What Makes Life LIFE

"What is it we remember of a life? From those 28,000 days if we are lucky enough to live that long? Those 960 months? ...Surely our days are measured in small things, small connections, small thoughts. It's not meetings and deals closed. It is our children. Talking of the day, of lunch, of coloring, of nonsense, the parent listening, half listening, not listening, because this is a thing we do, we daily do, morning and afternoon, the little holy rituals that make up a day, a life, a drop-off and pick-up, an expected thing, a known thing, a wave to the crossing guard, to a mom friend, to Ravi and Angie and Brandon, little school friends. My, how they've grown. New lunch box? New backpack? Good day? Hold my hand, sweetheart. Listen to your mother. A shared smile with the other mothers. They know this world. Can you believe this new principal? Did you hear so-and-so got laid off? The deli charges $5 for a half gallon of milk now. Ineffable feelings. The best kind. Words overrated. Time to go home now. She puts him in the car, in his car seat, buckles him in, burying her face in his neck, a little kiss. We'll go home and have a snack and play and then dinner and a bath and bed. A story. Frog and Toad again. Fishy kisses. Super-tuck. He asks for a super-tuck. That's what he calls it. Night, Mom. See you tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. We have time. Of course we have time. Please dear God."

-John Kenney, I See You've Called in Dead

The New Reality

Selfie - hugging a tree in the Sierra Nevadas

I had five targeted doses of radiation over ten days in late June, during which I turned 63. I'm not feeling the latent fatigue they forecast, though I experienced it during treatment. Then I started the medication designed to reduce risk of recurring breast cancer or developing metastatic cancer if I take it five years, called anastrozole. At first I thought I was lucky -- no noticeable side effects in the first couple weeks. Alas, a month in, I'm experiencing what the obliteration of estrogen does to the body. Most prominent is joint pain, sore muscles, and stiffness all over. I feel it especially in my hands and wrists. This brings me back to the misery of my pre-weight loss era; I had so enjoyed pain-free movement the last few years. I experience restless legs while trying to fall asleep, as well as 4 a.m. awakenings. My thoughts are slower -- brain fog. And I feel, on a cellular level, an absence of energetic capacity. The shrunken reserve requires careful choices and an acceptance of the current reality, so I feel some grief too. I have a good life. What's occurring to me is normal. Aging happens, health declines, or is otherwise compromised. I don't love it. Then I look up from writing and glimpse six-point buck wandering through the yard! He lingered long enough to delight me. I hear my child singing upstairs in this rented cabin. No sweeter gift than that.

Inspiration for You

I want to encourage you. Although you feel stuck in your overgrown forest, perplexed about how to change it, overwhelmed and frustrated with yourself that more progress has not happened, you are changing. You are noticing, you are learning, and those alone are evidence of change. 

You long for the one book that will provide guidance. And here is the truth: you are the book. You are writing your life. Other books can inform you (goodness knows I believe this), but they cannot solve you, or for you. The information they offer -- you must metabolize and integrate it -- you must write it into your self through exploration and action, and through developing trust in your self and Life. Our conversations are another part of your learning. I'm your "study partner": a witness, clarifier, and encourager. But your life is entirely your creation.

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” 

― Rainer Maria Rilke

Happy Independence Day!

I want to celebrate something today, and this story is definitely at the top of my list. Kelsey Pfendler just rowed all by herself, unassisted, from Monterey to Hawaii, over 2,400 miles! She did it in 43 days, which means she broke the record for speed for all genders (that's 50-55 miles a day!). She turned 32 during the trip. She's the youngest person and first American woman to do this. In the process, she raised money for a nonprofit that provides mental and physical health services to Grand Canyon river guides, The Whale Foundation. Her Facebook videos through her trip are uplifting and educational. I figure this is a reason to celebrate the 4th. 

In her last video on the water, she encouraged people to take the risk and do the big, hard, scary thing standing between them and a dream. I'm reminded that when I was 31 (1994), my big hard scary thing was moving sight unseen over 1,800 miles from Syracuse, NY, to Austin, TX with no job or abode secured. I disposed of many possessions to lighten my load and shipped some boxes to my brother. I paid off my car loan and loaded up my little Blue Belle. Then I drove into a new life. The big hard scary things didn't stop once I arrived. It took several years to gain a sense of stability, belonging, and confidence. The next big hard scary thing I did was quit my job and go to graduate school to become a psychotherapist. That was a project. I graduated in 1999, and received my license in 2003. 

