I befriended the moon
at college.
I befriended the sun
at 30.
I befriended ladybugs and dandelion
puffs at 5,
plants generally at 10.
Perhaps the moon and sun
were beyond me then.
Too much a given,
too powerful to gaze at directly.
Dandelions were closer,
more friendly,
but still signs of the sources of life
and their ebb and flow.
Thursday, November 05, 2015
such wild love
"The Sun" by Mary Oliver
Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful
than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon
and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone -
and how it slides again
out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower
streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance -
and have you ever felt for anything
such wild love -
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure
that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you
as you stand there,
empty-handed -
or have you too
turned from this world -
or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?
---
This poem articulates for me the beauty of this season I'm in. A season of in-between-ness, of sabbath, of not earning a paycheck, of going deep, of paying attention, of discernment.
It is a season in which I "stand empty-handed" - in awe at the sun, the elements, in awe at the ways God works in the world, in awe at the generosity and support that have been outpoured to me, in awe at my own strength and the depth available to me.
This standing empty-handed, this awe, comes with both abounding gratitude and abounding vulnerability. And I'm grateful for the space to stand in wonder at the magnitude and strength that runs through creation and in each of us - and for the space to touch the vulnerability and smallness that also runs through each of us.
These are a couple of photos of my most recent companions, and models really, for this standing empty-handed, warmed by the sun. Fay, Steve, and Oliver (and Jolene - the one in brown) at Green Bough. I cherish all the bits of time I've had privilege to make retreat and sabbatical there, and I'm especially grateful for these most recent months to revel in the particular ways the sun warms a person there.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
You're gonna make it after all
"Who can turn the world on with her smile?
Who can take a nothing day, and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile?Well it's you girl, and you should know it
With each glance and every little movement you show it
Love is all around, no need to waste it
You can have a town, why don't you take it
You're gonna make it after all
You're gonna make it after all
How will you make it on your own?
This world is awfully big, girl this time you're all alone
But it's time you started living
It's time you let someone else do some giving
Love is all around, no need to waste it
You can have a town, why don't you take it
You're gonna make it after all
You're gonna make it after all"
--
I just had a sense of the exhilaration, the invigorating feeling, of figuring out life for one's self.
When I came back from a semester in Chile in undergrad, I had the chance to talk with a class about my experience studying abroad. I described to the class the day I managed to navigate the city of Santiago via taxi, bus, and subway, and procure and communicate via cell phone there. As I was describing the feeling of independence and competence that accompanied that day, the theme of the Mary Tyler Moore show came to me - "You're gonna make it after all!"
--
As I was making my way up the elevator this evening to our assistants away space condo, the same song popped into my head. I had the sense of the thrilling and satisfying nature of each new stage of life - figuring out how to navigate life.
It didn't occur to me in that moment, but I'm oddly in a similar stage of figuring out those exact 2 life-navigation pieces for myself again. I'm... [cue dramatic music] preparing to leave the family cell phone plan. Goodbye safety net. Hello Republic Wireless - simpler, cheaper, more freedom, a bit more responsibility for decision-making and ensuring I pay the bill on time - and [cue same dramatic music] parting ways with the family... cell plan.
This process of seeking and finding some next stage of cell phone-ness has been an oddly symbolic one. It's seemed to hold a lot of meaning for me. Here I am, 30 years old, and I'm finally venturing out on my own into the land of an individual cell phone plan. Not just for a few months while I navigate a thrilling new country to study in. But a next step into the vast unknowns of adulthood - where I'm more and more responsible for myself.
And it's a responsibility, an independence, that I'm freely choosing. My mom wasn't with me in Chile, so she couldn't have helped me get a cell phone there if she wanted to. But now - I could indeed stick with the family plan. I could ride the waves of inertia. I could ride along with my family's decisions about cell plans. However, I'm choosing to part ways. I'm taking responsibility for evaluating whether the current plan truly works for me, or if something else might work better for me. Somewhat oddly, I'm also taking responsibility for evaluating whether the family's current trajectory and values - at least regarding and reflected in its cell phone plan - are coherent with my own.
And in this evaluation of both the finances and the values - I've determined that simplicity and a cheaper bottom line are more important than the ease of allowing others to make decisions for me.
Regarding the transportation navigation - I'm also seriously considering selling my car and not getting a new one. I'd been considering leasing a car - again the simplicity factor - I desire not to have the emotional, mental, and physical burden - the constant expense, and constant uncertainty of the repairs and maintenance that my current old and dying car requires. More recently, I've been considering the possibility of not acquiring a new car at all - in other words, "converting" to walking to the walkable locations I frequent (usually by conveniently hopping in my car), taking MARTA to locations that are MARTA-able, and possibly zipcar-ing and renting cars for other trips - along with MegaBus options and sharing rides from friends.
The car, too, was acquired on my behalf - I've previously ridden the trajectories and decisions of my family, because of its ease and convenience - perhaps even a necessity to do so. When I lived in Santiago, I couldn't have relied on my parents' transportation helps if I or they wanted me to. When I lived in Washington, DC, it didn't make any sense for me to have a vehicle and I knew I had supports built in to intentional community and internship in order to get where I needed to go. And both of these experiences were experiments - 7 months, a year.
And now, at 30, I'm venturing boldly into a land where I will make decisions for myself about how I will get from point A to point B.
---
I was recently completing my annual self-evaluation for my role in L'Arche, and I realized that one major theme for me right now, in this "summer" stage of my life - is creating structures and practices in my life that are both sustainable and acknowledge values I hold for simplicity and sharing. I'm not on a track toward wealth, nor do I want to be. I'm not on a track toward sheltered bubble-living. I'm on a track toward further interdependence, simplicity, and life-sharing. I'm also on a track toward further responsibility for myself and others. And how do I expect to navigate this path? I adequately prepare to make sound decisions, and act on them. I keep wise conversation partners. And I go deeper. I stay tapped into the well of spiritual life and connection with God that will feed me and keep me stable as I venture into the vulnerable lands I'm undoubtedly headed further into.
---
"Love is all around, no need to waste it."
Saturday, July 19, 2014
sabbatical: a dance
"We have moved through our day like dancers, not needing to touch more than lightly... Lightness of touch and living in the moment are intertwined." -Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Gift from the Sea
I was gifted by Fay, at the outset of my time at Green Bough the book, Gift from the Sea. She said she likes giving it to young women. It was written in the 50's by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, who was a writer, was the wife of Charles Lindbergh the trans-Atlantic pilot, among many other roles and events that made up her life.
