Life After What's-His-Name

Vacation

I am on vacation, and I decided that means I get a vacation from blog posts too, if I want it.

Yesterday was a great day, but I didn't get out the camera to document any ot it, so no blog post for yesterday. (Except the one that was really overdue from Thursday.)

I am, in fact, considering letting myself out of the "post a day" project altogether, and just posting when something truly share-worthy happens. It has been more than three months of daily photos and posts, and I have enjoyed it, but another nine months sounds like a really long time.

So, I'll take a vacation from it until Tuesday, and see what I think then.

Happy Memorial Day weekend!
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Surprise!

Whatever the time stamp on the blog may say, this is the photo and post for Thursday, May 24th. I wrote it then, but am traveling and have been having all kinds of technical issues trying to get this posted from my phone or iPad. Anyway, here it is:

Tonight, after Aidan finished his last day of third grade, we flew to Salt Lake City to visit family here. Aidan's cousins were kept guessing about who was coming, though they did both figure it out in the last day or two.

I couldn't make it a surprise for Aidan, with all the necessary preparations for a catsitter, packing, etc. But he was excited about surprising his cousins, and even though he was exhausted when we arrived, he perked up as soon as he and David started talking. I think I still hear soft conversation from their room now.

Normally my sister-in-law and I would spend the first night of a visit staying up late talking. However, due to a flight delay, it's after 1:00 a.m., so I am headed to bed. We'll have lots of time to catch up over the next four days.

Good Hair Days

Sometimes I miss having long hair.

For years that was one of my defining traits: hair almost to my waist. Now it's above my shoulders.

It was a gradual transition over a period of years, after I was convinced that short hair was both more age-appropriate and suited me better, especially as somehow with age my hair developed curl that wasn't there in my 20s.

Most days I agree. Today, though, I want the long hair back.

I realized at some point in my 20s that my hairstyle was one of the things I could control when everything else felt out of control. Back before Life After, my hair often changed length, color, or style immediately after a breakup. I went from long to short, or straight to curly, or dark blonde to reddish brown. It was my way of reclaiming myself, declaring my independence. And probably my way of feeling new and a little daring at times when it would have been easy to wallow in sadness or apathy.

I guess I must be feeling a little out of control again, because I've changed my hairstyle several times recently, and I'm considering changing it again. Not dramatically--it's already about as short as I'm willing to go--but maybe having bangs again. Or highlights. (Aidan suggested purple streaks, but I don't think I'm quite ready for that, much as I admire his blue or green spikes when he opts for that look.)

It's too bad I can't instantly have long hair. That would certainly be a dramatic change. But it's not the kind of change I can make on a whim; it would take me a couple of years to get back the length, I think, and I'd have to have the patience to get through the awkward in-between stage as it grew out. Still, it's tempting to at least try. I can always cut it off again if (when) I change my mind.

I'm afraid, though, that when I look at these pictures and want the long hair, part of what I'm really wanting is to be that woman again, five or ten years younger. No hairstyle will get that back.

And when I stop to think about it, I don't really want to be her again. Not in most ways. Not even if it meant I got to have long, straight hair again.

Aidan's First Poetry Reading

Today was the third grade poetry celebration at my son Aidan's school. That's him on the right, with his friend Will, reading to me from the anthologies of their work.

The celebration started with a reading. Each student read one of his or her poems to their classmates and the parents and other family members who came to the event. They used a microphone, had a printed program, and provided refreshments. The class had clearly put a lot of work into preparing for the celebration.

After the reading, the students found their family members and read us more of their poems. Students whose parents couldn't attend paired up with those who did have guests, so I got to hear not only Aidan's poems but Will's too.

Aidan isn't as passionate about poetry as I am. But he had a lot of fun today, and was clearly proud of his work. And all of those students now think of themselves as writers, which can make all the difference in the world as they move through their academic journeys.

I think if every school made poetry this fun, made it something to celebrate, we'd have more poets.

Cool and Green and Shady

This was one of the highlights of my lunchtime walk today. I have nothing profound to say about it except that it was a moment of beauty in an otherwise fairly stressful day.

Trying to think of something clever to write to go with this photo, what kept running through my head instead was the John Denver song "Cool an' Green an' Shady"...and yes, I realize that my title is inaccurate because I just had to spell "and" all the way out. Here are the lyrics:

Saturdays, holidays, easy afternoons
Lazy days, sunny days, nothing much to do.
Rainy days are better days for hangin' out inside
Grainy days and city ways make me want to hide
Someplace cool an' green an' shady.

