Love Sorrow

Love sorrow. She is yours now, and you must
take care of what has been
given. Brush her hair, help her
into her little coat, hold her hand,
especially when crossing a street. For, think,

what if you should lose her? Then you would be
sorrow yourself; her drawn face, her sleeplessness
would be yours. Take care, touch
her forehead that she feel herself not so

utterly alone. And smile, that she does not
altogether forget the world before the lesson.
Have patience in abundance. And do not
ever lie or ever leave her even for a moment

by herself, which is to say, possibly, again,
abandoned. She is strange, mute, difficult,
sometimes unmanageable but, remember, she is a child.
And amazing things can happen. And you may see,

as the two of you go
walking together in the morning light, how
little by little she relaxes; she looks about her;
she begins to grow.

"Love Sorrow" is a poem by Mary Oliver, from the book, Red Bird, that was given to me last summer by my long time sweetheart, just as our love got lost. Funny. He is a poet, and learned to love her poems because I began to love them. Part of kissing an old love goodbye is welcoming sorrow and grief and that wounded child, too, that shows up all pouty out of the blue. Mary Oliver, whose work sustains me over and over, describes just what I have been trying to do.

What a surprise to find this poem only tonight, seven months later, in the book he gave me. Maybe that is love after all. The gift of these healing words is just that.

Rubies, Rubies, everywhere.

Solvitur Ambulando . It is solved by walking. That's what the saint named Augustine said, so that's what I did.

Today the sun came out. Blue blue blue of sky. Yellow cups of jonquils peeking from every clump of green. I am in Raleigh staying at my daughter's, in the intimate neighborhood called Five Points. I am holed up in my own oh so sweet suite - complete with a view of the garden and my own 1920's bathtub. This is a healing place for me, and I am grateful about everything right this minute.

So, in keeping with the admonition, and as the sun began to wane, I went for a walk in the neighborhood with the two beautiful dogs, my Italian Greyhound, Beau, and Hadley's tiny Yorkie, Nutkin. The area is a delightful one, with an old pharmacy, The Hayes-Barton Grill, decorated with posters of Hollywood stars of the 1940's,serving desserts like "Ava Gardner's Delight." There is an art movie house, with one enormous screen showing Crazy Heart tonight. Since I have been that lately, I am walking back down there right now, to see it.

Oh, the ruby slippers! So on the return home, down and around lanes of old bungalows, my feet stumbled upon a lost ruby, a necklace, fallen from grace, that somehow found itself tangled in my toes. A shining red ruby-like jewel suddenly stared up at me from the sidewalk. Like the story of the Arabian Knights tripping on the handle that held the lid that covered the jewels. Or like Dorothy's ruby slippers. In my hands, I now held a shining red jewel, a gift from the universe.

It said, yes, click those heels girl. Get on with it.

Dreams and Visions

"(Wo)man forgets that God reveals himself to us in dreams and visions. - Carl Jung

My delightful daughter, Hadley, is now all into Martha Beck, the writer and life coach. She is learning life lesson tools, and I, lucky Mama, am getting free coaching lessons, as a practice perk. All those years of teenage angst seem centuries ago, for this winter, this amazing woman, flesh of my flesh, has given me back some priceless gifts during one of the wintry-est winters of my life.

One of them is Martha Beck's quite simple dream analysis, one based on the work of Carl Jung. The cool thing about this funny and brilliant woman, is that she breaks down complex ideas into usable chunks. Lists. And I thought I knew all this. Nah.

This is my dream: I am sleeping in a bed with my former lover. We broke up over the summer after seven years and a half years, and it just ain't as easy as it sounds, even for a grandmother. Especially for a romance addict drugged by a poet. We get up to go, but I am all into this lovely dream meditation about Juliana of Norwich, who wrote these amazing words: " All shall be well, All shall be well, and All manner of things shall be well." Hmmm. Simple. Well, I had been reading all about her, and her writing, and really loving all this talk about love. She had 16 visions in about 1360 AD in England, and spent the rest of her life writing about what she learned. Love love love. Not bad. For me, that talk was like water to a thirsty heart.

Anyway, in the dream, I can't find my shoes to go, and I am not in a hurry, because this pleasure of being with Juliana's words is too wonderful. It feels so peaceful, and soothing: all this talk about love, with my 'missing lover' out there toward the car, about to leave. There is a rope or a tool somewhere I am looking for. So in the meantime, in my dream, I look out and the car is gone. My old love has left.