Anne wrote Gift from the Sea while on a personal vacation/retreat on an island off the coast of Florida. I found it beautiful and a wonderful companion for my time at Green Bough. She speaks of living from one's core, one's center - not neglecting the spokes of one's wheels and connections, but strengthening, tending one's core, so one is able to keep it all reined in, not get too scattered.
She writes of contemplation and action, essentially.
But she writes of this contemplation and action especially in the context of relationship - romantic relationship, relationships of care and of obligation, friendships, the web of relationships we find ourselves in at our various stages.
In her pointing toward the kind of relationship that honors both parties, fosters intimacy and togetherness, while also offering space and independence, she describes a single day when her sister joined her in her little island vacation bungalow.
The day was marked by meeting and parting, physical activity and stillness, conversation and silence, by freedom of movement, freedom of time and space. They played, they worked, they tended dishes, they sat together, they laid under the stars in awe.
And thus she describes their day, in the quote above, as a dance.
---
At Green Bough, I too found this "lightness of touch and living in the moment" to mark my time and experience there. It was a joy to witness this among Fay, Steve, and Oliver - and a deeper joy to be welcomed into this dance, to live it for a few weeks. I have found each of them to have a great capacity for healthy tenderness, for deep attentiveness to the other. Fay let me know the first morning at prayer, "We do morning hugs and night hugs, and hugs in between."
Of course, there is plenty of space and time for each to do their own thing between those hugs. And I think that is partly what makes the hugs all the more tender.
And of course, as any one who has ever attempted to join a contra dance - or really, just danced ever - we know that dance can be awkward, especially as we are first learning. But what a beautiful thing it is to watch dancers meet and part in time with music, hands joining for a time, letting go, sometimes meeting only with eyes, and parting again! And what a beautiful thing to feel those movements. And the chaos of the times when someone (usually me!) gets off-step - I think these are all the more fun, even if confusing.
---
When I went to Green Bough in April for a few days of retreat during Holy Week, I became a bit anxious about the commitment I'd made to spend most of my sabbatical time at Green Bough. I drove the first two hours in silence - without radio, and with some thinking aloud to myself. Then I switched on the radio, the song "Happy" by Pharrell Williams came on - and up went the volume. And it didn't go back down - nor did the car dancing stop - till I pulled up at home and parked.
At some point, it hit me - "Oh, no - there probably aren't dance parties at Green Bough! What am I going to do?!" A month without loud music and dancing - without the purely joyful parts of the "plugged-in" world I would be un-plugging from for 3 weeks. Yes, I'm feeling a deep need for silence after 2 years very full with sound, voice, busy-ness, chaos. But yes, I also find a lot of life in music and dance.
I figured I would slip a little dance party in here or there while at Green Bough - and I did manage to get some pockets of car-dancing and kitchen-dancing in for myself while there. But little did I know that the whole thing would come to feel like one big dance. Like any good partner dance, I found myself stepping in time with Fay, Steve, Oliver, retreatants, and others who floated in and out of the community - "not needing to touch more than lightly, because we were instinctively moving to the same rhythm."
We became "partners moving to the same rhythm, creating a pattern together, and being invisibly nourished by it."
I hope to carry this lightness of touch, this spaciousness, this dance - with me into as many of my relationships as possible - and especially my life at L'Arche.
I was gifted by Fay, at the outset of my time at Green Bough the book, Gift from the Sea. She said she likes giving it to young women. It was written in the 50's by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, who was a writer, was the wife of Charles Lindbergh the trans-Atlantic pilot, among many other roles and events that made up her life.
Anne wrote Gift from the Sea while on a personal vacation/retreat on an island off the coast of Florida. I found it beautiful and a wonderful companion for my time at Green Bough. She speaks of living from one's core, one's center - not neglecting the spokes of one's wheels and connections, but strengthening, tending one's core, so one is able to keep it all reined in, not get too scattered.
She writes of contemplation and action, essentially.
But she writes of this contemplation and action especially in the context of relationship - romantic relationship, relationships of care and of obligation, friendships, the web of relationships we find ourselves in at our various stages.
In her pointing toward the kind of relationship that honors both parties, fosters intimacy and togetherness, while also offering space and independence, she describes a single day when her sister joined her in her little island vacation bungalow.
The day was marked by meeting and parting, physical activity and stillness, conversation and silence, by freedom of movement, freedom of time and space. They played, they worked, they tended dishes, they sat together, they laid under the stars in awe.
And thus she describes their day, in the quote above, as a dance.
---
At Green Bough, I too found this "lightness of touch and living in the moment" to mark my time and experience there. It was a joy to witness this among Fay, Steve, and Oliver - and a deeper joy to be welcomed into this dance, to live it for a few weeks. I have found each of them to have a great capacity for healthy tenderness, for deep attentiveness to the other. Fay let me know the first morning at prayer, "We do morning hugs and night hugs, and hugs in between."
Of course, there is plenty of space and time for each to do their own thing between those hugs. And I think that is partly what makes the hugs all the more tender.
And of course, as any one who has ever attempted to join a contra dance - or really, just danced ever - we know that dance can be awkward, especially as we are first learning. But what a beautiful thing it is to watch dancers meet and part in time with music, hands joining for a time, letting go, sometimes meeting only with eyes, and parting again! And what a beautiful thing to feel those movements. And the chaos of the times when someone (usually me!) gets off-step - I think these are all the more fun, even if confusing.
---
When I went to Green Bough in April for a few days of retreat during Holy Week, I became a bit anxious about the commitment I'd made to spend most of my sabbatical time at Green Bough. I drove the first two hours in silence - without radio, and with some thinking aloud to myself. Then I switched on the radio, the song "Happy" by Pharrell Williams came on - and up went the volume. And it didn't go back down - nor did the car dancing stop - till I pulled up at home and parked.
At some point, it hit me - "Oh, no - there probably aren't dance parties at Green Bough! What am I going to do?!" A month without loud music and dancing - without the purely joyful parts of the "plugged-in" world I would be un-plugging from for 3 weeks. Yes, I'm feeling a deep need for silence after 2 years very full with sound, voice, busy-ness, chaos. But yes, I also find a lot of life in music and dance.
I figured I would slip a little dance party in here or there while at Green Bough - and I did manage to get some pockets of car-dancing and kitchen-dancing in for myself while there. But little did I know that the whole thing would come to feel like one big dance. Like any good partner dance, I found myself stepping in time with Fay, Steve, Oliver, retreatants, and others who floated in and out of the community - "not needing to touch more than lightly, because we were instinctively moving to the same rhythm."
We became "partners moving to the same rhythm, creating a pattern together, and being invisibly nourished by it."
