Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Ocean Moon

So one night a few weeks ago, after going for a nightswim, I was walking my dog Griffin, and I looked up and saw, this most perfect moon, clouded by purple, blue and green...like a moon diving in the ocean. And I just had a feeling, for a moment, that my mother was up there, hanging out with Janis Joplin and her best friend Diane and
watching me...or dancing with me...she always liked to dance, sometimes in the kitchen, sometimes in a rainstorm and sometimes while doing laundry. But lately, I've been flooded with a lot of memories about her, and it's funny, death, that it makes you think about all of the other people in your life as well, some who stay for awhile, and some who you meet for maybe a few brief moments, but have a huge impact on your life. I met one of those lately, I don't even think he realized it...I guess I meet them all the time and maybe I don't even realize it. And so, I feel as if I've been trying to find someone who will give it all meaning, but instead I think maybe, I'm supposed to just continue traveling on this train, meeting people, sharing with them, enjoying them and taking a small part of them and passing along a small part of myself along the way. I don't know, but it makes a lot more sense to me, than having one or two people complete everything I'm supposed to know. My mother was one of those people. I'm leaving for Tennessee, tonight, a little jealous that my friends left 12 hours ago and are already in the water, in the sun, but we are on different schedules. And as I'm packing, I'm wondering...who will I meet? What will I see. Maybe another ocean moon...

Monday, July 28, 2008

Suicide Birds and Seahorses

Hmmmm....where should I start...well, I guess at the beginning...I'm not even sure that I understand the purpose of this, but I know eventually it will find me. Let's start, Halloween, 2007. Unsatisfied, unfulfilled with my life, I sat on the porch in the Smokey Mountains at 2:30 a.m. with a friend discussing that I was nearing 40, and I didn't feel as if I knew what I was supposed to be doing, or better yet, wasn't doing what I felt I should be doing anymore, but I didn't even know what that was I guess. My friend, a very wise, yet unfulfilled 57 year old, sat back, stared right into my eyes and said, "Don't wait until you're 57 and you're husband sits on the couch all day watching CNN news." It was the moment in Thelma and Louise when Thelma can no longer go back, those words released me. And I could not go back. Within the next few months, I left a seven year relationship, which at times, I am unsure was the correct decision, resigned from a job I had been with for 12 years and began writing a book. And then not one book, but two and now three. Oh, did I mention I'm a recovering addict and as such, I can't limit myself to any one thing. And then, my mother became extremely ill and was in the hospital until May 14th, when she passed away. And driving away from the hospital that night, Bob Dylan singing "Shelter From the Storm" through my speakers, a bird swooped down and dove directly in front of my car. A suicide bird, I thought. But why would they take such a risk. For the excitement, for the test, the chance that maybe they would make it to the other side and maybe they wouldn't? Could these small creatures really be that wise. Swallow Sage? And maybe, we were all suicide birds, putting ourselves in risky situations, or taking chances to feel for one small moment that we were truly alive. And that's how it began for me, through all this crap that has happened, although I've always known it served a purpose, I've begun my own nosedive in front of cars on the interstate late at night. It started with dedicating one year of my life to living freely, taking chances, going where I wanted to go and not being afraid to meet new people. But now I think, maybe this is the way it's supposed to be for me. Maybe I'm not supposed to sit like a bird on a wire, waiting for winter to fly south. Maybe, I'm supposed to fly south now, or tomorrow. But nothing makes sense and everything makes sense, all at once. Suddenly. And I don't question anymore. Or at least I try not to. Haha...I'm not that arrogant. And one thing I know, is that the magic still exists in me, and that is part of my journey, to forever stay four, wading through the creek behind our house, watching the sunlight hit the moss on the rocks, or seven, my mom and I checking out twenty books each at the library, or nine, and still now, believing that somewhere, way down beneath the still waters of St. Barts or off the coast of Tulum, live sea horses who sport bright red top hats and sing Sinatra's "Fly Me to the Moon"...at least I hope...I hope they do...