lost

last week amid the much publicized deaths of michael jackson, farrah fawcett, and billy mays thousands of other mothers, fathers, sons and daughters quietly lost their lives. one of whom was a friend of my mom's, ken.

he lost consciousness and drove into a tree. perhaps a heart attack, perhaps a stroke - something that prevented him from touching the brakes. ken never woke up after the collision and today he passed away.

he had just retired a few months ago from a job that mom said sucked the life out of him. every year she said he looked grayer.. his skin in addition to his hair. he clung to a hope that he could make a difference and improve things in a broken and corrupt system, but in the end he gave it all away and the only thing changed was him. less creative, less happy, less fun, less alive.

i didn't know this man that my mom cried over this morning. but in another way i did. when she described the people for whom he worked, the unrecognized and ineffective efforts he made there and the way it drained him i saw myself.

myself over the past six to eight months.
myself blindly clinging to threads of hope.
myself losing respect for myself.

i'm sad for my mom and the people who were close to her friend ken. my heart breaks for his heart break and now theirs. but i choose to take his story and use it as a reminder that i was losing much more each and every day than i lost on friday, when i lost my job.

d: ken's creative energy redeployed.. in me
b: all is not lost.
g: i lost my job.

seed

a couple of years ago my mom expanded her house, off the front porch. there was a huge holly bush growing against the house that had to be cut down and removed. it was dug up and the roots sprayed with a weed killer. then an eight inch concrete slab was poured on top of it.

today we noticed a six inch sprig of holly that had pushed up between the slab and the house. there isn't a visible crack there and i can't imagine any sunlight permeating the eight inches of cement, but the holly bush is there nonetheless.

i finished the Inner Game of Tennis today, sitting by the pool. the last chapter was dedicated to applying the Inner Game principles to life off the court. i can't help but think that if you haven't already seen the applications by that point in the book, it's a lost cause. i've had self one making lists of things for self two to take over ever since chapter 1. after all, self one is good at lists.

i've found though that self two is really where the power is. not just for tennis, but for all sorts of things.. things as routine as cooking, where self one wants a recipe and self two can improvise and come up with something tasty; or working out, where self one wants a prescribed regimen and self two can push me harder and more thoroughly just by feel.

and of course in my writing... my journals are written by self one. here, self two writes. generally by the end of the day i have a couple of emails sitting in my inbox from self one. they say things like, 'guillain barre. tiptoe to heel.' or 'ladders'. just a couple of key words to jog a train of thought i had when not at my keyboard. and then i sit down and scroll through the emails from myself and self two picks the one that feels right.. and that's how it works for me.

so, today when i read about getting in the 'zone' i thought about the book i'm about to write. and i realized i don't have to know the entire story right when i start chapter one. i don't have to write a chronology or an outline. i don't have to lay out the characters' life stories in order to start their story. i can simply turn the project over to self two and let it flow. duh.

self two knows what to do. it has within it all the creativity and instinct and drive of that holly bush.

d: self two, it's story-time.
b: self one is stepping out of the way.
g: a seed of an idea pushing through the concrete.

up

I'm lucky
I'm lucky
I can walk under ladders
Yes I'm so lucky
That I'm as lucky as me...

~excerpted from I'm Lucky by joan armatrading

in high school i took several summer trips with my youth group to the appalachian mountains where we did construction work, insulating and weatherizing needy homes. one summer in west virginia we were hanging board and batten siding. we'd nail up two boards and then a narrow strip of wood on the seam. the house my group was working on was built on the side of a steep hill and i remember rigging up some elaborate scaffolding to then place our ladders on. looking back, i can't believe the chaperones let us do that, but maybe our cavalier teenage bravado rubbed off on them somehow. i spent the entire week up a precariously balanced ladder with a hammer in my hand.

in college, my friends and i found a ladder on a sidewalk behind some rarely used buildings. we propped it up on a single story building adjacent to the auditorium and climbed up on the flat-roofed building. from that building the auditorium roof's lower edge was level to the one we were on and only a 'few' feet away. with a short running start, we were able to clear the opening and land on the roof of the clay shingled auditorium. climbing to the center peak of that building then afforded a birds-eye view of the campus and starry sky.

one night we went in search of our ladder and didn't find it there. we opted to use the ladder-like venting on the side of the building instead. our improvised ladder still took us up.

when my house was just my house for the first time, after a long-term relationship ended, painting all the walls and buying new furniture became my number one priority. i hired painters to come in and paint the bulk of the walls because the main living spaces were over two stories high.

there were ladders everywhere. huge ladders. ladders that were free-standing like an A frame, but then had a single projecting ladder up from the center. extension ladders on every available wall. ladders propped up over the staircase. i had to walk under two ladders to get from the front door to the kitchen and under another one to get to my bedroom. those ladders painted the way to my independence.

over the past three days, i've had the word ladder said to me at least three separate times and have run across imagery and actual ladders at least as many times over. makes me wonder...

ladders are tools.
ladders are transportation.
ladders are support.
ladders are promotion.

but really i see the ladder as a sign of hope. of certainty in something higher...
i see the ladder as a path up.
and up is where i'm going.

d: rungs upon rungs to take me up.
b: i am lucky, so lucky!
g: simple metaphors and simple messages.

tiptoe

a few days after my seventh birthday i woke up and didn't go into the kitchen for breakfast, despite the increasingly frustrated calls from mom requesting my presence. i didn't go in because when i put my feet on the floor, i couldn't walk. my legs simply gave out. mom suspected i was joking and was reasonably irritated and impatient. mornings are hectic enough without hijinks, i imagine she was thinking.

i wound up in the arkansas children's hospital where they poked and prodded and watched me like a lab rat in a maze trying to figure out why an otherwise healthy seven year old would wake up and suddenly be unable to walk. the general consensus was that it was an unusual autoimmune disorder, guillain-barre syndrome, which generally comes on fast and goes away slow. it causes paralysis starting at the feet and working its way up the body. the cause: usually unknown.

i remember 'pacing' the hall of the children's hospital for all the medical students and residents to scratch their heads. the way i walked with little to no strength in my legs was peculiar. instead of the usual heel to toe, i started my steps on my tiptoes. and then my heel set down weakly and awkwardly. the doctors would chide, 'heel to toe! heel to toe!' as though i had chosen to be deliberately contrary.

