Saturday, August 13, 2016

Oh the places they are going---and my love follows.

“The amount that she loved 
us was beyond her reach. 
It could not be quantified or contained.
 It was the ten thousand named things in the Tao Te Ching’s universe and then ten thousand more.
 Her love was full-throated and all-encompassing and unadorned.
 Every day she blew through her entire reserve.” 
― Cheryl Strayed, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail

I don't think anyone can really quantify the depths of love a mother feels for her children.  Hell, it surprises me all the time.  I once heard it said, a mother can only be as happy as her saddest child.  I think there are parts of that statement that may be true.  
From the moment, they were placed in my arms after horrific C-section deliveries,  love---full-hearted love is all I've ever felt for them--even on the baddest of bad days.
Off color Girl with her woody woodpecker laugh and off color boy who stripped the moment he got home to his boxers because he was always hot (mainly because he could never sit still).
What joy my relationship with them has given me? What wonder I have experienced because of their eyes?
Flowers and shells and worms and trees
and
now 
each is out living their own little life in their own little space
and

I stand and look out to the horizon
and
whisper a prayer
for the 
wonder of the journey of motherhood
-how blessed am I-

so fly high little birds-fly high
I will always love you 
all day long
every day
to the moon and back.

happy ramblings....
the rambler



Saturday, May 21, 2016

it rises....

Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise
Maya Angelou

The sun rises every day--somewhere
rises above the horizon, passes the moon
who says good morning, 
good night says the sun
and
moves into place
providing light
for the world.
I watch it with yearning
wondering how it fathoms the energy every morning,
rain, or shine or snow or late night--
to move on up,
put forth it's glow and
radiate into the world.
I for one
envy that kind of constant rhythm
that kind of glow
that kind of knowing that
rising will take place

...
it takes so much
and
from where it comes
i don't know
to rise up every day...
move out
share my light
when all i feel inside is a mix of
despair and hopelessness
that wrestles with
my idealistic
belief that hope always floats up and
love always wins....
and whether it does--
depends on the time of day and
which part of me is winning the
on going wrestling match between
hope and hopelessness...

There are days

unlike the sun
that
i'd rather pull the covering over me
hold the light in for myself
and
hide...
but
like
the sun
I rise
to the
wonder of a new
day
and

put my foot out in faith
and
let
something
IT
faith
grace
rise up
and hold me up....
and like the sun
that amazes
me..
some days
as I put
my weary soul to rest...
I look back
do
my inventory
and
think
wow...
still I rise.....
Good night moon...
see you in the morning...

and close my eyes to another day....having risen to meet the moon.



Saturday, January 23, 2016

Making Meaning....Live the Dash well....

“Maybe we are all broken pieces from God, 
trying to become whole once more.” ― Urbanky Aurel Petru

It has been awhile since I've written...
I guess 
if I am honest,
the words have been stuck
stuck inside
swirling around
bouncing off
my insides like they were trapped inside
a tin can 
pricking me
words
without 
meaning
just words
holding me together
thinking
wondering
pondering
and 
trying to
dig meaning 
from the fragments of my whole.

Just words

and 
so 
here I go
radical rambler I am
beginning to trust 
that my words
need a home
....
and
..
so
the
.
rambling
my rambling
my thinking and digging and searching 
for meaning
begins
to pour out of my fast typing fingers again

I never know where it will lead
what will 
be birthed as I call it
but
...
i will trust
..
that my 
words 
have meaning
if not just for me
my insides
are all bruised
from the bombardment of
thoughts and
formations
and 
thinking
......

A former colleague who I considered a friend
passed away last month
he was much younger (about 10 years or so) than me
his children are young
beautiful girls that made his face and heart sing and dance when he spoke of them
...
I did not see him often
but
I listened on the day he passed away
to 
all the lives he touched
in all kinds of ways and I was touched by the many ways he made life better for so many people

He was kind
warm
open
...
he hugged
everyone he met
touched them
took them up into his arms
and
held them
made them (me)
feel like I was the most important
person in the world
and that I was his best friend
every single time I met him...
seems he did that for everyone.

He was a young stud when I first met him
and
me with two young babies and a husband
would listen to his adventures 
and
just laugh as 
he entertained me
with his escapades of bachelor life.
....
He taught me how to work crosswords and told me
about how his dad taught him...
I'd work the daily New York Times in pencil...
and
when I'd done all I could 
he'd sit down with a pen--do what I could not do--really quickly
and
fix all my wrong answers.
he bought me diet mountain dew when I was having a bad night
and
he made me laugh...

Later in life as he met his wife and had his girls...
every time I met him
he asked 
about my family by name
and
he smiled
smiled the minute he saw me
and
opened his arms to one of those amazing hugs.