In my old way of looking at this dream, it was telling me the old lover has left. Duh. He has a new girlfriend he seems smitten by, who he found within days of my breaking it off. So much for seven years, even though I created this, and for reasons that incubated for years. That felt so, well, yucky. But that is not it! The Martha Beck scenario has you give each object in your dream a role and YOU are it. I am the old lover now.

Each object, sequence, person, was me. As me, I must give each object, action or person three adjectives. The adjectives I had written down were gone, elusive, and invisible. Then, describe how each part comes to my aid, how each part of the dream wants to help me.

Wow. Instead of the old love not even liking me anymore - how sad, for anyone, the story I now get to tell myself, is that he is leaving so I can have more of this sweet, sweet time with my meditations about the wonder of a mystic, Juliana of Norwich. Because it is me, giving me, exactly what I wanted!

Sweet Mother God. Give me more dreams and visions.

Jump!

Since July that I posted? I am still in Rosy, warmed now by the small heater, and oh, the lessons I learned over the winter. Joseph Campbell was right when he said, simply, "Jump!" But, oh, be ready.

Trusting oneself

"A sign of God is that we were led to a place we did not intend to go."

I am living out in the country, my Gullah neighbor Fred reminds me. On a wide, soft dirt road, surrounded by more trees and birds, and deer than people. The rural part is more important I think than the ocean part. But living here is surprising me in ways I did not expect. In six weeks my perspective has shifted.

Yesterday my copy of Living Magazine arrived. I have always admired Martha Stewart's creativity, drive and love of beauty. But the pictures in it, as I sat looking at it yesterday while I waited my turn at the driver's licensing office in the nearby town, is so fancy now, and the images looked a little foreign. My eyes see anew. For real! I have new people in my life bearing gifts of time and talent. I need less than I ever imagined and happiness is noticing that the birds begin singing only as the first light gently begins in the trees, watching frogs, feeling the wind pick up with the tide.

Trusting in the call, I suppose, was the most difficult part of getting here, which took me 18 months. I doubted my commitment to this land when it was a struggle. But being here is one of the most reassuring feelings I can remember. I am simply filled with awe at my good fortune on this summer morning.

Today began rainy. The little shed I am calling RedTop was supposed to get a 'lean-to' but hey, will they come, risk being rained out? The workers drive in from a little town an hour away. Turns out the rain just teased us and tonight my little addition is nearly finished. I will be so happy to have a place for paint cans and bug spray.

Learned two big things in the last two days. The tide ebbs and flows. In and out. When you walk out and the mosquistos are crazy, the tide is sitting....about to change....... so there is no wind.

I have a new riding tractor today. She is cherry red. Got her on Saturday. Tonight at about 7 I cranked her up for the first time, and oh my goodness, how fun and easy and useful this cherry red baby is.

I am blessed and grateful.

Surprised by Joy

"If a man set out from home on a journey and kept on going, he would come back to his own front door." - Sir John Mandeville, 14th century

Feels like home on this little island. I do not have a house but this feels like the years of my early childhood on the rural land outside of Mooresville, North Carolina. Edisto feels like the 50's again. Simple things like needing your neighbors (and trust me, I do), the two lane roads, the garden, the great outdoors, and well, less STUFF. The last few years in the United States were a gilded age I suppose, with mansions and massages and money flowing everywhere. The Great Recession, as I hear them calling it, put some brakes on the love of so much stuff perhaps. It did it for me. Even I got carried away on ebay bargains. (I could curate a show on paint by number paintings of the 50's which charm me and make me smile with their great ironies) My bills are now just for the land and the electricity mainly: my monthly expenses have been reduced by more than half. I have a little savings, thank goodness, but mostly dreams for the future.

I am surprised by the feelings that being on the little island has engendered, however. It feels intimate and interesting, and satisfying. It is life at its basics. The sounds of nature, the amazing painted bunting birds at the feeder, the deer in the yard, the little tree frogs having bug dinner on the window of Rosy over my supper table. Good simple butterbeans and a fresh tomato for dinner. Surprised by Joy was the name of the book by CS Lewis and a poem by Wordsworth. It means new things to me today. In the heat of the summer, I am surprised by such a welcome as this.