tiptoes: tentative

i find that i still go down stairs on my tiptoes. i don't think that everyone else does, but maybe they do. sometimes i find that it puts me off balance, precariously leaning down the stairs as i tread on them, imagining a headlong fall.

tiptoes: tottering

and i've always been one of those people who can't squat down flat-footed. i wind up on my toes when i get down to floor level. i'd be a terrible baseball catcher, landing on my butt with every catch i'm certain.

tiptoes: tenuous

today my calves are killing me. i worked them out hard on thursday night and the soreness has really caught up to me. i don't mind though. for some masochistic reason i enjoy those tiptoe exercises and find the tightness there to be very gratifying.

tiptoes: tighten

and when haley kisses me i usually reach up on my toes. it's not intentional and our height difference isn't that significant, but it just happens as i try to get closer to her.

tiptoes: trembling

with time as my healer, i eventually recovered from the childhood guillain-barre. the only remaining evidence of my brief paralysis is a permanent loss of my patellar reflex. no matter how many times i'm tapped on the knee with that rubber hammer, nothing happens. that's a rather inconsequential effect in my life, only noticed at annual physicals. but the awareness i have about my tiptoes is undoubtedly related.

today i am tiptoeing. i am trembling and teetering. i am tenuous and tentative. i am tightening and tottering. but i have experience with suddenly paralyzing mysteries and i know that my freshly pedicured tiptoes are stronger than they look.

d: heel-toe, heel-toe. in due time.
b: no knee-jerk reflexes for me.
g: tiptoeing produces strong calves.

200/20

i didn't get the job. but i did get an answer. and i think that's what i really wanted anyway.

there are lots of caveats and provisions and potentialities wrapped up in the closure, but at the end of the day, it's still closure.

lesson from mom many years ago: you don't have to be given closure by someone else, you can simply take it for yourself. doors close from both sides. and wouldn't you know, she was right. so why i waited and waited to get this closure on a job that has been growing less attractive day by day, i don't know.

the little voice in my head was getting louder.. pointing out the qualities on the perfect-job-list that this one would fall short of... pointing out the lack of respect i've been shown in the process.. pointing out the mad desire to escape i felt every day when i walked into the office.

but now, hindsight being 20/20 and all that, i am grateful that the little voice was there, creating some emotional distance from the idea even if i didn't consciously listen or acknowledge it. i know that is allowing me to keep my energy high and positive. i think i could count the number of minutes today that i've felt angry, disappointed or rejected on one hand. and i have that little voice to thank.

i don't know what's next. i'm relishing in the notion i only need to see 200 feet at a time and believe that the road will take me where i want to go.

relieved. liberated. excited!

my new 'job' is out there, waiting for me. it's being created at this very moment, just for me. it may not be a 'job'. it may not look like what i've done in the past. it may not feel like what i've done in the past. in fact, i hope it doesn't. i hope it's entirely new and different. more fulfilling. more expressive. more flexible. more fun. more nurturing. more me.

d: the perfect 'job' for me.
b: my vision is 200/20.
g: an opening disguised as closure.

grey

tonight, luke: mommy, if you didn't put that in your hair would you be all white?
pretty much, i admit while squirting the rest of the bottle of Loreal's soft black, the same color i've used for the past 12 years, into the mass of hair clipped on top of my head.
luke: what about ami? is her hair white too?
me: umm, yeah. though not as much as mine...

which makes me consider how we're evolving. if my mother is less grey than me, (and even if she'd debate that, she can't argue that she was as grey as i am at this age) then are we evolving to greyer haired generations? will the boys be grey before they finish high school? after all, i was buying this same box with the timeless brunette on it while i was in college. (god forbid they change the model - i'll have to call the help line.)

i know of several people my age who were born without wisdom teeth. so maybe we're evolving into a grey-haired toothless generation.

today the news has been laden with celebrity deaths. i'm a believer in a soul everlasting.. energy neither created nor destroyed. rather, redeployed, so to speak. i don't know how that manifests, but it's fun to imagine. haley and i joked once about how some signs in the zodiac seemed to possess less evolved persons and i said, 'maybe they are younger souls.. when they are reborn they'll come back as a better sign.' and she said not-so-modestly, 'like libra?' (apparently the libra ego is quite evolved.)

on a serious note though, evolve is one of my favorite words. it's almost a palindrome and though it falls short, i give it points for trying because it holds the word love gently within its two ve's. i attest there's a good reason for that.

it is with the safety and security of love..
it is with the vulnerability of love..
it is with the breaking down and building up of love..
it is with the connection and the compassion of love..

and mostly - it is by the grace and for the sake of love that we evolve! perhaps jack nicholson's Melvin in As Good As It Gets said it best: "You make me want to be a better man."

that being said, though i am striving every day to grow and be a better man, er woman, for the one i love (and the little ones sleeping upstairs too), i'm afraid that i'll be drawing the line at grey hair. because there's no love in this world that can come between me and that brunette on the soft black Loreal box.

d: evolution
b: limitation!
g: colorization.

more

today marks two years since i collapsed in the floor with pulmonary embolisms. acute chest pain and i couldn't catch my breath to speak, yet i didn't want to inconvenience anyone to take me to a hospital. i opted instead to get in bed and hope it would pass, a nagging feeling in the back of my head that it wouldn't and perhaps it was actually 'something'.

a sleepless night. drift off. wake up, gasping for air. drift off. wake up, scared. alone.

early morning. bright june sky, opening with light. my lungs, still closed and dark.

local doctors refused to see me, instead referring me immediately to the hospital. reluctantly, i agreed to go. a PA dropped me off on the sidewalk of rush university medical center and in no rush of my own, i queued for the emergency room.

dubious of the severity. irritated at the inopportune timing. curious as hell at the peculiarity. and alone.

that part didn't strike me as odd.

blood draws. stethoscope. ct scan. ekg. an hour of testing.
results in hand, urgent knocking. admitted to icu within minutes of radiology's report.

can i make a phone call? the ER walls annoyingly block cell signals.

that call was the hardest and the easiest to make. how do i tell the people who love me most that i didn't want to be a bother and as such, nearly choked in my sleep, but now i'm ok and in a hospital in chicago, no you don't have to come, but yes i'm alone and i really need you.

