December 22, 2025
Migratory Way at sunset.


I ended last night with the statement and the intention of leaving my heart open and not giving into my food addictions today.  I had an interesting time with both.  

My open heart got warmed, felt pain, held EJ on my lap.  Was loved by friends, felt other's fear, other's worry, and other's happiness.  

The pool was wonderful this morning, people I love were missing, but others were truly present.  Stretching is a success strategy for my daily practice.


I cannot begin to explain what it is like for me inside my head at this time  of year.  My sadness, my otherness has nothing to do with any one other person, it has everything to do with my own responses to my own buttons that are ever so obvious in these two weeks.   



 

Birding is the perfect activity for me.
The canal was filled with them today and the sun was setting.  It was a perfect time for me to be there.  I also made sure I handed in my fuel assistance application before I let myself  go play.  I am so proud of myself, only 2 months of procrastinating.




I burnt my 2nd intention tonight in a small pewter vessel.  So the idea is the ones you burn get put out in the universe and the last one becomes the one to focus on.  I added them to my altar tonight a long with a incense burning time with a prayer for those who need one, or I just want to say one for.   


The eagle pair flew over me today.  They have a couple of more weeks before they mate, but they are monogomous and this couple has been around  now for a few years.  


I had 5 young 20 year olds in my living room tonight.  I miss being with that population.  I miss that energy, their curiosity, their silliness, their interest in the odd and peculiar things.  Earlier I was thinking about the beginning days of Matt and Annie's relationship and how hysterical they were, how they could play off each other in so many ways.  Their creativity sparking around each other, whether doing music or theater, or comedy.  Jay and I used to laugh with them a lot.  When you added Sam into the crowd you added some leverl of somber, but the humor would bubble up.   Those were good days. Yeah, those bonding adventure making early adult days.  Thank God for Marlboro College.  It helped me grow and heal just enough to get out and have a life.   And a good one it has been.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Image
  January 3, 2025 The Complexity (what I refer to as the texture) of Life This is a photo of Michael Whiton, eldest child of Jean O. Whiton.  If you knew our mother, you know whose eyes he inherited.  Picture was taken by Linda Boardman.        I did not take pictures today, nor was my brain very able.  So tonight you get a poem I wrote 25 years ago that is more spirited than I could write tonight. I Believe in Color   I believe in red the changing forever-ness of red.  A pure rich red: cotton tee shirt red, berries on the bushes in the dead of  New England winters, cherries in June next to a slab of ripe brie. Magenta, a little redder than wine, blood as it begins to dry, the curtains I always wanted, floor length heavy velvet. Orange red on the skins of a tangelo; blood oranges in a light blue porcelain bowl on a small table near stark white walls. Dusty rose of an old flannel duvet, the height of fashion in 1980. I believe i...
Read more
Image
January  4, 2025 Michael E. Whiton  June 30, 1944 - January 4, 2025     I always talk about patterns, it is my researcher's brain.  This morning I texted with my niece, Grace, and asked her what her 12 year old was really into. She told me math.  He plays the flute in his school band.  I had an epiphany when the 2 things got put together.  To grow up with music as a constant all through your childhood you are exposed to patterns.  You become aware of what can follow what.  My 3 year old great niece makes up little songs, repetitive musical patterns.  Her father repeats them or adds to them.  She already knows how to put notes together.  That's math.  That's what Liam does.        So what does all that have to do with Michael's leaving us on this plain today.  Well, one pattern is that we all seem to be good with babies.   When Mike was 21, Jason was born.  He was good to babies....
Read more
Image
  January 2, 2025 Time is both too soon and too late.   Just keeps slipping.     I believe it was 1996 or 7 when I flew out to Bainbridge Island to see my brother, Mike.  He was very ill and my Mom was worried and wanted me to go assess the situation, which I did, probably in not such a diplomatic way.  He really was ill.  His liver was failing and he wasn't getting put on the transplant list, yet.  I've never quite understand the whys and the wherefores of all that.  But for the next 4 or so years he maintained, so sick, sometimes optimistic, sometimes beaten, but he made it to a liver transplant in August 2000 in Worchester.       24 years ago, holy shit.  EJ's entire life, a third of mine; and again he kept living, kept listening to music and trying to be kind and never regaining any reliable health.   His story is fascinating, and I'll tell it sometime, but not tonight.  Tonight I just want to ...
Read more