These feats put me on a trajectory toward a life I had scarcely dreamed I could have. We can do hard things!

This quote is what I referred to repeatedly as I prepared to move to Texas. 

“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too.

All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. I have learned a deep respect for one of Goethe's couplets:
Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now.”

- William Hutchison Murray,The Scottish Himalayan Expedition

A Request

A Request

Amorevita, you have been the sturdy taproot of my life.
You have been the woven net I long to trust in the world.
And now I ask you to scatter me.
I ask you to be the farmer that sows and winnows me across the fields of my life.
Do not forget me now.
Come to me as a river of courage, a rhythmic surf.
Ignite me like the brilliant beam of the lighthouse.

-Kathryn Harper

Foxy Neighbors

Okay, terrible picture because I was so far away. But this morning around 11 a.m. I look up from my desk and who do I see but one of the kits! I observed her avidly watching the birds on the lawn searching for bugs. (Birds are aware though, not likely in danger.) 

Every single night this week they have rambunctiously chased around the yard. All night. No complaints here, but it is vexing because I can hardly see them!

My neighbor sent this photo from his side of the fence. Adorable. Cuddled for a nap. 

Celebration!

On this, my 63rd birthday, nature's gift to me is the delight of three gray foxes in my back yard. We noticed one fox June 4, and my husband saw two last week. This morning all three were scampering around the yard. They are moving between my neighbor's yard (where I think they have a den) and ours. This photo is not high quality; they move so fast. I think it's a mom and kits. 

As best as I can tell, this is the Townsend's Gray Fox, a subspecies of gray fox that lives in northern California and Oregon. We live close to the foothills of Santa Cruz mountains. The hills a mile away have coyotes, deer, turkeys, rattlesnakes, and mountain lions (rare but there). Mountain lions and coyotes prey on the fox, so it makes sense they are denning farther away. We have rats (that like to eat the fruit from trees), so I don't mind having the foxes around. It has never happened in all the years I've lived in this house, and it feels incredibly precious to witness this. 

This morning I have a doctor appointment, and this afternoon I have a radiation treatment. Welcome to the sixties! (Not really. I've noticed an upward trend in medical visits over the past five years or so.) People ask if I'm doing something special. Nope! I don't need to. As long as it's a good day, with moments of joy and savoring, it's special enough. 

I received two birthday cards (from husband and son) that were perfectly chosen, as well as some gifts. One of the gifts being an array of circle punches ranging in diameter from 3 inches to .3 inch. I look forward to cutting and playing with circles and making collages. I will encircle the world!

The other gift is a new fitness band of a different brand (Garmin), since the Fitbit I was using kept flaking out. And we all know the unmeasured life is not worth living! (Joke!) It's been a useful tool in becoming more healthy and maintaining. Some of us just do better when we keep track of ourselves.

I'm thinking this evening I'll have a backyard fire in the fire pit. I love a good campfire. It's Midsummer! I'm celebrating the light and life.

On Target

Today I received my first targeted radiation treatment. Because the cancer was caught so early and was so small, I'm eligible for partial breast radiation rather than whole breast. I have a total of five sessions, another benefit of early detection. The process took ten minutes, and I felt nothing but appreciation. 

I appreciate how something that could kill me can, in the right dose and delivery method, improve my healthspan. I appreciate the scientific method and the curiosity of humans who pursue questions and hypotheses that lead to such discoveries. 

I appreciate my life.

How I Read

 

I read a lot. My mind requires it, just as much as my body needs to breathe, and I need sleep, and to eat. 

I saw the image above on social media the other day, and it captured the essence of my reading style. I left a comment: "Yes! I think of reading as a kind of transubstantiation (if you're Catholic you'll grok the term). Something wonderfully mysterious happens in reading that changes me as a reader, and I don't completely have to understand or remember details for the experience to have a benefit."