by nightfall my mother was there. she never left my side.

a year later, last june 24th, i ended my medical treatment for my PE. one year to the date. i remember i was sore from an intense workout, that night. it was nearly sleepless because of that back pain, made more intense on deep breath; and it triggered fear and memory of a similar, yet not at all similar, sleepless night with pain upon deep breath. but in that moment of darkness and fear, i drew upon the knowledge that my pain was from strength rather than weakness and i rested. alone.

tonight, i take a deep breath and let it out. no pain. another deep breath. let it out. i am stronger now than i was a year ago. i am happier now than i was a year ago. i am more aware. i am more open. i am more loving. i am more patient. i am more active. i am more creative. i am more outgoing. i am more connected. i am more compassionate.

i am more grateful. every single day.
and i am not alone.

d: in another year: more.
b: i would not hesitate to be a nuisance to someone for a ride to the hospital now.
g: a milestone of more.

achieve

Whatever the mind of man
can conceive and believe,
it can achieve.
~w. clement stone

i've never been a fan of secrets. if i'm on the inside, i feel trapped and if i'm on the outside, i feel rejected. so when haley said she wanted me to watch the secret with her, i thought, 'god i wish they hadn't named it that.'

nobody likes to be on the outside of a secret and i'm sure that's what the secret's marketing team is counting on. the movie wisely reveals the much-anticipated nugget within the first ten minutes and when i heard it, i said to haley, 'this shouldn't be a secret! everyone should know this..' it's very simply the law of attraction.

very simple. and yet very hard too.

i have lived in the law of attraction for a long time. even before i read the like-named book and before i saw the afore-mentioned film. i called it fantastic. my world, created so fantastically in my imagination, has been a way of life for as long as i can remember. in most areas of my life, at least.

ironically, the one thing i have kept most secret and hidden, what i am most embarrassed and shamed about, is the one thing i need the secret for the most. my finances. in this part of my life, i have attracted that which i don't want by focusing so much attention upon it. in every way i've used the law of attraction to my detriment when it comes to money.

i have given my energy to debt, thereby attracting more. i have believed in a limit to how much and from where my income will come, thereby setting the limit. i have lived in a mindset of lack and inadequacy, thereby perpetuating the lack.

so, i know the task at hand. i know the charge. i know it's as simple as changing my mind. i can attract something different if i focus my attention and energy on something different. but when i try.. i struggle. it's one of only a couple of things that can drop my mood immediately. i have a self-one monologue playing in my head that says i don't deserve more. that scolds me for decisions in my past. that predicts more financial failure in my future. and i don't know where the damn mute button is.

but i'm looking for it. one of my favorite metaphors from the secret is about a car driving through the night on a dark road. with the headlights, the driver can only see 200 feet ahead of the car, but the narrator points out that you only have to see what's right in front of you.. and just seeing that much is enough. you can drive from new york to california seeing only 200 feet at a time.

so, 200 feet at a time, i am muting self one. i am focusing on what i want, rather than what i don't. and employing another favorite passed along by my mom, 'fake it till you make it', i feel prosperous. i am attracting prosperity. i have abundant income from varied and unexpected sources.

i can conceive of it. and i believe it.
i am achieving it.

d: more income than expenses.
b: vulnerability here.
g: the universe loves speed.

shiny

Your face crept into that space
between my reflex and my resolve.
Kinda like the crevice you don’t notice
til it takes down the damn wall.

~excerpted from Checking My Pulse by alix olson

tonight i took the boys to the movies. that is to say we all saw movies simultaneously, though we each saw something different. luke chose star trek, todd night at the museum and i saw the hangover. haley suggested it. i hadn't even seen a preview, but she claimed that its reputation as 'the funniest movie ever' was worth validating for ourselves.

the movie was pretty entertaining. i laughed a lot and i needed it. self one was wrecking havoc in my head because i didn't make it to the gym and i still haven't taken off these extra ten pounds i put on since last fall. (see: versus for more on 'self one')

but the thing i remember most about the entire night was the way haley looked across the theater lobby. she and mel met me there. i was stirring some horrible excuse for creamer into my equally questionable coffee and i glanced over to the entry and saw them walking in. somehow, haley looked shiny and new to me.

not new as in unfamiliar, but new and exciting.
new and unexpected.
new and... shiny.
suddenly i flushed.. and then felt shy.
the boys rushed over to tell them about the wild dogs we spotted in the parking lot (an entire pack - and maybe they were wolves. or coyotes! yes, in the city limits. why not?)
i followed a few steps behind feeling like i was meeting my date at a school dance. hesitant. yet expectant.
and then haley looked up from the boys' faces to mine and our eyes locked.
and i got butterflies.
i have a crush. hope my girlfriend doesn't find out.

weddings have been sort of a theme over the past few days. we attended one on saturday that touched me profoundly. the love in the room was so thick, it was visible. the movie tonight had a couple of wedding subplots.

something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.

i know that what haley and i have can't be considered something old yet, but tonight that delicious dichotomy of something familiar paired with something unknown overwhelmed me. and come to think of it, i was wearing haley's jeans.. borrowed and blue.

d: shiny new me.
b: shiny new love.
g: shiny new haley.

versus

brachydactyly
that's the official name for my short, stubby thumbs. when i was younger, i tried to tuck them out of sight as much as possible; but in adulthood i ceased to give a damn. that is, until now. because now my left thumb is in ridiculous pain and i'd much rather blame its clubness than the excessive hours of tennis i'm subjecting it to.

haley and i played over five hours this weekend, despite both of our injuries and a heat index around 100, and when i woke up this morning and couldn't hold tweezers or luke's hand, i did pause and wonder if it was wise. i left the house for work and then returned for heavy duty anti-inflammatory medicine ten minutes later.

quite nearly a virgin to the game when haley got her hands on me, she's been evangelizing the doctrines of The Inner Game of Tennis. i've started reading the book myself and i'm a convert.

self one versus self two.
the coaching, criticizing mind vs the knowing, natural body.
shut up, self one. do what you know, self two.

if i were listening to self two, nevermind how it would help my stroke, i'd probably have heard, don't play tennis with an injury. rest is what you need. but in between, where'd your follow-through go?, bounce, hit and keep your eyes on the ball, self one was barking play through the pain, take more advil, and quit complaining!!

