Thursday, September 20, 2012

Adventures

Nicatous Lake
Recently Dave and I were invited to a dinner party with some friends of his.  I was wondering who else might be there so Bob sent an email of the roster.  He mentioned the different people attending and offered a little bit about each one.  He spoke of an "adventure seeking couple" who would be there.  Dave and I were reading this email together and both of us were intrigued by who this couple might be and wondering what adventures they may have to share ... and then we read further ... this couple was us!

But, I guess, it's true.  I have been off on many adventures with this man in a years time. I grew up in Maine; spending my winters exploring the mountains of the Oxford Hills area and my summers with my face hovering over tide pools on the beaches in Scarborough.  But I have never really seen the Maine that Dave has started to take me to; the lakes and rivers of the north woods.

Quetzal
Growing up in that small town of Norway I would read National Geographic and become fixated with all those far off lands of turqoise colored oceans, dazzling exotic birds or snow-capped, jagged peaks of mountains.  I wanted to go.  My dad would say "you can travel anywhere in the world with a book or these pages of the National Geographic."  But I wanted to feel it.  I wanted to swim in that luxurious looking sea, to hear the caw of that bird and to stand in the thin air of those mountains.

Jim in the Himalayas
I met Jim Daniels when I was twenty one.  Jim shared with me that same adventurous spirit and he wanted to see these same lands.  Jim was the kind of man that when he put his mind to something it would come to be his reality. With his work as a photojournalist he began to travel all over the world where he documented the lives and struggles of the people of distant lands.  And I got to travel with him on many of these adventures.  I got to stand on a pass in the Himalayas at 17,000+ feet and feel the effects of that thin air in my lungs.  I got to watch the flight of the exotic Quetzal with its iridescent green and red plumage in the cloud forest of Costa Rica.  I got to swim with sea lions in the green waters of the Galapagos Islands and to hold the tiny hand of an inquisitive child of the Kachin people in Burma.

It was an amazing time with an amazing man and I hold all those memories very dear.  I accept how my life has changed .. or has it?  I am with another amazing man whose friend calls us the "adventure seeking couple."  And we are!  It's just that now I am exploring the exotic lands of my own state and country with a partner who finds adventure in every day.  I am camping on white beaches of quiet lakes and swimming in their silky warmth.  I'm bushwacking with snowshoes up ravines of mountains in western Maine and rafting the white waters of the Colorado river through its Grand Canyon.  I'm learning the different calls and intelligence of a family of jet-black crows who have decided to come to me when I speak to them.

I feel incredibly blessed for all this love, past and present.  I feel blessed for all the adventures I have had ... and for all the adventures still to come.


Loving you all back,
Mary












Friday, September 7, 2012

Melancholy

Jewell Island
I was so melancholy yesterday.  Melancholy .... what a great sounding word.  Melancholy, defined means "a gloomy state of mind".  If long term or habitual I guess it becomes a depression ... or a really gloomy state of mind!

I'm not sure what brought on this blue wave,  putting my mind into this gloomy state. Our wedding anniversary was August 25th, but that day passed with only a little blip.  I spent that day out on Casco bay with Dave and the "kids" - the young adults that are Dave's children and my niece of the same age.  It was a gorgeous day and we had a wonderful time exploring Jewell Island; one of the Calendar island chain (so called because there are 365 islands in the bay - though some of these might be hard pressed to be called an island really).  Jewell is one of the furthest out from Portland.  I got thoughtful on our boat ride back to the town landing, but didn't share with anyone what was going on for me this day.  Too personal, too old ... ancient history in some ways I guess.

I spotted a couple Harbor Porpoise cruising by in the opposite direction off our port bow.  A nice visitation as I sat there starring at the water and sinking into my own thoughts and memories.

When I got home I looked up the spiritual significance of a porpoise (or dolphin, same family) coming into my life.  Here's what I found; they are a reminder to us to swim freely into the waters of life and to allow our emotions to flow through us, to breathe into these emotions in order to release them.  And to have a light heart and a joyful/playful attitude towards life.

Well ... pretty fitting.

So today I am not trying to label these emotions of sadness, I'm just trying to allow them to happen.  I'm not trying to explain them away, I'm acknowledging that they are here.  I'm willing to ride another wave of this melancholy feeling until it reaches a distant shore.  I've learned to trust that I will be released from this gloom and I will turn and swim freely back into this sea of life.