.....
We celebrated his life last week
on a day that 
was hard for me
.....
And He made me laugh again
with stories of his life
the way he collected weird peoples names
and
how he loved to scare people

He reminded me that
we offer our gifts to the world
and 
I listened as 
his boss spoke of 
his calm spirit and his dedication to doing a good job.
....
He loved and he lived well and I sat with 30 people who worked with him and
their stories were rich..
and
I ponder...about that dash--

the 
dash
between
when we are born
and
when we die.

Life It really is about all that stuff that happens in between
that little dash.
...
If at the end of my time
I hope my dash
has meaning
that I've lived 
well
that I've loved
that
I've inspired
.....

May we all
live life 
deeply and fully
like
my friend....

and
may
all the pieces of our lives
broken 
as they seem sometimes
come
together into a 
beautiful 
picture 
that
provide
light
and
color
and
laughter
and
love
...
yes
most of all love
...
to all we meet.

The dash is short
may we live it well
said
the radical rambler on 
this early Saturday morning.

May it be so...

Be safe on this snowy day...
the radical rambler.


Monday, July 13, 2015

A Little Love and Tenderness......

“It was odd, (Tessa thought), what brought out tenderness in people.” 
― Cassandra ClareClockwork Angel

She sat there in her protective shell like exterior---softness all underneath that she only allows just a few to catch a glimmer of from time to time
and
she told me
a tale
her tale
of 
captured tenderness
and
I welled up
choked up
sat there all caught up in the wonder of our connected lives
and
now 
I smile---at the depth of us humans who sometimes
somehow 
channel our love
our gentleness
our tenderness if you will
into 
tiny little slivers of God's love.....

Her grandmother
old and tired
and
all ready for both her birthday--around 90
and 
her return day--her return to love----
....
She found herself 
the victim of a stroke
but 
yet
all wrapped up in that body that would not work any more
was a woman of strength
and 
stubbornness.
Granddaughter tells me of her grandmothers birthday...
about how she wasn't allowed to have that 
Pepsi
but she insisted that she could swallow
and
about a nurse
who found out 
her grandmother loved cantaloupe began the preparations for the
last supper of sorts



 they stood in the sacredness of time
one last time
all bound up in their love for each other
and while
I never met the grandmother
I have a vision that the 
young woman I starred out 
was the new embodiment of her namesake

around hospital bed
among iv and the pink fluffy blankent
stood two women
ages apart
but
love bound through time
stood
for a sacred meal of sort
a communion of the Holy Kind
the fizz of a cold Pepsi over ice
and
the smell
of fruit drifting in the air

The priest of sort--priestess---nurse as I see her
went to the 
lunchbox 
and
shared 
from her bowl
slivers of orange cool crispness
and
in a prayerful manner
smushed up the sacredness of fruit of the earth
swirled it around, mixed it in a pray-like way---birthday treat for her last birthday ever---
I imagine the Tupperware and fork----sacred vessels ---
hands mixing and crushing
and
see the gentleness of a young nurse
a priestess of healing and giver of
the sacraments---
intimate moment shared
granddaughter rubbing on arms and staring into eyes
and
lifting up a fizzing communion of Pepsi
while
the 
tender nurse moves over
no words said
only 
love drifting around the bed
around the two women-
separated by generations
but 
held together by name and love and heart
.....
Love
moved through the air
and
in the moment
of 
silent 
communion
.....
Tender mercy and kindness 
and
love of all kinds
swirled
around 
the
bed of a dying woman about to enter freedom once again
.....
sacred ceremony
last supper
communion with and for saints
all
in a
tiny little sliver of
time

....
Love
that knows
no 
beginning
and 
no end
only
hearts
that 
are connected forever
......

Thankful for the sharing of the story
for the tenderness of a priestess nurse
and
for the 
wonder of a granddaughter
with great memories
of one last sacred communion.

May the Mystery
wrap around 
my friend
and
bless 
the little 
nurse 
who 
cared enough
to 
be the bearer of sacred smushed up orange fruit 

served with
heart filled with 
tenderness
.............

thankful 
for 
being the receiver of this story
and
for being given permission
to share

May your grandmothers
strength
and
stubbornness
live on in you.


and 
may all of us
dare 
to 
live
out
moments of tenderness
as they come

blessings...

the radical rambler.....

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

living unshelled....


