First Day

First day of school for me and both girls. Leaving Grace in her new classroom in a new school was harder than I anticipated. Even spending the morning with Frances at her first day of preschool was a little heart-wrenching. I kept thinking about the trajectory of her educational life, just beginning. Had to have a good cry in the middle somewhere, God only knows what for. Shall I continue to hold onto the fear and nervousness I felt on my first day of school now? For God’s sake, I had my last day of school over sixteen years ago! Although Grace was great and expressed her nervousness openly, I recognized the look of anguish on her face as she said goodbye. I immediately went to that place with her, felt the feeling of what it’s like to say good bye to Mom in a strange new environment. But does it do her any good for me to go there with her? Doesn't it serve both of us a little better when I can separate the two? Somehow acknowledge her feelings, knowing from experience what it's like, but leave out the piece where I actually feel her pain? Because in that moment I know I'm not really being her mother. I am being her. And she doesn’t need that. She needs me.

Fires

The wildfires that are burning in the San Gabriel Mountains just north of us, are the closest we've ever had. There is a level of uncertainty and heightened awareness among the residents here. There have not been any evacuations in Pasadena, but yesterday they were evacuating people in the city of La Canada, which is just west of us. When I got up, the smoke outside the house was visible. Usually, when there are big fires in LA somewhere, there is a reddish glow to the air, and sometimes you will see a thin layer of ash on your car. But this was as if someone was having a mammoth barbecue next door. Large flakes of ash were everywhere. When Dave and I left the house a little later, there were gigantic plumes of smoke rising up out of the mountains just a few miles away. It was dramatic, and beautiful and unsettling. The temp was over 100 and it was so dry, wet clothes were practically stiff by the time I got them on the line. Low winds made the fight a little easier I guess, but when we went to bed, the fires were only 5% contained.

Today when I got up, I breathed a sigh of relief because the air seemed much less smoky. I couldn’t smell it. But when I looked up the hill I realized the fires were even closer, having crawled east and over the ridge last night. I learned from friends in Altadena that evacuations were starting to happen just up the hill. We swam in a friend's pool this afternoon who lives up there, right next to where the wilderness starts. We watched in amazement as 707s flew close, dipped and dropped fire retardant over our heads. The mountains are so steep it is hard for them to do as much as they would like from the ground. Our friend and all her neighbors were in the process of packing belongings into their cars. It's close now, and when we got home, we could see the flames from our front yard. Even from afar, they are mesmerizing and we saw a lot of cars at the top of Lake Avenue with people who just wanted to see it. It is disconcerting, but we feel safe down here. We are at least two miles from the edge of civilization, so for us, even a voluntary evacuation order is highly unlikely. Lucky for us the wind was blowing the other way today, so we got the dramatic views without a lot of pollution.

It’s exciting to watch, but I'll be glad when it's over!

Eve

It is the night before we leave

On yet another journey

Our bags have yet to be packed

Or the trash emptied

Oh at least I paid the bills

Friends came over today

And munched through the time

Allotted for preparations

And so I sit here now

Amidst piles of to do and ta da

But what it all boils down to

Is not how organized I am, but rather

If I am truly prepared for

Internal transportation of four bodies

In the car together six hours

So can we be free in our movement

Even have fun all the way

Exceed all the details that

eventually demoralize the senseless

Exchange of wide open windows

We are such a family

Us are really a group

Up goes all he gummy stuff

Ulcers stuck up in our wheels release

Unadulterated laughter

bandits

I got home from Trader Joe's with the girls one day last week to find the house had been burgled. I was alone with them that day so I kept my cool. I explained to them both what had happened, told them everything was okay, and managed to squelch my emotions (rage and sadness) until later. We were't supposed to touch anything until the police got there so after a couple of hours of waiting around, our dear babysitter came in on her day off to take the girls swimming. After going through the whole upside down mess with the police officer and then the forensics specialist, I shut the door behind the very kind gentlemen and, with the girls still out, I ran to my healing space/studio for an emergency breathing and meditation session. Within a couple of minutes I was feeling all that suppressed emotion bubbling up fast. In no time I was screaming, crying and finally laughing. I had to admit that I have been a victim before. I have certainly played the part a few times. The innocent victim. And on some levels I was. On some levels it was a random act. But I believe strongly, now more than ever, that life gives you what you ask for and somehow I'd been asking for this. I realized how lucky I was. I immediately saw the incident as a lesson. I need to take more responsibility for my property, my life, my money, the list goes on... I felt overwhelmed with gratitude that I had my loved ones and everyone was safe. I felt the clarity of 'nothing else matters.' They could have taken everything and it would have been fine. Who needs all that crap? I was brought face to face with said crap later on as I put it all back. Almost everything had been dumped on the floor. And I still felt grateful. For the opportunity to go through it all. To see what we have: A lot of stuff we don't really need. But more than that we have each other and I cared little for the things I was putting back into place.