Just to be clear, I am very grateful for this life of mine which continues to be filled with love and laughter and, mostly, a joyful heart .... and I go outside to play a lot!


Loving you all back,
Mary

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Mum

I recently went to Alaska.  It was the experience of a life time, not only because Alaska still feels so wild and is incredibly gorgeous, or because the people are pioneers and wonderfully eccentric but because I was traveling with my 90 year old mother and two of my sisters.  This hasn't happened since I was eight years old and my parents loaded up the old Ford station wagon, jammed all five kids into it with all our luggage and we drove across country to California.

This recent trip came about because my oldest sister, Karmo Sanders, and her husband, Jerry Sanders, have spent the last 12 years writing a musical.  Yup, that's correct ... a musical!  And all of the family and all of the friends have watched and participated in the birth of this baby with trips to Boston to witness the readings, the re-writes, hearing the new songs, commenting on the old songs, having these songs in our heads for weeks on end ... for twelve years.   The theater, Cyrano's, in Anchorage Alaska got wind of this musical and raised the money needed to put this show up.  A full blown production with professional actors singing and dancing, costumes, sets, lights, ACTION!

It was full-on-mind-blowing.  After all, it's not every day you get to see a musical that your sibling created!  And Alaska was the perfect place for the premiere.  The musical, The Gold Rush Girls, is set in a brothel in the Yukon.  It's adapted from the book written by Lael Morgan (The Good Time Girls) about the women who followed the gold rush. http://goldrushmusical.com/

Jerry, one of the cast members and Karmo 
Of course mum wanted to go and be there for the opening night.  My sister, Jayne, said she would fly out with her.  But my mother decided that all of the siblings who wanted to go should be there for this event.  She also knows that none of us have money for spontaneous vacations, so she offered to buy the plane tickets ... and then the car rental ... and then the apartment rental ... because, as she told us, "I can either give you the money after I die or we can spend it now and have fun with it".  The verdict was let's have some fun!

My mother, at 90, is amazing.  She's a bit unsteady on her feet now and can't walk too far without needing to rest.  But her mind is as sharp as a tack and her spirit is young and still soaring .  This woman never once said "No, I'm too tired", or "I don't think I can do that".  She was always the one who would say "Yes! Let's go!" and she'd grab her cane and be the first one ready for whatever was next!

In Alaska this time of year it stays light until after midnight.  This makes it real easy to stay up long past a normal bedtime.  While out there we were lucky enough to get into two of the shows and after each one we were invited by the cast and crew to join some of them for drinks.  We would look to mom and ask tentatively "are you up for going out?" and we would get, "Yes!  Let's go!"  Thus my mother was out until 1:00 a.m. (dusk in Alaska) shooting shots of an Anchorage speciality called The Duck Fart.  The music director, Dan, told mom "Mary Lou, you don't sip this, you have to shoot it".  My mother looked at me, turned and looked at my youngest sister, Sara, shrugged her shoulders, tilted her head back and slammed that drink down, much to the delight of everyone at this gathering!

That's me mum.

As I have mentioned many times in this blogosphere my dad was a minister in a small town in Maine.  He was a bit of a hero in this town as everyone loved him regardless of their religious leanings.  My mother was the ministers wife, which had many sides to it, up and down.  Life was a bit like being in a fish bowl in such a small town and mom would have to put on a good game face sometimes when she would walk into church; even though she may have just had an argument and thrown a book at that guy up behind the pulpit.  She walked into church with her gloves on, a reverent smile and an aura of complete calm and composure while her children pinched each other in the pew or one child decided to whistle the hymns that day verses sing them (yes, this is true).  The First Lady had nothing on my mother during those twenty six years of being the Reverend J.N. Lello's wife.

Except for that trip across country to California my parents never traveled.  After my dad retired my folks moved to Scarborough and the small Cape that my grandfather (mom's dad) had built for them.  They saw the last child, Sara, finish high school as dad became progressively ill with lung cancer.  Just as Sara fledged the nest my dad became too ill to be able to live any kind of exciting life.  My mother went from taking care of children to taking care of her dying husband.

Mum would have loved to have traveled again with my dad in their retirement years but it never happened.  We all had come to appreciate that Mom had this adventurous spirit in her that had been stifled for most of her life.  Once Mom was telling us about an outing she was planning to do with some women friends; they were going to take the ferry from Portland for a short ride out to Peaks Island for the day.  On hearing this Sara said, "Mom!  You are finally getting to go over seas!"

