Tough Flowers

Yesterday Jenny and I hiked in to the ice caves. It was a sunny day perfect for being outside and getting filled up with fresh air and awesome scenery. Maggie came with us, acting very polite about being on a lead most of the way. When we got to the top where the snow fields were, I unleashed her and she went nuts. Loops, tumbles, skids, rolls all the while racing close to the snow. Jenny and I did a few snow angels as an excuse to roll around in it also-it felt so good, cooling us off. On the way back down I spotted this swimming hole clean, deep and so clear with white/blue sand. The blue-ish tint should have told me something. I took my shoes and socks off, climbed down the bank and jumped in. It was so cold I couldn't breathe or talk or move very well as fat solidifies at this temperature! Staying in for very long didn't seem wise, so I lumbered out and up, getting pretty muddy. It was extremely refreshing! The rest of the walk back to the car was cool like air conditioning.

The way the lupine, daisies, foxglove, dogwood, ferns, and bleeding hearts grew gallantly on the rocks with hardly any dirt was fascinating. They look so delicate and fragile, but must be so tough. I wanted to roll around in the fields of flowers too, but refrained.....

It was a very good day!

Knickers in a Knot or Speaking the Unspeakable

Today, I'm wishin' we still all greeted each other with a kiss and warm hug. I get my knickers in a knot about some of the fear based books and words that try to protect the genders from lust, affairs, prostitution, homosexuality, court cases from real or imagined accusations, sexual abuse from harmful and inappropriate behavior, and the rampant pornography addictions that rage.

I won't name any titles of books or people or podcasts, but I get so smad! Sad and mad, because touch is my dominant mode of exploring, getting a read and understanding my world. It is the ONE predominant way I give and receive love. And in our culture, it feels very lonely a lot of times because of the stigma, on several different fronts, that affection and touch has.

In many circles, the 'safe' way to hug a man is 'sideways'. This is all well and good if you are a flat chested woman and the distance between the two of you is full of air, which takes calculation, strategy and purpose. I happen to be a big woman with a bosom to match my size, hence, a 'safe' sideways hug could go awry for a lustful or fearful man as my breast could give his side a serious poke if he wasn't careful. So legalistically, he/me would be 'safe', but realistically, on accident, he could be getting a sideful! I have breasts, which I don't want to smear all over anyone. I'm also highly unaware of these sometimes offending twins and yet, I still want to have and give hugs! What to do? When I was younger they were for milk production, for years they have been Craig's favorite pillow and now it is starting to be a challenge to find quality support to encourage them to defy gravity. Sigh.

I wish homosexual men and women would get smothered in good affection by safe and appropriate men and women who aren't afraid of being harmed or giving harm. I wish men who have failed morally in their marriages by pornography or infidelity could experience warm tenderhearted loving kindness from uncalulating women who don't consider them lepers. I wish girlfriends could cuddle, hug, hold hands without raised eyebrows or anxious rumors.

Most of my friends' husbands are my friends also. I love and treasure the hugs, love, affection, kisses on the cheek and forehead from all of them! Affection does raise our endorphin levels, which doesn't equal sexual arousal, hello!

When my mom had her knee replaced last year, one of the most poignant and sweetest things she said was, "honey, when you massage me, it feels better than any of the pain killers".

In the movie 'Amelie', the little girl has very eccentric parents who never interact with her or touch her. Once a year, her father, who is a physician, gives her a simple exam/physical. When he checks her heart with a stethoscope and looks into her eyes, ears and throat, her little heart races with a mixture of craving her daddy's affection, awkwardness from it being so unfamiliar, etc. Her father thinks she has heart trouble, giving her an almost invalid status for most of her life, making her fearful of living fully. I wonder how many affection deprived people feel this heightened pleasure and equate it with sexual arousal? Makes me cry for them.

In "Lorenzo's Oil", the remedy is an oxymoron, a paradox. The general consensus from the Dr's is to give this disease no fat or oil, when the remedy is actually the opposite. The body needs an abundant supply of the good kind, so it doesn't have to furiously try to make the damaging kind.

When fear of homosexuality, fear of a lawsuit, fear of an affair, fear of failing, fear of gorging is the topmost thing on our minds, we have no freedom..... the fear and focus set you up to fail.

I don't want a strategized, calculated and distance - measured hug from anyone. No thanks! I want men to look at me, in my eyes and heart, not at my breasts, but when they are so conscious of trying not to oggle, they end up oggling! Or so conscious of intercepting a front hug that the side hug they trade it for is perfunctory....no thanks.

