August 10, 2013

in the moment

she's gonna kill me. this is one of those spontaneous photos i delight so much in taking but mom is not always so happy with. i told her the photo was just for me. sorry, mom, how could i NOT share this slice of unbridled joy?

it's right before dinner is served. mom is hand drizzling freshly made Italian vinaigrette dressing over our salads, blissfully unaware of me surreptitiously picking up my camera. dad, eagle-eyed sees the camera lift to my eyes and quickly sneaks in behind this woman he adores gleefully showing his love and affection. the moment his hand slides on her arm and tiny waist, she blushes and smiles.

you can't miss the radiance. the camera captures them. the sweetness of their relationship. their playful spontaneity. living in the moment. dad being the affectionate husband. so in-love enjoying every moment after 56 years with his beautiful bride.

they're meant for each other. but even more than that, despite all the challenges that life tosses at them in the aging process, they grab each moment with joy and gratitude. she hosts birthday parties despite kidney stones. dad graciously greets you at the door with a beaming smile and entertains company despite pain.

today i realized, this is where i got it from. where it was modeled. bred in me. taught in a master class. this voracious appetite to seize every moment in life. to change my perspective when i can't change my circumstance. to retain the sensitivity to feel delight in the smallest things that surround me. to feel and express joy because it is IN us. to treasure these moments as gifts.

every since i was a teen, i have a little painting placed where i can see it every night before i go to sleep. it says happiness is not so much about what we have. it's about what we enjoy. yep, truth...

August 02, 2013


i don't know who gave me the rose. but a full-bloom variegated rose greeted me as i opened my mailbox, returning from a challenging business trip. having flown all day, driven 2 hours in friday rush hour traffic, it was a bright surprise that instantly brushed a smile across my tired face.

i popped it into a small vase and enjoyed this unexpected aromatic delight all week until the last petals fell off, below. i made phone calls to family, friends, neighbors. was it you? i would ask one by one, calling individuals i suspected may have been so thoughtful. no one fessed up. no, they'd say, wish it was me or you must have a secret admirer.

the past 2 weeks have been arduous. experiences and outcomes i eagerly anticipated turned into disappointments. that's life, isn't it? just when we think we're firmly footed on solid ground, we find we're actually swimming in unknown waters. disillusions, fears and unrequited desires can toss our little ships. 

i'm learning to float. feel peace. let the waters flow thru and around me. realize that i do not have to drown in these turmoils, that life has plenty of illusions. that i am resilient. buoyant. that every hour of every day, i have a reason to look forward to next

i'm learning to trust that. even when i don't know what next will be. 

like the lyrics from my favorite song by adam randall, let the mystery stand...

so i’m learning to swim
in spite of the dry land
i’m learning that what i know
has nothing to do with who i am
i’m learning to let my world
go to pieces and then be made again
i’m learning to drift away
and let the mystery stand

April 15, 2013


i am content
nothing more is needed
nothing need change or be subtracted
for me to be at ease
i am here, now, feeling complete
tomorrow floats on the other side of sleep
yet it does not concern me
yesterday needs no reflection or judgment
my mind flows neither forward or backward
but cradles me gently in the evening air

i am unconstrained
undefined by the words seeking to shape me
simply being the shape that i am
in a womb like sense of neutral, buoyant
no need to analyze or plan
connecting with the night air
the silk of these sheets
the warm fur of bella purring beside me
appreciating each breath we inhale
the spring color beauty of my maples
a full tummy

i am beautiful to me
warm to my own touch
sweetness inside my own supple skin
accepting all that i am
hands bruised from gardening
hair that curls in gentle disarray
as if it were tousled in sex
there is no loss, no gain, simply what is
this form of me, simply whole

April 01, 2013

bubbling on

For months before my uncle Les died, we talked every Tuesday on the phone. While his heart and kidneys were failing him, his spirit, humor and warmth did not. He was fully at peace with his life and embraced his inevitable conclusion with dignity and contentment with a life well lived.

The moments we shared were priceless to me. He told me stories about the ornery escapades that hardly anyone else knew of his growing up as a kid in Georgia. Like that one about him leaving the house on a mission to buy ice cream, without enough cash in hand. A kind policeman noting his curious walking about trying to find the ice cream store, buying him ice cream and bringing him back home.

Then there was the afternoon we spent together when I drove up to Oregon. For nearly 4 hours, we went thru the pages of his life. Scrapbooks and photo albums. As each page turned, he'd giggle and tell me another story. Or I'd gasp at a piece of memorabilia and ask him to explain something. We walked, side by side on the couch, thru the decades of love he shared with his beloved wife Anne. I learned that every day, they would softly reassure each other, always in Russian, in their own sweet tenderness. When one would say I love you, the other would reply back, I love you more.

He left a gift of money for me in his will. I bought a beautiful water fountain that sits right outside my home office sliding door. It's bubbling right now. Just like the bubbling conversations he and I had.

The day my uncle died, I could not be there, miles away. But I knew he was at peace finding release from a world of pain his body had endured. He told a family member at his bedside to tell me that he loved me.

As my fountain bubbles tonight, I can hear it say, I love you more...

March 29, 2013


the most
is not found
in our wallets

it is held
in our hands

March 27, 2013

alternate universe

in my fraction
of a second
he took me in
alternate universe
hummer's eye view
of us gravity prone
ground dwellers
in the whoosh
of an exhale
he thought