Single Minded Valentine #10: The Patient Valentine: ox to Earnest Shackleton

Here he is, the man himself looking so incredibly cool and tough. Like he truly is! There will be more love testimonials for Shackleton..

Nearly every time I get acupuncture, I have these very cool, very clear images. They tend to be dreamy stories/ visions that help clear out the bad, ambivalent stress and/or physiological ailment.

Today I was there because the sciatica beast, dormant now for 12 years, has reared it's ugly but hard-to-ignore head. There are many stories and suppositions as to why the sciatica is back(exhaustion while traveling, a turned ankle at a huge trampoline park, not enough attention to a core workout, and inchoate but real sadness, to name a few) All the narrative aside, here I was seeing my amazing acupuncturist after having been in nagging, distracting pain for  over a week.

I have grown to love acupuncture as I can literally feel the tension running out of my body. Today, I had several lucid dreams while the needles and the heat worked their magic.

One involved Earnest Shackleton( antarctic explorer from the early 1900s. He managed to bring back 28 men alive after their ship was beset, then demolished in the pack ice in 1914 in the Weddell Sea. No one died; no one went crazy. If you don't know the story, get the book " Endurance: The Incredible Journey" by Alfred Lansing, It's one of my favorite stories I have ever read.) Whenever I'm feeling low or self-pitying or lonely and helpless, I scan the Shackleton saga and figure out what part of the journey is analogous to what I'm going through, then I do whatever Shackleton did. It gets me out of pickles and the muck of self-loathing in a jiffy.

Anyway, Shackleton had sciatica too. Not throughout the whole trip, but interestingly when things had calmed down for a time and he had established some spirit-affirming routines for his men. At the point that he got his sciatica, they had to just wait for the ice to break up. He was in bed for several days and, I know, in awful pain. It seems sciatica slaps you down when all the chores are done and there is nothing left to do but ruminate.

In my dream tonight, I saw Shackleton in his bunk, pale with pain and I moved in slowly and kissed him on the mouth( I know, some sexy stuff...)and I told him he would feel better, he should trust me. I told him he would bring the team home safely and be a hero. this pain would remind him to be patient. Then, in the dream, he kissed me back and said: "Be patient, yourself; be patient with your sadness. I see that you are sad. Tell me why you are sad, and you will feel better."

I thought for a minute and said: I'm sad I won't be able to have another baby.  I'm sad I'm not having another baby with, you know, a partner. a partner who wants to have one with me. Shackleton nodded and smiled a sweet, understanding smile. Then I quickly said that I was beyond grateful to have K. And feel, sometimes, that I'm the luckiest girl on earth.

You can feel both. You can be lucky and sad at the same time. They don't cancel each other out. Of course, you are excited, thrilled for your friend who just had her third baby last week( he is stunning by the way) and you can love beyond love your 7 month old niece, S, and at the same time be sad you don't have a 7 month old and a cool husband who parents like you do and laughs at the same things you do.

Shackleton, even though he nearly died several times on that trip in 1914, headed back to Antarctica to  cross the continent. On the journey to  down to there, he died peacefully and, I'll wager happy.
I understand.

Humble Valentine: #8

Humble Valentine: #8

(here I am when I was reading about the ground-breaking, world-saving work that is being done by the man I should have married.[drawing by E Scott)

I have been feeling pouty and sad because the guy I should have married(20ish years ago) hasn’t been in touch. We managed to maintain a lovely friendship up until a few years ago. That's when I became puerile and insensitive and left a horrid message on his home answering machine  after ignoring his important, honest email he sent to me about a very tough illness that he had braved.

No doubt his wife was even more over me when she heard my voicemail. I made this ridiculous, impolite comment about his new diet that essentially saved his life. I dearly hope now that none of his kids  heard it.

No surprise that I haven’t heard from him. Had the roles been reversed, I would have said 'over and out', no questions asked.

In retrospect, it was so uncharacteristic of me that this behavior could only be a classic, CLASSIC example of self-sabotage.

I know you already figured that out three sentences ago. Takes me longer.

I remember after I read the email where he shared that he had had a serious scare and had some surgery, I shut my computer and walked away before I got to the end of the email. Then I clamed up( can you imagine ME, with nothing to say?) and never wrote back.

Three months later I left this bizarre, awful (I can’t stop shaking my head when I think about it) voicemail at his house. After not a peep.

It was so childish. but I couldn’t deal with the idea that he was so sick and I couldn’t be right there next to him. I couldn’t be the one making him laugh and bucking him up and celebrating when the Good News from the post-op test results came back.

Because his life-threatening illness is really all about MOI.

Needless to say his wife is a doll! And we were friends too. Til I set fire to all the good will around me. And he is obviously thriving.With her; at work; with his gorgeous kids.  I am delighted to see it.

Just this week, I have realized that if I had had the wisdom to say ‘yes,’ in England and kiss him hard and hold on tight, our life would have been splendid. If I had had his maturity to KNOW when you find a good match when I was 22 and he met me in Oxford, England at the coach stand with a rose and an honest offer of love, our life would have been a sparkling affair of the heart and mind.

I’m still confounded as to why I shied away from such love.

I haven’t met up with the likes of it since.

Our mutual affection made me feel like I never had to lean too hard in one direction or the other. When I was with him, my feet were on the ground and my head in the clouds. I was smart, beautiful, articulate, inspiring, at ease, at home. So, of course, was he. So IS he.

