Credit: april182.deviantart.com
Set apart
The connection loosening
Ties that bind freed
But never frayed
The gulf of change widening
Endless unknowns surfacing
Questions lacking answers
Hanging in the balance
Resting in the flow of the universe
Some plans are not worth pursuing
Better to wait
Abide in the moments
Unfolding
Listening
Learning
Attending
Refraining from tempting fate
Allowing my soul to enjoy this in-between
This holy unexplored perfect purgatory
I gripped my fiancé’s hand with such a fierceness that I almost felt like I was pulling his entire left arm out of its socket. We had completed a grueling half-marathon earlier that day and my feet finally gave out after imbibing and lamely tempting to rehyrdate with a thousand other souls at the post race festivities. The tent and wine tasting tables were being broken down-a clear sign that the party was over. I had pulled off my running shoes in a desperate attempt to relieve the pain that was coursing through my lower body (despite my sincere efforts at numbing it through my many trips to the sommeliers “relief stations”!)
We were making our way back to the car and to the sweet respite that Linda at Dreamgivers Inn in nearby Newberg, Oregon would be providing us. But it really all started back in February when my beloved had the idea to once again combine a half-marathon and our summer vacation. Being both lovers of the outdoors and good wine, Oregon seemed the perfect destination. Fueled By Fine Wine promised to set itself apart from all other half-marathon events we had previously entered and run.
And let me tell you, the course alone will be different from anything you may have previously experienced! Think hills, vineyards, gravel roads, more vineyards, gopher holes, hills, hills and more hills and one last vineyard at mile 12. Oh, did I mention the heat? An unusually warm day with a forecast of 92 degrees Farenheit. At the start, my fiancé remarked, “This makes the Mad Marathon look easy.” Surely, it looked that way since we immediately began climbing a steep hill which could have been more easily approached by crawling up it. Relief was soon found at mile one when we made a turn into our first vineyard. Hah! Not so much. Gopher holes galore and then the climb up and out and up again. At mile 2, my legs had a mind of their own as I began a running ascent of this hill:
Our friend Eric doesn’t think the photo is accurate based on the angle of the shot ( I am standing at the bottom sir!), but I am sure you get the idea. At this early juncture, I began to walk. My fiance’ continued his run and I gave up all romantic notions of running and finishing it together. But I was determined not to give in. Better to have a PW (personal worst) than a DNF (did not finish). So onward I chugged with others who appeared to be readjusting their racing strategy as well. Run as much as you are able and hike the hills. Purely survival in nature for this course. And the views are stunning! Many runners brought their cameras and were taking photos along the way. ( We waited a few days and visited the wineries that we passed on the course instead.)
Even so, the going was rough. It was hard to separate myself from the searing pain on the outside of my thighs as I ran both up and down the roads and paths. When it became nearly impossible to move, that’s when I walked. And even though my pace was snail like I never felt that the course was endless. The miles ticked away quickly and with 5k to go, I met a lovely young woman who became my companion for the remainder of the race. Stephanie and I chatted about everything not related to running ( food, love, bits of our life stories) and encouraged each other through the thunder and lightning storm that appeared with a vengeance at mile 11. We finished together in a downpour with me looking very definitely worse for the wear!
My body was no doubt done in by the Dundee Hills. It took three full days to walk normally down the stairs at the inn. And I will admit that I lost it in a fit of tears on Monday afternoon (the day after the race). A moment of worry about aging and my continued ability to both compete and recover well. A soothing bath back at Dreamgiver’s soothed my aching legs. And the rest of the week was spent enjoying early morning coffee on the front porch followed by a scrumptious breakfast.
And there’s nothing like the hair of the beast to provide one with a full physical recovery. A hearty hike up the ashen and snow covered (!!) paths of Mt. Hood took care of any remaining stiffness.
Please don’t get the wrong idea. We did not summit this beauty; we leave that for the experts. But we did enjoy high altitude climb in the sun and a delicious late lunch at a local pub.
