My tenant has taken herself to her partner's house in the country for Shelter in place (don't know why I capitalized that) and so I'm truly the only human in the house now. She's worried about me but will check on me daily. I have many folks who are staying in touch, delivering food and cat litter etc. So.

On a Zoom call yesterday about the coming surge and plans the independent midwifery community is working on to care for pregnant and laboring women through the next few months as hospitals need every available bed and low risk women need to be off-site. Working from here as I can't be in the midst of the fray as someone who is vulnerable cuz of my age. It's so intense.

The fear/panic is a humming in my chest and gut. From my vantage point in my pretty house, I'm damned privileged. I have food for myself and the critters. I'm apparently healthy. I have money to pay my mortgage and utilities, almost. Close enough. Life getting real without eating out, buying shit and going to the movies.

My daily practice looks like this. Feed Felix and Lola. Check the weather for our walk down Beacon Ave. Dress. Meditate in silence or guided. Wait to eat and shower until Felix and I return. Eat. Shower. Listen to the Catch and Kill podcast (thanks Mary!), etc. Some days I spend a lot of time on the phone or Facetime or Zoom calls. My neighbor works at Home Depot and he says everyone is coming in for supplies for their remodel. I think Home Depot must be closed by now but he's bringing me soil so I can start some veggies in the house.

The walk down the street is a refuge. The smell of the air, cut grass, the birds esp the robins (always a herald of spring when I was growing up in the cold North), the occasional person who is walking far from me. O the blooming world.

The next days are full of rain. Time for an umbrella and rain boots. We're  tough, we NW types.

Today is Eden's birthday and we'll be celebrating via Zoom. I'll wear my Burning Man hat and light candles stuck in a banana.

OMG

It's been a day. No longer going to the store, no longer spending time with my people except virtually. Hanging with the dog and cat. Gave the dog an horrendous haircut but at least he can see. I'll be doing the same to my own head soon enough. I allow myself one long walk a day with Felix, zigzagging down the street to avoid being near to other people. Talked so much on the phone I ran out of power. Counting down the days until I can consider myself out of danger with no contact with others. I figure about 6 more days. In the meantime, every slight throat tickle, every cough brings cold dread into my body.

Started with a virtual guided meditation from some sweet nuns who live in California. They guided us and then let us talk to them/each other. I blubbered as I talked: about my fear, my sadness for leaving my midwife life in such a sudden way, selfishness that I'm not on the front lines with other first responders and feeling useless at home conducting virtual visits with prenatal and postpartum folks. And consults, so many consults. Women are so fearful to deliver in the hospital, they are considering home birth or birth center birth. How awful to be the parents of young children, babies right now. Talked with a dear friend who is a dharma teacher and she reminded me that my feelings of selfishness are sorta self-centered, that I can let go of my 40+ year career as a midwife and let others do the work. That doing what I can to save my own life is ok, there is more to come, I may have more usefulness and that death is inevitable. Of course we all know that. Being able to look directly at that reality has never felt more immediate than now. Swinging from panic to calm to 'normal' back to panic again. It's exhausting.

I've actually written a list of 'things to do if I am unable to because I'm sick in the hospital or I'm dead-caring for the animals, where is my will, who to contact, etc. I asked my teacher if this is a compressed course of "A Year to Live" and she said certainly.

Mary, my teacher, also reminded me to feel the grief, maybe the selfishness is really grief. So I broke   down again and fell into the grace of her loving words. Ah, the suffering of this world. The oddness of the beautiful weather as spring breaks forth over us all and the plague crawling through the human community, picking us off. I won't even comment on the slow and misguided response of those in power. It helps no one. I'm grateful Washington State has a good governor who is doing his best to make rational decisions. I think martial law might come as the numbers continue to climb.

I volunteered to sew masks for our health care workers on the front lines.

Tonight Maya and I watched two episodes of Outlander while on FaceTime. It's our thing. We sync up our computers and watch together.

