Working Out The Details

We are still working on the details of Act III of my life. I was reading Mary Oliver's poem about peonies and their “eagerness to be wild and perfect for a moment before they are nothing, forever.”

I am not looking for perfection in Act III, way too many kinks to iron out and I am not going to spend the last 3rd of my life ironing! I am, however, eager to be wild in my old age, I am giving more of the reins to the Sinthya and BabaMara and Carly-Anne parts of me.  Act III is not going to be the wild of my twenties, which, when I look back, was not wild at all but more a controlled rebellion of my life-long rules and regulations, as well as, societies strict guidelines.

Speaking of guidelines, my wildness was strictly within the guidelines of all the other rebellious twenty-somethings and that doesn't smell of wildness to me. It has the distinct scent of a following a crowd, and that has a certain stink to it, if you know what I mean.

I want my 60's and 70's and hopefully, my 80's to be filled with laughing that challenges my bladder, sights and music and moments that make the hair on my neck and arms dance. I believe it is time that Mrs. Richardson and Ms. Machado blend their essences. (Look, Mrs. Richardson is so relieved not to be carrying the weight of the world, she is smiling and her shoulders just dropped from just below her ears to normal shoulder position. As she and  Ms. Machado fade into one, the wrinkle in Mrs. Richardson's forehead smooths out and I do believe there is a faint smile growing.  Bea moves to take up the responsibilities, the move was seconded by Carly-Anne and the vote is unanimous.  Integration is a marvelous thing). 

Tuesday evening several friends and I attended a wonderful concert.  We swayed to the music of Patty Griffin and John Fullbright; I am not sure about the others but I fought the incredibly difficult urge to jump to my feet and dance several times. She sat at the piano and sang "I'm Going To Miss You When You're Gone" and I cried like a baby.

She has a range of music styles that has no end, but her R&B is epic. Up there on the stage she is truly alive and present. Patty moves with a grace and sensuousness from her soul while she sings.

That's what I want out of Act III. I want my movements to be sensuous, not in the sexual way, but meaning that all my senses are alive and aware of the moment. I want to smell and taste color, I want to hear the sky, I want to feel the visible and invisible. I want my eyes to see, really see what surrounds me.

Our book club read Cheryl Strayed's Wild this past week, it was a second read for me, but it reminded me of hiking in Lassen Park alone last week. Granted, it was not the Pacific Coast Trail (because, frankly, that sounds a little insane to me) but I was alone in the trees and the mountain air. I was alone in the silence that is not silence but an incredible symphony of nature's living instruments.

Act III is beginning to weave itself into reality. I've decided to throw away the script...it wasn't going anywhere anyway!  No script to follow; plans, yes, but nothing carved in stone, flexible for changes of the wind, of spirit or calls of the soul.

I will feel the wildness in acts of daily living, feel the joy of water running over my hands when I do dishes, I will dance while I vacuum, I will feel the blessing of warmth with each log I throw into the woodstove.  I will travel, sometimes with and sometimes solo. I will sing with all my heart (except for the tiny bit of heart that has pity for anyone within hearing distance).

In Act III, I believe, I will be a Peony, for a little while, for forever is a long, long time.

Photo Courtesy of White Flower Farm

Peonies by Mary Oliver

"....the flowers bend their bright bodies,

and tip their fragrance to the air,

and rise,

their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness

gladly and lightly,

and there it is again —

beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open.

Do you love this world?

Do you cherish your humble and silky life?

Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,

and softly,

and exclaiming of their dearness,

fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,

their eagerness

to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are

nothing, forever?

Well, Hell

You can build a fence out of steel or iron. It can be twelve feet tall or reach the sky. Signs threatening trespassers can be every six feet or every six inches.

Sooner or later though, you are bound to leave the gate open.

Damn!

The Lessons of a Dream

Wow! What a dream I had this morning. I could feel the texture of the coat I was wearing, the breeze on my face. People's eyes could be read. Interesting selection of people to join me for such a lucid dream, too.

Three, no four, major players in the dream.

One person, who has a habit of "not showing up" was in the dream and, surprise, did not show up!

Person-two, I found her stuffed bunny, gave it back to her. We chatted and danced while we waited for person-one to not show up. She left on the school bus and took her bunny with her, both seemed very happy to be reunited!

Person-three, was headed to the laundromat, but eyes told me that maybe later.....

Person-four - What are you doing in my dreams? I've never seen you here before; welcome! You look good at the head of the table! Your leadership skills are becoming very impressive!

I was wearing my pretty royal blue coat with the fur collar that I lost 45 years ago. All this time I thought it was stolen but I just left it in the land of dreams. What other items might be waiting there for me to rediscover?  It would be nice if my skate key is there. I don't have the skates anymore but I sure liked that skate key. It would look good on a 30" silver chain surrounded with Kyanite and Iolite beads.

The restaurant where I was having lunch with friends was built with thick redwood beams  and boards. Windows wrapped around three sides of the dining room. I could smell the vegetables roasted in rosemary and the ravioli (I'm pretty sure I brought the ravioli with me from watching Master Chef Canada last night. I could taste it too and all I have to say is "YUM"!)

I do hope my subconscious noted the location of the restaurant; the ambiance was remarkable and the black currant balsamic vinaigrette was literally out-of-this-world! I'm going to start sleeping with a  mason jar just in case I go back.

If I die in my sleep, know that some uptight dream-realm official wouldn't let me transfer dimensions with a mason jar full of salad dressing and I chose to stay with that divine nectar of the gods!

I found a folding laundry basket, returned it to person-two, returned to the curb to wait!  I looked down the street and knew that person-one was always going to not-show-up. I unbuttoned my coat, put my hands in my pockets and started walking in the direction of home. I made the choice not to wait but to show up for myself.

The walk felt good, the pace was brisk, even in an elegant pair of heels! I was smiling. The air brushed my face as I walked and as I woke, I could still feel the breeze on my skin and I was still smiling.

Now, if you'll excuse me. My teapot is whistling and I have fresh ginger to peel and chop. The crew is waiting for me by the pool. We are going to repair the net on the pool sweep and draw straws to see who is going to sweep up the mess of crushed sand dollars in the entry, family room and living room floors.

I learned two lessons in the last 24 hours. I can show up for myself and bored dogs have a taste for sea shells.