I hope to carry this lightness of touch, this spaciousness, this dance - with me into as many of my relationships as possible - and especially my life at L'Arche.
Tuesday, July 08, 2014
sabbatical: growth in fondness
I've been on sabbatical. A gift - a month of time to myself, to use however I've deemed fit. An acknowledgment of hard work, of the weight of stressful situations. An acknowledgment that life in intentional community can be intensive and after 10 or so adult years of it, some space and time to stretch out might bring a little light and life - put more poetically, an acknowledgement that "absence makes the heart grow fonder." And a concrete financing of such fondness-growing is astounding, I think.
Since when do we Americans, concerned with productivity and bottom lines, fund the growth of fondness? We financially support growth of many other sorts - but fondness?? Well, yes, some people and organizations financially support the growth of fondness. And L'Arche Atlanta is apparently one of them.
And fondness it has increased. Whew. That was a close one. When one leaves, there's always the risk of one being woo'd to stay where one has gone, of realizing that one is very dissatisfied with one's everyday, the choices and commitments they've made for their work-a-day lives. And of course what a gift when one has the gift of time and space to make those kind of deep realizations too.
But for me, fondness has increased. The time and space has been a shot in the arm, the distance has offered me perspective for more deeply appreciating my community, my way of life.
Now I wouldn't say that I was in a non-appreciative place before I left. I did just re-commit to L'Arche Atlanta, in my role as Live-in House Coordinator, for another year. I've been in a wholehearted "yes" place - after an admittedly turbulent discernment. And the sabbatical idea came out of the turbulent discernment. Yes, I appreciated and loved L'Arche, but yes, I was also tired. And especially after some go-go weeks of preparation for being absent for 5 weeks (sabbatical, plus a week of professional time), I found myself "letting go" in very tangible ways.
I've been grateful to be feeling the waves of sabbatical-feelings that I would hope to have, at the times I'd hope to have them. I felt myself "letting go" just before I'd yet gone. And then I "let go" pretty much totally.
I had a week of professional time at the Tennessee Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church, of which I am clergy. I let go of Atlanta for that week while in Nashville, so much so that a call from someone in Atlanta was a bit disorienting - hold on, what's that name? Oh yes, I go to your house every week - but - not now, because I am gone. I have let go of Atlanta for right now. It was an "on" time, trending toward over-stimulation and restlessness (lots of people time, sitting time, lots of information and words, and a bit of concern for political positioning). But it was a time of beautiful connections, of worship and singing too.
--
And then I drove to Green Bough House of Prayer in Scott, Georgia - I've lovingly referred to it as "the middle of nowhere, south Georgia." There, I had no cell reception and limited internet. I could connect when I needed or wanted to, but not out of default or habit or in response to a general cloud of obligation. I was able to "let go." I was welcomed into a small community of 2 monastic Methodists and another long-term resident - a community which holds prayer at its heart, keeps lots of silence, and hosts retreatants. It's a beautiful life, and I felt so privileged to get to be welcomed into this shared life for 3 whole weeks - a life full of delight for each person and of savoring of each moment. A life full of awe, and cultivated intentionally that way.
Now, when this notion of a month of time was offered up, I naturally thought of many ideas for this time. Is this the time to go to France? Is this the time to visit my friends who are scattered in many places, and I never get enough in-person time with? And I finally realized - if this is to truly be sabbatical, if I'm to truly rest for the most of that month, I ought to minimize travel. I decided to go to one place and settle into some practices. My hope was to farm, pray, and write.
And so that's what I did. I "farmed" a bit - not at any crazy pace or concern for major productivity. There were tasks and projects to help complete, but no sense of pressure or urgency. I helped do things like plant seeds, mix compost, water, shovel horse manure, pick berries. And I was invited into other farm/garden-related projects - but again, kind of "just for fun," because I was around and some things are easier to do with 2 people, or because I was interested to learn. I helped make jam and jelly, fermented pickles, soap - and I did some flower pressing on my own.
I prayed a fair bit. I was invited into a rhythm of morning, evening, and night prayer. And I'd been encouraged by the spiritual director there to cultivate a more intentional practice of personal prayer, so I brought some of my recently acquired "tools" for prayer and played around with those a bit. I brought the L'Arche Jubilee prayer, my anniversary prayer beads, meditation cushion, Mary statue - and borrowed a Bible (eek - how do I manage to always forget that key element?). I did a bit of yoga too. I met with Fay, the spiritual director, at the beginning and ending of my time.
And I wrote. I journaled and wrote cards. I thought I might blog, I had that intention. But I haven't until now. I am still on sabbatical though - I'm in my "incognito in Atlanta" week. I may transfer some of my journaled thoughts to blog. We'll see. I brought a book with me about writing as practice and thought I might set a daily practice of writing creatively. I found myself writing almost daily, but not because I sat down to do so. It flowed a lot at the beginning, then ebbed and flowed again through my time.
I also went on walks, read a fair bit, took naps, chatted with folks, helped prep meals and tidy the bookstore, explored neighboring towns a bit, and participated in the nightly "entertainment hour" of the residential community. Main highlight - watched the 2 seasons of "Forsyte Saga" all the way through, one episode each night (except for the very end, when we watched 2 back to back, because I was going to be gone when it was going off of Netflix).
I've said it felt a bit like being retired. I usually had some intentions written down about things I hoped to accomplish on different days, but generally, I took each day as it came, setting plans at that pace - and sometimes changing them. Do I want to go for a walk now? Or read? etc.
Next post, I want to offer a quote and a reflection from the main book that "accompanied" my stay at Green Bough. But for now, this is plenty about my time at Green Bough.
--
This time was lovely of course. But, as I said, my heart has also been growing in fondness for my L'Arche community. I would sometimes consider, maybe life in a place like Green Bough would feel right for me at some point? And I would think, no, not yet anyway - I so love the chaos, the delightful surprises, the delightful personalities - and I have so many hopes for our little community. And I would miss it. At other times, a memory would just float into my mind, and I would miss it again.
So, I found myself both cherishing my time at Green Bough and missing L'Arche at the same time. When I was preparing to go away for a weekend for L'Arche celebrations - saying goodbye to Curt and affirming our mandate and new community leader Tim - I again found myself feeling all the predictable-enough feelings at all the hoped-for times. I felt this tension of love for Green Bough and cherishing sabbatical, and love for L'Arche and my everyday. I felt myself missing L'Arche, but wishing I could just keep missing everyone from afar, from Green Bough. I felt myself glad to be able to return to Green Bough for another week, and to have yet another week "off" in Atlanta after that. And when imagining that rhythm, it felt supple, like I would be ready when it comes time to re-enter life back at L'Arche.
