Mirrors

I recently sent my kids to stay with their dad for two weeks.  I needed some time to recuperate from a bout with Lyme disease and I needed some time to sort through this tangled, but never boring bit of a mess my life is in right now.  My tangled life seems to be made up of all sorts of different colored threads.  The color of the thread representing what ever I have been poking around in, heaping on my plate or just getting snared in while mindlessly walking by....for forty some years.  There are threads of bright bold happy colors, muted peaceful earth tones , soft loving pastels and more than a few desperate, muddy blacks and grays.  While my kids were away Eric, apparently not getting what I thought a very clear message of "I need some quiet time alone"  brought his kids here for that first week of my 'quiet time'.  I was less than gracious about the fact that Eric didn't hear my needs (especially when I had clearly stated them to him) in fact I was down right mad.  I am not proud of the way I handled myself in expressing my justified anger and I most likely added some of those black and gray threads to the mix of my textile collection that first week. 
Eric's boys are wonderful.  I often mention that I am sad that I don't see them more often and am not closer to them.  They live and go to school in Baltimore which is not far from here, maybe an hour in traffic but they go to Gilliman. Gillman is  a very prestigious private school that keeps their lives busy and full in the city.  I refer to "their" city as "the real world".  When Eric and I were first dating I spent some time in Baltimore.  I liked visiting but wouldn't want to live there.  I was astonished at things like how long it takes to find a parking space at a grocery store.  In  the time it took me to park my car at the city grocery store, if I were in Middletown I would have had my shopping done, gotten back home, had my groceries put away and would have started on dinner.  How do people in the city get anything done???? 
One day while the boys were visiting during my designated 'quiet time' Elliot, the oldest of Eric's sons heard me yelling about something they had done, or had not done, or should have done, anyway Elliott confronted me.  He's 18, handsome like his dad and quite a bit taller than I.  I think of him as a little kid but when he calmly, with his deep man voice told me he had overheard...(overheard???)  I'm sure everyone heard my (ahem) conversation with Eric. I suddenly felt very small.  Elliott in his confident and gentle manner, also a trait from his father, conveyed his concern for my peace of mind I saw myself as if reflected in this still, quiet pool of deep blue water.  He, the 18 year old was quiet and still.  I saw my reflection, a child of maybe three ranting that things were not going my way.  "I'm sorry you heard that Elliott...." I began to explain but then stopped.  Elliott was fine, I did not need to reassure him.  I'm glad he approached me.

