Tango On

Once again I need to thank all of you who sent me private messages regarding my last blog. It's always fascinating for me to see what words of mine will strike what chords with you. And the notes you send are so heart felt and honest that I feel incredibly honored to have you share your feelings with me.

And, yes, I plan to keep writing. As one friend said, "take us along!" And so, I shall.

I'm finding myself in pretty deep with this new guy who appeared out of the blue and so easily and quickly grabbed this broken heart of mine. To his credit he doesn't want to mend it but chooses to open up the parts that are still alive, still functioning, still yearning and willing to give and receive again. And he's doing this with such loving consideration, an openness to communication and a gentleness that has me floored. He's a lot of fun too and has whisked me off on several adventures already (other blogs perhaps).

But you know, after being with someone as long as Jim and I were together you get so you can just hit the cruise button. This new relationship feels like a race car on full throttle squealing down a winding, narrow canyon road! One small slip can send this all crashing over the edge. One of the risks of falling ... in love ... I guess.

I've always been willing to take a risk, to leap into the adventure without knowing what's ahead and grab for the gusto regardless. Fear of flying never stopped me from taking flight. Besides as one dear friend told me "what's the worst that can happen here? After all that you went through with Jim and all that you lost when you lost your Jim, what really is the worst that can happen now? Nothing will ever be as bad as that Mary!" She's a wise woman who I love dearly!

I have these moments of questioning; when I allow my head to go into it's Mexican radio station of jibbering I, for some stupid reason, turn off my hearts intuitive knowing and I go into that place of gasping with doubt. When this happens I remember a line from the movie Scent of a Woman. Al Pacino, who plays a blind ex-Army Sergeant, has asked a young woman to dance the Tango with him at a restaurant. She is shy and scared and tells him she doesn't know how to Tango and she's afraid of making a mistake. Pacino answers her with "that's the great thing about the Tango, if you make a mistake, you just tango on....."

It takes two to Tango and right now I'm loving this dance. But I do know that if I make a mistake then I can ... just ... Tango on.

Loving you all back,

Mary

Unfolding

On September 7 it will be sixteen months since Jim died. Jim was horribly sick. He had gone from being a vibrant, athletic, intellectual man to a person who couldn't talk, had a lot of trouble walking, was unable to read or maintain the needed focus to follow the story line of a movie. All this was due to those damn tumors. He fought hard for 18 months but still he kept slipping away. I understand now that the crazy behavior he was demonstrating a month or more prior to his diagnosis was also the result of the tumors taking hold - but we thought it was stress and anxiety attacks. Thus I feel like I lost my Jim thirty six months ago .... or a full three years. It doesn't sound like much time when written out like that, but it feels like an entire life time in too many ways.

I wrote, in my last post, about how I am witnessing a transformation in myself. How I seem to be more open and receptive to connecting with people. How I am engaging more and shutting down less. I truly believe this is a gift that Jim gave me when he passed.

So in all this transforming and unfolding I began to talk to my nearest and dearest friends about possibly dating again. My best friend, MM, kept telling me to go on Match.com. I always gave her the same reply .. "Never!" Well, never say never. Somehow, at a weak moment I guess, she made the suggestion one more time. She told me that it would be good for me to meet some new people, to do a little harmless dating, to just hear men say nice things to me and get some of my groove back. I thought it might be an interesting study in sociology and, what the heck, it couldn't hurt - right?

She had me write out my profile just to see how it felt. I did this. Then she sent me pictures that she had of me with notes "this would be a great profile picture", or "use this one definitely!" So I now had a profile and several pretty good images of what I look like so .... I just posted it there on Match.

And immediately got an email from someone!

Now what?

This world of Match.com is certainly an interesting place. In this cyberspace you can poke, wink or favorite someone. You can also email via the site without ever knowing someone's real name or anything about them except what they are willing to tell you in their profile - which I was warned repeatedly can be pure fabrication. Here I was with an email from someone and I couldn't open it. I had to pay the requested fee to actually become an active and matching member of this Match.com world. Why was I surprised by this?