And I've had other feelings in regard to all of our transitions happening at L'Arche this summer, and largely while I'm away. I've felt the disorienting feeling of lots of change happening while I'm away. Tim moved out while I was away, and Megan moved into his room. I knew this (intellectually) before I left. But these things hit the heart in waves when you don't necessarily expect them. A 3rd new Assistant, Andrew, was confirmed while I was away, he has moved into my room for a week until I get back - and I haven't met him in-person yet.
I've felt a sense of abandonment and sadness about departures - not only is "everyone leaving!", but a feeling that "everyone's leaving me!" Tim already moved out, though transitioning into his new role. Chelsea, our live-out Assistant, leaves this week. Curt will have his last official "work" day a couple days after I get back. Laura, who's stepped in to hold down the fort while I'm away, with many of the responsibilities and the authority role, will leave after I've been back a week. Sara leaves after I'm back for a week.
I'm also feeling, along with Terry, a certain sense of solace and excitement, though (excitement has actually been a major theme these past few months!), with this delightful new team we have, as we move forward. I've been hearing and observing little bits of Terry's (core member) dis-ease with all the transition happening - all these departures - but when he realized that I would be returning and that 2 other Assistants would also be arriving, all he can talk about is helping move boxes and that new people are coming. These things hit us in waves.
--
So, I've been on sabbatical. And I've been carrying transition as one of my companions on this sabbatical journey. I've been carrying sadness and joy, peacefulness and excitement. And amidst all of this, I've also been growing in fondness. How delightful is that.
Since when do we Americans, concerned with productivity and bottom lines, fund the growth of fondness? We financially support growth of many other sorts - but fondness?? Well, yes, some people and organizations financially support the growth of fondness. And L'Arche Atlanta is apparently one of them.
And fondness it has increased. Whew. That was a close one. When one leaves, there's always the risk of one being woo'd to stay where one has gone, of realizing that one is very dissatisfied with one's everyday, the choices and commitments they've made for their work-a-day lives. And of course what a gift when one has the gift of time and space to make those kind of deep realizations too.
But for me, fondness has increased. The time and space has been a shot in the arm, the distance has offered me perspective for more deeply appreciating my community, my way of life.
Now I wouldn't say that I was in a non-appreciative place before I left. I did just re-commit to L'Arche Atlanta, in my role as Live-in House Coordinator, for another year. I've been in a wholehearted "yes" place - after an admittedly turbulent discernment. And the sabbatical idea came out of the turbulent discernment. Yes, I appreciated and loved L'Arche, but yes, I was also tired. And especially after some go-go weeks of preparation for being absent for 5 weeks (sabbatical, plus a week of professional time), I found myself "letting go" in very tangible ways.
I've been grateful to be feeling the waves of sabbatical-feelings that I would hope to have, at the times I'd hope to have them. I felt myself "letting go" just before I'd yet gone. And then I "let go" pretty much totally.
I had a week of professional time at the Tennessee Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church, of which I am clergy. I let go of Atlanta for that week while in Nashville, so much so that a call from someone in Atlanta was a bit disorienting - hold on, what's that name? Oh yes, I go to your house every week - but - not now, because I am gone. I have let go of Atlanta for right now. It was an "on" time, trending toward over-stimulation and restlessness (lots of people time, sitting time, lots of information and words, and a bit of concern for political positioning). But it was a time of beautiful connections, of worship and singing too.
--
And then I drove to Green Bough House of Prayer in Scott, Georgia - I've lovingly referred to it as "the middle of nowhere, south Georgia." There, I had no cell reception and limited internet. I could connect when I needed or wanted to, but not out of default or habit or in response to a general cloud of obligation. I was able to "let go." I was welcomed into a small community of 2 monastic Methodists and another long-term resident - a community which holds prayer at its heart, keeps lots of silence, and hosts retreatants. It's a beautiful life, and I felt so privileged to get to be welcomed into this shared life for 3 whole weeks - a life full of delight for each person and of savoring of each moment. A life full of awe, and cultivated intentionally that way.
Now, when this notion of a month of time was offered up, I naturally thought of many ideas for this time. Is this the time to go to France? Is this the time to visit my friends who are scattered in many places, and I never get enough in-person time with? And I finally realized - if this is to truly be sabbatical, if I'm to truly rest for the most of that month, I ought to minimize travel. I decided to go to one place and settle into some practices. My hope was to farm, pray, and write.
And so that's what I did. I "farmed" a bit - not at any crazy pace or concern for major productivity. There were tasks and projects to help complete, but no sense of pressure or urgency. I helped do things like plant seeds, mix compost, water, shovel horse manure, pick berries. And I was invited into other farm/garden-related projects - but again, kind of "just for fun," because I was around and some things are easier to do with 2 people, or because I was interested to learn. I helped make jam and jelly, fermented pickles, soap - and I did some flower pressing on my own.
I prayed a fair bit. I was invited into a rhythm of morning, evening, and night prayer. And I'd been encouraged by the spiritual director there to cultivate a more intentional practice of personal prayer, so I brought some of my recently acquired "tools" for prayer and played around with those a bit. I brought the L'Arche Jubilee prayer, my anniversary prayer beads, meditation cushion, Mary statue - and borrowed a Bible (eek - how do I manage to always forget that key element?). I did a bit of yoga too. I met with Fay, the spiritual director, at the beginning and ending of my time.
And I wrote. I journaled and wrote cards. I thought I might blog, I had that intention. But I haven't until now. I am still on sabbatical though - I'm in my "incognito in Atlanta" week. I may transfer some of my journaled thoughts to blog. We'll see. I brought a book with me about writing as practice and thought I might set a daily practice of writing creatively. I found myself writing almost daily, but not because I sat down to do so. It flowed a lot at the beginning, then ebbed and flowed again through my time.
I also went on walks, read a fair bit, took naps, chatted with folks, helped prep meals and tidy the bookstore, explored neighboring towns a bit, and participated in the nightly "entertainment hour" of the residential community. Main highlight - watched the 2 seasons of "Forsyte Saga" all the way through, one episode each night (except for the very end, when we watched 2 back to back, because I was going to be gone when it was going off of Netflix).
I've said it felt a bit like being retired. I usually had some intentions written down about things I hoped to accomplish on different days, but generally, I took each day as it came, setting plans at that pace - and sometimes changing them. Do I want to go for a walk now? Or read? etc.
Next post, I want to offer a quote and a reflection from the main book that "accompanied" my stay at Green Bough. But for now, this is plenty about my time at Green Bough.