So I had one week, kid free.  I suppose I did get some things untangled but of course not as much as I wanted.  I thought that with two weeks of "me" time under my belt I would be so enlightened that by the time the kids got home I would be levitating. Ha!  Not even close.  When the kids arrived Monday evening I was so happy to see them!  I hugged them and sniffed the little one...he still smells sweet like little kids do...he finds this primate-like behavior of mine very odd but indulges me anyway.  "Okay, kids."  I said.  "Things are gonna change around here. Calm and peaceful, no yelling, everyone will practice active listening and we will communicate. Okay."  I of course explained to them in detail what all this meant.  They understood...riiiight.  Five minutes into my computer time I hear " MOM!!!!"   I dealt with it, then again "MOMMMM!"  I ignore this one, again and again..."MOMMM!!!" 
"Guys all I need is 45 minutes PLEASE!!!"  I got another 10 minutes of quiet when my 17 year old Jamie bursts into my room and in his typical dead pan way says "I broke my foot"  I never know if Jamie is joking or not.  He's the kid who will pour fake blood all over his body to freak me out and when he comes in with real blood his personality is the same so I cannot tell when to pay attention.  He wouldn't leave even after I put in the ear plugs.  That's my sign that I'm serious 'Leave me alone'!  I finally looked at his foot.  "Yup!  Looks pretty bad Jaime.  What did you do?"
"Parkour"  he says.  Which is a sport also called free running.  I love it that Jamie is athletic but he has my gene, a hunger for adventure with a side of danger and he can't get enough.  Off to the ER, off to the Podiatrist. Xrays show a severe fracture that hopefully while in a cast for 12 weeks might heal but may need surgery. 
I find it so ironic, I am trying to untangle this mass of threads of my life so I can take care of myself and my kids but the kids keep interrupting my untangling and add more to the mass...I missed an important interview, I will have to cancel a presentation tomorrow that has been scheduled for weeks, I will be spending money on his medical needs. Money that I am not going to be making because of his medical needs!  All of this frustration and anxiety was swirling around in my head while we were sitting in the doctors office looking at Jamie's gruesome xray's.  I just started to cry and couldn't stop. 
"Mom? You okay?"  Jamie asks.  I tell him about my frustrations and assure him that it is not his fault. Oh, if only someone would have let me know my parents troubles were not my fault I might be....well, let's not go there it is what it is. 
After leaving the doctors I was on the phone about another business opportunity, possibly a door that is opening for me.  While on the phone my hopes faded when the woman told me her associate was an old colleague of mine.  This former business partner and I had parted ways after my messy divorce.  Apparently my ex won her in the divorce.  "Oh, well thank you for your time." I said cutting this business conversation short because I knew that when she spoke with her associate, my former partner, I wouldn't stand a chance at this business opportunity. 
"What's wrong."Jamie asked.
"Oh, just another road block, another locked door Jamie.  Sit tight. I'll go and get your prescription."
As I walked into the pharmacy that swirling in my head started to overwhelm me again...a thousand thoughts, an infinity of worries I was (again) mindlessly walking through the store and literally bumped into a woman. "oh, excuse me..."  I looked up.  It was my former business partner. The one my ex won in the divorce!  I was stunned!  I had not seen her in five years.  We have not spoken nor do I even think about her very often and there she stood! 
"Unbelievable!" I said.  She was glaring at me but I did not care I stammered and stuttered and finally got the story out of how I had just been on the phone with her current partner and how this meeting must be more than just a coincidence.
"Sharon," I finally stopped my babbling "I know things are not good between us but I have nothing  but love for you in my heart.  I wish you well."  I went right up and hugged her.  I did not until that moment realize the heavy resentment I had been carrying around all these years because of her ending our relationship.  I was hurt but never felt anything but anger until that moment.  She hugged me back, much to my surprise and we actually had a pleasant conversation.
I went back to the car and told Jamie the whole story.  Jamie listened I watched him, kind of like Elliott, Jamie was still and calm. It was still the same day with all the same troubles but somehow everything had changed.  I looked in Jamie's young accepting eyes and once again saw myself.  These children are like little mirrors.  They love unconditionally.  That never changes, I change. When I get out of the swirling in my head and can see myself where I am right now in the moment I see this mass of threads is beginning to be woven into a beautiful tapestry.  there is much work to be done but I have progressed further than I often give myself credit for. 
"Well" Jamie said as I finished telling/weaving this part of my story, my journey to him. " Looks like someone removed that road block and handed you a key to that door...I guess you've had a pretty good day after all Mom."