I'm in the process of reading several novels, and as of the end of June I'll have read 28 books. My goal is 52, but I'll see how it goes. 

The three fiction standouts so far are Loved and Missed, James, and Orbital.

I read all of Andrea Gibson's poetry, and love Lord of the Butterflies the most.

My inner nerd thoroughly devoured The Devil's Teeth: a True Story of Obsession and Survival Among America's Great White Sharks. No open water swimming in the Pacific Ocean for me! 

And I read a book for a reading club that really aligned with an inner shift, and helped me to clarify goals. That book is Life in Five Senses: How Exploring the Senses Got Me Out of My Head and Into the World. With the ICE invasions and murders in Minnesota in January, I realized that my well-being relies on getting off social media and news sites. I became so aware that I don't want to be on my death bed regretting that I had not made more art. The book (which I listened to) alerted me to many small practices I can employ to actually live my life. Not long after this shift and reading the book, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Ok, universe, my dear AmoreVita, message received and action engaged.

Stage Two

I'm almost seven weeks out from the lumpectomy and bilateral reduction. I'm learning about the complexity of healing involved. I've had a "granulating wound healing by secondary intention," which is an open wound where the sutures didn't quite heal after surgery, and it needs to heal from the inside out. My breasts are also re-vascularizing, which takes time. The incisions are healing very well (except that one spot), and my body feels more like me. I still have to pace my activity. If I do a lot one day, the next day requires a slower pace. No hikes for me yet!

On Monday I begin radiation, which I'm referring to as stage two. My good fortune is that the surgery got all the tumor, which was very, very small, with no lymph node involvement. Because it was so small and localized, I qualify for partial breast radiation of only five sessions every other day. Again, a case for early detection when there is a family history and/or dense breast tissue. The MRI caught the cancer, not the mammogram. I expect there will be an aftereffect of fatigue once it's done. But only five sessions!

Once I'm done with that on July 1, I'll begin taking the aromatase inhibitors, a medication that targets this cancer if it recurs in another part of my body. I'm to take this for five years. The only concern is that it can cause severe joint pain, brain fog, and osteoporosis. Having worked very hard to lose weight and become fit and enjoying the absence of joint pain as a result, I hope this isn't a side effect I have to deal with. If I can't tolerate the med I was prescribed, there are other ones, though they all have similar beastly side effects. And perhaps I'll be lucky again and not experience any. (The osteoporosis is a concern, since my mother had it severely and my Dexa scan last year showed early bone thinning.) 

One step at a time. 

A Garden Story

I wrote this for a snail mail swap project with a theme of "writing about your garden." The photos were unwieldy for the email, so I've posted the letter here. Please note, if you want to see a bigger photo just click on it in the blog post. Also, I am in garden zone 9b (San Jose), meaning it rarely falls below freezing and provides a long growing season. It falls in the Heat Zones 7 or 8 (about 60 to 120 days of extreme heat per year). Because USDA zones do not account for coastal fog or ocean breezes, the specific UC Master Gardeners of Santa Clara County highly recommend checking the Sunset Climate Zones. San Jose is primarily Zone 14 or 15 (which accounts for the mild Mediterranean climate with marine air).

Dear PK and RR,

I joined this swap after reading the note of encouragement to do so, when it was made clear that having a Better Homes and Gardens quality garden was not required. 

I am, despite many years of aspiration, not a gardener. I'm the daughter of master gardeners who has made many attempts but lack the discipline to persist. At least when it comes to gardening. Below is a recent photo of my backyard. Typically in the summer drought it's brown (we don't water the grass, to conserve), and it grows hugely during rainy season. I mowed it once a few months ago after it was 3 feet tall, and drat, it grew again! A bout of illness prevented me from mowing again. Here is what it looked like until last weekend. We had several volunteer trees that had grown by the orange tree, and weeds taller than my husband on the side yard. (My husband has for years taken care of the front yard in an effort to not be a blight on the neighborhood, but he has no love for gardening either.)