Within a year after dad died Karmo's youngest daughter, Jenny, was going to go to Russia with her class during a school vacation.  My mother called the school and asked if they needed any more chaperones.  Indeed, they did.  So Mum signed on.  Her first airplane flight in her entire life was to Russia.
From left to right: me, Mum, Sara, Jayne

Everyone who met my mother on this trip to Alaska fell in love with her, including three young men who worked for the airline at the Anchorage airport.  While Jayne, Sara and I were in line to get our boarding passes home our mother sat over by the windows chatting with these three employees whom she just struck up a conversation with.  The three daughters watched this scene - these young men leaning forward talking with this little, old lady, throwing their heads back and laughing.  The three of us just shook our heads and laughed.  One of these guys was to be mom's wheelchair driver ... but all three of them showed us through security and to the gate!  As we were escorted to our gate one of these men turned to me and said  "who is this woman?"
"That's my mother."
"And she's 90?!  We figured she might be 70-something, maybe 80, but 90?!  She's a hoot!"

That's me mum.

Alaska was amazing and I shall cherish this trip for the rest of my life.  Traveling with and observing my mother helped me realize just how much she has handed down to all of us; an interest in people and their stories, a sense of humor that allows us to laugh at ourselves, a pioneer spirit and thirst for life.

I have an amazing family who I love dearly and feel very proud of because creating and producing a musical is just the tip of the ice burg to the talent that exists in it.  But I hope to hell that I have my mother's genes so that when I'm old and slow if someone asks me if I want go out and have a Duck Fart I'll always say, "You bet! Let's go!"

Loving you all back,
Mary

Friday, July 20, 2012

A New Web

I spent a couple days last week pulling down boxes that belonged to Jim from up over the barn.  Jim's sister, Donna, was here and had told me she would help with this project.   Several times Donna looked at me and said "are you OK with this?" as we went through another box filled with slides and old portfolios.  Dave would come in and out and he too would pull me aside and gently ask, "Are you doing OK with all this?"

I was doing OK.  I did have one moment in that small, over-heated space when I pulled out one  box and looked inside.  I had to just sit down on the nasty floor boards up there and let the tears flow.  While I tried to compose myself I looked up and saw a spider dangling from a single thread that was  being illuminated by the sun streaming in the one window I sat beside.  As this little, nondescript spider pulled herself up onto, a seemingly, invisible line she started doing that little dance spiders do, with legs flying, and ... presto! ... that single strand was attached to her ever-growing web.

As she rappelled from another thread secreted from her abdomen I heard a voice in my mind that said "One thread. A new web. A new life".  I wiped away the tears with the back of my hand and thought, "Yup. Perfect. Thank you!" ... and carried the next box down to the deck.

Donna came back to Maine to visit for the first time since Jim's death.  I know she had to send out her own little tender thread across the 2,000 miles to begin building a new bridge from Colorado to Maine. A bridge that has been solid and strong for so many years built by the love of a brother and  his sister.  A physical bridge she and her husband, Mark, had to travel to get here.  And an emotional bridge that needed to be stood on, and crossed.  Walking into my house has another level of reality that hits friends and family when they return for the first time .  Jim is not here ...  the energy has changed along with many other things.

Sometimes it just feels like the Universe takes control and manipulates things for the better.  Originally, when Donna and I were communicating about this trip, discussing when she should come, I had told her any time BUT July 9th weekend.  Dave and I would be away.  Two weeks before she was to come she called and said she had just booked the flight for July 9th.  Ooopsy!  We both went into a short-lived panic as they would arrive the very day that I would be leaving.  After hanging up the phone with her I felt a calm come over me and I heard, "this is perfect".  And with a bit of thought I realized it was.  Donna and Mark would arrive at the house and have a full three days to themselves before Dave and I returned.  Donna would walk into this space and have a bit of time to just let this new layer of reality take its hit on her; to just feel and be in this house that once was the home of her brother.

I could never have orchestrated that so perfectly.  And I'm always grateful when I feel that gentle hand of something outside of myself sort of take over.   I feel this frequently and I never take it for granted.

Donna and Mark were here for a week so we had plenty of time to connect.  We did some fun Maine stuff together; went to the Boothbay Botanical Gardens with my 90 year old mom, ate lobster rolls, sat out on the deck here at home and drank G/T's and Donna, Mark and Dave got to know one another.