alas, i turned a deaf ear to self two and now i regret it. and when i pulled into work today, i thought to myself that maybe it's a lesson i needed to hear. all the regulating and critiquing and worrying that i let self one insert blocks the fluidity and instinct and ease with which self two can transport me through life.

so as i'm walking into uncertainty, life hurling balls at me, maybe i'd do better to quiet the voice of self one and let self two take over. hitting some straight on, letting some fly by, and flubbing others the best i can.

d: recovery from tennis injuries.
b: self two is quite wise.
g: an inner match that i'm certain i can win.

voice

friday night when i got home from work, i was greeted by one of todd's friends who was carrying tessie. jasper and tess were the kittens i brought home from arkansas the summer of 2003 to be my new companions (read: distraction) after a major break-up. brother and sister, they were inseparable. jasper, a long-hair orange and white fur ball, was so attached to his sister that he'd fall asleep sucking on the back of her neck any time he got a chance.

my sweet calico, tess was quickly renamed tessie, much the same way all young pets and children pick up a 'y' on the end of their names. tessie was the most compliant and easy-going cat i've ever had. if she was in my lap and i wanted to move to another room, she'd happily go with me. i could pick her up in a sleeping position and sit her in someone else's lap. i could carry her around the house. she never complained, always sweetly purring. her meow was sweet and melodic. she was a living, breathing security blanket: always ready and willing to lay across my lap and comfort me.

and then, for some unexplicable reason, tessie moved out. she took up living with a neighbor down the street and came home on holidays to visit. the first holiday she appeared was thanksgiving 2006. she'd been gone for only a month or so at that point and i was worried. but she showed up well fed and happy to visit for a day and i knew she was being cared for. then she left again.. came back on christmas. then new year's. memorial day. fourth of july. and so on, for the past three years. before friday, the last time i saw her was memorial day a month or so ago.

but now tessie, my prodigal pet, has lost her voice. todd's friend, who conveniently lives in tess' alternate home, says that it happened a few months ago. she opens her mouth to meow but no sound comes out. her sweet purr and melodic tone - gone.

speechless, she's at home now. i closed the windows and doors to confine her there and despite her efforts to the contrary, she's trapped for the time being.

friday i talked to a good friend of mine who's also trapped for the time being. and also seems to have lost her voice. i'm hoping she finds it soon, because she deserves to be heard. sweet purrs and melodic tones suit her far better than meek, and sometimes angry, empty protests.

d: a voice for tessie and my friend
b: when she's ready to be heard, i know how to open the window for her.
g: though trapped and speechless, still safe and loveable.

escape

in march of 1993 i turned 19 over spring break. my best friend in college, marla, and i had planned a week long back-packing trip on the AT (appalachian trail). it was unusually cold that year for march, and our packs were heavier than normal, so it was slow-going on the trail.

there were restrictions about where you were allowed to camp on the section of the AT that we were trekking and we'd mapped out our daily destinations. but the first night out, we got a late start and decided to stop short of the designated rest area. it was getting dark and we were hungry. so we hiked off the trail twenty yards or so and strung up our clear plastic tarp between a couple of trees. it wasn't level, in fact we were sleeping on a pretty steep hill, but we dug in our heels and thought it would be sort of like kicking back in a recliner.

no sooner did we get cozy in our sleeping bags then we noticed a bright flashlight approaching. it was shining right at us and i remember whispering to marla, 'do you think it might be a park ranger?' we tried to make ourselves as small and quiet as possible because the last thing we wanted to do was get back on the trail and hike to the approved camping site, in the cold. in the dark.

the light kept getting brighter and closer, but we didn't hear footsteps or voices. so after laying there terrified for at least ten minutes, i bravely peeked out from under the tarp...

to see a full moon rising.

i love summer nights. tonight as i drove over to selman from my house, top down on my mustang, i had my chin lifted high and my eyes to the sky. stars covered the black and the moon was up there somewhere, though not full. eyes on the stars, i could nearly angle my head so that the highway and cars and city lights were below my line of sight. (i'm sure this is a very safe way to drive, not to worry.)

and when the city melted away, i was back in the woods. under a forest canopy. the deep smell of earth and pine. dirt under my nails and layers of sweat and polypropelene covering my body. the unique contrast of being cold and sweaty simultaneously. the satisfying ache in your muscles from working hard or sleeping on the hard ground, or maybe both.

i miss that. a part of me yearns for it when my life gets complicated. escaping to a trail with only the threat of a bright light to fear.

a perfect moon, disguised as a park ranger .

d: all obtrusive flashlights revealed as moons.
b: marla and i weathered the southeast's blizzard of '93 on the AT.
g: summer nights. skies to transport me. stars to wish on.

weary

they say, 'no news is good news', but i'm wary of that stance. today it's been seven weeks since i was told my position was eliminated and i'm not just wary, i'm weary.

i heard today that they extended an offer to an outside candidate for one of the three open positions. it wasn't the one i interviewed for, but that's small consolation. i am having a hard time focusing on anything other than the fact they were certain about him and obviously not certain about me, at least not yet. or not in my favor.

limbo persists. interminable waiting persists. fatigue has set in.

and i'm fighting back doubt and distrust and doom, but they are lurking in the shadows.

i'm bad at this. my energy is accustomed to being much higher. i like spirals that go up, rather than down.

i find myself reaching for sugar. chocolate chip cookies in the break room. brownies left over from a meeting.

i find myself reaching for encouragement. calls to haley. emails to jackie. conversations at friends' desks.

i find myself reaching for escape. how early can i leave? can i take a nap? a walk? hide in the supply closet?

but what do i really want? do i want the new role here? do i want a new role, yet undefined? do i want the absence of a role?

yes.
i want all of those. i want none of those.

i want less weary and more waking.

d: the other side.
b: i've felt this way very little over the past seven weeks.
g: tomorrow is friday. i'm less than an hour from today being over and tomorrow is friday.

flirt

i just learned the term 'god-wink' a week or so ago. haley introduced it to me for things i commonly call 'synchronicities'. i like it a little better because it implies a greater intelligence participating in the synchronicity. a little touch of the divine. a sign, if you will. plus, it really requires little explanation - most people get it right away when i use it.

and i use it a lot.

god is a big ole flirt. really. winking up a storm at me.