I have been in a marriage for 20 years with a man who is easy to love and respect. His love language is also physical touch, which helps us both feel full all the time. We both have had a few times when chemistry with another person has happened. We have been able to talk about it, process it, pray together, encourage each other, remind each other of our commitment and covenant, reassure each other that if we had to do it all over again~'I CHOOSE YOU'.......... But, there isn't any shame, blame, threat or fear. There is actually a renewed trust built from the honesty.

Sometimes, across cultures, seas, genders, size or age, I have experienced intimacy of soul with another human. It doesn't scare me or thankfully, Craig! It just is. Hugging or not hugging, distance or no distance, adhering to this rule or that just isn't the question or the answer! Loving my Creator, my family, my spouse ~ and my self because of their collective love for me ~ this is what keeps me focused on the right way to act, respond, initiate, be affectionate, live and love, all the while refraining from insulting anyone's spouse. This lets me live wide open without fear. And respect other's parameters, boundaries and 'bubble'. Speaking of bubbles, I don't have one. My lack of a bubble though, is not license to be mauled, abused, disrespected, seduced, dishonored, groped or slobbered on!

At almost 50, looking back, there have been many honorable men who have, unbeknownst to me, trained me in being appropriately affectionate so I wouldn't be a danger to myself or others. I also have come to believe that as honorable, vibrant, captivating women, we can train men and boys to be affectionate without being dangerous to us or to themselves. It's love. It's giving instead of taking. It's having someone else's best interest at heart instead of our own.

The other night, unintentionally, I was caressing another man's backside very lovingly and with wifely designs. As I was casually heading south to what I thought was Craig's fine behind, I looked up to see him across the room. Shocked I looked over at the guy's face to find that it was a young man built like Craig with a look-alike Hawaiian shirt who had come over to greet a family behind us. I gasped. He smiled and graciously held out his hand and said he thought we should introduce ourselves. He assured me he understood and explained that he thought it was just his mom lovin' on him like usual. I blushed, Craig laughed.

My flower containers start wilting within a day if I don't water them daily. I would wilt without abundant affection from my family and friends. I'm so thankful for hugs, kisses and whisker rubs!

Not Nightly News....

Brita had a tire blow out coming home from Granite Falls today on Highway 9 Northbound past Marysville. She was able to pull over, then immediately called not AAA, but her dad. He loves rescuing us girls, so was there within 10 minutes. He soon realized she didn't have the right wrench or some tool to change the tire, so came home to get it, then returned.

While Brita was waiting for him, three cops and 11 guys stopped to ask if she needed help. One guy had his wife with him, half were middle aged and the other half younger guys. They were polite, eager to play the hero, treated her gallantly and seemed disappointed when they found out her dad was on the way back.

She helped Craig manhandle the fix, so she will know how if she is ever in dire straights and alone.

I realize she is adorable and was probably striking a pretty convincing pose of the classic damsel in distress, but the truth is that within 45 minutes some really kind chivalrous men wanted to help her. Her instincts never went on red alert sensing danger. She was a little overwhelmed by the kindness of strangers.

Tessa, both times traveling alone to Austria via Munich, a 4 hour train ride including a grueling train connection from the air terminal to the train station, also experienced incredible kindness from strangers who were more than helpful steering her to the next right spot she needed.

I also have experienced so many people who were friendly, kind and helpful. Car trouble, international travel, getting lost in unfamiliar cities.......

Brita's news when she came home tonight is the kind I love ~ there really are caring people who are more than willing to help!

Dunked and Bathed

As I age, almost everything has more dimension, color and texture. Today, I was chewing my cud like a cow does with hay, only I was working on digesting the word grace. Human to human grace.

A strange phenomenon when grace is extended is this; often as the recipient, we act as if we are the givers. Maybe it's pride which won't allow us to receive such a free gift which we've done nothing to deserve, possibly the vulnerability required to accept it or acknowledge how delicious it feels is too scary, or is it narcissism which won't let us consider we even need, want or could use such generosity from a fellow human being.

My confession is that sometimes when I extend grace, I want the recipient to know what I gave and how much it cost. And yet, the secret essence that gives grace it's multi-faceted sparkle, which infuses both the giver and receiver with such a lavish experience of love is not telling, showing or letting them know. It doesn't matter!

"Babette's Feast" and "Chocolat" are my very favorite movies where this is depicted elegantly and eloquently. The recipients who were dunked and bathed in grace were completely unaware. Even so, they would never be the same afterwards.

I haven't been the same afterwards either, come to think about it! And I wonder how many times I have been completely unaware? Amazing!