Alrighty then, I bit the bullet and signed on for one month.

Things became active very quickly and I began to do "coffee dates" - these are meetings that you agree to do with someone who piques your interest and you've emailed a few cryptic notes with to get more information. So you meet for coffee, or a glass of wine, and see if there's any chemistry for either of you. On my first coffee date the man asked if he could see me again. I was taken aback, I laughed and even said aloud "Oh my God, this is the next step isn't it? Gee-whiz. Can I think about it?" Poor guy, not the reaction he was looking for probably.

I began meeting some really interesting people as well as emailing with others; a professional writer who wrote me entire stories. I would get a cup of coffee and just settle back to read the emails from this man - who I never met. A back-to-the-lander from Vermont who had the IQ off the charts but was real down to earth and very interesting to talk to. An economics professor who was consulted by the Clinton administration on how best to get the country back on it's feet. A banker who has been a surfer for over 4o years. I was intrigued by the science of surfing. Those guys become geologist and meteorologists in their study of waves and where to catch the best ones.

With these meetings I realized that I had a very different agenda then most of these people on Match; sociology experiment was NOT what these guys were after.

But, you see, I was pretty certain that I was not going to meet anybody who I would consider a match for me. I had decided that I had found the love of my life and lived with him for 31 years ... something some people never find ... so I would be content with a nice, comfortable person who might not enjoy all the things that I do but I have a lot of friends to call on to go off and do said things with. Thus, I would be willing to compromise and accept that the next partner might not really be a true love, and that would be OK. I didn't know how I might meet this person but it sure didn't feel like I was going to find them on Match.com.

Then after only three weeks on Match I got an email from a man, DL, who lives in Camden. After our first "coffee date" where we hiked all over an island and talked for hours and hours I realized this guy was different. This guy and his big energy, sense of humor, adventurous spirit and zest for life felt like a match. As I told him, "the last time I felt like this about someone it lasted thirty one years!" And that pretty much sums up how I feel about this man. I'm amazed, shocked, over-the-moon, astounded and can't believe my lucky stars. To feel this twice in a life time seems so ... so .... abundant! ... and I feel blessed by the Gods somehow.

I've shared all this with a few of you in private emails and conversations. The encouragement and words of wisdom you all have shared with me have buoyed me up. Some of you reminded me that Jim would want me to be happy and would be delighted that I have found someone who has me feeling this again. Others have said how happy they are for me and still others of you have looked at me and said "you have a sparkle in your eyes again that was gone for the last three years. And my sister-in-law, Donna, told me at the end of a phone conversation that she could hear my voice again ..."I've waited three years to hear that voice Mary. If this guy can do this then I say 'thank you Dave!' "

A sparkle in my eyes ... yes .. I can even see it. And I'm twirling again. A Maple Key falling and twirling all the way down.

A big question I have is what to do about my blog?! It, obviously, is going to change dramatically. Do I keep writing because I love to write and this blog gives me the discipline as well as the space to do this? Do I write about my adventures, my crows, my observations and life? Do you all keep reading because you are interested? I'm actually throwing this out there to you all and hoping for some feedback on it! I mean this.

I continue to unfold and to open myself to all the unknowns that are offered me, still, always .... on this path called life.

Loving you all back,

Mary

Connections

I'm aware of a change in me these days. I'm not talking about moving on or healing more .... it's a bigger change and more about how I respond to the world and to others in my world. I've written before about how open and gregarious Jim was. How he would pull me out and into the party at times. How I could be closed down, shut off and let the introvert of my personality rule. I could do this because Jim was so extroverted and would cover for me.

But lately I notice that I am opening and far more receptive then I ever remember being. I am willing and wanting to make connections. And this silent change has me operating through my heart far more than my head. This is incredibly hard to explain ... but damned if I'm not going to try!

