Winter's Cold

The losses pile up

                Summer bleeds to fall

                And then the chill of winter

Auntie Jane,

                Having filled her bucket

                Joined her husband and daughter

Maggie, Tracy, Ruth and others,

                Gone without warning

                Always kiss them goodbye

Cathy’s sister and John

                Fought heroically

                Gracefully succumbed

Joy, embodying her name

                Taught mindfulness

                And unconditional love

Winter’s cold chills all.

Losing friends and family,

I long for spring.

We grieve, wail and mourn, shaking a fist at the universe. We clothe ourselves in the brittle shell of daily life, hope the next blow doesn't shatter us. 

Yet we keep on living, loving as though our life depends on it. 

And it does my beloveds. It is the strength of shared tears and laughter that seep through that brittle shell and lets hope grow. The sun WILL shine again. Perhaps not tomorrow or the next day, or even the day after that. But one day.

I promise on the strength of my love for you.

Wedding, not the first time around

I am engaged to be married to a wonderful person. I am divorced from someone who was wonderful, but not to or for me for much too long. I didn’t think I would ever get married again. For many reasons, I am and I am happy with that decision.

However, in 1986, I swore I would never again plan another party for a huge number of people. I do not find it fun to peruse websites looking for good deals. I do not enjoy negotiating prices, knowing that money spent on this event means less money with which to buy a new home. Asking friends for their help is uncomfortable, even when they are happy to do so. But, here I am, planning another big event.

Ah, but this time, I have help. Willing, cooperative and decisive help. What a difference several decades and a different partner make! So while some of the decisions have been mine (color and style of my dress), most of the other decisions have been discussed, laughed at, and made with my lover. WE are planning this event, not me. My first wedding was about 15 months in the planning (about 250 guests). This wedding will be something less than 6 months in the planning. Eeek! But wait, I have help this time. Deep breath, sigh, smile.

Having a much shorter time to plan allows us to focus on the important elements – a meal, venue (must be meaningful to at least one of us, have wheel chair access and adequate parking). All else is gravy on top. Flowers will probably happen; guest gifts may or may not happen. Minister, yes; invites, yes; photographer, yes. Family and friends, yes!

I still don’t like this big event planning stuff, but I love that we are doing one more thing together that means so much to both of us. It feels like we are saying “Yes,” together already. 

L’chaim!

A Candle in the dark

I always look forward to the winter solstice. Living with chronic depression is harder when I don’t see the sun because it’s dark when I drive to work and dark when I drive home from work. But once again, we have made it through the longest night of the year, which doesn’t necessarily have any connection with the dark night of the soul. Solstice slipped by me with barely a nod to my pagan sisters.

In my home, we celebrated Christmas with gifts, be they thoughtful, silly, useful or desired; and food answering the emotional longings of different people around the table. Roasted turkey for one, pearl onions for another, stuffing (in and out of the bird). (Mea culpa, I forgot the mashed potatoes! But at least I didn’t have to blow the rolls out this year!) We spoke of those not able to be with us in person, lifting up their health and hearts with a promise to bring some Christmas to them when they are ready to receive it. We honored those who will never be with us in person again, with tears and laughter and happy memories.

When no one else was around, I honored Hanukkah. Singing the phrases along with my “Bare Naked for the Holidays” album. Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah. (.ברוך אתה יי, אלוהינו מלך העולם, אשר קידשנו במצוותיו, וציוונו להדליק נר של חנוכה). How lucky are we to be able to celebrate a light in the dark.

This year has seemed to be full of “the dark” more than I remember in past years recently. Probably because of the politics here in the good ol’ US of A and interpersonal politics at my day job. I have spent untold hours listening to people hurting from unkind words, unjust rules and justice repealed. I confessed to friends that I “scroll past” their political posts on social media, because I just can’t look at another ranting meme. The faces of my friends superimposed over the actions of this president wound me more than an insulting joke or picture can heal. (Although sometimes a band of chipmunks playing a snazzy jazz tune or a cute kitten video helps.)

And then there are the floods and fires. And no, they were not caused by g-d’s wrath towards the LBGTQ movement, thank you very much. I was reminded of a fire 24 years ago: I was 8 months pregnant and helped friends shovel debris off of the foundation of their house. Inviting them to share Christmas with us, co-mingling traditions again. And I am reminded again of why we celebrate.

We celebrate the love we share with one another. The little things like a smile passing in the hall, the big things like taking care of someone after surgery. Of unexpected gifts, and heart-full hugs. Our presence in hearing some one’s aching story of betrayal. The joy in a healthy birth or the colorblind man seeing true colors for the first time.

These are our candles in the dark, lighting the way when we might otherwise be overwhelmed by daily noise and strife. If you are with me when we turn the calendar page to 2019, we’ll play some silly games, light some more candles, sing Auld Lang Syne, and share our mitzvos. Because we all need more light and love.

So just as the physical nights are getting shorter now, may your dark nights of the soul be relieved by the love you give and receive. Blessings abound!

 

Feminism or reality?

“We live in deeds not years In thoughts not breaths In feelings not figures on a dial. We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives who thinks most, feels noblest, acts the best.” [sic] Philip James Bailey

This quote came up in one of my emails as a suggestion for a meditation centering thought. I deleted it, because of the word “He,” having a knee jerk reaction to the exclusionary language. Yes, I know English usage mandates the use of masculine pronouns when mixed gender is addressed. And this was not publicly challenged in Mr. Bailey’s lifetime (1816 – 1902). But really, can’t we move forward yet?

Just as minority populations feel excluded when pictures/movies/television show only the dominant culture, I feel excluded when only male pronouns are used. In this particular case, I was good with the first few phrases, which use the inclusive “we.” Then I got to the troublesome “He,” and the following phrase stuck in my gullet and the whole thing went to the trash bin.

“He most lives who thinks most, feels noblest, acts the best.” So, the thinking person lives most? The noblest feeling person lives most? The person who acts the best lives most? Thoughts of a privileged, white, male, me thinks. Not much shows up on the internet about Mr. Bailey, so I do not know if he was ever a parent. But every parent who ever loved a child lives by their heart throbs. From the first time a baby smiles at you, to their first injury, every time they tell you, “Mom (or Dad), I love you,” until you or they die, they are connected to your heart. Good parents act as the best parent they can. They are noble, as far as acting in the best interest of the family (in whatever shape it may be) to the best of their ability.

I guess it is the first part of the last phrase that most bothers me. “He most lives who thinks most.” Most parents I know don’t have time or brain cells left for thinking during the first few years of a child’s life. One moves by rote, routine, reflex in a fog of sleeplessness (and sometimes worry). And that’s if your child is healthy. G-d help those of us whose babies are ill or otherwise need additional care and resources.

And sorry, just thinking doesn’t make one a good person or noble citizen. One MUST act to be noble. Maybe this quotation was taken out of context and Mr. Bailey expanded on his idea in surrounding text. If the editor who chose this quote for the meditation exercise had included some background and noted the exclusionary language (even by just adding "sic" at the end) I might not have deleted the message immediately. “Ifs” and “maybes,” but something to keep in mind should you have the opportunity to address people in the future.

Be inclusive. Be on the cutting edge of language and mores. Remember women hold up half (actually, more than half) the sky.

Love thy neighbor

I like this photo - and don't give me any stuff about loving the person and hating the sin. Hate is a very strong emotion. I hope you never experience it.