I went to bed that night feeling really proud. Proud to have turned a negative experience around almost immediately. Proud for not getting my children sucked into a drama they didn't need. Proud that I actually felt lucky on the same day that I was robbed. I didn't even feel robbed. I felt like they took something of little value (my computer) and gave me something invaluable. Faith.

The Garden

I came back from Vermont to find my garden tall and flourishing. I couldn't believe it. We just got back from seven weeks away and I had planted seeds and seedlings right before we left with the hope, but no conviction, that everything would survive in my absence. I know that gardens need a lot of love and attention to do well and there I was, a novice gardener leaving my babies for most of the summer. I put in an automatic drip watering system, knowing I would be a fool to rely on subleters or neighbors to keep up with the watering. But I was not expecting much more than survival. What I saw when I rounded the corner of my studio to the garden behind it astounded me. Beds thick with tall green plants! The corn I planted from kernels was three feet tall and the tomatoes I put in a week before leaving had outgrown their wire supports and were spread out all over everything. The pumpkin plants were crawling over and out of the beds and through the fence, and there were other squashes and beans growing in and around them. In biodynamic farming they talk about creating mini-ecosystems by planting different compatible plants close together. I felt as though I was staring at that theory. Everything was growing on top of everything else and it all looked very happy. I tasted a few purple string beans and was not disappointed. They had more flavor than any bean I've ever tasted. And the little tomatoes packed a sweet juicy punch. Mother nature delivered, and I am thrilled and grateful that my garden did well in my absence. It gives me tremendous confidence in myself as a student of the earth.

The In Breath

The in breath

And the out

Pulling in

And pushing away

Arriving

And leaving again

Getting here is running in to water

Cold shock of wet face hands and feet

Breath stuck up in the lungs

Then a releasing, the thrill of rejuvenation

and the peace of the open sky

Just floating

And then the slow swim back to shore

The family there on the dock, getting larger

Anticipating the onslaught of attention

Breaking through my watery skin

Arriving into this place we call Vermont

Is a long and slow process

Opening to its paces

Its people

And who we become here

In our bags we bring bathing suits

And boots with last years mud

We bring high expectations

And shift ourselves to the new patterns

The play of the weather

and the way the day unfolds around it

On and off go the rain jackets

Somewhere in the middle is a pause

The breath neither in nor out

It feels like we live here, have always and will always

Live in tune with the endless hymn

That the trees, the water and the wind sing together

The sky is full of rushing clouds

But we are standing still

On the empty road, the open field

The lake, still as glass

Leaving is just as gradual but plays more abrupt

We avoid the calendar and refuse counting days

Until they are so few that our blinders stop working

Just two full days left

And by then the sadness is undeniable

And parts of us are all ready gone

Already traveling across the wide country we call our own

Landing in the dry desert city

we call our home

But until then we savor every rain drop

Every whistling breeze

Wishing we could take one last walk

Through waist high grass

The dark pine forest inviting, dripping

And the last cries of the loon

The good bye that knows us

And misses us

Now I take all this home

Pack it carefully in my heart

To carry with me wherever I walk

And unpack neatly folded words

wild dream

This is in reference to the eczema on my hands that has plagued me for more than a year and a half. (see "Tree Bark Hands") The dream was long and drawn out and had something to do with being at the center that my teacher works out of. I wasn't really there to see him but was only dropping things off. Then scorpions started coming out of my hands. They were emerging through my skin as tiny larvae or worms poking through my skin but as they passed through they grew into full size scorpions. It was painful and disgusting. I was squeamish and trying to knock them into a sink as they came out. I was being successful at knocking them off but it took everything I had to keep up with them. There were so many and they kept coming. Just as I was thinking, will this ever stop? it did. As it was happening I had this sense of it being very important and significant. I kept thinking, Scorpions coming out of my hands, this must mean something! It was so intense and I was sure it was the end of something. It felt like a final exodus of some inner demons. They weren't interested in attacking me as they came out and I didn't get stung. They seemed only to want to escape.
My hands have been healed ever since.