One example is how, in the past, I might see an acquaintance at the grocery store and rather then go over and say hello I would pretend not to see them and thus just keep moving along without having to engage with that person. I don't do this anymore. I find myself thinking "what would Jim do?" ... and sure enough, I'll walk over and re-introduce myself if need be and just quickly say a few words of recognition and ... well ... connect. And it feels really good to do this. I don't expect the person to remember my name, nor do I think my saying hello is going to make that persons day. But it makes mine, and I blossom a little more for having done it.

That's it I think .... this tight little bud of Mary Lello is blossoming; a part of my being is beginning to open and bloom a little bit. Oh I'm not saying I was a complete wall flower before - I know that's not true - but I didn't really reach out to people. I didn't need to connect with so many people and I would question why Jim needed to do this .. why he always did it. I am understanding it a bit now. Maybe, in that 18 months of such intense caring for Jim while he drifted away, the channeling his words and thoughts for him so he might communicate with others on some level through me, the helping him to walk, caring for his every need at times, a part of Jim Daniels fused into me. A bit of his spirit joined with mine and he left me with this gift ... the gift of wanting to connect more with others.

I'm amazed at some of the connections I'm making and maintaining. It's not like me ... but then again ... it is me now. It's all me now.

And many of you reading this are indeed one of these connections that amazes me and has me feeling so incredibly warm. Hell, even those of you on facebook with me .. some of you I haven't seen for over 30 years and some I've never even met in person and yet ... you have become a friend. You have reached across that cyber-space in some way and connected with me on such a deep level that I'm totally astounded by it. And, the blessing and gift is, I find myself open to it and willing to accept and allow it to happen and you are there and so willing to reach out and touch me. Damn!

This feels like pure grace. And for this, I am incredibly grateful to Jim Daniels who always demonstrated to me how to reach out, how to unfold and open with love and humor, interest and respect for all those people he connected so completely with.

And I feel my own connection now, with all of you.

And I thank you .. for these connections.

I am ... loving you all back,

Mary

One Child Born

My niece, Jennywren, had her second child yesterday. She and her husband, Jay, opted not to know the gender of this baby until it was born. A gorgeous little boy named Raife. I was in attendance with her first born, Skyla, last August 3, and Jennywren asked me to do acupuncture for her and be at her side with the birth of this second one also. Yes, August 16 - exactly one year apart - Irish twins as we say.

First off I have to say JW is an amazing woman. So much pain endured - and yet love conquers all doesn't it? I'm in awe of this raw, female power. I'm in awe of Jennywren who chose to go the natural route with both births, who was able to still crack jokes and sing along with "Sittin' on the dock of the bay" after a pretty intense contraction, who could look at her husband as that baby's head was crowning and mouth the words "I love you" to him ... and then begin to growl as the next wave pulled her into the task she must complete.

Yup, she amazes me and I'm in awe of this gorgeous, gutsy, funny, full-of-life, creator-of-life woman who is my niece.

I must tell you all though, as that baby's head was crowning somehow the big screen TV got turned on ... now, if you've ever attended a birth you understand this is a pretty intense moment ... and there , directly in front of all of us, in full color was a re-cap of the Red Sox! Frantically, Hanna (JW's sister) figured out how to turn this thing off so we went back to business at hand. When we were all just sitting around holding the new baby I shared what had gone on in my mind when the Red Sox came on during the labor. I told everyone that I knew this little crowned head was going to be a boy. When the TV magically turned on with the Red Sox, I figured there might be a tiny bit of Uncle Jim in this kid and that this little guy might be saying ... "Hell, if I have to poke my head out of here then I at least want to know what's happening with the Red Sox!" This brought a good laugh from the family ... but it truly was my very thought at that moment!

There is a bit more testerone in this family of mine that has a lot of powerful women in it. And attending this birth has me thinking of the song by Blood, Sweat and Tears (just realized how appropriate that is too!) and thus the title of this blog:

"And when I die, and when I'm gone,

There'll be one child born in this world to carry on,

to carry on"

The circles of life on this earth.

