I've taken my first typhoid pill and picked up all my other meds AND I got a cortisone shot in my knee and it's heavenly, so heavenly to walk around with no pain. My angelic doctor (who is 6' 5, fresh-faced, with white teeth and luscious complexion) says I can have a shot every three months. Okey dokey.

If I can be pain free for a while, I'm a happy camper. Hooray for modern medicine.

In other news, my beloved daughter left this morning to drive back to the Bay Area with the most beautiful grandson child, my Milo. He's 6 feet tall and so sweet. He hugs me and tells me he loves me. Nothing better.

This afternoon is devoted to feeding homeless kids with my peeps. There may be a lotta folks showing up to cook and serve. At this time of year, people want to help out, you know. July is a little harder...

I leave pretty soon. Yikes.

I say love everyone harder and better. And have a blessed New Year. Felix says Woof.

Heavenly noise

My Dad taught us all to sing together but we didn't sound like this.

I'm reading How to Survive a Plague

Alison,

they tore down your house
the section 8
you remember
the grungy wall-to-wall
peeling blue paint
they're making way
new housing for the new rich invading our town

I'm getting confused
you lived there with Sheila
before you went to the Bay area
came back with AIDS

you shared needles
you said
you came back depressed
we took turns
taking you in
you cried all the time
you cried all week
we had no idea what to do for you
with you

but  I remember your legs, your messed up legs
sometimes you were in a chair
sometimes you walked with canes
didn't stop you from tubing with the kids
the Rainier trip when we did a 360 coming off the mountain
Eden crying in the back seat
clatter of skiis and snowshoes
me yelling, "we're fine, we're fine!!"

after you moved uptown
you got a tarantula
birds
cats who ran after toys you tied to a fishing rod

you got sick
you got very sick
you spent more and more time in the hospital
you just missed out on the whole 'living with AIDS' thing
the drugs you took caused you to suffer
we were all helpless

your great heart wouldn't let you die
for a long time
you gave away your dog
three legged Tripod
he was getting old
you didn't have the energy anymore

I missed your funeral by a day
I went to the hall
no lights on
empty

so I went to the lake with my photos of you
my pocket of stories
about your generosity
your way with children
your anger
your sadness
I lit the pictures with my lighter
let them settle on the water

and as you signed your letters and cards I said-

In love and rage,

Beth

I've downloaded my visa and talked with the travel nurse about meds and shots. They warn you not to get into a car accident and wear a helmet if you're on a bike. I think I'll be walking up and down stairs between the kitchen and the temple, which is at the top of a hill (?) small mountain (?). I have to order white blouses, a light blanket (nights are chilly), bug repellant, a shawl impregnated with fierce bug spray. So far I've got powdered tooth stuff, a foldy toothbrush, and a bar of soap that doubles as shampoo. In lieu of cutting my hair, I'm gonna wear it up, pin it up and forget about it. Fourteen hours of practice, holy moley. It is intimidating. And no food after twelve noon. Hoo boy..

I'm avoiding the news. I know it's bad. It doesn't help to know. At least Obama's administration stopped the pipeline at Standing Rock.

And then there's this:

And this:

Today, like every other day, 
we wake up empty
and frightened. 
Don’t open the door to the study and begin reading. 
Take down a lute.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

There are hundreds of ways to kneel and
kiss the ground.

~ Rumi

Dearest hearts. May we all be well. May we be free from suffering.

I washed the floors, vacuumed, washed the dog (!), made cranberry sauce, Hollyhock dressing and a three berry pie, did laundry, cleaned the bathroom and took a windy walk with my dear Holly and said dog.

I fear I've invited half the city to my house and they're all coming. I don't have enough chairs or plates or forks. The turkey and salmon are in the fridge, waiting for tomorrow. Those are easy.

I leave for Burma on the 9th of January. My visa came through. I forgot to make an appointment with the knee doc but will do it Friday if I remember.

I will give thanks tomorrow for all the beauty in my life. And I will love my friends and family always.

Annie called and told me her breasts aren't sagging, they're resting.

Amen, sister.

People, there is love in this world.

