Well, I didn’t get to go home yesterday.
I’m going to have to wait out the weekend.
But something magical happened for us.
My nurse and Jim’s nurse got it together so we could FaceTime.
It was so great to see him. He actually looked pretty good.
Still struggling with his breath, however.
This happened at about 1:30 in the afternoon.
And I just cannot even express how peaceful and calm and wonderful I felt the rest of the day.
Journal Entry 8.2.24
Today I was to be starting year 21 of my teaching life -- my planned final year.
Life has had other plans for me, and as the summer ends for all my teacher friends, today I feel it's beginning for me.
My accident, injuries, and Jim's health have been all-consuming. I've watched as friends took magnificent trips to the top of the Andes in Peru to zip-lining in Puerto Rico. The idea of any of these things seems far away and unrelatable to me right now.
As does teaching. Simply no way my brain can go there.
Today, however, still promotes an inner shift. I looked back at a quote I had saved in my photos for inspiration, and came upon this:
It's rare to hear the name Wayne Dyer these days, but there was a time he was everywhere. His popular psychology was easy to understand and he was personable and approachable. He produced books and appeared on Oprah and had his own shows on PBS stations. He was a friend of my minister when I was attending Unity of Greater Cleveland, and he spoke to our congregation more than once. I have two books autographed by him: Real Magic and Your Sacred Self. These books were guides for me in my late thirties.
Today I got curious about something I remembered I found highly inspiring and life-altering in one of his books. Back in the day, I had returned to it over and over again. I couldn't recall exactly what it was, but it was easy to find because I had kept a bookmark on the page, the number being circled and the quote highlighted:
The secret to changing your life is in your intention. (Real Magic p. 76)
When I read this over thirty years ago, I remember how it transformed my view of what was possible -- and how it is always up to me to make the most of any situation.
For weeks now -- probably months -- I have not thought much about my intentions for myself -- at least not in those terms. I've let Jim's health and other circumstances run the engine. If I had any intentions, it was related to teaching and how I was going to address the course I've responsible for teaching in a new way. As of now, that's not happening.
But I have not replaced with any other intentions. When teaching was ripped away, I had no replacement.
Today I realize it's time to think beyond the immediate. I'm in a place in my healing that I feel it's possible.
I've said over and over these past few weeks that everything feels like a big question mark. Now I think that perhaps with considering what my real intention might be, I can move away from question marks a to periods, or maybe even exclamation points. Wouldn't that be something!!!
I know I cannot rush my healing. I know I cannot predict what will happen with Jim. But I feel there is some kind of intention I can put into place that will empower me a bit.
It has to be just right, because times are tender. I don't know what it is yet.
My intention is to find out. And as the quote above says, I need to do it in the context of what life currently is. That is the only way I can do this in a way that will bring peace.
I grew up in an era of political violence. I was all of 8-years-old when John Kennedy was assassinated that Friday in Dallas. The entire country was in shock, and I remember well the days that followed, the additional murder of Lee Harvey Oswald, the adult conversations, the televised funeral. Dark, dark days.
It was quiet for a while, but then came Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy in rapid succession. I was a 7th grader then, but it still made no sense.
In between all of that had been the rise of the hippie culture and the Summer of Love (1967). These things caught my attention and has never let me go. It was in the music and culture. It was part of everything. I still believe in the values I grabbed onto at age 12, and I don't see any reason to give them up. They define me now, even at age 68.
Now there has been an act of political violence once again. The target is someone I disagree with on every level. But to me violence is violence and is not warranted. It solves nothing.
I still believe love does solve everything. This is not airy-fairy because love is HARD.
Today I was reminded of a song that was out during the summer of 1969 -- "Get Together' by The Youngbloods. It begins:
After the era of violence and unrest in the 1960s, we ended up with a "reset" of sorts. The Youngbloods' song was the anthem for what we needed to do. That summer we had the long-awaited moon landing and three days of peace and love at Woodstock. I was entering high school.
Everything felt possible.
This country needs a reset. The sooner the better. We have never been so far off. We are running on fear and threats of violence and whats-in-it-for-me.
Worst of all, some people are united by hate. How is that a way to live? How does that contribute anything positive to the American Experiment?