A Controlled Environment

After resting yesterday I am recharged and wake up this morning with the rooster as usual.  The sun is just beginning to peek over the mountain as I sit up, still bleary eyed in my bed.  I love me bedroom. Its soft. I am surrounded by muted tones of white on the walls and sheer cotton white drapes on my windows and wavy patterned sheers on the French doors at the foot of my bed.  There is plenty of sunlight in my room throughout the day so I a have lush over grown ferns and flowering geraniums framing the French doors. It reminds me a little of Maurice  Sendak's book Where the Wild Things Are when Max begins dreaming in his room, a mysterious, wild forest and sea grows out of his imagination, and Max sails to the land of the Wild Things. The Wild Things are fearsome-looking monsters, but Max conquers them by "staring into all their yellow eyes without blinking once", and he is made "the king of all wild things"....my bedroom is as if I have blended the indoors with the outdoors. On a cold day I can sit and look out over the valley and to the mountain while sung and warm and at the same time feeling like I am outside and part of the earth.  My bedroom is both easy to fall asleep in and easy to wake up to.  This March morning as I gaze out over what should be the green pasture all I see is white. "Ugh!" I say out loud waking Eric.
"What's wrong?" He asks.
"It freaking snowed last night!!!" I whine "I thought it was supposed to be spring!"
But pleasant outdoor weather is not so important to me these days.....
I have been a distance runner for years and years...and years.  I ran every day.  I ran when I was happy, I ran when I was sad or stressed.  I just always ran.  The week my dad died I think I logged 97 miles.  In my grief and shock I would go out for a run on the trail then get to a place where it met with a road and call my son Seth. "Bring me a peanut butter sandwich" I would say.  He would. Then I'd run another ten or so miles call him again "Bring me some chicken and some Gatorade."  I would order. He would.  It would get dark, my son would pick me up somewhere about 20 miles from our house. I was exhausted beyond belief….beyond my grief. I would go to bed and we would do it all again the next day and the next until I had ‘run out’ all that part of the grief.
My favorite run is a section of the Appalachian Trail near my house.  The trail is always beautiful no matter the season. I can loose myself up there. I don't have to worry about cars or which turn to take or how to avoid an awkward encounter with one of my "ex laws" who just live right down the street.  In fact I become so lost?...lost isn't the right word…its more like I become a part of the trail...I can feel the pulse of the earth. My feet seem to think for themselves as they navigate a natural obstacle course of rocks, holes and fallen trees. I couldn't think as fast as my feet are skimming over the earth when I run. I am just sort of moving with her and think of nothing.  When I encounter another human I am always shocked "Hey! What are you doing on my trail?!?!?!" I think but never say in fact trail people are usually very friendly. Around May and through June I run into many thru-hikers. Thru-hikers are those brave or crazy souls who commit to hiking the entire Appalachian Trail which starts at Springer Mountain in Georgia and ends at  Mount Katahdin in Maine. 2,000 miles! Where I live is the halfway mark so the hikers are showing their true colors by then...plus you can spot them by their, let's call it their "earthy" smell.
Well today I won't have to worry about slippery conditions for trail running or any other running.  I broke a couple of vertebrate in my back, didn't know it  ignored the pain that I thought was tolerable and thought I probably had just a pulled muscle, ran for a year, totally damaged my back and now I am too injured to run.  I thought it would be devastating not being able to run but I have discovered the joys of working out in a controlled climate.
There is something almost magical about being able to swim in a warm pool where every time I turn my head to take a breath I see with one eye the blue warm water and with the other eye the frigid cold gray snow dusted day through the wall of windows at the gym.  I love swimming and I’m good at it or maybe natural at it is more accurate.  I can't ever remember not knowing how to swim. As I count laps at the pool my whole body and spirit is transported back to about 1972 when I would swim hours upon hours at my grandfather’s pool. Being underwater was where I was the most comfortable in the whole world. I couldn't wait for summer so I could hide under the safety of the water.  Everything was softer under there. I didn't make any noise so I was pretty safe in knowing I wouldn't accidentally piss off my dad and have to endure a beating and the part I hated even more than the beating...the shaming. Under the water my body didn't feel so fat, sluggish and heavy as I saw myself to be on land. I could pretend I was slim and beautiful, no one could really see me, I couldn't hear anyone yelling or laughing at me and I could fly....I am back in the lap pool in the year 2011 now.  I snap out of that time travel and work on my stroke.  Here in this foreign watery environment I find I can become one with the water just like I became one with the earth on the trail. Head down, always exhale when my face is in the water. Rotate my hips and legs turn my head, take a breath.  My head never rises out of the water to breathe. The movement and position of my head create a trough in the water all I have to do is trust that this air filled trough is really there.  When I do its as if I am never leaving the water to take a breath...I am breathing under the water.

I get up out of bed. "Eric...will you do my farm chores this morning?  It’s cold."
"You used to go running when it was about 20 degrees colder than it is now AND windy." he teased me.
"Yes, I know."  I said" but I am rather enjoying being kind and gentle with my body these days...things are more balanced I want to keep heading in this more kind, softer direction."
"What are you talking about?"  Eric asks.
"Never mind. Thanks for doing my chores. I’m off too a world I thought was only pretend in 1972 but it really does exist I just couldn't see it before because everything was so out of control."
"What?" Eric asks.
"I’m off to the gym."

