...fear itself

we try in these short lifetimes of ours to gain somewhat of a foothold on reality...oh goodness the machinations we go through - running hither and thither (oh wow, can't even beLIEVE I got to work that into a sentence!) frantically searching for that elusive pinnacle of togetherness known as "happy." for oh, about forty five years, my time was spent in finding and preserving many many pairs of rose colored glasses, all shades of rose, all sizes and shapes...what this is, of course, is fear...

somehow in the whole scheme of "it's time to go home" my fear kind of fell away and look, i'm not even afraid of a camera any more...

yay

Bunny Tree Memorial

I remembered the Bunny Tree today - I tried to find a picture to depict the pure Bunniness of this tree which heralded each season proudly, shared winter dreams and held on to night time secrets told in the rushing winds of wheat scented summer air but alas, there were no such pictures to be found.
Bunny Tree could be seen from our little house ON THE PRAIRIE...we could stand at our door and there he'd be out standing in his field (LOL) shaped much like the chocolate bunnies eagerly awaited on Easter mornings...it's true he heralded in the seasons...
First, Spring, he would yawn and stretch and scratch his nose (don't quite understand the mechanics of this but I KNOW he did!) and slowly, gracefully he'd grow his leaves and being a tree he'd smile in delight as each one grew to its greenest leafiest beauty...he'd take on the Spring Rains like a long awaited and so refreshing shower, tapping his feet as though to a long missed song along with the rhythm of the rain.
Summer would come and the hot Eastern Oregon breezes would waft across his leaves with wheat scented power and stories of cool streams down below. Bunny Tree wasn't envious, his roots grew deep into the earth and he'd wiggle his toes in the cool undercurrent of the spring he grew in...he would smile a secret smile and wonder at my hot misery (oh how I hate to be too hot!).
Fall arrives and Bunny Tree would sing a happy stickgame song as he one by one released his leaves to a golden flurry of changing colors. He peeked a few last peeks at the azure sky and sleepily blinked as we zipped by him on Very Important Biz. He smiled a little for he believes us to be younger than his fledgling twigs flung below in joyous abandon. He wonders why we zip about so quickly when all the growing in the world kept him solidly and placidly in one spot.
Cold arrives and Bunny is fast asleep...he dreams of crackling fires and laughter amid even MORe stickgame song and he smiles in his sleep. From time to time he yawns and stretches for in the early winter there are still a few warm days...
Bunny Tree left in a wind storm earlier this year. He didn't say goodbye because to him he wasn't leaving US, he was just GOING to a new place...the birds who faithfully sang with him through his time here kind of perched on his broken branches with questions and songs to send him on his way...
This is his memorial.

OMG...

this blog is a letter I wrote to a total stranger (http://www.pastaqueen.com/halfofme/index.html) upon reading her blog...when I first came across her blog it was "by accident" but her story was amazing and inspired me to write to her:

Oh wow…

I found your blog on accident if you will…in the daily grind of pursuing interests other than the overdue database in which query is macroed “run the world” I accidentally FOUND you. Oh I won’t bore you with empty platitudes of gratuitous flattery, surely you know the depth of the fat pit you’ve plumbed to become the half of you that you are and surely you’re aware there are millions wishing to do the same out here in the “still fat” world. I laughed AND cried while reading only a FEW of your words.

Why am I contacting you? I don’t know really. I am a fifty year old woman who has just come home after 48 years of wandering around. In coming home I dropped from 348 to a svelte 297 and here I’ve stayed…my knees are buckling under the crushing mass of my happiness and yet I have persevered in my obesity. My first weight loss spurt happened after going to a bone doctor – oh yes, I know they have a name but please, remember the age? Sometimes memory failsJ no JOKE! – he squinted at my X-rays with serious demeanor and looked at me over his glasses “you’d be a prime candidate for liposuction surgery” I kind of basked in this for some reason…”ahhhh, morbid obesity will have its easy side!” or some such insanity! When I got home I realized the weight (pun intended) of his comment and went to my room in a puddle of tears. My husband (still married but SEPARATED) said “you don’t worry about what he says! I love you JUST THE WAY YOU ARE” (later I may blog about the utter control mechanism in this statement!) but in my heart of hearts I knew that this was serious business. Determined not to be necessitated of the surgery I began a conscious effort known as “portion control” and in less than six months dropped down to 270. This was so exciting. I weighed in at 277 when pregnant with my first son and remember being SO appalled at the time, now 270 actually felt like dainty! Perhaps I should have prefaced this with the further notion that weight loss is an underlying obsession with me apparently. During my second pregnancy I discovered the wonderful control factor of vomiting, this lead to an eleven year relationship with binging and purging, that was in 1984-1995 and I still bear the brunt of THAT fun addiction.