“A creature that hides and “withdraws into its shell,” is preparing a “way out.” 
This is true of the entire scale of metaphors, from the resurrection of a [person] in [a] grave, to the sudden outburst of one who has long been silent. If we remain at the heart of the image under consideration, we have the impression that, by staying in the motionlessness of its shell, the creature is preparing temporal explosions, not to say whirlwinds, of being.” 
― Gaston BachelardThe Poetics of Space


I have always been a watcher of sorts, eyes wide open, rest of me pulled up, curled up, hidden underneath the exterior shell of just being.
I watch life, watch interactions, analyze my place in the world and wonder...
wonder what happens
when and if 
I trust 
enough
to allow 
those around
to see me,
feel me,
know me,
in all 
my many multiple layers
of 
"being"
underneath the shell.

I'm an assortment of questions--
wanderings and ponderings about life
questions intersecting
with 
why, how, hum
moments
interwoven with
heart beats
connected to 
something so much bigger
wondering constantly 
how 
we humans connect
what the meaning of life
 may be
and 
why
why my heart aches to know
children have no food,
older folks who work hard
still struggle
why we people
strange as we are
somehow 
break down each other rather than build up community.

I watch
eyes open
from underneath
my shell
I gather energy
ideas
sparked by love
and
find meaning
meaning for life and people and world

energy builds as I watch
all curled up
hunkered down
in my protective 
cover
and
yet

my heart pulls me forward
and
I feel it happening
i find myself
daring
to 
pull back the cover
of my little shell
and
allow my 
heart 
to 
beat
unprotected in the world
without 
fear of rejection
or 
laughter
or 
judgement

unshelled
I am
learning 
to 
be
....
simply 
me
....

said 
the 
radical rambler 
as 
she rambles.

blessings...
go on out and be.....
a great day!
the radical rambler.

Sunday, March 22, 2015

The bridge to somewhere....

"My brokenness is a better bridge for people than my pretend wholeness ever was." 
— Sheila Walsh

I wondered as I walked,
was my fear of staying where I was
bigger then my fear of "what if"...
I looked into the distance
all the while feeling the quiver and quake of my heart...
I'd traveled on this lonely journey for a long time
I was tired, dirty, worn
when
I

came to a bridge
between
here ...here where I stood
and
there...there in the distance
to a road
leading
to somewhere 
I wasn't sure of...
It looked scary
to go over
stream 
and
plank
and
brokenness
....
what if 
I did not make it
...
I knew what was behind me
pain
sorrow
fear
all that that had propelled me forward...
I stood
pulling up
all that I could 
from Mother Earth,
Father Time,
and Brother Sun...
I could feel the shift
the shift inside 
me
could feel the pull
the pull to put
one foot carefully 
in front of the other
and
risk
crossing to the other side.

I did
and
moment by moment
I connect to something
that feels like a gravitational pull
beckoning me forward
into 
Light
into Love
into 
fullness of life
....
The broken bridge
that overtook my fear.
That
that 
was my first step....

that was the day
the day I chose
 the bridge to somewhere
rather than the home of fear.



the radical rambler.............

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

opened up

“My heart's been torn wide open,
 just like I feared it would be,
 and I have no willpower to close it back up.” 
                                                            ― Marie LuChampion

I have not written in a very long time
fear of looking at 
the emotions inside of me
caused
me to 
hunker down
hole up
and
pull the shades around my heart and mind 
tight
all closed up
in a protective shell


life
living it
hurt too bad
darkness loomed
rain and storms pelted my outer shell

there I
rested---absorbed in my own little world with my own little troubles
wallowed all over and over again 
in 
the pain so severe I could not name it--let alone claim it----
.....
Storms tossed and turned
slammed me
rolled me over 
pulled me back to sea
but
something 
beyond myself
beyond my understanding 
beyond anything I can fathom in my humanoid way of thinking
IT met me
me in 
 my little world blown apart kind of  life
pulled me
protected me
wouldn't let go or give up on me
rescued me  

Drowning in sorrow and strangling on my tears
feeling alone
a Mystery of sort
enfolded me
holed up me
existing 
in my protective coating me
wrapped around 
and claimed 
me--my value-my gift--my--me

The sunshine dried my outer coating
my arms tired from
the weight of holding 
the shells together
began to 
relax just a bit
and
when i let go
just enough
to allow a small sliver of light and love 
to slip inside of my darkness
my world shifted....

Love
IT
embraced me
pulled me up
opened 
my heart spaces
scarred,
wounded, 
some would say--raw and exposed
but yet still beating little heart,
IT
opened those little
tiny spaces that I tried to seal over
closed up
shelled up me
opened me
heart all wrapped in pain
to love
and
that something
IT
amazing Love 
rescued 
me....hunkered down, holed up, mixed up, torn apart me...

never be put together the same again  me
but 
yet 
live
rescued little me
lives

how?
I don't know
Why 
does it matter?

opened heart space
LIFE
i am 
Here

opened up
and
alive....

Thanks be to IT!!!  Amen