Sunday, September 22, 2013

Autumn Equinox

So many nights I have written to you in my head, in my heart.   I haven't made it to the lit screen of the computer for a while, but that doesn't mean anything about the depth of my love or our speaking.  It's just been more private. Always so sweet.

So much has happened.

Again, faced with such a big burden. Cancer. Children. Wanting life.

I feel like I'm far down the road, so much faced and so many steps taken. And the endless mystery stretching out.

Tonight I stepped outside as I often do, to open the door and look out at the stars for a final goodnight before going into the bedroom. To look up, breathe the air, get a sense of the universe, how far it goes, get a sense of you, my boy, my first baby, my lost one, but yet you are my heart.

I saw the glow of the moon above the big oak tree rising beyond my neighbor's roof, I saw stars, and clouds and my heart felt like it was breaking, squeezing.   Tears falling effortlessly.  I am so sad that you are gone. I am so sad that I am facing this now. And yet, this autumn equinox feels so beautiful and holy, so clear and luminous, so full.  What does it all mean?  Suffering and love and night stars, grandmother moon and the huge old oak tree, and me and you and my girls, and my heart that feels tired and alive. I'm not sure. But I know I desperately want to be here, to keep going, to take it in. I can take it. Just let me. Let me be here. Let me stay here.  For many many night skies and moons and equinoxes.

Saturday, February 2, 2013

Seeing You at the Ocean

Otto, today we went to the ocean. After weeks inside the house with colds, stuck in a small space with clutter building and building. Today we got out to see the sun over the blue, shining ocean. We drove to Jenner, where the river meets the sea. A magical place, a place of converging, the moving river, running through hills, the vast sea, meeting continents, the broad sky overhead.  I thought of you there, meeting us too.

The wind blew through me, refreshing cells, lungs, heart.  Zoe and Luna seemed so happy too, to see the bigness, the love of the sea.  Luna was so happy to put a blanket down and eat some snacks, picnics are one of her favorite things.  It was a time of happiness for our family. To go for no reason but to go, to get out and see the beauty of the world.

I have been thinking about grass lately. Really, I've been thinking about life in general, and after-life, trying to see if anything makes sense. I've had more moments lately of wondering if anything makes sense, do I really believe what I say I believe? Does it matter?

I always come back to grass in the sun. Here where we live in California the grass is so green in January, so glowing with tenderness, the water so apparent and alive in it. I feel like I want to be a blade of grass, glowing in the sun, soaking it up, making energy in my cells, reaching and being, just being grass.  Being a person can feel so complicated.  I like to imagine having my thin roots in the dark, damp earth, holding on to this beautiful, round, mama planet, loving the sun, glowing in the moonlight, belonging to obviously here.

And I think of you too, your ashes in the earth, held by the mother, your energy in the midst of us.  I know I don't talk of God the way some would like, with a lot of doctrine and explanation. I like to feel God, with my eyes on the grass, or on the sky, the way things all hold together, the way I feel love for it, I feel love and belonging, and there it stands now. Just there. And it feels good.

I miss you all the time and I love you.  Your sister Luna talks about you all the time.  She wishes she could meet you. She wants a picture in a frame of the two of you.  This breaks my heart open.  With love and with tears.  She thinks you are great, and she says so in those very words. She knows you are her big brother and that you keep her safe.  I am so glad that she loves you with real love.  You ARE great, my son, my baby, my warm, soft boy.  My soul that lives among the stars.  You are so many things.  I am amazed to be your mama.