grief

I think it was even today that I heard someone say, on the radio, with a rather flippant tone, that "grief is the price you pay for love." This is the thought that struck me with sickening clarity as I was driving home tonight, tears streaming down my face, sniffling and snottering at the red lights. People I love-- several people all at once-- are planning to move away. Among them are some of my most precious babies, little people that I've known from their first breaths. It's heart-wrenching for me, even now, even though the farewells are still some months distant. I don't know how I'll cope when they pull up their roots and leave me behind. There's something that's all at once true and beautiful and terrifying about a love like that.

sleep

I forgot to write my post last night. I needed sleep more, I guess. I managed to sleep for very nearly twelve hours (in two blocks) last night and I am SO thankful. My cold isn't entirely gone, but I feel much better. I think I'd be a better version of myself if I got twelve hours of sleep every night. Frankly, I think the world would be a better place if EVERYONE got twelve hours of sleep a night. Could sleep be the source of world peace? Imagine tucking all the armies into cozy beds at night, and when they're all still in the delicious drowse of half-sleep in the morning, ask them if they really want to fight after all. It's a lovely dream anyway...

roots & bees

Today I am thankful for hot liquid ginger. I have a terrible cold and the only thing that feels truly good on my throat is hot ginger tea, made with fresh ginger & alfalfa honey. Thanks be to God for ginger roots & bumble bees.

the history of love

A shorter post today. Read The History of Love by Nicole Krauss. I haven't finished it yet but I am not afraid to recommend it. I believe that the best fiction/film/theatre/poetry is produced when comedy and tragedy are nudged so closely together that every moment savours of LIFE. In The History of Love, they're right on top of each other on every page. Nicole Krauss weaves together hope and sorrow, laughter and tears, the agony and the ecstacy, so artfully that it makes me ache.

the beauty of "with"

I fully intended to write a post last night when I got home from Supper Club, but the clock had ticked past midnight by the time I got to it--in fact, it was one o'clock! I decided I would write it after a night's sleep since it was going to be late anyway. I chose the moment in my last waking minutes, cuddled under my wool duvet.

There were a lot of less than truly beautiful moments I could have dwelt on-- it was one of "those" days, with things REALLY not going my way-- but hot on the heels of one such memory came the flash of truth & beauty.

I made a wrong turn when driving to the home of our Supper Club hosts. Now a wrong turn isn't that big a deal if you can get yourself turned around quickly to correct the error, but this particular wrong turn is famous here in Vancouver-- the turn that won't allow correction for about 20 km. Even that kind of wrong turn might not be that big a deal, except when it's the umpteenth aggravating event of the day and you had, before heading out, seriously contemplated the advantages of skipping Supper Club in favour of digging a big hole and staying in it until you got some assurance that the world would stop picking on you. Moreover, it was dark and a freak fog had descended, making visibility very poor. Under just about any other circumstances, this mélange of circumstances would have sent me spiralling, but... (here it comes-- thanks for your patience) I wasn't alone. Now, I've felt the presence of God before, and know a little of what it's like to not FEEL alone when I am alone, but I'm not sure that would have cut it on Saturday night. I needed flesh-and-blood company just then and I had it. M and J were in the car with me, hurtling down the highway in the wrong direction with me, seatbelts fastened to the same unfortunate detour. Not only that, but they assured me they'd both made the same wrong turn before, they both had something to say to make me laugh about it, and M had her cell phone with her so she could call for alternate directions. So, instead of spiralling into self-pity or anything like that, my emotions did a u-turn and I ended up feeling thankful. In every other mishap that day, I was on my own, but in this one I had company. It made the world of difference.

eternity soup and other comforts

There were a few moments today. I'm going to pick the cluster of true and beautiful moments that revolve around W, J, and S.

All day I looked forward to spending the evening with W and J who agreed to help me prepare for a presentation I have to give in a couple of weeks. So, first, there's the combined joy of anticipation and the assurance of the practical support and encouragement of friends. It made the whole day go just a bit more smoothly.

When I arrive, I am greeted by S, a two year old wearing nothing but underwear, an undershirt, and a towel cape with a cap made to look like a turtle head. She has, I'm told, been singing all afternoon and she continues singing until it's time to eat. Nothing says "happiness" quite like a singing two year old in a turtle cape.

Soon, we're all seated at table with big bowls of the best asian udon noodle soup I've ever tasted. I called it Eternity Soup, because if I had to eat one thing forever I think I'd want it to be this soup.

After supper, I got to be the one who read bedtime stories to S. Over and above the goofy pleasure of using a half a dozen random accents to bring alive the cleverly constructed characters that appeared in the picture books S chose, there was the deeper satisfaction of feeling S relax a little more with the turning of each page, sinking just a little deeper into the crook of my arm, leaning just a little heavier against my side, slipping just a little closer to sleep right there in my arms.

These are the simple pleasures of life: friendship, turtle capes, soup, storytime, warmth, trust, sleep.

in search of truth and beauty

I'm starting this blog as a challenge to myself, really. A challenge to take the time to reflect a bit on the day, and to make note of at least one moment of truth & beauty. Every day.

Two moments today:

This afternoon I cried with a friend. She took an outstanding risk to be true to her soul, and I cried when I told her how proud I was of her for being so brave and true to herself. She didn't know I'd noticed how much she needed to take that risk, and cried at the realization that I knew how much was at stake. To know and be known-- Isn't that all we need?

This evening, I laughed so hard I could hardly breathe. This, on the same day that found me in tears a half a dozen times before noon. It was thanks to "Skydive" by the Realwheels Theatre Project. I'm thankful today for the gift of theatre, for writers who bother to put down on paper the fantastic imaginings of their minds, for inventors who want to see dancers defy gravity, for actors who take the risk of embodying the thoughts and words of another, for the directors and stage managers and technicians who make it all happen, for the friends who know that a good dose of theatre can do wonders (Thanks, Maria!). Thanks be to God for creative genius. If you have a chance to see "Skydive", take it. For info, go to www.realwheels.ca.