--
This time was lovely of course. But, as I said, my heart has also been growing in fondness for my L'Arche community. I would sometimes consider, maybe life in a place like Green Bough would feel right for me at some point? And I would think, no, not yet anyway - I so love the chaos, the delightful surprises, the delightful personalities - and I have so many hopes for our little community. And I would miss it. At other times, a memory would just float into my mind, and I would miss it again.
So, I found myself both cherishing my time at Green Bough and missing L'Arche at the same time. When I was preparing to go away for a weekend for L'Arche celebrations - saying goodbye to Curt and affirming our mandate and new community leader Tim - I again found myself feeling all the predictable-enough feelings at all the hoped-for times. I felt this tension of love for Green Bough and cherishing sabbatical, and love for L'Arche and my everyday. I felt myself missing L'Arche, but wishing I could just keep missing everyone from afar, from Green Bough. I felt myself glad to be able to return to Green Bough for another week, and to have yet another week "off" in Atlanta after that. And when imagining that rhythm, it felt supple, like I would be ready when it comes time to re-enter life back at L'Arche.
And I've had other feelings in regard to all of our transitions happening at L'Arche this summer, and largely while I'm away. I've felt the disorienting feeling of lots of change happening while I'm away. Tim moved out while I was away, and Megan moved into his room. I knew this (intellectually) before I left. But these things hit the heart in waves when you don't necessarily expect them. A 3rd new Assistant, Andrew, was confirmed while I was away, he has moved into my room for a week until I get back - and I haven't met him in-person yet.
I've felt a sense of abandonment and sadness about departures - not only is "everyone leaving!", but a feeling that "everyone's leaving me!" Tim already moved out, though transitioning into his new role. Chelsea, our live-out Assistant, leaves this week. Curt will have his last official "work" day a couple days after I get back. Laura, who's stepped in to hold down the fort while I'm away, with many of the responsibilities and the authority role, will leave after I've been back a week. Sara leaves after I'm back for a week.
I'm also feeling, along with Terry, a certain sense of solace and excitement, though (excitement has actually been a major theme these past few months!), with this delightful new team we have, as we move forward. I've been hearing and observing little bits of Terry's (core member) dis-ease with all the transition happening - all these departures - but when he realized that I would be returning and that 2 other Assistants would also be arriving, all he can talk about is helping move boxes and that new people are coming. These things hit us in waves.
--
So, I've been on sabbatical. And I've been carrying transition as one of my companions on this sabbatical journey. I've been carrying sadness and joy, peacefulness and excitement. And amidst all of this, I've also been growing in fondness. How delightful is that.
Monday, February 10, 2014
a haiku
Inspired by other meaningful haiku moments in my life..
(Haiku contests at Tomato Art Fest in East Nashville,
which thus inspired post-Tomato Art Fest porch-sitting haiku-writing on an East Nashville porch,
Georgia Winter Institute [disability conference] in Columbus, GA),
...I decided to invite folks to write haikus at my 30th birthday party.
This is the one I wrote at the party:
Warm red hearth welcomes
Cuddle up cozy - it's home
Hospitality
If you're interested, I invite you to post a comment with your own haiku. Guidelines for haiku writing, according to wikihow:
Traditional structure:
5 syllables
7 syllables
5 syllables
=17 syllables
Regarding length:
-distill an image using few sounds
-should be able to be expressed in 1 breath
...so it can be fewer than 17 syllables total
Regarding content/inspiration:
-haikus generally don't rhyme
-use sensory language to capture a feeling or image
-often inspired by an element of nature, a seasonal reference, a moment of beauty, or a poignant experience
-contains 2 juxtaposed ideas
...try writing 1 straight line with a dash between the 2 ideas
the moon
the moon was so bright last night, i'm sure it was just for me.
it wasn't a full moon, it wasn't a sliver - it was a little bigger than half-full. nothing fancy - just the moon in the midst of its waxing or waning - i'm not sure which. but the sky was so clear. i could see the moon clearly, and stars. in atlanta - a city with many competing lights.
and today was gray, we'll have snow in the morning, the city will shut down cautiously for a couple of days.
and yesterday was clear and bright and warm. it was for my 30th birthday. it was just for me. in the middle of february of 2014. what a gift.
it wasn't a full moon, it wasn't a sliver - it was a little bigger than half-full. nothing fancy - just the moon in the midst of its waxing or waning - i'm not sure which. but the sky was so clear. i could see the moon clearly, and stars. in atlanta - a city with many competing lights.
and today was gray, we'll have snow in the morning, the city will shut down cautiously for a couple of days.
and yesterday was clear and bright and warm. it was for my 30th birthday. it was just for me. in the middle of february of 2014. what a gift.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
consumption vs. celebration in our everyday lives
Note, I wrote this more than a year ago - not sure which edition of Verse and Voice this was from:
Quoted in today's 'Verse and Voice' from Sojourners:
"To celebrate is to share in a greater joy, to participate in an eternal drama. In acts of consumption the intention is to please our own selves; in acts of celebration the intention is to extol God, the spirit, the source of blessing." -Abraham Joshua Heschel
At the beginning of my time at Progress, I struggled to understand and be at peace with a number of the ways that "service is provided," "rights are protected/respected," accountability is maintained, "interaction with the community" is facilitated, within the systems and structures of life amidst adults with intellectual disabilities in Nashville/Tennessee. I continue to struggle, some more days than others. Some days I let go, ignore, forget, don't notice, breathe deeply. Other days, I rant or make snide remarks internally, rant or make remarks to others, ask questions, cry, make fists and grr at the world, add to my plans for a very different way of life together with folks with and without intellectual disabilities in the future.
One of the things that I question and rant about is the type/quality of life/engagement with the world promoted by the "community-based involvement" (something to that effect) day program that Progress, and I assume other agencies, facilitate.
Now, I will qualify what I'm about to say with a few things:
1)I have never actually seen a calendar lined out for what each individual and group does during their community time in the day program.
1a) This is partially because they do not automatically provide these to Companions.
1b) This is also partially because I've not aggressively pursued receiving one of these calendars (I have asked a number of times in conversation and correspondence with my own supervisor and administrative program manager about this, but never received an answer - and I never actually asked the day program if this would be possible. I took the silence to mean a probable no, and I felt like I was already pushing enough buttons then that I didn't want to push another one at that time.)
2) There are some at Progress who are employed at various businesses around town (Vanderbilt, Marriott, McDonald's are the ones I know - laundry, food service, dish-washing jobs, as far as I know). From what I can tell, these are probably pretty good set-ups - offers some hard-earned personal spending money to folks, opportunity for money management skills, experience of the joys and challenges of going to work day in and day out.