one day last week when haley and i were playing tennis she commented that she'd like a new, bigger ball hopper.

haley: we should manifest one.
she did this once before. decided she wanted a ball hopper. didn't want to pay full retail. and wanted it a cool color, 'like orange.' (she's quite picky about color, in fact.) a couple of days after she set out to manifest it, she walked into a thrift store and there was an orange ball hopper right by the front door. for $3.
me: good idea! let's do it.
haley: and full of new balls, while we're at it.
me: pink balls!!
we laughed.

the next day, heading home after playing tennis, we see an empty ball hopper box alongside the road. set out for the trash men. can't say that i've ever seen a ball hopper box before in my life.

god-wink.

keeping an eye open for ball hoppers at a deal required me to check the going price. so i looked at sports authority when i was there shopping. i looked at ebay once. and craigslist. and then today i found a helluva deal on a ball hopper online. so i contacted the guy and i plan to pick it up. it's black, holds 110 balls, and comes empty. but only $20 - so it's still a deal.

and in my mind: god-wink.

but then tonight, i was over at nancy's and talking to her and a friend of hers about tennis. they remarked on how hot it was today and were dismayed that haley and i played for nearly three hours in the muggy, oppressive heat. the friend suggested we pick up these cold pack things for our necks, to wear while we played. i'd never heard of these before. before today that is. when haley recommended the same thing.

god-wink.

and then... since we're all big thrift-store shoppers, i asked them to keep an eye out for ball hoppers. figured it can't hurt to have a couple extra, right? and they said, 'ball hopper? what's that?' i pulled out my handy blackberry, went straight to ebay and pulled up the first page of items to show them a picture.

half way down the page, i see:

a pink ball-hopper, filled with pink balls.

GOD-WINK!

i needed it tonight. i needed the sign. i needed the divine reminding me that things are coming my way. that what i've asked for is reasonable and in process.

even if it's a pink ball hopper, filled with pink balls.

d: eyes open to god's winks.
b: i'm a master manifester. and haley's pretty good too.
g: all those years of flirting have finally paid off. big time.

shhh

Sleep is the best meditation.
~dalai lama

if the dalai lama is correct, i'm a master meditator because when i meditate, it always ends in sleep. and then i dream of what i was meditating on.. sometimes good, sometimes bad. always a little insane.

a few years ago luke was having a hard time at school. he was struggling with his reading and seemed to be held back mostly by his own idea that he couldn't. he hated school and even said, 'i hate learning.' he said he felt dumb there. it was heart breaking and no amount of encouragement or proof to the contrary could get through to him.

so, i decided to try something different. every night before i went to bed i'd go into his room and sit down beside him, while he slept. i would talk to him then. tell him the truth about himself. how smart he is and how much i believed in him. a little night-time pep talk, if you will.

wouldn't you know, all other things in his life equal, i began to see significant strides in his attitude about reading and school. he didn't know i did that. he didn't remember it in the mornings and never woke up when i was doing it. but i know he heard me.

this morning i'm laying beside haley as she sleeps. when i hit publish on this blog, i plan to fill her sleepy unconsciousness with what's in my heart.

shhh, don't tell.

d: open minds and hearts to sleepy-time meditation
b: luke is a great reader now!
g: dreams.. oh such sweet dreams..

eight

the number of the mega ball. the name of my new puppy. the symbol for infinity.

sure, you think. skeptic eye-rolling. sure it's the number of the mega ball.

but why not, i offer. why not? someone will win. someone will get the numbers they either carefully bubbled on the scantron ticket form, or casually rolled the dice on a quick pick for. someone will find their life forever changed when the last numbered ball pops into the cage tonight.

and i have no reason to think it won't be me.

lucky is a way of life for me. good fortune comes my way.

just yesterday on the way to day camp, the boys and i heard an advertisement for a scratch off lottery game. lucky 7's. apparently you can win $777,777 and luke wanted to know if that was more than a million. after a quick math lesson, i was asked if i ever had bought a lucky 7 ticket. i had not. in fact, i think the only time i remember buying scratch off lottery tickets at all was to put in christmas stockings.

but then, on my lunch hour, i was at a gas station filling up and remembered that conversation. i was a little discouraged and thought i need a sign. i had one dollar in my purse, so i ran in to the convenience store with it in hand and earnestly purchased a lucky 7 ticket.

'can i get one of the 7's tickets?'
'what number?'
'umm, the one with the 7's?'
'what number game do you want?', pointing at the 24 scratch-off games behind the security glass. each was numbered for 'easy' purchase.
'umm, #4'

i took it back to the gas pump and flipped it over for the directions. hmm, no directions. i did see the odds on the back though and quickly flipped it over again. assuming it was safe to scratch all the boxes (no warning to the contrary), i scratched.

and on the second row, it came up all 7's.

i won $2. and i smiled and laughed out loud, by the still-filling gas pump. i got my sign. i cashed the ticket in and smiled all the way back to the office.

lucky is a way of life for me. good fortune comes my way.

d: lucky to infinity.
b: i won $2!
g: signs, when there are no directions

frequency

~photo by renee lewis

When people resonate and fall in love, they rise to their highest level of capacity.
~excerpted from Hidden Messages in Water by dr. masaru emoto

or put another way

Love is the shit.
~anonymous graffiti artist

in one of my favorite books dr.emoto describes the frequency we operate at in sound terms. he writes of resonance and how sounds of the same frequency resonate. in human relationships, he attests that people who generate similar frequencies are attracted to each other. and love is a type of resonance.

dr.emoto points out that people who continue to do superior work well into old age are almost inevitably in love. and we've all heard stories of elderly couples in which one partner dies and the other follows suit almost immediately. their frequency dropping to zero without the resonance.

dr.emoto writes: Love has the effect of raising our frequency level and making us shine.

again, i fall back on love is the shit.

then, through scientific studies too lengthy and complex for me to try and explain, dr.emoto proves that gratitude is more powerful and has a greater influence than love on human frequency. and of course, the most powerful combination of all is love and gratitude together.

i find it easy to practice gratitude when i'm overflowing with love. i know that i must be immersed in the flow of all good things when i look at my heart. synchronicities and god-winks abound. and even when my frequency drops a notch, the resonance i share with haley brings me back to full.

i think this is how it's meant to work.