Enter the HUMBLE pie of this valentine: while I whine and whimper on this dusty, unpopulated blog, he is out there literally, LITERALLY saving the world.

I’m not kidding.

I just watched at short You Tube piece of him helping children in Haiti, Ethiopia and China. (I couldn’t make this up.) Right now he is probably laughing with President Obama over beers about what’s a better sport hockey or basketball and, simultaneously, trying to find ways to bring about world peace.

Odds are good he has the president’s cell number.

So, this wonderful man doesn’t really have a lot of spare time for his sad, puppy-eyed not-even-ex-girlfriends (and that is SOOO the opposite of ‘smart, beautiful, articulate.’ It makes me want to run in the other direction.)

Here’s the good news: some day in the future he will read this and know that I am sorry and that I still actually love him. And while it is tempting, very tempting, to send it to him, I will not. I will whine and cringe to you my phantom blog audience. Instead, I will make a donation to his lovely amazing, life-enhancing organization. So maybe somewhere in Viet Nam or Haiti or Ethiopia, a single mother who is feeling low and needs a micro-loan to get her business or school or garden going, will get the help she needs because of me. Much better idea.

More good news:

I have an important addendum to my Important Life messages to K.

K, lastly, if you find someone you loves you just the way you are and you breath easier around them and you feel smart, handsome and insightful in their presence, love them back. Love them often. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

SMV#7: Brave Valentine to the pilots that fly through storms

Brave Valentine #7: To the expert pilots that flew us through a hair-raising storm last night.

Hello team Valentine!

Please forgive the short pause in expressions of affection. I know you are waiting with baited breath for my story about my transformation to finger-wagging Joan Crawford(because he wouldn’t fricken blow his nose! Why don’t they do that? I’m not suggesting he pull out his own fingernails. If they blow their nose, they will feel better and avoid getting an ear infection) and K quietly but pointedly telling me to shut up. It’s coming.

And I need to write a valentine to K’s preschool community for putting on such a fabulous bash in the form of the school auction. Seriously, it was one of best parties in my life as a parent. Embedded in that party valentine is my deep devotion to my new group of parent friends. More on that later too.

And, I have clearance from my friend, Eliza to talk about her recent realization that while she really wants to have sex again, she is afraid. Very afraid. Because the last time she had sex, it ended with her co-parenting with someone whom she does not respect or admire. Now she is yoked for life to someone who is in not her friend.

I KNOW! This is all important and tantalizing.

But today, March 7 2011, my heart belongs to the pilot and copilot who landed our plane in a crazy, bad, windy storm last night. 

Holy Moly, it was scary. I don’t remember the last time I was that scared on a plane. Here’s an important note: I’m not a fearful flyer. I actually like a bit of turbulence, it feels like someone is rocking me.

But this was no 'rockabye, baby' action. No. This was glasses-clinking-then-breaking and “Flight attendants take your seat immediately” shit.

And, this was the first time as a parent that I had a hairy flight so it was all the more heightened. Needless to say, we landed safely. But I did some praying and I pulled out all of my tricks I learned from my meditation class. ALL of them. Sheesh, I was glad to have something to do. Also, I’m grateful to the Backyardigans and to John Williams(again) who kept K engaged and laughing while I was contemplating the Void.

While staring down the barrel of my mortality, I realized this might be my last chance to deliver my ‘mission statement’ as it were, to K. If I’m going to die, what do I need to tell him?  Here’s what I came up with:

Side note: Nose blowing is NOT a Grand Scheme item, so we can both let that go.

First, K, you are so clever, and inquisitive and exquisite, for that matter. Because of all of this, you can do ANYTHING. Truly, you can do anything you want with your life. All you need is a clear vision of what you want to do and discipline to implement your dreams. Dream specifically, dream often, dream BIG, my love. And then work hard.

You can be as big, as bold, as ground-breaking as you want. You have everything it takes. (No one ever told me that. I had to tell myself and it would have saved time if that message had come from the outside as well as the inside.)

Second, and just as important, no matter what great things you accomplish—and you will do wonderful, life-enhancing work-- keep your handsome, giving heart in tact. Because if you don’t practice sharing and compassion, none of your amazing feats will not be any fun or mean much.

Never forget that my times with you have been the best of my life. I am so proud of you.

So. The quick, near-death, life message is done. Can check that off the list.

XOXO again to the fabulous, hard-working pilots.

Single Minded Valentine #6 : collage valentine for K.

Here is  the tangible valentine I made for K for 2011.

The message that goes with is this:

"Amid all the clamor and noise,

 amid all the oaty and blueberries, and music

and lazy mornings and 'up and out' days, amid 

all the adventures, ideas and animals,

amid Captain Rex, Kit Fisto, Luminara, Obi Wan, Ahsoka and Yoda,

amid all the mountains and storms in our life,  

my love for you is the calm, still center

of everything.

 So, yes, that was a lot of sweetness and light. And all very true. You might need to brush your teeth. Ah, the eye-rolling torpor of joy.

But, just as night follows day...

 Never fear my grumpy, reality-bound friends, because tomorrow's valentine, "The Difficult Valentine," features profanity from the child and a Joan Crawford impersonation by me( without any physical abuse.) taking place from 1:30am to 4am in our apartment because someone had the sniffles and would not blow his nose.( and believed that blowing his nose or using saline was on par with water-boarding and screamed bloody murder. A power struggle extraordinaire!  And then the crazy, careening, sleepy days that followed.

Stay tuned.

Everyone sleep well.