3) Some of the activities that folks do in one-on-one day services (where staff meet up with their client at home or at the day program and go out "into the community" one-on-one) and the "community-based" day program itself (where people meet up at the day program and are split up into groups which go out in vans and other vehicles) - are likely enriching and engaging. Time at the park, volunteering (Meals on Wheels in the only one I've heard), and occasional free days at the Frist, the movies, concerts, etc. all seem like cool stuff to me.
Also cool is a community center that my client who gets one-on-one day services goes to for arts and crafts - he enjoys painting ceramics and gets some good one-on-one attention from the guy who leads this. He also likes to shoot hoops sometimes. Other day program participants go there too, from what I understand, but my other client who goes to day program doesn't usually go, I don't think. Again, my one-on-one person likes going to the library sometimes to get on the computer, but the other doesn't usually go during day program, I don't think, because a lot of the group day program clients are too loud for quiet spaces like the library (my client is non-verbal, so this is not an issue for him, but because others in the group aren't up for it, he doesn't usually get to go).
Note: there ends the drafted blog post that I had created more than a year ago.
I think my thought nugget then was valuable enough to give a wrap-up two cents and go ahead and post. Where I was going, after all of my caveats, was a general frustration that I experienced while working at Progress - which brings us back to the quote.
Basically, I was very struck when I first began at Progress, and throughout my time there, that a lot of the "community engagement" activities that most folks seemed to participate were: trips to stores. Spend some time at Target - check. Spend some time at the dollar store - check. Community engagement - done.
I found this life centered around shopping and consumerism (even if not that much was bought) to be a fairly sad and limited way of engaging with the world - void of some richer forms of engagement, focused on the "wrong" parts of our daily lives. It seemed and easy/convenient activity.
After living amid that for a year and a half and leaving it now - I would certainly include the above caveats, and I would also add that:
-stores can be and are valid forms of engagement with the world. Folks with disabilities have historically been absent from daily arenas such as stores. Also, simply put - there are people at stores - this is a place to interact with people. Social skills are learned, money skills are learned, decision-making skills are learned (of course, if all of these are encouraged and made possible on store trips).
-stores and fast food restaurants are often also more socially "easy" and physically accessible places to be with folks with disabilities. There's freedom to move about, talk, etc. in a wider range of ways than, say, a church, a library, an art class, etc. Perhaps we have something to learn from businesses - they want folks' business, so they're going to make it as easy as possible for as many folks to access their goods. There are likely lessons to be learned from what is "easy" and "interesting" about those experiences, that can be applied to other arenas of life that we might hope that folks would also engage in.
However - back to the quote and a life based on consumerism versus celebration. A larger theme in the "service provider" world of intellectual disabilities is that folks with disabilities in this phase of life in the US have been given titles of "consumer" and "client". Their primary role in life is now to choose and consume services provided by "direct support providers" / "caregivers". It is not to be in relationship, to produce, to bear fruit, to bear witness, to be, to do, to think. Rather, folks with disabilities have received a title for the primary role they're viewed as having - draining "the system" - consuming.
The idea is that being a "consumer/client" gives dignity. You, person with a disability, have the right to choose which service provider you'll use. However, folks with disabilities are not very often choosing their own service providers. And their money is usually not very much their own. The money running through their hands (or their caregivers' hands) comes from the government - and since it is attached to a person's need/disability, it is channeled through that person - and on to the provider agencies, and to the stores where they buy their food/supplies/other items.
I clearly do not agree with this system and these titles. I understand where they're coming from - from a seeming altruistic desire to offer dignity and power to folks who have had none (you are a consumer and client who has rights to make decisions about what goes on in your life!), and from an also well-meaning attempt to "mainstream" / normalize folks (you too can consume! in this consumeristic world we live in). Simply, it reflects mainstream US society and its dominant consumerist focus.
In contrast, Heschel (in his quote above) highlights "celebration" as an alternative to our acts of consumption. It is "to share in a greater joy, to participate in an eternal drama." As I am now in L'Arche, celebration is a key part of our life together. High-fives about the simplest pleasures and achievements of life, birthday celebrations, anniversary celebrations, liturgical celebrations, celebrations of life and belonging as a person departs a community or passes away. L'Arche knows how to party. And that is one of the great gifts that I receive in L'Arche. It flows out of our core members, certainly - I celebrated plenty with Dean and Ronez in Nashville, not because it flowed out of state or agency structures, but because it flowed out of them. Celebration also flows out of the L'Arche way of being together. We're attentive to each other's needs and desires in community - and one of our common, deep needs is to "participate in an eternal drama." We celebrate because it flows out of this attention to one another. Our bodies need to move - so we dance! God is good and present in our lives - so we eat! We have been given the gift of community - so we welcome others! Celebration is a giving and a taking that exclaims that we have been given much to be joyful for - even amid pain, frustration, loss.
I could wax endless on the contours of celebration of in L'Arche (including a felllow assistant's recent comment that celebrating at L'Arche is both stressful and fabulous - and worth doing all the more, it is a practice) - but I will end here - simply stating that celebration participates in something much deeper than consumption, and so my hope for myself and for others is that we will focus our attentions toward celebration more and more - that we'll practice it with much more fervency - than we practice our consumption.
Quoted in today's 'Verse and Voice' from Sojourners:
"To celebrate is to share in a greater joy, to participate in an eternal drama. In acts of consumption the intention is to please our own selves; in acts of celebration the intention is to extol God, the spirit, the source of blessing." -Abraham Joshua Heschel
At the beginning of my time at Progress, I struggled to understand and be at peace with a number of the ways that "service is provided," "rights are protected/respected," accountability is maintained, "interaction with the community" is facilitated, within the systems and structures of life amidst adults with intellectual disabilities in Nashville/Tennessee. I continue to struggle, some more days than others. Some days I let go, ignore, forget, don't notice, breathe deeply. Other days, I rant or make snide remarks internally, rant or make remarks to others, ask questions, cry, make fists and grr at the world, add to my plans for a very different way of life together with folks with and without intellectual disabilities in the future.
One of the things that I question and rant about is the type/quality of life/engagement with the world promoted by the "community-based involvement" (something to that effect) day program that Progress, and I assume other agencies, facilitate.
Now, I will qualify what I'm about to say with a few things:
1)I have never actually seen a calendar lined out for what each individual and group does during their community time in the day program.
1a) This is partially because they do not automatically provide these to Companions.