d: superior work well into old age. and by work, i mean not-work.
b: my frequency must've been pretty high on january 31st.
g: two or three or maybe more god-winks today...

three

when i was a kid, my step-mother taught high school math. she often tested demonstrations at home and there's one that i've never forgotten. she had a hollow cone, made of paper and a similarly sized cylinder, also hollow. she used a bag of rice and asked how many cones of rice it would take to fill the cylinder. first responses were nearly always 'two'. and then she'd start filling the cone and pouring the rice into the cylinder.

but...it took three.

i don't think i ever used that to calculate conical volume - i mean, how often are you asked to do that? - but it's a metaphor i always fall back on in relation to time. no matter how much i think i can fit in to my available time, there's always room for more. this runs contrary to the commonly held belief 'too much to do, never enough time to do it.' and i deliberately hold a contrary opinion to that stance.

i contend, instead, that our time is fluid and accommodating and there's always plenty of it to do all the things i want to do. every day passes in the same amount of time as the one before, with all the hours and the minutes there to be filled. i think of those minutes as spaces in my day. each one is wonderfully available to me and so i put all the things i love into them and hope there are a few left for sleep at the end of the day. (and there always are.)

and now i'm taking this lesson to the rest of my life. i am creating spaces to be filled. space in my closet for new clothes. space in my work bag for new work. space in my bank account for new income. space in my workout regimen for new activities. space in my family for more. space in my mind for new creativity.

the voice in field of dreams had it right, 'If you build it, he will come.'

and the spaces i've built will be filled, not just with the two i expect and hope for, but with three. above and beyond my wildest dreams.

after all, my heart and the cylinder of rice have proven this to me.

d: allowing the fill.
b: space is available.
g: an extra cone.

process

last fall our leadership team got a stick up their ass about 'process' and were harping on all of us about developing, documenting and mapping them out in the most painstaking detail. initiatives that already had a zillion steps now were compounded by the interminable process.

being largely right-brained, i tend to focus myself on the big picture and others' scrutiny of my process probably made me look like a mad man. i have an insatiable need to juggle lots of balls at one time, but following prescribed steps and procedures rubs me the wrong way. stifles my ability to be productive. and does the exact opposite of what it's intended for, related to thoroughness and efficiency. i filed the word 'process' away alongside other dirty words i don't care for. (mind you, not 'dirty' per se. because i like those quite a lot. but 'dirty' as in unpleasant. like 'probe'.)

until today.

over the past few days i read the law of attraction and realized that i've been selling 'process' short. here i am manifesting so many things in my life.. deliberately and intentionally.. and running into language issues. because really, when i say 'manifesting' it makes most people roll their eyes or look at me as though i've sprouted another head. and not just other people. i struggle with it too at times.

so now i'm in the process of...

in the process of becoming an excellent tennis player.
in the process of obtaining a job that makes me happy.
in the process of writing something saleable.
in the process of getting a puppy.
in the process of attracting more income.
in the process of being fitter.
in the process of being more patient. (not in relation to these other processes, of course.)

it's liberating. i feel free to be in the process and trust in the process and know that i'll get the outcome i want and i don't have to map or diagram or detail all the steps on a timeline. i just don't.

my process is unprocessed.

d: allowing the process.
b: my big picture is very exciting.
g: the details are being handled.

protector

~photo by renee lewis

it's a stormy night. lightning is flashing. wind is blowing. rain is coming down in sheets.

i am protected.

it's a stormy night. lights are flickering. power is surging. thunder is roaring.

i am protected.

it's a stormy night. pressure is mounting. mind is racing. fear is lurking.

i am protected.

it's a stormy night. desires are growing. hope is blooming. dreams are realizing.

i am protected.

d: storms pass in the night.
b: vulnerability as a strength.
g: i am protected.

hit

haley offered to teach me tennis. i hadn't so much as picked up a racket since high school until a few days ago, but i'm always game for something new. especially if i can call it exercise. (eventually maybe cardio, for now mostly squats.) so i said, 'sure, lead the way.'

okay, i admit, exercise isn't the only reason. the promise of cute skirts, haley flexing across the net and the one-on-one nature of the sport appealed to me too. and did i mention the cute skirts? plus, i think the sounds of tennis are really soothing. much better than the tinny dance music my gym plays.

so, off to the court we went. there's a treasure of a court right in reynoldstown. hidden from the street by a long driveway, nestled in between an open-air gymnasium (really) and playground. the treasure is that it's right around the corner with no neighboring courts and it feels very private. (this is important to the beginning tennis player.) my only complaint is that it was mistakenly positioned east-west, meaning someone has the sun in their eyes most of the time. and there's a tree, albeit a beautiful tree, with branches hanging into the court. but, all in all, still a treasure of a court.

haley lays down the first rule: observe and don't judge.

and then she asks me 'how's your coordination?' umm. (that's a judgment, right?)

but wait, tennis is starting to sound like something i've heard before...or maybe something i need to hear now, again.

no judgments.
accept and embrace the process. just make observations. let things be and don't assign a label to them. like todd's pre-pubescent mood swings. or my precarious job situation.

get floppy.
relax. let go of the tension in my arm. in my body. in my head. in the pit of my stomach.

follow through.
guide the ball where you want it. flow through the motion. flow through the swing. through the responsibilities. through the pressures. through the stresses. immerse in the flow.

put your body into it.
turn at the hips. less muscle, more momentum. move toward the ball. toward the desire. toward the need. keep moving.

and it started to come together for me...

bounce. hit.
if i miss this ball, i'll get another one.
bounce. hit.
if i don't say the right thing to todd's angst this time, i'll get another chance.
bounce. hit.
if i don't get this position, i'll get a better one.

in the end i'll bounce. and then i'll hit. and when i do, i'll win.

d: perfect form in the bounce, hit.
b: growth and improvement, physically and mentally.
g: patience of a saint. (haley's, not mine.)

meantime

over last christmas my laptop's hard drive crashed and since everyone in our IT department was vacationing, i was without my computer and data for about two weeks. it may have been a good time to be without it in the big scheme of things, since little business happens that time of year anyway, but it didn't feel that way to me.

though we have three other computers in our household, i largely rely on my work laptop as my personal computer. essential things like my banking, photos, and i-tunes all reside on it. i was beside myself. i felt as though i were doing things in the dark. it was scary.