But the important event, for me, was having Donna be willing to help me with all those boxes filled with all of the things that Jim had stashed up there.  I hauled so many, many boxes down and Donna and I would start to go through their history.  I would hold something up and raise an eyebrow,  Donna would look at me and say "toss it Mary!"

Donna gave me permission to throw stuff out.  Gave me permission to just say "I don't need to keep this".  Gave me permission to begin to discard some of this man's life; a man we both loved deeply and completely.  But, we loved Jim, not all his stuff!

There are many things that need to be saved too.  Jim Daniels was an amazing photojournalist with a true gift and an incredible eye.  So many images, moments, captured that must be saved.  I still get horribly overwhelmed by this and what must be done with these treasures.  God how I wish that man had been able to tell me what he would have wanted done with everything!  But he couldn't, having lost the ability to talk among other things - the last months were spent just trying to survive.

So here I am with many boxes still up there to wade through and make decisions on.  Many family and professional images to go through.  Many memories to thrust me back, many more tears to cry to cleanse my spirit.

But, I heard and I shall remember ...

... One thread.
... A new web.
... A new life.

Loving you all back
Mary

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

I'm Pissed ...

I know in England to say one is "pissed" is to admit to being a bit inebriated.  But in Maine it means one is ... what?  Angry?  Frustrated?  Angry and frustrated and overwhelmed?That's the one.

I'm pissed ....

... that Jim died so damn early and left me here.

... that I have to start this all over again with no instruction manual to consult.

... that I miss that man so much.

... that sometimes I find myself falling right back into the same old patterns.  The colors seem to have changed, confusing me enough to think that maybe it is a new pattern.  But it's not.  It's just a different colored one.

... that everything has changed and nothing has changed.

... that I may never be able to retire and "live the good life" ... in Maine ... "the way life should be"... with health care.

... that I'm in a funk again and this time it's the color RED - angry and infected.

... that I'm feeling more code-pendant than inde-pendant.

... that I have, yet, another dear one who is fighting her personal war with cancer.  She lives in New Zealand and thus I feel even more hobbled to change this or to help in any way ... so I tell her she's in my thoughts ... if a thought counts ... and I send her all my love over the thousands of miles of deep blue.

... that it's raining and my brain feels moldy.

... that everything is gray and grayer today.  My crows are black ... I need a Cockatoo, a Quetzal, a Cardinal ... a flash of dazzling color and magic.

... that I can't feel the magic today.

... that I react so badly to black fly bites - which dominate the north woods of Maine this time of year - and all these bites are still itching days later ... angry, hard, sore, raised welts that bleed when I scratch the hell out of them but, as good as it feels to do this, it offers no relief ... all this from a bug the size of this exclamation point!

... that my dearest little 4-legged friend is getting too old to run with me, and so I must find the ambition to go it alone this gray morning.

... that I look into the mirror and wish I could rearrange the picture ... like a Miss Potato Head ... give me new body parts.  Right.  Like this would make me happy.

... that nothing can really "make me happy" ... except my own ability to change this mood.

... because I seem to have lost that little thing ... ability to ... this morning.

... that confessing all this may drag some of you down ... but it may have helped me just a wee bit.

Maybe.

But I'm still capable of saying this ... and meaning it ...

... Loving you all back,
Mary


Wednesday, June 13, 2012

You may have said ....

... "I can't live without you" .... but I have learned you can, and you will.  You will continue to put one foot in front of the other and to watch another sunrise.  You may rage, you may cry, you may feel horribly broken - but  you will live without that person who has left you.

... "I can't imagine my life without you" ....  but I have learned it changes, for sure.  There is that hole, that scar in your heart.  The unimaginable becomes a reality and you learn to accept, slowly, perhaps begrudgingly, but you come to accept and to imagine again.

And hopefully you will come to understand that nothing is forever, including us fragile humans.  We never know how much time we may have on this earth; there are no guarantees in any of this.  And with this understanding you may begin to live a bit more on the edge, to understand that grabbing for your passion is more important than grabbing for what is safe.

 Because you have felt the loss of someone you loved so deeply that to be without them in this world leaves you broken ... you learn to really live.  Because you must live without - you learn to really live.  You learn to make that change that you felt couldn't be made. You learn you don't want to have regrets when it comes to be your turn.  You understand that what you have is right now - that your work place will survive a day without you if you must go climb a mountain.  Call in well.