In the second verse of the song, we hear:
Today is a dark, gloomy, rainy day. It is starting to affect me in ways I don't like.
I took Jim to the dermatologist this morning because of a concerning spot on his forehead. Doc doesn't think it is anything, but did a biopsy. We were told to make a follow-up in 6 months.
And I had this thought as they made the appointment for the day after Christmas. Will he make it to this appointment?
Once we were home, and my anxiety was rising, I knew that perhaps if I came to my old computer to write some blog posts, I would be giving myself a good opportunity to feel better. But instead, I thought of things I shouldn't be thinking, and I started to cry. I thought of talking to Jim about it, but he had already said how tired he was. He woke at 3:30 a.m. and was unable to get back to sleep.
And then, hiding behind some papers and notebooks, I found this:
It is polished heart-shaped rock my friend Annmarie sent me when the shutdown happened and I had to suddenly teach from home. When it arrived, I put it by the computer, and that is where it has been ever since.
I picked up the stone and immediately my heart felt lifted. The tears stopped flowing. I cannot express the calm and peace I that swept over me. It had been just an arms length away.
Today I visited a place I simply don’t go to enough: the meditation garden at FloridaSouthwestern College.
The weather was absolutely ideal for this adventure, and I was immediately moved to take a ton of pictures. I was particularly happy when the bench where I decided to sit had beautiful orchids nearby.
I had brought a small journal and had a plan for some nature writing, but something else totally overcame me. Here is what I wrote while I was there:
God I love this place.
When I’m here, I feel like I accomplished so much here on these grounds. Creative writing. Humanities. American Literature. Even science and math. The professors are unforgettable. The support I received: unparalleled.
I was here the morning of 9/11/2001. I worked for Sony and they paid my tuition and books. I paved my way to further my education at Florida Gulf Coast University.
On these grounds is a performing arts center where I’ve seen numerous acts (Bob Dylan, Smokey Robinson, Gladys Knight, Vince Gill, Jason Mraz, Tanya Tucker, and many more), as well as some great musicals — and not to mention the stage is where I received my first college diploma.
I met a good friend here when we were taking a professional certification test here. In fact, I took all my tests here when they were done with pencil and paper, only cost $25, and you had to wait several weeks for results.
The art gallery has had shows that blew me away, especially Jack Kerouc’s original typed version of On the Road.
I used to attend afternoon events with poets, journalists, and professors here with my friend Amy, who teaches for this college. It was the best use of my PTO from work!
This garden was not here when I attended, and it was called Edison Community College at that time. A statue of Thomas Edison is here, and most of the plants came from his estate.
Today I took a mad amount of pictures and when I sat on the bench I felt an unbelievable calm come over me — like I don’t get anywhere else. I think it is because nature, history, music, art, poetry, and education come together here for me like nowhere else on earth.
I couldn’t have landed in a better place during midlife in the year 2000. All my decisions and growth from that time on are rooted here. Some grew elsewhere, but this was the catalyst. For nearly 24 years. That is a whole hunk of my life!
Today it became clear: When I need to find myself, I must remember to look here.
This morning I clearly remembered seeing a Blue Jay in my dream. It looked like this:
I was so delighted to see it! I did register, however, that it didn’t look like most Jays I know…the typical Blue Jay or even the Florida Scrub Jay. They both have a bit more black and/or white. I knew in my dream the bird looked different. It also was fairly large. The feeling I had seeing this bird was pure joy.
The photo above is Unicolor Jay. It lives in Mexico and other parts of Central America. I have never heard of it, nor did I know it existed. Yet, there it was making its presence known in my dream.
I looked up what having a Blue Jay in a dream means, and was glad to see it was positive. I will end this with a haiku I wrote in honor of this small experience that looms large inside me today.
Feathers brilliant blue
Bringing me perseverance
Peace and harmony
My mind is full of a lot of things today, based on several readings and thinking time. It’s a bit much and I’m not ready to mold it, so decided to take an easier approach.
I came home thoroughly exhausted from work on Thursday, and was confronted with a box that was like a Chinese puzzle to open. I knew there was a live plant inside, because the box told me so, but I had no idea who would have sent it. Once I broke the code and pulled this luscious orchid out, I discovered it was from my teacher union (TALC), presumably because of our loss of Wayne on March 2.
