So busy—so up and down
and down and up.
in the spirit of More! that I referred to in my last post,
I learned to program a Mindstorm robot
with my girl and her friend.
(The Lego League coach did a Girl's Only training session just for us.
Wasn't that lovely of him?)
I felt the sparks of my brain light up,
as we went through new step after new step. It felt kind of fizzy and delightful :)
In the end I watched, as my girl and her friend got the robots they'd built and programmed (with my help!)
to complete their first obstacle course. They looked at each other and beamed.
This week, in the spirit of More!
I did art class with my kids.
(The art teacher always says Of Course, when I ask to join in.
Isn't that lovely of her?)
We did a still life, with pots and pans, painting only in shades of grey. Looking for the light, the dark and the in-between.
At one point I thought, This is terrible. I'm doing a terrible job. I'm going to take this painting down and throw it in the bin.
Then I thought, No. You. Won't!
Remember, I told myself. It is the staying, the doing and the being here in my body in this moment that truly matters.
I went to a funeral. For my uncle who'd died suddenly on a ferry. Just like that.
The moment in the service that did me in was my aunt,
standing before the packed room saying,
'I didn't get one second. Not a single moment, to say goodbye.'
So she asked that we say goodbye, together.
And it struck me,
that out of a life this adventurous, this full, a journey filled with Go! and Do! and Change!
the greatest legacy my uncle left,
the feeling that was the strongest—so vibrant it shimmered in the room—
was how much he was loved.
I planned my own funeral
(…doesn't everyone? Or is it just me…?).
I wanted it filled with colour.
I told my beloved sister and husband so.
I told them: I would like ribbons. And bright flowers and music. SO much music!
And people beside an ocean
with gulls catching the wind.
So if I have no words and no time to say goodbye,
the colours, the music, and the sea can do it for me.
it's been kind of quiet here, in my land of words,
as I've tried to sort through some Stuff.
You know The Stuff, don't you? It's different, but so much the same, as other people's.
The Stuff that blocks, trips, leaves you hollow. The Stuff you try to shift.
Which means I've been quiet in the spaces of others too. I am sorry for that. I love coming by to see you. When I stop by, I truly feel like I'm popping in for a cup of tea.
Though I haven't written, please know I still love being with you. Please know that I come by.
While sorting my Stuff out, I've felt alternately busy and blank. I've been weepy and muddled, and
distracted best by all the amazing kids I spend time with in the week,
and the kind grown-ups.
well, I suppose right now, actually,
I feel like
I am the still field.
All around, in the fields to my north, my south, my east, my west,
—the fields that are my kids and their friends,
their projects and their happy lives—
their projects and their happy lives—
I can hear bees buzzing.
I hear the thick swish of someone walking through corn.
The crick crick of crickets and the peeping of birds.
I can see bright colours, wildflowers everywhere.
I can hear the push of green up through the soil, blades of grass and new shoots.
I can see sunlight streaming.
I see children running,
doing a dizzy twirl that eventually tilts their laughing bodies onto the ground.
I hear their laughter like bells.
a swallow swoop down low.
So low I see its eyes
and soft edges.
How funny, it must think,
to see a lady in a field, sitting so still with her face up to the sun.
I wanted to share the music that has been my week's soundtrack.
With all its downs
and glorious ups.
The whole album is SO beautiful,
in every way uplifting and wild,
strange, sorrowful and true,
it might just be the entire playlist for my funeral.