Real Sweet

Wouldn't it be fun to live your fantasies for a little while? Not the rest of your life, but to try it?

Craig and I are always looking at boats, we see one every now and then that would be perfect to live on for a year. The Nordic Tugs made in Anacortes are our favorites. New, long, shiny and red. We don't have the juice left to start with a fixer upper! We just want one to enjoy. Then, the fantasy comes crashing down. What if it was claustrophobic. How fun would it be to bring groceries and staples on board in the rain. Cold, slimy and slick walking to the slip. Day after day of being cooped up in the dark grey during winter. No where to spread out or have privacy. So, we fantasize about living somewhere warm, anchored in some sunny little harbor in the South Seas. And the paycheck? Where would that come from again?

Hand cranked ice cream is so much fun. If once in a while is fun, wouldn't making bigger batches more often, for more people be more fun? :) So I look at and compare freezers, often as in frequently. Maybe we could do festivals in the summer on the weekends. It is so fun to let the kids take turns cranking it, their eyes full of wonder. But the reality is that's not how I want to spend every weekend- marketing, selling enough to make it worth the effort.....groan! But did you know they make 20 quart ones that have a flywheel that can be hand cranked or motorized? Fascinating!

A hot dog stand on some busy corner, now that would just be the most fun-handing out love in a bun?! But maybe it only looks fun in the movies? :)

It's fun to dream and have fantasies - meanwhile living the real sweet one. My fantasies always include food, water and people playing, having fun.

Enough Today

Dreams of living in a leper colony, cooking for them, hugging them, binding their wounds or working on a Mercy Ship for a couple years or living in an orphanage in South Africa caring for aids orphans or the lost street children in Santiago or the poorest of the poor in India~~~~~these have been real desires most of my adult life. Somehow, it has never happened.

Life has happened instead. Maybe I didn't have the guts, the money, the will, the reality part down. I could blame it on Craig. Maybe it was all sentimental mush and the achingly hot tears were wasted and soon enough forgotten?

And yet, life isn't over for me, maybe the second half will see a few of these dreams come true, I don't know. Maybe just supporting with money is my part. Maybe I'm addicted to the fantasy/romantic idea of such an adventure and not the hard part of the reality?

Our neighbor boy is in first grade. He greets me almost everytime I leave in the car and runs over to greet me as I return. Yesterday, I asked him if he like stories, books read to him. He said no. I persisted and asked if he would like to sit on the porch swing with me while I picked a couple books to read to him. He snuggled right up as close as he could and didn't make a peep or wiggle much while we got lost in the first two.

He got distracted when his neighbor friend, 'Bubba', who is a little smaller and younger started riding his bike in the cul-de-sac. He wanted to know if Bubba could come and listen too. As soon as I said yes, he slammed the 2 books shut, hollered to invite Bubba over and begged me to start over so he wouldn't miss out. Bubba had to sit on the other side, he wanted to be next to me and wouldn't share his spot.

Today, they both shyly came over and asked if I could read some more to them. I was in the middle of weeding, watering, and had plans to clean house as soon as I was finished outside. I almost said, 'not today boys'. Important stuff was needing done, sheesh!

The one thing I'm a sucker for is a child who wants a book read to them. I simply can't resist! We ended up on the porch swing, a boy on each side with me in the middle, happily having story time. Sunshine rays circling the shade. Contentment lapping at my heart.

Africa, India, leper colonies, medical ships, relief work are all quite exotic and I'll never stop dreaming of them, but when a child can't wait for you to turn the page.......it's more than enough right at this moment, today.

Meaningful Mandelbrots

Math in any form isn't easy for me. Wrong side of the brain or something? But, once upon a time, my genius friend Bill showed me 'Mandelbrot fractals'. I don't really understand them, the equation or the process by which brilliant people from places like Princeton, put colors to the numbers in a special program and come up with these beautiful pictures.

Mandelbrots fascinate me because the first frame is the whole shape, which if I understand it at all, is always the same. From there the next frame is a point zoomed in. The next is a zoom. And the next. It just keeps going forever! A little like a kaleidoscope, but more precise. They have given them names-the valleys, crevices, humps and such. Assigned color schemes. Patterns.

If I take all the words that are words of life like; love, grace, kindness, mercy, forgiveness, enthusiasm, joy, play, healing, wholeness, art, music, etc, etc, etc and 'Mandelbrot' them; it's like when you're 5 you learn about a word, practice it, experience it. Then, when you're 10 you learn it again, see more, understand better. When you're 20 it's more, deeper. At 50 these same themes become more and more complex, more dimensional, more colorful, more beautiful as you dive deep into the story that is being written.