Vultures

It's noon, Saturday-I'm still in my robe and slippers. During the week I am  up with the rooster and excited about the day like a  little kid not yet damaged and weighted down by worldly matters. Mornings for me are generally nice like that. But by Saturday I am tired.  It's only recently that I have acknowledged to myself the fact that I am tired and allowed myself a day to rest....without guilt.  I have spent most of my life exhausting myself preparing for tomorrow...never really savoring the beauty of the day/the moment...constantly asking myself, even out loud "Why is everything so hard???"
Today things aren't so hard anymore.  In fact life is good. However, I still have a mass of tangled threads from the past that need to get sorted out.  "You're almost there!" my mentor encourages me "you only need to cut off those last few loose threads!"  Sounds easy...Ha!  Those 'few loose threads' are what keep me anchored in this realm of perceived "safety"even as I peer through the open door of opportunity in front of me.  A door that opens onto doors, that opens onto doors,  ad infinitum.  Like looking into one of those three way mirrors.  At just the right angle I can see millions of reflections of myself.  When I was a kid I would become lost in the magic of those mirrors in the vanity over the bathroom sink at my grandfathers house.  I would wonder which one is me.  I would wonder if this was proof that when we die we never really cease to exist.
This morning, rather this afternoon as I stand in the warm sunshine on the poarch overlooking the farm I see several vultures on the fence near the corral.  I worry about the little lamb that was sick.  "Oh, No!"  I say to Eric as I look out through the steam rising from my fresh cup of hazlenut cofffee.  "You mean the vultures? It's not the lamb."  He says. Eric, as absent minded as he is, he is very perceptive.  He can't remember how to tie his shoes but he often knows what others are thinking or feeling sometimes even before we are aware of what we are thinking or feeling. 
"Yes the vultures."  I say. 
"No.  I threw the pigs heads out in the feild to give them a treat."  Eric is eccentric like that.  I find this amusing.

Poor piggies.  I think.  We recently sent 13 of our hogs up to the butcher to be slaughtered.  I am very happy about the fact that not one part of our animals go to waste.  But I messed up an order for a chef.  He wanted the pig heads skin on.  I had the butcher take the skin off.  Somehow, even though that part of the meat is not going for it's intended purpose, watching the vultures do their work feels better than to have those heads sit in the freezer looking at me every time I have to pack a meat order. 

Standing in the sunshine, sipping my coffee and watching the cycle of life I think of Temple Grandin's comment "Nature is cruel but we don't have to be." It took a while for me to be able to eat the meat that we raise.  The first time I tried to eat a piece of lamb I could not swallow it. As I stared at my plate I saw the little lambs frolicking in the fields and bouncing around playfully like they do.  I honestly thought, ironic as it seems, that now that I am a meat farmer I will have to become a vegetarian. But as I have raised the animals over the years, loved them, allowed them to live happy stress-free lives I began to realize that there was nothing toxic about the meat we produce.  Not only are our animals hormone, pesticide and stress free but they are treated with respect and love.  The butcher I chose was because of the very humane way they are handled.  As they walk down the comfortable and familiar straw lined path, oblivious to their fate they are calm.  They are there, beautiful, healthy and alive and a second later they are a piece of meat.  I don't know where they go but I do know the food they provide tastes of fresh air and sunshine, fresh water and green grass, and never ever have I tasted fear.  My youngest son remarked one time; "Mom, if we eat meat from happy animals, we will be happy too right?"  I do believe there is more than some truth to that statement.     

It is now 2:00pm and I am still in my robe. Guilt? No. I could have easily chosen to feel guilt but I choose to feel pampered. I could have easily seen the vultures as grotesque scavenging creatures devouring a decapitated remain of a harmless animal but I choose to see a natural circle of life and when a vulture spreads his wings to capture the warmth of the sun they are as beautiful as any exotic bird you would pay money to see in an avairy. I savored my coffee.  I  appreciated the strong warm March sunshine.  I allowed myself to be amused rather than annoyed by my boyfriends oddball behaviors. I am doing as my mentor (who is an accomplished writer and artist) suggested by paying attention to my body's need for rest and blogging about today's events...she thinks blogging will help me cut off those loose threads and give me courage to walk through the doors that recently seem to be opening around every corner, though I suspect they were always there I just couldn't see them because my mind was busy with "tomorrow".