The memories of this vacation will live on in my heart and mind. But with each step I take in my future runs, I will carry the dirt of the hills with me.
I’ve been thinking a lot about connections lately. Connections to people, places, things. Ideas and dreams. Hopes and wishes. My life has been beautifully busy since the start of summer. No time to write or read my favorite blogs. I have been out in the world soaking up moments and memories. Even as I write this, I am in between events. ( It’s the Fourth of July after all!)
My connection to my adult hometown is breathing its last breaths. This will be my last full summer before I marry and move to a whole new zip code and climate. Even so, I am not really spending much time at the house. Last week saw me in the mountains with my fiance’ and some of his family. I had spent time as a youngster and young adult hiking in the region, a mere two hour drive from my town. Last time I was there was a decade ago in wholly different incarnation (married with adolescent children). I recall a brilliant and grueling hike-one of the few bright spots that trying summer (see The Summer I’d Like to Forget). The 4 days in my present life were jammed packed with movement in the great outdoors, running and hiking and horseback riding for the girls. We were nestled in a cozy farm inn; its lack of pretense and absence of noise adding to our relaxing moods and quiet conversations.
Back at home, we’re relishing the heat (for the most part!). Late and leisurely suppers in the backyard, a small bonfire, watching the deer and catching fireflies. I’ll miss these things and that southerly breeze that flows in my back window by the kitchen sink.
Today, I sit and write in the heat of the tropics. Funny how the summer’s sultriness here forces people inside for relief much the same way the winter’s bitter chill and darkness does up north.
Independence Day was a just right celebration. A cookout with my dad at the grill, the meal shared with happy strangers who quickly became familiar. No need for best behavior! Amusing conversation was the centerpiece of the day (along with this outrageous roasted pineapple guacamole, YUM!). Later, fireworks at the beach and nature’s own lightning show.
I am still straddling two worlds. The campfires burn strongly in both places and that is perfectly fine with me.
I decided to combine two of Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday prompts since I missed last week’s. Hope you enjoyed this complete stream of consciousness drabble!
A sweet redolence
A cleansing condensation
A buttery bouquet basking in relief
from the arid air
Parched peat perfumed
in a floral fragrance
Tar traced in rainbowed droplets
Upside-down stars
The backyard a blanket
of nippy dew
We breath deep
and smile
Grateful for the gift
of Mother Earth’s renewal
A perfect prompt from Kellie Elmore this week for the first day of a favorite season!
Credit: bollywood2474u.blogspot.com
Another passionate goodbye
Their bodies electrified
Magnified
Breathing the other’s breath
An island of two
Surrounded by a sea of harried passengers
Boarding
Departing
A cacophony of noise
Staccato announcements
Echoing
Drowned out by their intense whispers
Dedicated Devotions
One last kiss she thinks
In an instant his hands grab her belt front
Their bodies as one
She lets out a low moan
as he comes in for one final kiss
before he lets her go
I’ve been debating with myself as to whether it is even worth writing about a decade old story. I have alluded to it in poetry ( Hidden Hunger ,Witness ) but never in memoir.
It is difficult to admit that there was a time that my family went hungry. The details of how we arrived at our sorry state are way too complicated and frankly, too boring. Here are the highlights:
I spent the summer of 2004 in a state of shock, or as a friend said “survival mode”. I knew things would get better in the fall when my job resumed to a nearly full -time position. But the 12 weeks of empty bellies seemed endless. A wall of resistance and repudiation was put up by my husband. In his eyes it was my fault for not getting full-time work. Not his fault for getting fired and pursuing something that barely brought a paycheck in to pay bills.
I felt stuck. As summer turned into fall, a latent anger was born. I took it out on everyone but him at first but then it boiled over when I found out about another major purchase he had made. I went into therapy where I began to unravel the pieces of my situation as well as my marriage and more importantly, myself.
