Birthday

Leaning over the sink, I was crying and making food for a celebration of the birth of my youngest daughter Frances, who is three today. The tears were just flowing freely on the wave of emotion that was pressing up and out from my chest and throat, instigated by a favorite song, while I cut through plump strawberries and Dave busily cooked up a storm all around me. The girls were in the next room enjoying the treat of a weekend movie, and I was overcome with joy just thinking about her birth and what a gift she is. Three years old and she is the funniest person I know. The moment that was coming back to me as I sliced fruit for the party that would start very shortly was the moment when I first held her, immediately after she left my body and entered the world. "Remember how beautiful she was?" I asked Dave, my face wet and smiling. "Yup" he answered, throwing sliced scallion onto a pizza he was designing. I fell into the vivid memory of her beginning. She was stunning. She was so full of being herself. The most amazing thing about watching children grow into themselves is the fact that they are who they are from the moment they are born. Life is just a process of growing into who we really are. Who we have always been. That's it.

Back to the Garden

So I was driving along the freeway in Los Angeles where I live, and amidst all the concrete I was thinking about lack. The lack of green around me. Then I noticed all the trees along the sides of the road and some huge Eucalyptus that I have always loved, came into view. I was thinking about my garden and how excited I was to plant it and also afraid because I have always thought I lacked a "green thumb." But I took the plunge and planted a garden last spring and was thrilled to watch it grow and produce food. I planted it with a lot of intention of becoming an urban farmer who grows and trades produce with her neighbors. But instead I found myself looking at the many bean and squash plants that never really made it, like a failure. I wasn't looking at the corn that had grown or the tomatoes that were exploding around me, I was just looking at the things that were dying or dead. (My attraction to morbidity follows me everywhere.) I was worried that the corn wasn't getting enough sun because the plants weren't tall. I had aphids.

Finally it dawned on me that all was well in the garden. A friend had drummed it into my head that "your garden is a reflection of you," and I realized that if I was fine, so was my garden. The point is to be with it, wherever it is. To be with the ones that are dying and to recognize that as part of learning and part of life. The feeling of something lacking disappeared as I decided to be grateful for the plants that are flourishing. But most of all to see it for what it is, to appreciate what it has taught me and to make changes accordingly. Plant the corn on the other side next year, and give the pumpkins more room, for instance. But mostly just be with what is. As long as there is growth, nothing is lacking. This morning for breakfast I had a bowl of tomatoes with basil from the garden. MMmmmmm! Thank you garden!!

Spider rhyme

Now I have a pet spider

I guess she belongs to me

She was laying on cement

Under my favorite tree

At first I was afraid

And poked her with a stick

Then tried to pick her up

When her legs started to kick

I knew that she was gone

It must be a reflex

I took her in my studio

And laid her on my desk

I drew her with a pencil

Dark shadows made her fierce

Immortalized her body

On paper it was pierced

A week later when I touched her

Her legs moved again!

And again I reasoned reflexes

And put away my pen

But tonight I flipped her over

To draw her corpse once more

And this time it was clear

She had yet to cross death’s door

When right side up she is still

Appears to be dead as can be

But when she’s on her back

Her life is plain to see

Can a spider last this long?

Can she go for days and days

Without water to sustain her

Or flies caught in her maze?

Perhaps I’m a chosen witness

To her last days of life

As I have been to others

Into death I am midwife

She moves her legs in rhythm

In sleepy peaceful time

And I watch her in this place

And carry her with this rhyme

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.