Loving you all back,

Mary

Crow calls

I feed a family of crows. Some of you know this, those of you who are on Facebook with me get to read about the morning actions of this little family pretty frequently. I've been feeding them for a few years now so I've observed three seasons of fledglings. When I first started with the feedings there was only one baby that year. A sweet little crow that had mom, dad and a couple juvenile spouses hovering over him/her. A very spoiled little crow.

This first crow was very brave and far less skittish around me, perhaps because it had grown up and learned to come into the yard when I called in the early morning and put out left over protein scraps. The mated pair - mom and dad - are loud and shrill and won't tolerate my looking up into the tree and acknowledging their existence ... even though they sit directly over my head at times. One good stare from me and they flee to a distant tree, screeching a warning for the world to hear "DON'T LOOK AT ME!" Meanwhile, the little fledgling would watch this tactic, look down at me, make a little "mew" sound as if to say "what the heck was that all about?"

This year there are two young ones. By late summer they are getting much stronger and more adept at flying. They still have a slightly brown head vs. the glimmering black of the adult. They are much smaller then their parents and haven't quite found their "voice" yet ... a bit of bubbling and chirping at times instead of a solid "Caw".

A friend gave me a crow caller - which I've tried out several times. It's hard to make it sound like anything other then a duck or a very loud fart - and my crows aren't buying it. But it's gotten some funny reactions! Because they have excellent memory for faces they know me now. Actually they know my car, my dog and can even recognize me on my bike with helmet and sunglasses on - more then some of my friends can do! But when I step out into the yard they will swoop in now, even when I'm not feeding them. So one afternoon I stepped out and waited for a crow to come into the nearby trees so I could try out the crow call. I blew into the whistle shaped caller and a shrill "quack" escaped. This juvenile crow tilted h/her head and looked down at me as though saying "was that you?" I tried it again. This time she ruffled her entire body and lifted her wings as if to try and shake off this weird noise coming from this human down below. The third time she lost patience and took off proudly demonstrating what a crow should sound like.

The other morning I went out to feed them. I had been giving them fat I'd cut off a pork chop. They really liked this food so when I stepped out they were clearly impatient for me to drop the food and go back inside. But I was waiting for my dog, Ella, to complete her morning business so I wasn't going in right away. The ruckus got louder until the entire family of six birds was literally yelling at me! Wow. I looked up at one and said "HEY! Ask me nicely!" There was silence immediately ... and one of the young ones looked down and gave that sweet little "cawk" sound. I said "thank you" and Ella and I went inside.

This little family of crows got me off the couch a billion years ago when Jim, who was not doing real well and had a lot of trouble walking, had fallen down the stairs and we had spent the entire day in the ER. Laying on the couch that afternoon when we finally got home I thought I might never be able to move again. But then this family of crows appeared. Being excited that I may have found their nest right outside my living room window I pulled myself off the couch to watch them ... and thus found one more tiny reserve of energy to keep going. On some of the mornings when I wake too early I will hear my crows in the distance and know that I'm not the only one up with the first light in the sky.

I'm finding more and more reasons to keep going these days. I'm feeling a new excitement about life again, something I truly didn't believe possible. And always I am in tune with the calls of this family of crows who share this neighborhood with me; who help me smile first thing in the morning, who watch and know when I have gotten out of bed, who recognize and tolerate my strange actions .... and talk to me when no one else is around.

Loving you all back,

Mary

Healing Happens

The picture is of me and my sweetheart of a dog, Ella, is out on Vinal Haven where I went to visit my wonderful friend Tina this July (2011). Her hammock is an amazing place to hang in the late afternoon. The best view from this angle is up into the deep green of the huge spruce that towers over this spot with the blue sky in the background. There was a breeze this afternoon so I actually had that comforter wrapped around me for a little bit of warmth.

Oh, and then, after Tina snapped this picture, she appears with a cold flute of Prosecco for me. Any wonder why I like to go out there and visit her?!