We never went hungry after that summer. I refused to have my sons experience that dull, hollow feeling that comes from not having enough to eat ever again. Their father never accepted responsibility for his decisions and instead continued to lay the blame on me. But for the next summer and for all subsequent summers, I secured positions where I could make money and have my children productively occupied and supervised.
Life trucked on, the marriage ended, battles were waged and the three of us (as many of you know by now) have a wonderful, wonderful life. He lost us but we gained ourselves. I still worry about food and going hungry. I cannot have the refrigerator or cabinets or the pantry ever be empty. It triggers that feeling again.
The boys and I did talk about that time a few years ago. I apologized to them for what happened but they both said I did the best I could. They had come to understand the circumstances that caused the situation in the first place. It was just one of many moral violations committed by their father.
I eventually confessed to my family, who were at first angry that I did not come to them for help. I was too ashamed and I knew I would suffer the consequences of revealing the secret. It didn’t seem worth it at the time.
And do I have shame today? No, I let that go a long time ago. Although I was not conscious of it at the time, I was being abused. The blaming, the passive aggressive behavior, the snide remarks began in earnest that summer. They increased over time until I finally realized what was happening.
When one is in the midst of negativity and abusive behavior, it is nearly impossible to see a way out. One only wants the abuse to stop-not for the abuser to leave. Strange dichotomy but oh so true. Lucky for me, he left. But he still abused from afar in various ways. I only got stronger and my children got wiser.
We know how to feed our bellies and our souls. Loaves and fishes abound. Abundance is present. And we are very grateful.
Never let yourself be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself.
~Robert Frost
This was THE most challenging free write for me. I really went back and forth as to whether I could write about it. Frankly, I didn’t want to. But sometimes you just have to put your muscle into it. It was NOT cathartic. It just had to be written and done with once and for all.
Credit: pixels.com
Stumbling in a dreamscape
Sleep deprived nights illusively hot
Sweat soaked skin
A body in transition
Transforming and chaotic
Shifting waistline
Squaring hips
A new morning brings a new view
Changing perspective, acceptance
There’s a strength to these bones
Muscles and sinew firmed
Mind honed by wisdom
Struggles vanquished
Evil extinguished
Still, I prepare myself
This new day brought a tremor to my hands
A churning fire to my gut
An inner knowledge borne of past trauma
I dress adorned with a fetching scarf that sings of summer
Alluring and potent
My voice proven right
You’ve been seen once again in that store front distance
Marginally recognizable
Yet grace has given me my covert protector
He whispers quietly and holds me in his gaze
You approach and graze my arm with yours
Attempting to establish dominance
A marking of territory
Such a fool of a man
Desperate and Depraved
Deprived
Lonely but not Alone, not quite
Yet still without awareness and tact
Your false bravado rebuffed and refused by this half century warrior queen
Transcended and Ascended
Fully realized, Divinely Inspired
Living at the Apex of her new Incarnation
Credit: www.bestquotes4you.com
I am at a peak of delight. Unusual for a Monday, but perhaps it came from a rising awareness of being in transition. As a culture, we don’t embrace realignments to our mojo. Instead, we grit our teeth and bear it, or hang on holding our breath until it’s over, or worse, crawl our way to the other side exhausted and falsely relieved. I refuse to live my life waiting for my new life to begin. I will happily admit that I am more than ready to start a new chapter in a new zip code with my beloved fiance’. But like any compelling saga, one must begin the story with a strong prologue.
So much has shifted in one week’s time here; it is challenging to put into words. But it is proof to me that wishes sent out to the Great Beyond can happen if you let your worries go first. As you ride the universe’s flow, amazing things are manifested. I am giving the house one or two last renovations, necessary in order for four young people to live in a healthier space in a year’s time. One that is nearly free of my obvious imprint but still stamped with my positive energy and vibrations. (I tell you it is exciting to keep purging this place of things we no longer need!)
My boys and I have been delivered from the trauma and pain of their father. We came together so that we could grow stronger. Along the way, we were honing our skills as independent individuals in pursuit of our own passions. I don’t know what I would have done with myself if we did not journey to this new space together, helping each other through fits and starts.