I challenge you to Google Mandelbrot images and just slowly digest the immensity, the possibilities.

Good Rain

Sunshine is wonderful. We've had days and days of it hear in the soggy Pacific Northwest. Today it is raining and I'm so thankful! Everything is dry and sort of dusty in an unfamiliar way. Anything green is thirstily gulping, preening and shining like new again. It is refreshing.

A while back, I posted some metaphors about water, with rain being like forgiveness. I have been working on forgiveness whole hearted-ly since then. The rain this morning is symbolic and a token of proof that I am succeeding in letting go and moving on.

There have been a few times in the last couple of years that I would have rather been physically violated, with bruises, blood and torn flesh afterwards as evidence. When your heart and soul get violated, it's invisible and no one can see the incessant dripping away of your life's vital fluids. There aren't any marks, nowhere to put a bandage or salve.

I have been pouring over the lives of those who have forgiven much, by reading and watching movies. It is fascinating how beautiful their lives became in the process. Big fruit.

A song that keeps popping up on my ipod when it is on shuffle is India Aries' "Wings of Forgiveness". It's keeping my nose out of the water and keeps me heading in the right direction. Whenever it is now. Moment by moment. I seem to be making some headway and exercising some new muscles.

I feel like the plants in my garden, clean, perkier, green, and ready to burst into bloom soon.

The Fourth, Friends and Fun

The block party in our cul de sac had a good turn out. As usual, my worst fear is that no one will show up. They came! We met neighbors and their parents and children. There was enough food for the whole county. It was cute how the guys all wheeled their own BBQ's to custom grill their favorite meat with a familiar tool. We had all you can eat crab, london broil, chicken, oysters, lasagne and tables of salads and desserts. Mostly home made which was fun! Craig made 10 gallons of lemonade instead of his traditional root beer, as we couldn't get dry ice on the holiday. We hand cranked 11 quarts of ice cream - enough for everyone to get filled up. We pre-filled water balloons and had a fight with the kids. Someone got the hose when the balloons were done. It was hot enough that it felt wonderful! Jon put up the canopy and people stayed under the shade most of the afternoon. It was truly neighborly and people want to do it again. It was interesting how shy people were at first. Then we all started to meld.

We cleaned up, hosed off, washed off and put away everything - order restored everywhere except my kitchen! I'm taking the day off from dishes! They'll still be there tomorrow. It'll wait.

Last night we went on Richard's boat, picking up crab pots. When we came back in to the slip, the guys cooked the 12 big monsters and we cracked them hot. Supper was all the pre -cracked crab we wanted, steak, better- than- sex-salad (almost)....a.k.a. oriental cabbage salad, potato casserole. We weren't really hungry again, but what does that have to do with anything?

Friday night some friends came over for a simple supper of ribs, coleslaw, taters; they brought strawberry shortcake for dessert. We eased the evening out from the garden room to the firepit. I'm now famous for the worst coffee making in history! Forgot the cone filter, so it was like syrup and we all now have hair on our chest!

It's spilling a gallon of orange juice in the fridge and floor, bad coffee, a disaster hear and there mixed in with the food, fun, conversation, kids having a cry, me having a cry, sunshine, memories, and lingering time with friends; this makes life, life. It's all good. I'm so grateful for fun filled, love filled, memory filled, tummy filled, heart filled, 3 day weekends!

Inviting

The river was singing me an invitation early this morning. As soon as could be managed, I grabbed Maggie, a latte and showed up. The birds sounded like The Von Trapp Family Singers, the sun was dazzling and the water looked like Kiplings 'great, grey-green, greasy, Limpopo river, all set about with fever trees.' My eyes wanted to be my throat and swallow it.

A young buck crossed from the opposite bank to my side up river. Some time later, out of the corner of my eye, there was a movement up on the bank behind me. It was him, peeking curiously down at Maggie and me. He had about a 9 inch stub with one little nub branching off it. He was so close that I could see the golden tan velvet on his wanna be antlers. Maggie was quivering for the 'ok' from me to give chase. She didn't get it! He ran off just before she caved into her animal impulses. Later on he crossed the river again, showing off his graceful walk. He might be the next king, huh? Teenager Bambi? :)

It was one of those perfect mornings that you don't want to ever end. I couldn't stay out of the water for long. Collected rocks, dug in the sand, dreamed, read, journaled and de-cluttered my brain. Mostly played. Deep play.

Paradisical time isn't available, readable, do-able or plan-able on any clock you can buy or make. It only happens when you show up. That's the thing, showing up.