This morning I got up very early to swim in my local pool. I got there in the dark and the parking lot was strangely empty. Hmmm. I went in and a nice young lady was sitting at a card table by the door to the pool. As I approached her, she said the pool was closed because the underwater lights weren't working. So like any mentally healthy person six days after the worst election IN THE WORLD,  I burst into tears. She reared back in alarm and gave me a free ticket to the pool at a later date... I sobbed my way out to the car and drove back home so I could shower for work. As I sat in front of my house weeping on my steering wheel, I reached a moment of clarity. Perhaps I wasn't really upset about the pool. Maybe it was for all of it and I've been holding myself from having a monumental cry over the whole damn thing. Yeah, that's probably it.

I visited a new momma a few days ago and her dog bit me. Uh, I did take it as a sign. I got a tetanus shot and had a very sore arm for a while.

I'm wearing a friggin' safety pin on my clothes.

A newly pregnant mom told me today in clinic that after 15 years, she and her husband decided to get pregnant and they did. And all the joy she was feeling has gone, like a light being extinguished.

Meanwhile my friends of color are being openly harassed on the streets of my liberal town. God only knows what's happening elsewhere. We're all so afraid.

My dreams are full of dread. And when I wake, they don't disappear. They trail me all day, ghostly and menacing.

Dear Leonard, We miss you awful.

In the Buddhist canon, change is the only constant. No point in getting attached to things because they will inevitably change. We didn't foresee the magnitude of this change, however. And we've been stunned, saddened, grief stricken in a way I can't remember ever feeling before in this here country. I was much younger when the 60's happened and we endured a series of shocks..now it's global shocks.

We're talking and talking. We're envisioning the possibilities, the dire possibilities. Cabinet appointments, ghaaaa. The Supreme Court appointments. All the modest gains we've made for the good of all. We've talked it into the ground. Sure, we'll wait and see.

I bought a ticket to Burma yesterday. I'll be gone a month. I'll miss the inauguration. I'll be in a monastery with monks and nuns.

Life rolls along. Babies come and bring their angelic joy.

I don't have anger. I do have oceans of sadness. I cry easily and often. I live in a blue state but that will not save the planet.

There is gonna be marching in the streets, y'all.

The worst has happened.

This election is freaking me out. I voted. I'm going to stop watching the polls. I have an escape plan, sort of.

It's been a while. I'm ironing. My mother taught me to iron my father's shirts. With starch. Ug. I got pretty good.

I was on retreat all last week on Samish Island. Beautiful windy place with a heron roosting site, bald eagles, seals and deer, all of which I saw. I slept 12 hours a day and then sat in the meditation hall nodding out. Really pathetic. I brought 'natural' M & Ms to munch while trying to read by flashlight.

I met people who have been to the Burmese temple where I'm going in January. My right knee is giving me fits so I'm going to see a sports medicine doc on my dime to see if I can get injections to help it out while I'm gone traipsing around a foreign country with a backpack. I have fear and trembling to go by myself. I was supposed to do this sort of adventuring when I was young but I was busy with babies.

My sister is in a secure treatment center while they try to figure out the right cocktail of drugs to get her stabilized so her depression lessens. I talked with her today and she sounds ok.... The family illness scurries around our brains. Being across the country is so frustrating. Helpless. The subtext to this post. The worry that she won't be able to right herself. The guilt she feels that she can't be 'normal'. Our collective family curse. At least she told her AA sponsor to fuck off. Nope, this doesn't get fixed with prayer and giving it up to a higher power.

Gawd.

Michelle Obama is my personal guru. And a Saint for the people. Because she's beautiful and fierce and she tells the truth.

My MIL apartment is done. No more contractors or painters. It's weird. Now it's just cleaning the house, doing laundry and cooking (too much food) for myself and my friends.

Yes, I watched the debate. Gawd.

I've been spending time hiking in the fall mountains, very beautiful. Last week I worked out to the edge of expiring and then hiked for 8+ miles. I couldn't really walk. I got good at moaning.

Yesterday I went to a Men in Dance performance and watched two men draw hopscotch squares on the sidewalk and then dance within the squares. They were obviously having a blast, throwing chalk and chalk dust at each other.