I was there last summer at just about this time. That was only a few months after Jim had passed and I was still horribly wounded. I remember writing about packing the car up and having the horrible awareness that I was the only pilot of this trip. The experience of driving up there, navigating the ferry, my gear and Ella without having Jim along was all new to me then ... and felt so difficult. This time, I didn't even think about it until after I got home. And this realization has me feeling that healing is happening, if I pay attention.

When I take my bike out for the first ride in the early spring after not riding in the winter months, the first hill feels so difficult. I have to drop down into the lowest gear and get out of the saddle to grind up the hill as best I can. After a month or more of riding I suddenly realize I'm flying up this same hill, still in my saddle and still in a high gear. Muscles flex, strength comes and there you are a bit stronger and more capable of attacking what was once insurmountable.

This is what this healing feels like in small ways. I still get hit with missing Jim - hugely! Just yesterday I braved looking at our old Ladokh pictures of when we hiked together in the Himalayas. Jim looks so fit and handsome, so happy with his arm around all the other trekkers on the trip with us. He was so incredibly loving and fun to be with. It felt good to view his images ... and then it hit; no big tears, but just a sigh and a whisper to him of how much I miss him. How horribly sad and lonely this can all be at times.

I imagine missing him will never really end. I don't know. I'm pretty new at all this. But I did notice out on Vinal Haven I was able to go out for a run this time, go into town and poke around the shops, stay up later, rise a bit earlier. But last year all I wanted to do was be in that hammock, starring up into the bows of that massive Blue Spruce and into the infinity of blue beyond.

Healing happens. Day by day. Week by week. One full circle around the sun at a time.

Loving you all back,

Mary

Memories

It's light at 4:00 a.m. now. I know this because I was awake at 3:00 .. again ... and thought I could get back to sleep. But after laying there for an hour the morning light and all the troubled thoughts pounding around in my head had me feeling that I should just get up and see what I might accomplish versus laying there thinking about all this stuff.

There is much to do around this house as it's summer in Maine and I have found myself very busy with a lot of weekend mini-trips away. It's been really good, though I'm actually looking forward to having a weekend at home soon. Last weekend I went to my youngest sisters camp which is an hour out of Bangor along Route 9. I loved her directions - "after the funky little Airline Snack Bar and rest stop look for the weird radio tower and the NEXT double passing lane look for our camp road on the right, East Gish Road, the one with mailboxes and For Sale signs. I think it's East Gish Road ... anyway you can't miss it. " As my brother once said "whenever they say 'you can't miss it' you know you're in trouble!"

Route 9 actually runs from New Hampshire to Canada. The leg in Maine from Bangor to Calais is known as the "Airline Route" and was named long before any airlines actually existed. It's a dangerous and lonely stretch of road in the winter and the main route for logging trucks - which barrel down this road at startling speed. There is a two mile stretch in Hancock County that is called the "Whale's Back". I'm not really sure how it got this name but I do remember how my dad would drive along this section of road that had rolling hills; he would speed the car up so we climbed the hills with some momentum and then he would lift his foot off the accelerator just as we crested the top of the hill and your stomach would flip-flop, like it does on a roller coaster. Mom would yell at dad for doing this reminding him that "Mary is going to get sick", while the three older kids in the back would egg dad on. Inevitably we would have to stop so I could leap from the car and throw-up. Fun was over at this point, much to my siblings grumbling and my mothers "I told you so Jay" statements.

Jim use to drive this section of the road the same way come to think of it. I would tell him if I had to throw up I wasn't going to give any warning and he'd be in charge of clean-up. Sometimes this would get him to stop, but mostly we would both just get laughing.

Oh, I laughed so much with that man. I worry I'm already forgetting what his laugh sounded like, what his voice sounded like. How certain memories slip away from us because we just can't hold onto them ....

.... and other memories wake us at 3:00 a.m. and leave us sleepless.

Loving you all back,

Mary