summer before she leaves

For college,

She sings upstairs

Before she leaves

For one more week

Of camp,

Only to return again

This Friday

To sing upstairs

And leave

And arrive

To sing again,

And leave

And arrive

And sing.

Witness

This is for Nate and Lauren.  This is for Lauren and Nate.  It is my honor and privilege to witness your marriage.

Today

I am privileged

To witness

The wedding of a couple

Who have thought through

And executed

More particulars

Than most every couple

I have known.

Today I will offer some words

But I know

No mere words

Will cover it.

Today I will sign

The certificate

And mail it off

To the State,

Still,

The certificate

Won’t cover it either.

Today it will take

All of us

To witness,

All of us,

All the promises

We can make

And then some,

And then some more.

Independence Day

Wedding rehearsal last night.  Wow.  One of the best rehearsals I have ever participated in.  Wonderful assistance by May Anstee and Rinda Allison (DOK), and a bride and groom who thought through so many particulars.  Stunning.  

There can be no independence

Without interdependence.

I see this

No matter that we missed

The fireworks

Last night.

There can be no independence

Without interdependence.

I see this

As I remember yesterday’s

Wedding rehearsal

And think about

The wedding tomorrow,

The sermon I will preach

From the middle of things

Without notes

Because it takes all of us

All the time

Looking each other

Eye to eye,

Hearing each other

Ear to ear

Holding each other

In love,

Holding each other

Accountable,

Holding each other

Just to hold each other

Beloved.

Wedding rehearsal

I wait for the rehearsal this afternoon. The wedding itself is Saturday afternoon.  I have a parade of wedding memories, some of which bear repeating... some not.

All the clergy

Are out of town

For the weekend

Except for me

So this one is mine.

I wear a collar

To remind myself

This is part of what

I am ordained

To do.

I remember past rehearsals.

I have a thirty year collection

Of stories.

We all do,

The ones who vacation

And me.

We all do.

This one, however,

Is mine.

Team

Teamwork.  It takes all of us.

I read him poems.

He reads Monty Python quotes.

We are quite the team.

What a guy!

Feeling loved and cared for by my beloved.  What a guy!

What a guy!

He drove me to therapy,

Sat and graded papers

In the car.

What a guy!

He took me to work out,

Slept in the car

Facing the pond.

What a guy!

Half asleep

He saw my father,

Now dead,

Looking at him,

Silent as he always was,

Promised him he would continue

To take care of me.

What a guy!

Even asleep

He has my back.