In a few week’s time, I will share this house with two others. Two people, peers of my sons who love and respect them. They will be helping me get a better leg up financially so I am better prepared for my new life. In return, I can provide a safe haven. A garden where they can grow new roots in a healthy soil. I have no doubt that we all will bloom and fill this earth renewed beauty.
Today Iam grateful for the wonders and love of others. So with my thumb knuckles to my third eye, I bid you all: Namaste’.
Credit: www.heidiwestover.com
A few weeks back, my fiance’ and I ran in a 12k race on what turned out to be a sun shiny spring morning. For the most part, I enjoy competing in these events regardless of the distance as they are one of the best ways to shake up one’s running routine and give yourself over to just plain hard work of physical exercise for a part of your day.
Running is meant to be a simple sport. No extra equipment is necessary in order to participate. I also like to consider runners to be humble creatures, generally speaking. After all, the race is really between you and the clock and perhaps your own mind. We don’t like to be fancy or flashy. So I guess that’s why I was overly annoyed when a group of runners showed up at the starting line with their health club’s over-sized flag and bellowing voices. “Ugh, I thought, what a bunch of egomaniacs.” Of course, they needed to be at the front of the pack as well. Right away, I knew that I would need to stay ahead of these creatures.
Well, the gun went off and I must admit that my irksome state was set for the race. Sure enough, the bantering banner carriers were loud and obnoxious. One woman clearly needed everyone to know that she was running a marathon the next weekend; that was absolutely necessary for her in order to qualify for Boston. She then proceeded on an even longer rant about the pros and cons of other marathon courses in the area using her best runner’s lingo, as if she knew it all. My finance’ made a snide comment to me signaling he’d had enough of her boasting and we picked up the pace. I don’t know about you, but I cannot take endless chatter in a race at all. It just seems out of place. The focus should be on the course and how you feel, period. And no one wants to hear the tin, tin, tin of your ipod either. For me, the sound is like nails on a chalkboard. Hey, I know music can psych you up, but there is such a thing as keeping a song in your head! Back in the old days, I used to blast my Fleetwood Mac album before I left the house. “Second Hand News” was the perfect song to keep my pace fast and furious.
I guess you might say that I miss the straightforwardness of racing. The real test is in your effort and ultimately your performance. Maybe even in the satisfaction of finishing even if you’re having a bad day. Like my dad used to say: “Put a number on and meet me at the starting line.”
Credit: fineartamerica.com
Sitting here in an early June quiet. The days have finally grown into a full warmth. This late spring surge of sun has distracted me from my writing. We cut grass, plant flowers that will last well into early fall, lay down mulch. Fret over carpenter bees boring holes in the upper eaves at the back of the house (I need a 25 foot ladder to reach them). Douse the paper wasp nest with chemicals before it outgrows the strength of our spray can. Stain the long neglected front porch a luscious mahogany red while noticing that we need new risers. The rails need a fresh coat of white. The north side of the house looks tired. Long winters and years of just plain wear are evident at this direction of the house’s compass. I try not to worry about the expense of repairs and send out intentions of abundance to the universe.
A year from now, this house will be my sons’ domain. Rented with others in order to afford payments. We are shifting gears. Learning to be present in a major life transition. Sharing in the pulls and tugs of the here and now as we move into the there and then. Keeping our eyes wide open while we let go of the old life little by little. We are all making our way into an independent dynamic. There is much to do before my wings take flight. I send out more intentions-ones where I hope to avoid the vortex of panic and anxiety. A friend says “Don’t be afraid to pray for big things.” So I do.
For now, I am staying in this moment. Sitting up in bed, nearly ready for sleep. The house is empty except for me. The crickets are back and the night breeze is full. Cool and cleansing, sort of a northern climate mini spa in my mind. I look forward to refreshing dreams and a new morning sun.
“Listen to yourself. And in that quietude you will hear the voice of God”
– Maya Angelou
Building A Life Of Hope 