as i'm working in a position that's technically been eliminated and waiting for some indication of future employment, i have a similar feeling. in addition to the 'should i back-up my hard drive today?' (aka 'will today be the day they say nevermind.. we're good here. see you later. and by the way, hand over that laptop.') i also am wondering things like, 'do i put in a vacation request for next month?', 'do i accept meeting invitations for things in two months?', 'do i plan travel for off-site meetings?'

in the meantime, it requires living as if.

as if i've got assurances.
as if i'll be treated fairly.
as if i'm secure.
as if i'm confident.
as if...

the reality is i consider every decision and wonder if i should wait for certainty in income or certainty in 'free time'. i wonder if i'm being used or if i'm being valued. i wonder if i'm being naiive or if i'm being intuitive. i try to balance my commitment to the organization and commitment to my sanity. work-life balance has never had such significance. best foot forward vs holding enough back.

patience has never been my strong suit and there's a reason limbo originated from the latin limbus, referring to the edge of hell.

d: certainty.
b: still on the edge, rather than the flames.
g: a paycheck in the meantime.

hearth

the kitchen of a home is historically where the hearth was. it was the place for cooking, warmth and nurture. families gathered around the hearth three times a day to share their stories. their accomplishments. their fears. their plans. their love.

my kitchen doesn't have a hearth, but it's still the place i spend most of my time. i love to cook and serve carefully orchestrated meals to my friends and family. i put a little bit of myself on to each plate and in the pause between fork and bite i am vulnerable, as i wait for approval.

haley's kitchen is starting to come together. the sink is connected, the dishwasher in place, and i even cleaned out the fridge. there's an increasing inventory of essential tools and ingredients; and despite the lacking counter-tops, it's a space i find workable.

last night i made dinner on selman street, in this emerging kitchen. i improvised without a recipe or pantry or spice rack. i followed my instinct and hesitantly served a meal i'd never tried before.

vulnerability at the hearth.
vulnerability at the heart.

last night saw both.

d: trust in instinct
b: dinner was delicious.
g: loving reception

tunnel

Baby I could be your answer

to everything you ever wanted
I could be your lost soul...

I gotta get outta here
I can't take it anymore
I'm gonna leave it all behind
I don't want this trouble
baby I'm in trouble

Take me take me to your promise
promise me you'll always keep it
no matter what I do...

~ from Trouble by divine maggees
~photo by renee lewis

on an early date haley and i discovered the krog street tunnel together. the urban embrace of graffiti surrounded us and we were lost in the black. and each other. i don't think i've come out of that tunnel yet.

dark.
escape.
immersion.

and then a glow emerges from the shadows. it lights up haley's eyes. i feel safe in her strong arms. the darkness fades as our senses adjust and heighten.

light.
direction.
support.

a tunnel through the trouble.

d: a promise.
b: i am not lost.
g: i am found.

ready

~photo by renee lewis

Love does not consist in gazing at each other,
but in looking together the same direction.

~antoine de saint-exupery

almost a day doesn't pass when haley and i don't stumble across an intersection of our friend groups, a shared social event, or a near-miss over the past ten (or even more) years. we could've met so many times before. i wish i knew how many times we were in the same place at the same time before our stars aligned.

that being said, this is the perfect time.

reborn from the wreckage.
a huge sky ahead.
hearts wide open.
hand in hand.

d: no limits.
b: i was ready when the time was right.
g: a photographer and a vision to capture it.

secret

Voici mon secret.

Il est très simple: on ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur.
L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.

~excerpted from Le Petit Prince by antoine de saint-exupery

i notice that the way people look to me, in a literal sense with my eyes, changes from moment to moment. it's curious when it happens with the people closest to me. the thought crosses my mind, 'is this what other people see when they look at her?'

what i've decided about this though is that what i see follows what i feel. the energy i'm picking up and the energy i'm giving off somehow transform what is visible. it may sound weird and new-agey, but i know it to be true. and i know it happens for other people too.

it's why pam told me a few weeks ago that haley looks better since she met me. even when we aren't together, she has a different look about her. it's why brides always look beautiful. even normally unattractive women. it's why in moments of extreme maturity or immaturity, todd looks like a different child to me.

i am betrayed by my eyes. i have never been able to hide behind them a single thought or feeling and at times it's felt invasive. not now though. now i welcome the world to see what i feel. to bear witness to my heart.

after all, in the words of the little prince, in english:

Here is my secret. It is very simple:
It is only with the heart that one can see rightly;
what is essential is invisible to the eye.

tomorrow haley and i are feeding our narcissism and modeling for a photographer friend.

luckily, my heart is visible through my eyes.

d: visibility of the essential.
b: my heart sees rightly.
g: my eyes expose me and invite you.

pluck

last night i let a hairy mole ruin my night.

yesterday at camp, luke dallied on his chess game turn and todd, being the patient person he is (no idea where he gets that), announced to the entire room that luke has a hairy mole on his back.

luke greeted me with: 'todd has destroyed my life!'

deeply restraining myself from laughter because luke truly believed this, i tried the reasonable consolations. everybody has body insecurities, nobody will remember if you don't make a big deal out of it, we can take the hair out, etc, etc. but nothing helped and luke's anger was contagious. his destroyed life in turn destroyed my night. and todd's. and a few other peoples' too.

hairy moles are like that. you forget it's there until it peeks out of your clothes at the most inopportune time. and then it's the only thing you can see. it embarrasses you. it's itchy. it's ugly. it's got a nasty hair growing out of the middle.

so you pluck that hair out with vigor and forget about it for a while.

then that hair comes back. and it itches. and it's embarrassing. and upsetting. and consuming. you lay on the bed and wail that your life has been destroyed. you're angry about it and you just can't hold it back.

so you pluck that hair out again.

and hairy mole becomes beauty spot.

d: plucking, as needed.
b: i have the best tweezers ever. (really, i do. go ahead, click.)
g: beauty spots make us unique. and uniquely lovable.

ftw

i've been thinking a lot lately about words and languages. languages of love and intuition. written language. pictures as language. but maybe what i've been missing is the dialect. perhaps what i should've mentioned is that slight tilt our language has based on where we're from.

or where we're coming from.