You understand intimately that there may not be tomorrow or next year, so you do it now.  Kick off those comfortable shoes and dance barefoot in the mud.  Throw off your cape of heavy responsibilities for just a few hours and listen to the oceans rythmic music.  Watch your child pick dandelions.  Catch a falling star.

Perhaps you'll realize not all of us may live long enough to retire ... why are we saving for it?  Why are we waiting/hoping/looking forward to doing all those things we want to do THEN?

Why not NOW?

"No one has ever said on their death bed 'I wish I had spent more time at the office'".

I have said, "I can't live without you" ... and I have learned that I can.

Loving you all back,
Mary



Thursday, May 31, 2012

Holding On

By now all of you know that I am in another relationship.  The nearest and dearest to me know this guy pretty well.  Those of you more on the fringe have asked, "So, how's it going with Dave?" And others have asked, "Are you still dating this new guy?" This is the question that has me take a breath as I realize my situation is vastly different from what's known.

If you scroll through my blogs to September 1, 2011 and read Unfolding you will get the history on how Dave and I met.  I get embarrassed that it was on Match, but it was.  As I explain in that blog, I knew after our "coffee date", that lasted six hours, that I may have met my match.  As I drove home from this initial meeting I was 'talking' to Jim and asked him, "Did you do this Jim?  Did you put this guy into my path?"

I never shared that with anyone as it just seemed too ... too ... just too-too.  But I did feel that Jim had pulled some strings from his advantage point and he completely approved.

Last winter I went to see a psychic.  I've been to many "psychics" and a handful of them have actually been gifted.  This woman I saw last winter was one of the best I've ever seen.  I was told to go with questions as she will give me time to ask them after her reading.  I had one question for her ... whose this new guy?  I never needed to ask my question, she had lots of information for me on this.

 The first thing she said to me was, "How come you have two husbands?"  When I told her I only have one husband and explained about Jim she said "Ah, but there's a new guy, yes?  Well just let me tell you,  Jim had a hand in your finding this new guy.  He's extremely happy for both of you now."

And I knew this.  As someone who works with energy I have a pretty heightened intuitive sense and I have learned to trust it.  But it was nice to have this "knowing" validated by another all the same.

This month Dave and I have been together for ten months, and he has lived with me for eight ... and yes, this was incredibly fast but it has been so right from our first meeting.  As my good friend, HH, told me, who basically did the same thing and is happily married,"Mary, at our age we know ourselves, we know what we want and need.  If you've found it, why wait?"  I love her!

This man lives big; he has a big heart, big energy, takes me on big adventures, has a big voice ... and tells me I'm the first woman who has ever appreciated how loud he can be.  I'm hearing impaired remember, thus, we're a good match that way!  He fits into my family of blood and my family of friends.   I like to think I fit into his circle equally as well. I love his two grown boys and they are learning to accept me, and perhaps, even to like me.

And when an anniversary rolls around pulling me into a slump or the rogue wave hits me and sucks me down into it's gloom, this guy doesn't shrink away.  He holds onto me.  Holds me while I cry.   He picks me back up with no questions.  He knows that there is still a lot of love for Jim in my heart, but he understands that this does not belittle the love I now feel for him.   I find Dave's understanding of this remarkable.

OK, it's not perfect, he's not perfect - thank God! - but we really work well together.  And, as I've written before, I've changed; my ego is smaller and my tolerance is much higher these days.  The few little spats we've had have stayed as simply that, a spat.  Not blossoming into any thing bigger or nastier.  I just don't want to go there.  I can't help but feel, "we don't have time for this!"  I don't want to waste one precious moment on being angry, on holding onto some stupid grudge and give too much energy to being mad with each other.  It pulls us away from our center and our loving nature.

I never thought I could open my heart again, never thought there could ever be someone a big as Jim who could fill this void, who could fit into my life, my world, again.  I didn't know this could happen twice in one lifetime.  I'm still amazed that it has and that this new guy is here now and fitting like some  soft, worn glove.  It's so comfortable, so easy.

 Dave says to me, "just let me love you".  That's a pretty wonderful mantra and one worth holding onto.

And I am ... holding on ... to this gift, this amazing human being who arrived with open arms and an open heart.

Loving you all back,
Mary