Find yourself a piece of grassy ground,
Lay down close your eyes.
Find yourself and maybe lose yourself
While your free spirit flies.

August skies, and lullabies, promises to keep
Dandelions and twisting vines clover at your feet.
Memories of Aspen leaves, tremblin' on the wind.
Honey bees and fantasies, where to start again,
Someplace cool an' green an' shady.
Cool an' green an' shady, (Repeat and fade.)

Right now that sounds like heaven. So for a few moments on that walk, I paused, took some deep breaths, and enjoyed th peace of that spot before going back to my day. I'm grateful that I have place like that within an easy walk from my office. Now I just need to remember that it's there whenever I need it.

Oh, the Places You'll Go!

Today my church held our annual bridging ceremony for our graduating seniors, to mark their transition from youth to young adult. During the Story for All Ages time in the service, the reading was Oh, the Places You'll Go! by Dr. Seuss.

This book is frequently given to graduates, but its message is great for all of us. Here's the part that jumped out at me this morning:

And when things start to happen,
don't worry. Don't stew.
Just go right along.
You'll start happening too.

Couldn't we all use that message sometimes?

It was certainly timely for me. Right now I've got one stressful thing happening, and one good thing that looks like it might be happening. And I could choose to play the "what if" game all day long about either or both of those situations. I could spend my energy trying to figure out what's happening next and how to be prepared for it.

Or I could just take a deep breath and let go a little, and see what happens.

That doesn't mean that I should stop doing the necessary things to be prepared for certain situations. There are steps I can take that will make a difference, and I should take them. But once I take those steps, it's time to let go again...to know that I've done what I can and that whatever happens next, it will be okay. I will be okay. More than okay.

So for today, I did my best to put both situations out of my head and just enjoy where I was. Enjoy watching six graduating seniors talk about their paths to where they are, and their dreams for what's ahead. Enjoy watching my nine-year-old listen to the Dr. Seuss story, knowing in my heart that the day when he stands up there as a senior will come all too soon. He's already halfway there.

Time moves quickly whether we give it permission or not. Spending any of it worrying about "what if" instead of living in the moment is a waste.

Or, as Dr. Seuss put it:

Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way! 

Confessions

I like musicals.

Especially when I'm in a certain mood, which I seem to have been in a lot lately. I've even started watching Glee...okay, not only started, but become sort of addicted to. Thanks to Netflix and Hulu, I'm rapidly catching up with my friends who've been watching it all along. (I started last weekend and have worked my way through a ridiculous number of episodes since then.)

So all this got me thinking, what is it that I like about these shows?

Well, an obvious answer is the music. I've always liked music, particularly vocal music. I've been singing in groups on and off since 8th grade. That's part of the appeal of Glee--it reminds me of my own years in school choirs. Never a show choir like the ones on Glee, but I recognize that feeling of the magic that happens when two or more voices blend together in harmony, and two or more people become one voice, one song.

Two or more. Okay, there's one of the keys. I love big choral numbers, but right now what I'm really loving is the duets. That's the second part of my confession: I am a hopeless romantic. I thought I wasn't anymore, not after all I've been through and how fiercely I cherish my independence now. But some part of me still is. I may not believe in "happily ever after" in quite the same way I did once, but I still believe in romance.

One of my secret fantasies as a teen (and yes, even after that) was being in love with someone I could sing duets with. There was one boyfriend in college with whom I actually did sing--not on stage, but walking in a park together on dates. He and I haven't spoken in about twenty years, but I can still remember singing with him, and I still smile at the memory. Cheesy, yes, probably. But fun, too. And romantic.

And I miss romance. Don't get me wrong, I still love my life. But how could I watch couples sing together on screen and not have some part of me want that?

I'm not a professional singer. I never will be. Even in the choirs I have belonged to over the years, I rarely sang solos or duets, because it made me too nervous.

And then at the reading I went to last night, one of my friends read his half of a collaboration with someone and I thought...hmmmm...collaborative poetry could be like singing a duet, sort of. Not quite the same as singing together, maybe, not two voices blending into one. But two voices weaving together to create something neither could create alone.

I've never tried a collaboration like that; I honestly hadn't thought of it until last night. But now that I have been thinking about it, I have a new fantasy. A more attainable fantasy, considering that I actually do get on stage and read my poetry alone. And that the odds of me dating someone else who writes poetry are much better than the odds of me dating someone who sings on stage. I hang out with writers, not musicians.

It doesn't mean I'll stop watching Glee or musicals on DVD and imagining myself singing duets with someone who makes me go weak in the knees. And who knows, maybe someday I'll date someone again who will sing with me somewhere less daunting than a stage.

