Not Sure I'm a Blogger

Lately my sense of connection to, or with, the blog has felt like some kind of futility. It seems to be reinforcing a very negative voice in my head that says I don't really have anything of worth to contribute.

So, I may be pulling this down.

I'm writing it down to get the refrain out of my head today, and focus on something else.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.

They may be clearing you out for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

- Rumi

I love this poem. I heard it years ago and continue to find it resonating with what is happening my day. It is my hope to be spiritually fit enough to do this - to welcome each visitor, each day.

Walker Percy

About two months ago I went on a retreat. To a monastery. It was absolutely the best thing I've ever done just for me. I met a monk there and we had some fine conversations - about life, about writing, about memory, about family, about loss. He told me of his friendship with Walker Percy. I knew the name, but had not read any of his books - so I was motivated to come home and do so. I'm on my third. I'm struck dumb at this time, and will write about it when I can come out from under the beauty and depth of Percy's writing.

But interestingly (though not surprisingly) I have heard and seen Percy's name all over the place since that week in December.

This article just arrived in my email inbox. Amazing.

--------snip----------

The Utne Reader unearths a fan letter from the novelist Walker Percy, agonized Catholic and literary giant, to Bruce Springsteen, somewhat-lapsed Catholic and the best we have to offer:

Feb 23, 1989

Dear Mr. Springsteen--

This is a fan letter--of sorts. I've always been an admirer of yours, for your musicianship, and for being one of the few sane guys in your field.

The immediate occasion is that my favorite nephew, Will Percy, has even a higher opinion of you. He is a level-headed perceptive young lawyer and generally knows what he is talking about.

Of particular interest is from learning--from an article in America, the Jesuit weekly--that you are Catholic. If this is true, and I am too, it would appear that the two of us are rarities in our professions: you as a post-modern musician, I as a writer, a novelist and philosopher.

That--and your admiration for Flannery O'Connor. She was a dear friend of mine, though she was a much more heroic Catholic than I. The whole time I knew her, she was dying of Lupus Erythematosus, a fatal and extremely unpleasant disease. A prime example of her faith: she was participating in a seminar with some modish ex-Catholics like Mary McCarthy. Mary, thinking to be generous toward the church, said something like: "Well, it is true, some of the Catholic rituals, like the Eucharist, are good symbols." To which Flannery, who hadn't said a word, responded with a single sentence: "I say that if it's only a symbol, to hell with it." You will recognize Flannery's tone.

This is to say only that I am most interested in your spiritual journey, and if there is any other material about it, I'd be obliged if you will tell me.

Unfortunately, I have cancer and am taking radiation for it. I am far from well and am not able yet to receive visitors.

Since I don't know your address I am handing this to Will who says he knows where to send it.

All my best wishes for your superb career.

Sincerely,

Walker Percy

The sort of goodwill conservatism exhibited here--"one of the few sane guys in your field"; calling Springsteen's music "post-modern"--is typical of Percy, the ultimate gentleman of 20th century letters. It took Springsteen eight years to respond, and by that time, Percy was long dead. However, the Boss's letter to Percy's widow is preserved:

It is now one of my great regrets that we didn't get to correspond. A while after receiving Dr. Percy's letter, I picked up "The Moviegoer," its toughness and beauty have stayed with me. The loss and search for faith and meaning have been at the core of my own work for most of my adult life. I'd like to think that perhaps that is what Dr. Percy heard and was what moved him to write me. Those issues are still what motivate me to sit down, pick up my guitar and write. Today, I would have had a lot to put in that letter....

-----------snip--------

and here's the cite:

http://blogs.villagevoice.com/music/archives/2009/02/super_bowl_spri.php

Dinner Out.

So tonight I went with hubby and youngest daughter out to dinner. Nice restaurant (maybe the nicest in our small town). We went to have dinner with the special young woman who is in our son's life. They live in another town, and she is a pilot - flew in and had a layover. So, we arranged for dinner.

She's darling. Very bright. Very pretty. Easygoing and funny. Everything one could hope for. We managed to do okay - no totally embarrassing moments.

Or so I thought. I just got home. We have pretty bright lights in the kitchen. And, I see that I have a splotch of sauce right smack in the middle of my chest. Nice. Really nice. Like some addled senile senior whose bib got hitched over to the side.

For fuck's sake I can't believe I dropped food on my shirt. Goddammit.

This is why I dread getting old. I'm only 50 and it's only going to get worse.

Goddammit.

Real Connections.

It turns out that blogging can make real connections in my life. Really. Not just pseudo-connections (like a book character that actually answers back) but where my heart is engaged, and my day is affected. For good and for sad.

Two days ago the woman who runs Charlotte Was Both (a blog I follow) and whose books I have read, wrote that her husband died suddenly. I cannot get her out of my mind. Her children. Her sorrow. The community who has lost a good writer, a good husband, a good father, a good man. While I didn't "know" Michael I certainly knew of him, and can feel the pain - even from here.

And, today is the two year anniversary of Jesse's death. I know his mom through blogging. Through anonymous posting and laughter and opinion and deep mother sharing. But through reading and letting myself take in her words and sharing. And so this morning I woke with them on my mind, and on my heart. And my day is tuned in to the (oh so short) life and oh too soon death of her son. And I feel that pain too. Even from here.

I suppose in an earlier incarnation of my life I might have taken these two instances and said "no thanks" and given it up. I'm not a big fan of pain, but as I get older I recognize the fact that pain and change are not going to go away. And I wouldn't trade the real connection and the satisfaction that brings just to avoid some pain of feeling connected to another human being.

So for these women I consciously take a portion of my day, and dedicate it to thinking of them, and holding them (and their families) in my heart. With love.

Me and My Seattle Baby!

I have had a really terrific weekend so far with a spontaneous visit from my daughter!! Isn't she gorgeous?

Picture removed by blogger because it was used inappropriately by others.

Too bad, because my daughter is really cute.

Shrinkage

I went to a shrink today - been having a few panic symptoms on the edge of my life. Rather than waiting till (or to see if) it gets all huge and center I decided to go have a talk about it.

It was nice seeing him again - it's been two years. Life is good and we chatted. With about 15 minutes to go we spoke of the anxiety. He surmised that maybe I'm ready to put myself out there - writing, painting, school, whatever - and that maybe that frightens me. Makes me quake.

So I am thinking about that. It sure seems trite. SURELY I'm not that trite. Surely not!

Hmmmm. So I will write. And dig out the book and the stories that need revision. And open the blinds in the little studio room. And get the blankets off of the easel.

At least I still have a bottle of Xanax if I need it. :)

Education in America

I was thinking maybe Obama could establish a National Forum on Education. He could gather about a dozen big names and faces and have them meet three times a year and present research and discuss the future of education in America.

I'm thinking he should ask Sarah Palin to be on it. It would give her a chance to get up to speed with education in the lower 48, and she could redeem herself for the terribly crappy interviews she did (what with reading ALL the papers and magazines out there). It would also give him a place to park his former pick for Compliance Officer and maybe even Bill Richardson. I like both of them and they screwed up but it doesn't make them monsters or anything. Heck, I wouldn't even mind if Caroline Kennedy chaired it!

He could also include Bill Ayers, who happens to be a real education expert. He could present a lot of his research, maybe introduce some of the people and administrations he has studied, and you know - bring some real meat to the table (so to speak).

I think it may also be an interesting set of YouTube clips for Sarah to be on a board (of sorts) with Bill Ayers :)