It made a wonderful little meadow for many birds and lizards, but the grass that grows produces seeds with needle-tip points that catch on clothes. Ouch! Our visitors include raccoons, opossums, rats, squirrels, and neighborhood cats. Birds in my yard include Mourning Dove, Western Screech Owl, Great Horned Owl, Anna's Hummingbird, American Crow, Northern Mockingbird, Cedar Waxwing, Chestnut-backed Chickadee, Bewick's Wren, Dark-eyed Junco, California Towhee, House Sparrow, House Finch, and Brown-headed Cowbird. 

However, on June 4 (my son's high school graduation day), we had an auspicious visitor using our yard as a day spa -- a California gray fox! We live near the foothills of the Santa Cruz mountains and wildlife is only about 1 mile away. In all 16 years of living in this house, this is the first time a fox visited. 

He or she lounged in the yard about an hour. I've heard it said the foxes are dog hardware that runs on cat software. I hadn't known until that day that they (gray foxes) can climb trees and fences, as their wrists rotate!

Anyhow, I finally broke down and hired someone to come out and clean up the yard, and I will have him come routinely from now on to mow and blow. Here's what it looks like now and what was dragged to the street. And hope rises eternally in me. I can feel my aspirational gardener thinking, "Now that we've hired someone do maintain it and to help with special projects like mulching, trimming, and managing the sprinkler system, I might tend to it more..."

Even though I'm a crap gardener, I do appreciate flowers. Below are some photos I took of flowers in my parents' garden in past years. They are no longer alive, and I like to think their energy is now flowing into all growing things. 

My parents had many decorative signs in their garden. One was a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson from the poem Hamatreya, "The earth laughs in flowers." The other sign was a stanza from a poem by Dorothy Frances Gurney: 

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is nearer God's heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth.

Wishing you a vibrant Litha and a joyous summer season!

Warmly,

MindfulOne/Kathryn

My Love List

 

I recently participated in a swap where the project was to write a highly descriptive list of things I love. I received a beautifully poetic one from my partner in China. I sent mine to my assigned recipient in Canada. I figured it would be nice to share it here. 

My Love List – from MindfulOne

1. The several dozen different birds that sing me awake each morning. Even the damn crows, who start a ruckus at 5 a.m. Oh, and the owls I hear at night.
2. Puns! I love sneaking a pun into conversation, the reactions I get. I love reading puns aloud, and I love that some of them make me laugh hysterically (especially “naughty” ones).
3. Ribeye steak cooked medium is deeply savory and delightful. My husband cooks them perfectly.
4. The redwood forest, especially the old growth ones, where I can feel the centuries in the atmosphere as I hike through.
5. Taking walks to the local turtle pond; sometimes I see turtles, or ducks, and always the overgrown koi. Several times I’ve seen a wild turkey – one even flew up into a tree.
6. Strong black coffee in the morning; black tea with honey in the afternoon.
7. How I feel after I’ve done a strong cardio session on the elliptical or a hearty walk – strong, clear, vibrant, connected intimately with life.
8. Ambient, instrumental, meditative music; folk music; eclectic alternative; trip-hop music; so many kinds of music that I listen to daily that helps me create and work.
9. Losing myself in hours of flow when I paint, draw, collage, and write.
10. I love my husband, who is my best friend and life’s gift to me.
11. I love my child, whose existence has also taught me the importance of mothering myself, and who is also life’s gift to me.
12. Chocolate, mostly dark.
13. Baskin Robbins Love Potion #31 ice cream: a seasonal white chocolate and raspberry ice cream infused with raspberry swirls, chocolate chips, and raspberry filled hearts. I love especially that my local store orders enough to serve beyond February, into the end of April.
14. Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey Ice cream.
15. Camping, seeing national parks, and big campfires that last late.
16. Reading books of all kinds, ones that teach me and ones that entertain.
17. I love babies; they are so fresh and innocent, having just emerged into the world; they evoke a fierce energy in me to protect and cherish, and it feels like connection with something holy.
18. Sunny days and clear skies with enough cool to maybe need a sweater.
19. Rainy days that wash the streets clean and feel cozy.
20. Seasons: I grew up with experiencing four seasons and now experience roughly two where I live now.
21. Dancing, especially something called Ecstatic Dance, which is a free-form movement practice in a safe space with no alcohol, no shoes, no talking on the dance floor, in order to experience the joy of being.
22. Afternoon naps.
23. Cats and rabbits (I’ve had both as pets); really any animal that is friend-shaped.
24. Deep conversation over coffee with friends.
25. Looking for and finding beauty.

