Listening to every heart
It always comes across as an honor to reflect on those that have shaped our lives. But in the same breath, it seems that I tend, anymore, to encompass the generations before me that would bring you and I to this point.
And I am not talking just about mothers, and what they have given us, or kept from us, for reasons of their own. Protection, perhaps. Selfishness, or fear, maybe. Quite possibly at times, they didn’t share things with us because they just didn’t know to do so, resulting from their own confusion of understanding.
I am also talking about fathers who have come to mother their children, and again, when it comes to Father’s Day, I will be able to reiterate some of these same sentiments. Because so many of us have to do all of the above. We have come into a time and place where it is not wise just to be “one or the other”…sometimes many of us have to be both. Aunts and Uncles fall into this genre as well as do grandparents. It is a time of giving, and acknowledgment of those very gifts.
Happy Mother’s Day to all of those who care for those that need caring.
On April 15 I celebrated my first year in my “new” home. Realization of my fortune came to me in several ways, of how fortunate I am in both the ownership of home, warm friendliness of neighborhood, a loving family, and great and good friends. It came to me at a very low time, when I was in the middle of making a transition, working towards a huge change, trying to keep from burning bridges that I knew shouldn’t be damaged. Keeping a sane balance [read, no screaming allowed] was hugely tiring, and my muses decided, probably wisely, to back off. But how much I missed them.
Then a very loving thing happened, which scared the stuffing out of me. The love was in connection, and the scare was just that. A very close, more than comfortable friend/sister was in trouble, and I was called on to forget myself [the loving part] and to be here for her [the scary part]. There is no doubt in my mind that you don’t know of whom I speak; for we are that close as a family. It is quite safe for any one of you to think that my energy was taken up in energy being passed from me to them, all of them, as a family, as a whole. In the middle of that, I was interviewing for a new position.
It didn’t surprise me that on the day my “sister” came through her operation, I would hear of my own new beginning.
On the day I knew our poet would be going home, I would be giving a resignation to a position I have held for 15 years. Or that the poem “Transform/Change” would come about would be not just to commemorate a time in my life, but one for our flower girl, as well.
I have had some wonderful emails from many of you, wondering where I had gone, what was I doing, why was I so quiet. In liquefied essence, it is easy enough to say that my plate has been full. But now it is time to set the table again, for the new banquet about to be.
Our Martie is home, and the wind brings new beginnings.
It is time to smile again.
As I finish this entry, I will remark on one other matter, because, and only because it pleases me to do so. I recently remarked to a very dear friend that I had felt a great deal of depression lately, and I knew in my heart that I had very little to be depressed over, with the exception of recent losses of loved ones. Indeed I had and have much to be thankful for, in many ways. All I can say in any understanding of this recent depression is that those I care for are undergoing matters of their own which are tugging at their own sensibilities, and I feel their pain, anguish, despair, even perhaps some fear, and I sense these emotions with some great understanding that I do not always comprehend. Even though I try very hard to do so.
So on this Mother’s Day, which has come to feel like Easter and Christmas as well, I have done some things that may, in some way, on some day, let those who truly know me [or wish to know me] may realize what it is I have left behind for them, and which in some way might become a legacy of memory, even if they do not read this small posting.
My husband and I have been planting new memories, today. Roses, and trees. Lilies, and flowers. The beginning of a new landscape, a new beginning in our home that feels so much like home, now. No longer a house that we live in, but a place of welcoming, a place for those who wish to be renewed may come to find conversation, libation, and nourishment. In our “grand-parent-hood” time of living, we have come to a place where we are fortunately happy to begin, again, a new chapter.
My husband and I will soon begin our 27th year of together. The gathering of roses to plant, today, meant more to me than what he will ever know, until he reads this. The need for Peace roses, which I wanted most, will mean even more, once he reads this. And I know he will.
And in reading this, he will hopefully realize that Passions, and my friends here in our home of poetry, mean as much to me as any relationship I have ever known, and I have had many good relationships of friends, and family.
Finally, I give thanks to all of you for remembering me during the times of two recent losses. On this day, I was grateful to plant color. My adopted sister Dee loved color…she loved to paint in greens and browns and sometimes a bright orange, to remind herself of vibrancy. My brother loved color – in shades of fire-engine red and deep blues; he colored his music in shades of tangerine and indigo; in his heart he wore the colors of Native American, for it is true that we have a link to the lineage. He loved me in turquoise and tanned deerskin.
So thank you, Ron, for allowing this place to be, even when we don’t seem to appreciate it as much as we should, or forget that we are in Your home, and don’t act as responsibly as we should. As parents, we tend to kick our kids out of the home when it gets to be too much and especially when they are of age to find their own nest…
but as any errant child learns, we do come home to find where our roots really belong…and perhaps, as some wild child will, we come home again to gain nourishment, to gain wisdom, before we make the attempt to go out into the real world, hopefully to find our own way.
In this way, Ron, you, too, have been a Mother in the virtual world; a new link to new relationships, to new beginnings. You have provided a constant source of ever-present memory; of times and troubles, pursuits and accomplishments; you have provided substance, and values. No one needs to go very far, that they cannot look up the time they have lost in reading, or posting, and not be able to catch up with all of us in our socio-virtual history in the making.
So, again, my thank you to Ron, for reminding us of your mother, her love, in the way that you have put up the ever-continuing, expanding walls of this, your home.
I end my circle…to Mothers…no matter what form they take.
" It matters not this distance now " Excerpt, Yesterday's Love