Fast forward: recently I visited a doctor who told me after my recitation of history “don’t diet, don’t even think about the weight…here, I’ll write this prescription and you can take your pain meds as needed, don’t worry about the dependency…but just know that eventually we’ll work these things out…” I went home and IMMEDIATELY started Pilates. My brother bought me a bike and although my knees won’t bend deep enough to peddle both sides, I stubbornly ride this bike to the end of my driveway and back. I went and bought some expensive Nikes, New Balance and Propet shoes because I plan on walking…I cut calories and began the portion control again and why? I don’t know really…something about the tone of his voice (maybe he’s Jedi?) “don’t even think about the weight” and off I went…

Are you even remotely interested in this? Probably not but somehow reading your blog spurred on the writing bug (I too have a blog) and the notion that perhaps you may find time to read such dialogue interesting to read as you sip green tea? Maybe. I just know that I chuckled as I read the “contact me” page and here I am.

Thank youJ I feel so AWAKE!

going WAYYYYYYYYYYYY back

recently my childhood parent passed away - the dad who was THERE and who nurtured what he saw in me when very little else seemed to work...

it's astounding really, the plethora of feelings that arise, no, not sadness so much for really, he WAS 94...almost envy I think because look at him: he's done his work, he's paid his bills, he's walked his dog and now what: he get's to move on and go REALLY explore! in that aspect I'm excited for him because his was a mind that never stopped. We (the rest of the family) would all be comfortably esconced in our evening activities...my mother in the dining room sitting at the table reading a mystery novel, my sister Blanche practicing her saxophone in the living room by her piano, my sister Genni upstairs probably reading and me, sitting next to my dad who was on the couch going through the latest Time magazine or National Geographic..."Hm!" he'd exclaim and look up to see which of us would notice "can you believe it? that "Tremembé" tribe has only 300 people and their main food staple is acai berries!" Of course I do remember the tribe's name but I made the berries up because they sound exotic...suffice it to say my dad and his sparkling "I want to know MORE" eyes are a deep and precious memory to me. It's because of his thirst for knowledge that I learned Latin phrases in sixth grade...read the dictionary from cover to cover...you know, "smart" things? and it's because of his memory that I refused to allow children in MY home (whatever!) to watch such nonsense as the Si**sons or you know fun stuff:-) which by the way I thoroughly enjoy now...

When he came home he smelled like the mill...a salt-of-the-earth fir/pine scent that still makes me feel safe and warm.

I'll miss knowing he's here but will SO look for him as soon as I get there!!!

DAISY BELL...

Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do
I'm half crazy all for the love of you
It won't be a stylish marriage
I can't afford a carriage
But you'll look sweet upon the seat
Of a bicycle built for two

It’s actually ONE phrase in a much longer song but that’s the part I like…

The rest is a silly stoopy song written by an English Composer Harry Dacre, who when he immigrated to the US was charged duty for his bicycle. The officer who was letting him in said “well you’re lucky it wasn’t a bicycle built for two that would have cost you double.” Harry had never seen one and he was so taken by the phrase that he wrote an entire song themed in that phrase. This song was later featured in the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey by the computer HAL 9000…

Of course there’s more history to this but I’m just tell you the part I know best:-) hahahahaha I should BLOG this so people know just how MUCH minutiae is captured in the small back cupboards of this mind...and so I am:-)