I've hired a lawyer to help me transition my business. What will I do with my time if I retire? I think I'll stay involved in clinic but I won't do births anymore. The thought of sleeping all night sounds so delicious. Although I have such a problem with insomnia now because of disrupted sleep forever. There is my book to write.

The Burma retreat is getting closer. I still haven't paid for airfare yet. Just paid property taxes, ouch.

Doing the math endlessly. Social security, rent from the MIL, payments from the sale of the business. Then there's Medicare supplemental and what if the car breaks or the roof leaks? Gha... How do people figure this out?

Greed, hatred, delusion: the three poisons



Part One

What kind of dog is that?
 
 A poodle.

He's got a fish hook in his scales.


Part Two

Why do you care?


Part Three

Well, it's nice to be home with the folks.

At least we get a free vacation.


(all overheard today in sunny Seattle)


   

Long Beach, Washington

Where I just was.

Say what you want but the NW is one fine and beautiful place. Yes it is. I slept for 12 hours straight in my tent under the stars. 

We had a birth recently that brought me to a new place of surrender and humility. My partner was 'catching' and I was assisting but hanging back to be the scribe while the students were taking heart tones and being ready for the baby.

With some difficulty the baby was born (big child!) and wasn't breathing; floppy and blue. After drying him, and encouraging the parents to talk to him, I stepped in with the bag and mask to inflate his lungs so his respiratory center would kick in and he'd begin to breathe. But he didn't. He started up a bit and then stopped. One student was listening and told me there was air going in. It's a mess, resuscitating a baby, equipment flying and palpable tension in the room. I could feel the sweat running down my face. At some point I asked for 911 to be called. I suctioned him a few times and bagged him some more. He was struggling to breathe, eyes open but unseeing.

And then I had an experience of timelessness or transcendence, I'm not sure. He and I had an unspoken dialog while I mentally reviewed a case of a baby who was stillborn a few years earlier. I told the baby it was ok to go or stay, with great love in my heart. I told him we would grieve for him if his time was brief but I was standing in the place to help him if he was going to come and live. I wasn't attached to the outcome, not afraid of the consequences if he died. I was merely a servant to his process, applying what I knew to do when there is respiratory distress. But there was no fight in me, only acceptance.

I have learned so many things in the years I have been a midwife; about relationships and parenting and love and struggle. I have technical skills that feel second nature to me now. And still. This baby brought me such a profound teaching. When he began to breathe and cry, we knew we weren't out of the woods, not yet. The aid car arrived and the nice men in the big black shoes took him away to the hospital where he was deemed fine to return to his home with his anxious parents.

When I visited them the next day, I held him on my lap and we had another silent talk. I welcomed him to his new life. I wished him well.

I called a close midwife friend and asked her why do we continue to do this work when it asks so much of us. This is what she said:

"Why we do this work: I recently helped a woman who started her pregnancy at 340 pounds. Her friends and family said there was no way she could have an out of hospital birth. They said she wasn't in good enough health and she didn't have the stamina to pull it off. She ate a wonderful diet, walked every day and completed her pregnancy at 304 pounds. She had a 4 hour labor, a 12 minute pushing phase and no postpartum hemorrhage. At 2 weeks postpartum she weighs 285 pounds, is nursing beautifully and couldn't be happier.

Another thought to ponder... those of us who went to the school of 'Have one, see one, do one.' We owe a debt to the goddess that walked beside us while we...in relative ignorance, but with strong passion decided to reclaim birth as the true initiatory process that it is. Can you remember the mixture of confidence and fear that we took to those very first totally hippie births? No running water, school buses, yurts, a little magic, and worn out copy of Hearts and Hands or Special Delivery as our only source of information. We were pioneers returning birth to the Sacred Circle of women. No way can I let go of that."

~KN

Amen, sister.

I just ordered a dehydrator. For a plum explosion I just had in my house. My fridge is bursting.

There are new windows in my living room. The basement is nearing completion. As soon as the apartment is done, I'm renting that puppy. Money needs to flow in this direction, this way toward me instead of the outgoing tide. Y'know?

I despair of ever retiring. It will happen one day.

The heat was on in my living room this morning. Wha???? Fall approaches.