1b) This is also partially because I've not aggressively pursued receiving one of these calendars (I have asked a number of times in conversation and correspondence with my own supervisor and administrative program manager about this, but never received an answer - and I never actually asked the day program if this would be possible. I took the silence to mean a probable no, and I felt like I was already pushing enough buttons then that I didn't want to push another one at that time.)
2) There are some at Progress who are employed at various businesses around town (Vanderbilt, Marriott, McDonald's are the ones I know - laundry, food service, dish-washing jobs, as far as I know). From what I can tell, these are probably pretty good set-ups - offers some hard-earned personal spending money to folks, opportunity for money management skills, experience of the joys and challenges of going to work day in and day out.
3) Some of the activities that folks do in one-on-one day services (where staff meet up with their client at home or at the day program and go out "into the community" one-on-one) and the "community-based" day program itself (where people meet up at the day program and are split up into groups which go out in vans and other vehicles) - are likely enriching and engaging. Time at the park, volunteering (Meals on Wheels in the only one I've heard), and occasional free days at the Frist, the movies, concerts, etc. all seem like cool stuff to me.
Also cool is a community center that my client who gets one-on-one day services goes to for arts and crafts - he enjoys painting ceramics and gets some good one-on-one attention from the guy who leads this. He also likes to shoot hoops sometimes. Other day program participants go there too, from what I understand, but my other client who goes to day program doesn't usually go, I don't think. Again, my one-on-one person likes going to the library sometimes to get on the computer, but the other doesn't usually go during day program, I don't think, because a lot of the group day program clients are too loud for quiet spaces like the library (my client is non-verbal, so this is not an issue for him, but because others in the group aren't up for it, he doesn't usually get to go).
Note: there ends the drafted blog post that I had created more than a year ago.
I think my thought nugget then was valuable enough to give a wrap-up two cents and go ahead and post. Where I was going, after all of my caveats, was a general frustration that I experienced while working at Progress - which brings us back to the quote.
Basically, I was very struck when I first began at Progress, and throughout my time there, that a lot of the "community engagement" activities that most folks seemed to participate were: trips to stores. Spend some time at Target - check. Spend some time at the dollar store - check. Community engagement - done.
I found this life centered around shopping and consumerism (even if not that much was bought) to be a fairly sad and limited way of engaging with the world - void of some richer forms of engagement, focused on the "wrong" parts of our daily lives. It seemed and easy/convenient activity.
After living amid that for a year and a half and leaving it now - I would certainly include the above caveats, and I would also add that:
-stores can be and are valid forms of engagement with the world. Folks with disabilities have historically been absent from daily arenas such as stores. Also, simply put - there are people at stores - this is a place to interact with people. Social skills are learned, money skills are learned, decision-making skills are learned (of course, if all of these are encouraged and made possible on store trips).
-stores and fast food restaurants are often also more socially "easy" and physically accessible places to be with folks with disabilities. There's freedom to move about, talk, etc. in a wider range of ways than, say, a church, a library, an art class, etc. Perhaps we have something to learn from businesses - they want folks' business, so they're going to make it as easy as possible for as many folks to access their goods. There are likely lessons to be learned from what is "easy" and "interesting" about those experiences, that can be applied to other arenas of life that we might hope that folks would also engage in.
However - back to the quote and a life based on consumerism versus celebration. A larger theme in the "service provider" world of intellectual disabilities is that folks with disabilities in this phase of life in the US have been given titles of "consumer" and "client". Their primary role in life is now to choose and consume services provided by "direct support providers" / "caregivers". It is not to be in relationship, to produce, to bear fruit, to bear witness, to be, to do, to think. Rather, folks with disabilities have received a title for the primary role they're viewed as having - draining "the system" - consuming.
The idea is that being a "consumer/client" gives dignity. You, person with a disability, have the right to choose which service provider you'll use. However, folks with disabilities are not very often choosing their own service providers. And their money is usually not very much their own. The money running through their hands (or their caregivers' hands) comes from the government - and since it is attached to a person's need/disability, it is channeled through that person - and on to the provider agencies, and to the stores where they buy their food/supplies/other items.
I clearly do not agree with this system and these titles. I understand where they're coming from - from a seeming altruistic desire to offer dignity and power to folks who have had none (you are a consumer and client who has rights to make decisions about what goes on in your life!), and from an also well-meaning attempt to "mainstream" / normalize folks (you too can consume! in this consumeristic world we live in). Simply, it reflects mainstream US society and its dominant consumerist focus.
In contrast, Heschel (in his quote above) highlights "celebration" as an alternative to our acts of consumption. It is "to share in a greater joy, to participate in an eternal drama." As I am now in L'Arche, celebration is a key part of our life together. High-fives about the simplest pleasures and achievements of life, birthday celebrations, anniversary celebrations, liturgical celebrations, celebrations of life and belonging as a person departs a community or passes away. L'Arche knows how to party. And that is one of the great gifts that I receive in L'Arche. It flows out of our core members, certainly - I celebrated plenty with Dean and Ronez in Nashville, not because it flowed out of state or agency structures, but because it flowed out of them. Celebration also flows out of the L'Arche way of being together. We're attentive to each other's needs and desires in community - and one of our common, deep needs is to "participate in an eternal drama." We celebrate because it flows out of this attention to one another. Our bodies need to move - so we dance! God is good and present in our lives - so we eat! We have been given the gift of community - so we welcome others! Celebration is a giving and a taking that exclaims that we have been given much to be joyful for - even amid pain, frustration, loss.
I could wax endless on the contours of celebration of in L'Arche (including a felllow assistant's recent comment that celebrating at L'Arche is both stressful and fabulous - and worth doing all the more, it is a practice) - but I will end here - simply stating that celebration participates in something much deeper than consumption, and so my hope for myself and for others is that we will focus our attentions toward celebration more and more - that we'll practice it with much more fervency - than we practice our consumption.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
my mama's dead, yeah i'm sad, look nie-nie there's mcdonald's
this conversation with my housemate felt deep, also typical, and cracked me up, all at the same time.
it's really a 2-part conversation:
part 1: driving home, we pass a cemetery.
housemate starts to cry and sniffle.
not too worried, i let him get it out, in case it's just that his feelings are hurt that he can't get his way about something.
he keeps crying, so i ask, are you crying?
housemate: yeah.
me: are you sad?
h: yeah.
m: what are you sad about?
h: driver's dead.
m: [not sure of housemate's speech] you're sad because your mother's dead? are you thinking about when you visited your mom's grave on mother's day with your brother?
h: no. driver's dead.
m: [still not sure] your sister?
h: no - driver.