Something Speaks to Me

For the first time since before I surgery I did squares today. The context is yesterday I felt good enough since surgery to move around and do things, tasks and fun things. But it cost me energy. And this morning I feel reduced, unsteady, slightly dizzy, raw. I did squares as I listened to music and I swear they leaped out and grouped themselves. They spoke to me. This happens. I'm not sure what the message is, but I received it. Sometimes a collage comes together that, when I look at it later, astonishes me. Because connections are there, ones I saw and made, and others I didn't realize even as I glued them down. As I finished the last square, I began to cry. Who knows why. Just grief. Sweetness, and grief. 

Whoo boy. Today I get to see the plastic surgeon and they take off the dressings to examine healing. I'm not ready (but am ready for the drains to come out and shower!).

My son gave me the sweetest mother's day card yesterday. Love love love.

Noticing

Day 5 after surgery feels pretty much like day 1. It's untethered to tasks beyond the bed and bathroom. 

I wrote that last sentence and ran out of steam. Noticing "I" am inside, waving my hand through the ether to grab onto another word only to find emptiness. And feeling flat about that. A state of being powered on but in standby mode.

In this physically diminished state what I've noticed over the past week is the daylong concert of birdsong. I'm unable to pair what I hear with the bird type, but there are at least a a dozen types of songbird singing their hearts out. And of course the wild turkeys and crows, oh my god the CROWS. Those assholes like to get started loudly around 5 a.m. and squawk for at least 90 minutes. At night I hear screeches of Barn Owls, eerie punctuations in the dark. Sometimes I hear Great Horned Owls giving the classic hoot-hooooot. 

When I sit really still, I feel my blood pulsing rhythmically through my body, and I notice the force is enough to shake my head minutely, a small vibration. 

My heart says hi. hi. hi. hi. hi.

Sacraments of the Morning

Sacraments of the Morning

Isn’t it enough
to feel a chill as you rise from a warm
bed, stumble to the bath and with
nimble fingers attend to your body’s
needs, button your shirt, to balance
as you put pants on one leg at a time?

Isn’t it enough
to hear the morning news, the coffee
maker gurgling as you eat your
Wheaties with skim milk, to listen in
the comfort and illuminated safety of
your kitchen as rain rattles the roof?

Isn’t it enough
to inhale the earth’s perfume of wet
dirt, worms, roses and jasmine blooms,
to smell even the faint fumes of the
world’s morning commute as you join
with humanity for the day’s business?

Isn’t it enough
to taste the fresh tender day and
savor the strong bitter brew from
your steaming paper chalice as
you await the train under the shelter 

with others huddled like pigeons?

Isn’t it enough
to observe the blur of cinderblock
fortresses adorned with graffiti, the
lonely artifacts of life strewn across
anonymous backyards, to notice the
window cat watching the morning?

-- Kathryn Harper

“Cold Rain, Warm Colours” by Fred Rune Rahm, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 

Say Good Morning

What do you do 

when you head into the morning 

to pick dandelion leaves for the rabbit, 

and you meet a

pea-sized spot of joy on a plant?

-Kathryn Harper

The Crows Wait Patiently

Two crows on a bare branch,
one grooming the other
as the nigh spring sun sets;
a breeze makes shadows dance

over the empty bowl.

-Kathryn Harper

Such a Fun Bun

 

I spent this afternoon painting this lil guy in my art journal. I'm in an art/craft/snail mail swap group, and one of the swaps is to paint a whimsical bunny following this tutorial from Painted Willow art. I had a lot of fun playing with it. Once I apply wax seal to protect the paint, I'll cut the paper and mail it as a 4x6 inch postcard. Everyone in the swap is doing the same project, but of course each one will be unique. I'm looking forward to sending this bit of happiness along. 

May As Well Show

Not much to tell. Just showing today's art journal practice.

Feb 26 Art Journal