I have the orchid on a table on our lanai, where I can easily see it from inside. It has quickly become a companion, a messenger of peace that can be found if I choose to look. To honor this, I have written an acrostic poem for my new orchid.
One with the purple nature
Rising sun makes it shimmer
Calling me to meditate and relate
Helping me find my way
In the time I find myself now
Deepening the peace within.
Godspeed, Wayne.
You made a difference to a lot of people, and will be remembered always.
Yesterday my friend Kara and I visited the Peace River Botanical and Sculpture Gardens. Although I didn’t take a ton of photos, I collected some representative remembrances.
Meandering walkways and boardwalks carry visitors through the park. We loved this view with the contrasting greens and browns.
Next up, the Butterfly House.
The sculptures around the park were in a wide variety, and from artists all over the world. There were some in stone, some in glass, others cut out of appliances and cars. I did not photograph many of them, but a couple favorites.
On the way back from the river we walked a mangrove boardwalk. We created a new saying for our friendship: “You and me and the trees!” The peace and beauty and expansive art and nature had been a balm to our souls.
After a pleasant visit to the gift shop, we returned to the main park and came upon Andy Warhol. Apparently, 20 of these were made when the famous Pop Art artist passed away.
All in all, an absolutely perfect January day in Punta Gorda with art, nature, and a good friend.
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| Kara by the koi pond |
#108Weeks
February 5-12, 2022
This week I had a hard time finding lines to write for this project, as things are going extremely well. I almost thought of giving up. I kind of hate to do that, though; I'm on week 91, which means I just have 17 weeks to go.
Then I remembered that Creative Writing Club met this week, and one of the things we were doing was making found poems from pages of old books. I had highlighted a lot of phrases from Drums, Girls, and Dangerous Pie, and so I thought, hmmm, maybe there is something there.
Sure enough! This is what came together.
(P.S. Thanks for all who actually read this each week. I appreciate your loving support.)
Note: italicized text is from the book. The rest are my words linking the thoughts together
The most annoying thing in the world is a room full of crazy young teens who want to do anything but what they are supposed to do
It often tests my self-esteem and sanity
But on Friday, I was in a particularly good mood
As I sat on my raised chair up front, my sacred perch
To tell you the truth, I was kind of surprised I was not annoyed
That I was pretty tranquil for a change--it was the coolest part
There. I can live with that.
#108Weeks
November 21-27, 2021
This is the week I have finally come back to studying the text of A Course in Miracles, something I first studied 30 years ago. It is about time I got the message going in my life. I am grateful.
All the quotes (italics) are from the book.
Each day should be devoted to miracles.
The choice to judge rather than to know is the cause of loss of peace.
You are not at peace because you're not fulfilling your function.
All things work together for good.
I can slow myself down and look for the genius.
I need to bring the creative writing teacher in me to the reading classroom. That is my truest self.
I walked the labyrinth asking how to love God with my whole heart, soul, and mind.
#108Weeks
October 31-November 6, 2021
The only thing I know is that I don't know
Obstacles will come like waves -- keep coming and coming -- you must learn to surf with unshakeable peace
The most beautiful form of courage is to be happy (Jeanne Lohmann)
Don't quit before the miracle
Beauty is the target -- spread joy or be destroyed
All my young readers are created in God's image, too. Little Godlings
I cast my faith forward as a light on my path
#108Weeks
August 8-14, 2021
"The safe place is an untroubled heart and mind."
Keep practicing presence. It's working.
The thing I want to remember most is to be with people. Notice them. Listen.
"My dreams are important to the unfolding of the world."
An 8th grade student in my Global Perspectives class arrived with fond memories of our class novel The Bridge Home from 6th grade. Did my heart good.
We still don't have access to our required reading curriculum, so the team keeps having to scramble to find things to do.
I'm surprisingly well-rested. Don't feel tired at all. It was a good week.
#108Weeks
August 1-7, 2021
Sunday brunch was a surprise -- really felt the love from my dear friends.
Lots of ups and downs the first day. Why was I so emotional?
The student numbers in my intensive reading classes are higher than I'd like them to be.