Somehow, though, having this new possibility--a poetic duet, if you will--makes me a little less wistful for the days when I sang duets. It makes me feel like the fact that I didn't continue to pursue music in college wasn't the end of the possibility of that kind of sharing of myself and my art with a partner.

It's just another example of how many possible variations on "happily ever after"--or even "happily in the moment"--there are out there. For a romantic like me, the more possibilities, the better.

Among Poets

Tonight I took Aidan to his first poetry reading. Okay, true, I let him play on my iPad with headphones on, so he wasn't really completely present. But the point is, I got to go, and he wasn't home with a sitter.

I wasn't going to go tonight; I was going to miss this reading like I've missed many others in the last year. But this afternoon, a friend (one of tonight's poets) mentioned the reading to me again and I changed my mind. I took Aidan to dinner at one of his new favorite spots (sure, call it bribery if you want...whatever works!) and then we went to the reading.

It didn't hurt that one of the poets who performed tonight sometimes works at his school in the after-school program, and has been a sitter for him in the past. (He looked up from the iPad long enough to clap for her when she got on stage.)

A faculty member recently told me that the Naropa community has a long history of kids coming with their parents to readings. So tonight was Aidan's first, but far from his last.

He has attended social events with me--pizza parties, faculty dinners in the summer, gathering on the green to watch fireworks on the Fourth of July. But not a poetry reading. Not until tonight.

A faculty member's wife at one of the dinners last summer told him that Naropa's like a big family and now he's part of it. He's been welcomed by faculty, staff, and students at those social events, and he was welcomed again tonight. He will grow up in this community that is my home. And he will get to see me as a writer as well as his mom. 

When an announcement was made about signing up for open mic slots, he looked at me expectantly. I told him I hadn't brought anything to read this time; I was just there to listen. He tried to convince me to write something on the iPad using the Poetry Magnets app and then sign up to read it.

He didn't quite talk me into it. But maybe the next time I take him to a reading, he'll get to see me on stage. Last month I got to read at an event with my parents in the front row. Next time, it's his turn.

Circles

I'm cheating again today. This is a photo by Daniel Dancer of Art for the Sky. I am in the photo though, part of this circle of friends. This was taken on Whidbey Island in October 2010.

Today I stood in another circle, in another community, in Boulder, Colorado. There's no picture of that one, so this is standing in.

Today's circle was a celebration of a coworker who is leaving Naropa after nearly three decades of service. Or, as he said, not just of service but of learning from the community. The words members of the community spoke to him, and those he spoke to us, reminded me of the best things the Naropa community offers. The reasons I came here, first as a student and then as an employee. The reasons I am still glad to be here, even when things get hard.

There's something special about standing in a circle with people you share a connection with, whether it's an old or new connection, whether it's based on shared history or shared commitment to something.

Writing this post, I realize how many circles I've been part of, how many times I've literally stood as a member of a human circle. Arms raised sometimes. Hands clasped sometimes. Standing in silence, or voices raised in song. It's in a circle that I feel comfortable being the first to sing, to lead the song, to teach a new song to a group that is ready for the message. Not on a stage with a microphone, but in a circle. A safe space. A community. A place where it's not about me, but about us.

One of my favorite songs is all about circles, about keeping circles whole. The circle I stood in today will be different without Michael in it, but it will still be whole. And though he may not be there in our community five days a week anymore, he hasn't truly left it. Once you're part of a community in the way he has been, you're always part of it, and it's part of you.

That's the kind of connection I have always craved, have sought out wherever I can, have cherished when I found it. Maybe it's the military brat in me, always on the lookout for places I can feel a sense of home. Maybe it's just something human, something we all crave.

Come, join my circle. Take my hand. Sing with me.

Unexpected Gifts

When I went on my half-hour walk along Boulder Creek with a friend during our lunch break, I expected exercise and good conversation.

I didn't expect a heron to fly from behind us to a tree right next to the path, and then from there to the water.

I wished I had my camera with me, but at least I had my phone and was able to get several pictures. The heron was still standing in the water, right where it is in this photo, when we had to head back to our offices.

I could have stood there and watched until it moved away, however long that might have been. It was the highlight of my day, a moment of beauty and wonder and peace.

Later in the day, while dealing with the most stressful situation that has come up in my almost-year at my job, I thought about the heron. Thought about it standing in the water, how the water flowed around it without moving it.

I thought about how I can't change the behavior of the person causing the stressful situation at work, but I can choose to stand still, to be strong, to remain unmoved and unshaken. How I can stand my ground and just be who I am, trusting that it's enough. It is enough.