the words we hear are so colored by our own experiences that the original intent is often lost in translation. perhaps no better example than that of text messaging. just a few words, 160 characters or less, and all the layers and layers of our own emotions and mental calculations imparting a dialect.

we read and write short phrases, which are by definition short. and attach fear, insecurity, guilt. meanings attach to the stray punctuation or the abbreviated expression. significance attaches to the timing and the frequency. we imagine the scenario on the other side of the message. we imagine the expression and the tone.

and i've learned that so often we're wrong.

fear, insecurity, guilt? why are these the things to apply as filters?
why not love, confidence and humility?
why not compassion and expansion rather than blame and protection?

i will quiet the dialect of my own and listen for the dialect of others. i will expect the best and trust in the good. i will give the benefit of the doubt and send my expectation of love and peace.

and i will get what i expect. because as the great poet john lennon said:

The love you take is equal to the love you make.

d: clarity in translation.
b: i know text shorthand.
g: full qwerty keyboard on my phone, ftw.

bff

For they had lived together long enough to know
that love was always love, anytime and anyplace,
but it was more solid the closer it came to death.

~excerpted from Love in the Time of Cholera by gabriel garcia marquez

there is nothing more certain than the uncertainty of our lives. it's been nearly two years since i was confronted with that and as i come up on the 'anniversary' of it, i am reminded of my fragility. and my strength.

when i am asked what i learned from that experience, and i'm asked often, i always reply that i learned what my relationships were made of. and it was sad. i felt in many ways that not only had my body disappointed and betrayed me, but also the people i loved and relied on.

i wept.
i redefined.
i said good-byes.
and i forgave...

as my lungs healed, so did some of my relationships. the most important one, at least. jackie.

she's as much as sister to me as i'll ever have and our friendship since childhood has carried us through death, divorce, childbirth, heartbreak, disease and every triumph in between. of which there have been too many to count.

as she's confronted with a medical unknown of her own, i can feel the fear. and the confusion. i want to make it go away and can't. i want to know the answers and can't.

but i can focus on her strength. her stubborn nature will serve her well in this. her routine and method will leave no detail unscrutinized. her dutiful adherance to policy will help the healing process.

and her open heart will receive all the love and support she needs. and that, i can give.

d: health, wholeness and peace for my closest friend.
b: i call her 'family'.
g: twenty-three years as friends and many more to come.

little

i first heard the expression, 'i feel little' from an ex. she used to say it all the time and rather than elicit some sort of loving compassion it usually made me want to retort, 'well then stop acting so damn big.'

and i don't think i've heard or used that expression since. until recently, at least. i'm not sure what happens to my voice in a literal sense, but something about it changes at times and haley is quick to point out, 'you sound little' when it does. i don't think it's a volume thing, i think it's a tone. but whatever it is, when she says that, she's right.

little emotionally: vulnerable. weak. sad.

having someone notice that and point it out to me makes me pay attention to it. i want to discern why. i want to uncover the thing that smooshed me down. and sometimes, try as i might, i can't. i guess the fall back is 'hormones' or 'tired', but that doesn't seem quite fair. it's like saying, 'just because'.

right now i feel little.

it's an enigma because it came out of the blue. from laughing and up and secure to tiny and lonely and confused. crashed over me like a rough surf in the night. but i know it will pass.

i am not tiny. i am not alone. i am not confused. i will ride this wave of emotion and know that it always leads back to a shore.

d: a soft shore
b: i am riding, rather than drowning.
g: a little voice to cue my awareness.

moth

It was only four hours later, in the eleventh hour of the ninth of May, as the dryer clicked and droned downstairs and she sat beside her bedroom window reading, that Lusa's life turned over on this one simple thing: a potent rise of scent as her young husband reached out his muscled arm for a branch of flowers. Here was what she'd forgotten about, the full, straight truth of their attachment. Her heart emptied of words, for once, and filled with a new species of feeling. Even if he never reached the house, if his trip across the field was disastrously interrupted by the kind of tractor accident that felled farmers in this steep country, she would still have had a burst of fragrance reaching across a distance to explain Cole's position in the simplest terms conceivable.

Lusa sat still and marveled: This is how moths speak to each other. They tell their love across the fields by scent. There is no mouth, the wrong words are impossible, either a mate is there or he's not, and if so the pair will find each other in the dark.

For several more minutes her hand lay motionless on her book while she considered a language that could carry nothing but love and simple truth.

~excerpted from Prodigal Summer by barbara kingsolver

one day, several months ago, haley said to me, 'i've heard that with the wrong person you can't say the right thing, but with the right person, you can't say the wrong thing..and i never understood it until now.' that was the first time i'd heard it put quite like that, but i agreed.

no editing. no hesitating.

natural.

maybe there is something to the language of the moths. maybe it is scent. maybe it is chemical.

organic.

sentences finished for me. my thoughts put in words by the right person. a language of connection.

undoubted.

d: deep breaths.
b: i speak moth.
g: so does haley.

easy

today i'm at a loss for words. this rarely happens, as many will attest to. it's nearly tomorrow and the pressure of beating the clock is upon me. (oh no!)

i'm not feeling particularly contemplative, but i am feeling extremely grateful. from work to the gym to home - it's all been easy and good. well, maybe easy is an overstatement (thinking back to my workout...) but definitely satisfying.

or maybe easy is the right word. sometimes things just flow.. and they are easy. sometimes i feel appreciated and validated at work. sometimes i feel strong and capable at the gym. sometimes i feel loved and supported at home. and then it's easy. like today. and i'm grateful.

but before i float off on cloud nine, write a dbg, and cuddle up next to haley i want to pause and stop to be grateful for the hard stuff too.

todd and i had a hard afternoon yesterday. we hit a pre-pubescent and umm, mid-30's emotional power struggle leaving us both hurt, angry and confused. but.. despite signs to the contrary, we muddled through, still love each other, and lived to see another day.

and for the struggles, i am grateful. for the pain, i am grateful. for the confusion and anger, i am grateful. in these times of easy, i remember the hard. it is in those times that we heal and change.. and the easy is when we celebrate those changes. for that i am grateful.

so tonight as i sit with no burning desires to write about, i do have a full heart. and that may be the only thing better than words.

d: words for tomorrow.
b: filled a page with wordlessness.. and maybe made a point too.
g: a day so easy, i have nothing to say.