Open House was great. So. Many. Hugs.
I'm so grateful I have an experienced team around me. I have more support than ever.
I continue to be chill and let what I need come to me. This is the result of practicing presence.
#108Weeks
July 25-31, 2021
This is my final week of the summer and the focus is self-care.
It's nice to be lazy!
I'm feeling a desire to get back to writing, but just can't grab on to anything. Who am I as a writer?
In a poem I read, the word "balance" stood out to me. I contemplated all the ways this applies right now.
It's really about watching my mind and responding to where it leads me.
Living the question brought me an answer. I have a new, solid, meaningful writing project on the horizon, and its making me feel connected and whole again.
It was still dark that December morning when I ran this trail, alone in my disbelief and grief. At 6 a.m. in 1980, my husband at his night shift job at the steel mill, I was a solitary figure on a new bike trail that ran along the soon to open I-480 in North Olmsted, Ohio.
This morning I relived that memory of the morning I heard John Lennon had been killed. I recall running on that mild morning, tears welling up time after time. My desire to be a runner was hard fought, and I have never really become one. I gave up on it long ago. And one thing I know—after that morning, I don’t think I was ever on this trail again until today.
When I heard our hotel was close to Great Northern mall, I couldn’t stop thinking about walking the trail. The area is extremely built up now, not the many fields with a highway cutting through. I was surprised by the number of houses, as I would have told you this bike path was totally remote. I was amused by the barn on one property, so reminiscent of the farm community North Olmsted once was, and the high rise looming up behind it.
Much like that day in December over 40 years ago, I was alone on the trail except for one woman with her dog way ahead of me. The maintenance isn’t great, and I know there are better trails in the area for people to frequent.
Returning here today helped me breathe easier somehow. I can’t help but think again how grief layers into us. The fact that I had no one to talk with about this for a few hours means I had to handle it alone. I can see now why this has always stuck with me.
Delighted by the wildflowers, and happy that I got a 2 mile walk in, I returned to my hotel, my heart at peace and a lingering memory resolved.
#108weeks
May 9-15, 2021
Facing a week of schedule interruption with testing and several other annoyances, I decided to focus on self-care. Here is the result.
Sunday: Took a walk with Kara at Lakes Park
Monday: New clothes ready to wear this week: cute tops and colorful dresses
Tuesday: Giving kids space to be themselves helps me be calm
Wednesday: Managed an escape from my classroom during lunchtime, and drove to Publix to get some sushi, enjoying the blue sky and white puffy clouds and breathing deeper
Thursday: Finally returned to my cushion for five minute daily meditation, and my mind is already in better order
Friday: Early morning neighborhood walk on a breezy, cool day
Saturday: Playing Neil Young music at my lesson, getting together with writing group, and finishing an excellent book makes for a perfect day
Inspired by this line from Lawrence Ferlinghetti: You and me could really exist.
We all could exist better
We all could exist better
if we keep our egos aside
We all could exist better
if we read more poetry
We all could exist better
if we stopped dividing
and started
adding
and doing some
multiplying
of kindness
peace and
love.
Today I met my dear friends Laurie and Annmarie at Six Mile Cypress Slough for some nature listening and writing. I was inspired by Richard Blanco before making the trip, and used the end of his poem "American Wandersong" for my format.
For now: Gorgeous day -- low to mid 70s right now and breezy. Dew point in the 60s.
For now: Deep gratitude that I am in this place to take this time. Felt impossible over the past many weeks.
For now: The breeze ruffles my hair and I hear my friends' gentle laughter.
For now: I've come to understand the water is higher than it should be and this is upsetting the ecology. Must be why I'm not hearing the nightly frog chorus. Off to the southwest I hear a whistling bird -- Laurie says it sounds like a creaking playground swing.
For now: An alligator draped across the log, limp, tail curled to catch the sunlight; hawk calling out across the Slough.
For now: A Limpkin picks his way through the water, lifting his legs high and pacing in between the trees.
For now: White feather floats in the clear water, bright green salvinia touching its edges.
For now: I came. I listened. I wrote.
For a while I have been finding it difficult to get myself to this blog. I will write entire things out in my journal that I think I want ...