m: ok. so, you're said that driver is dead? [i don't know who driver is - a sibling, i suppose.]
h: yeah.
m: yeah, it's sad when people die. did the cemetery remind you of driver?
h: yeah, the graveyard.
part 2: driving home, not passing a cemetery
h: [no crying, out of the blue and matter-of-factly] driver's dead.
m: yeah, you were crying about that the other night.
h: yeah.
m: were you sad?
h: yeah.
m: are you sad now?
h: yeah.
h: my mama's dead.
m: your mom's dead, too, right?
h: right. my daddy's dead.
m: yeah.
h: driver's dead. my sister's dead.
m: and does that make you sad?
h: yeah, i was crying - long ago.
m: yeah, you were crying when we passed the graveyard.
h: [as we approach a mcdonald's on the road] look, nie-nie [nickname for other housemate] - there's mcdonald's!
m: [pause, then laugh] no, we're not going to mcdonald's right now.
cemeteries, death, grief, sadness, memories, family - and mcdonald's.
note: within another month after these conversations, i learned that "driver" is "travis".
it's really a 2-part conversation:
part 1: driving home, we pass a cemetery.
housemate starts to cry and sniffle.
not too worried, i let him get it out, in case it's just that his feelings are hurt that he can't get his way about something.
he keeps crying, so i ask, are you crying?
housemate: yeah.
me: are you sad?
h: yeah.
m: what are you sad about?
h: driver's dead.
m: [not sure of housemate's speech] you're sad because your mother's dead? are you thinking about when you visited your mom's grave on mother's day with your brother?
h: no. driver's dead.
m: [still not sure] your sister?
h: no - driver.
m: ok. so, you're said that driver is dead? [i don't know who driver is - a sibling, i suppose.]
h: yeah.
m: yeah, it's sad when people die. did the cemetery remind you of driver?
h: yeah, the graveyard.
part 2: driving home, not passing a cemetery
h: [no crying, out of the blue and matter-of-factly] driver's dead.
m: yeah, you were crying about that the other night.
h: yeah.
m: were you sad?
h: yeah.
m: are you sad now?
h: yeah.
h: my mama's dead.
m: your mom's dead, too, right?
h: right. my daddy's dead.
m: yeah.
h: driver's dead. my sister's dead.
m: and does that make you sad?
h: yeah, i was crying - long ago.
m: yeah, you were crying when we passed the graveyard.
h: [as we approach a mcdonald's on the road] look, nie-nie [nickname for other housemate] - there's mcdonald's!
m: [pause, then laugh] no, we're not going to mcdonald's right now.
cemeteries, death, grief, sadness, memories, family - and mcdonald's.
note: within another month after these conversations, i learned that "driver" is "travis".
every day, more like my mom
in the course of a few days - 2 events:
i stopped by michael's after my massage the other day - just because i was in the neighborhood and thought i'd see about some craft supplies for sunday school. but, boom - i was sucked in to the bargain bins out front and in the entry to the store. i -had- to buy some of the 50 cent items i found there. i bought 1 cute luggage tag, 3 weekly menu plan/shopping list magnetized notepads (2 for friends, 1 for me), 1 set of notecards with shells, 1 set of notecards with an embossed B on it (either to give to britni, or to keep for myself for a last initial thing), 3 packages of recipe cards (for our cookbook project at Progress) - and maybe a couple other things. as soon as i started to peruse, i instantly began to think - hmm, who could i buy this or that for? whose other initial letters could i look for in that bin of embossed letter notecards? they're only 50 cents - you just can't pass up that kind of a deal! this is how my mom's mind works, y'all. this is how i end up with a stack of things waiting for me on my bed every time i visit home, and care (emphasize "care" here - i love!!! my mom) packages full of random (and often awesome - but sometimes like, where did you come up with this??) items. i slowly enter further and further into the "becoming my mom" zone.
then today, i hear someone say "it says it's wynton marshall" to someone else. i hear jazz in the background. i'm not actually in this conversation, but without hesitation, i say, "not wynton marsalis?...i mean, are you talking about the music?" "yeah" "and it's wynton marshall? not wynton marsalis?" looks back at it, "actually yeah - wynton marsalis" and i give credit where credit is due - to my mom, the woman who has at least every jazz, funk, and r&b musician, album, song, and the dates associated with them - all logged away in her head. i am usually no good at this "trivia." but i recalled a conversation when i was telling my mom about a photo exhibit at the anacostia community museum - by ... marsalis (i can't even recall his name at the moment). i think she knew who he was - and she knew he was the brother or something of wynton marsalis, whose jazz she said was great. i don't guess this one falls into the category of "becoming my mom" - but at least letting some of her vast wealth of knowledge rub off on me a little.
i stopped by michael's after my massage the other day - just because i was in the neighborhood and thought i'd see about some craft supplies for sunday school. but, boom - i was sucked in to the bargain bins out front and in the entry to the store. i -had- to buy some of the 50 cent items i found there. i bought 1 cute luggage tag, 3 weekly menu plan/shopping list magnetized notepads (2 for friends, 1 for me), 1 set of notecards with shells, 1 set of notecards with an embossed B on it (either to give to britni, or to keep for myself for a last initial thing), 3 packages of recipe cards (for our cookbook project at Progress) - and maybe a couple other things. as soon as i started to peruse, i instantly began to think - hmm, who could i buy this or that for? whose other initial letters could i look for in that bin of embossed letter notecards? they're only 50 cents - you just can't pass up that kind of a deal! this is how my mom's mind works, y'all. this is how i end up with a stack of things waiting for me on my bed every time i visit home, and care (emphasize "care" here - i love!!! my mom) packages full of random (and often awesome - but sometimes like, where did you come up with this??) items. i slowly enter further and further into the "becoming my mom" zone.
then today, i hear someone say "it says it's wynton marshall" to someone else. i hear jazz in the background. i'm not actually in this conversation, but without hesitation, i say, "not wynton marsalis?...i mean, are you talking about the music?" "yeah" "and it's wynton marshall? not wynton marsalis?" looks back at it, "actually yeah - wynton marsalis" and i give credit where credit is due - to my mom, the woman who has at least every jazz, funk, and r&b musician, album, song, and the dates associated with them - all logged away in her head. i am usually no good at this "trivia." but i recalled a conversation when i was telling my mom about a photo exhibit at the anacostia community museum - by ... marsalis (i can't even recall his name at the moment). i think she knew who he was - and she knew he was the brother or something of wynton marsalis, whose jazz she said was great. i don't guess this one falls into the category of "becoming my mom" - but at least letting some of her vast wealth of knowledge rub off on me a little.
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