Friday, October 23, 2015

Crackin' dem eggs...

Yesterday i was so miserable, fighting back hysteria at every turn.  I mean, walking in the door with sobs, choking it back as I get out of the car...and while it is the season of my father's death two years ago,and winter is fast approaching, I cannot truly make out why sobs have so powerfully re-entered my walking world.  When the tussling kids knocked over my gigantic cup of coffee (yes, my fault. my ever-vigilant preventative-mother must have let down her guard.. sarcasm, and bitter at that....) ... all over the books, all over the floor, all over the everything within a solid three feet range.. and since i am nearly deaf i did not hear it go, and the kids made are not enough ellipses to dramatize this... ... .  I lost my everlovin' mind....  QUoth the mother... " i was not meant to spend my fucking life cleaning up fucking SPILLS" !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  somehow the overuse of exclamation points deadens the truth of my deep howl...
 to the kids, yes, to the kids.  And while, usually, i am able to toss off my rebellious thoughts, this one went deep and i could not shake off the feeling of being misused somehow, wasted. and so began the day.  a humdinger.
i muddled through, doing things that needed doing, certainly, and hiding my inner turmoil from the two year old in my midst fairly well.  uncracked but wobbling.

and then.  this morning, my hearing aid broke.  and there is noone in the office til monday.  so there you have it.  a break, when one did not know that one was requesting a break.  (or, rather, one sortof knew, but certainly didn't expect a literal breakage.) crack.

and so now i have all this space, this quiet, this lowered expectation ... and its the lowered expectation mixed with the complete and utter satisfaction that my hearing is not gone, just unmechanically aided for the weekend.
and its going to be a challenge to deal with three soccer games of explaining, but its almost a relief to just put it on the table.  no, i can't hear you, can't make small talk or suffer through Trying to hear your small talk.  i can't.  i have a serious hearing loss that they call 'profound', and today, finally, i'm not trying to fool you into thinking i can communicate like a regular person.  there is relief.
maybe i'll make myself a sign.
oh my god, the kids would die.
it is so good to have a new kind of hysteria.

and guess what?  i can't hear whines, either.  bet you could handle that for a couple days...

it will be hard, and i'm probably going to be sad at times, for what i miss. but there it is, space.  wide open before me. and at the end, an appointment, a repair and a moving on...

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Log Lady

The log lady died, did you hear?  the woman of twinpeaks fame?  Can you believe, of all the news in the world, that THAT made it through my firewalls?  sheesh.  I know, its (the show. the woman) probably not personally relevant to anything, but death, for all its necessity? still a loss, a sadness of inevitability, a change resisted...  relevant, always.

These were a log that arrived at the house. Milled right in front of my eyes.  I thought these things only happened to the Waltons. 
so. a tree, repurposed.  are we so egotistical that we think we improve on nature by cutting into it? OR, do we use our vision and 'sight' to imagine multiple uses of what exists? what can be? an explosion of art, love, human endeavor?

This is the tree where they began. 

This is the friend and the husband at work, on the logs and the trees. 

This is what I was doing while the beauty and stark betrayal and transformation of the tree from hearted warrior tree to hearted childhaven tree. Its branches shorn, it was re-shaped into what will be.  And while menfolk wielded chainsaws, I was stacking, stacking, stacking... winter will not catch me unawares, at least not entirely.  Would I really freeze to death rather than cutting into nature? what is my nature, afterall, but a constant reshaping of spirit?  - another repurpose? or a joining of purpose and existence? a death so that life may be continued?
there is that.
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i'm working on weighty things of late, not the least of which is mine own inner and outer weight, and solitudes of plenty. (and much of it is written down)  i will let you know how it goes. hopefully levity will be part of it.  (pbbst)