Lots of food was delivered yesterday by dear friends. I'm good for a while. A little worried about cat food but Felix has three months of food. I wish Lola would eat dry food that she then wouldn't barf up. Sheesh.

Well, I feel like I just vomited all this up. It's the anxiety talking. I'm not in a constant state of panic. It comes and goes. That's how feelings are. When I was still going to the pool almost every day, one of my hot tub pals said, "It's been a good life. I've lived a long time...." I'm just not there. I don't want to die just yet but we don't get to choose that one, do we?

For those of you who stuck it out all the down to here, (and of those who didn't), may you all be safe and well and feeling supported by those who love you. Our world is no longer one we recognize and if we are together on the other side of this human catastrophe, we will be changed. We are changed.

May all beings be free from their suffering. May all beings be well. May my love be with you.

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

                                                       Wendell Berry

The day is beautiful here and Felix and I will go to the park for a walk. With a friend who  knows full well what panic and despair are as a worker with Doctors without Borders. 

She finds humor and joy in the darkest places. 

May we all be at peace. May we be well. May we be free from suffering. 

Well, if I'm warned to stay inside because I'm in a 'high risk' category as an officially old person, I might as well tell y'all a story, a story I've been telling for years from the annals of the weird.

You know I've been a midwife for many years, Many. Years. And sometimes there are situations that take the cake. The WTF situations, the stories you couldn't make up, the once in a lifetime stories. So here goes.

We had a lovely couple who transferred to the hospital when the birth wasn't happening at the birth center. Her sister was visiting from Hawaii and was planning to care for them afterwards. Her sister was at the birth. And this is important, fully clothed. They went off to the hospital, had their baby and we went a day later to visit them and see how they were doing.

We (my partner and I) went up to the postpartum floor and asked for the room number. We got an unreadable look from the ward clerk but no clue to what was coming. She directed us to their room.

Stepping into the room we saw 1) mom in the bed 2) dad standing beside the bed 3) a naked woman and 4) a nurse with her back to the room tending to the baby in her little cot.

Ok, so I scanned the room again-mom in bed-dad by the bed-????naked woman????-nurse with baby. The nurse had a furious look on her face because, um, there was a naked woman in the room??

At first I thought the naked woman was the mom but no, mom was accounted for.

Then I tried to get some information, any information from the parents, by reading their facial expressions or SOMETHING but not a thing. They're happy to see us, la la.

Ok, so this is the sister, now naked, not even a pair of socks. Just a long winding tattoo up her side. Are those morning glories?

So we have our visit. Baby is doing well, nursing well. The sister volunteers that skin to skin contact is good for bonding. ((?????)) Yes, but.

Then the parents want a photo with the birth team so we gather around the couple and their child. The naked sister, camera in hand,  stands on a chair and puts one foot on the arm rest for balance so we get an, um, view of her nether parts. The look on my face in the photo is, well, I'm smiling in an OMG kind of way.

We make our goodbyes and I tell my partner we need to find the hospital midwives because they're the ones we transferred to and I feel a need to apologize or make amends or something. We find their office and they are all gathered there. Before I even get a full sentence out, they say, "We know. That family is the talk of the hospital".

The mom recently sent me a funny video of a kid screaming for 5 minutes while the dad sits quietly waiting for the storm to subside. I think of them with fondness.

There's no accounting for family, is there?

Currently reading Brian Doyle's book of essays, "One Long River of Song". Encountered him in The Sun.

https://www.eurekastreet.com.au/article/article.aspx?aeid=45566#.WS0BVxN95E4

This is one essay. Mostly you'll find his poems on the internet. But his essays are wondrous.

He's a Catholic and I don't even mind. In fact, I rarely care what people call themselves anymore. Including myself. Am I a lesbian? Does it matter? I know it matters in terms of civil rights that we are seen as disabled or a color or race, or gender identity or homeless or what have you. In all the ways we have or don't have access or privilege or voting rights or the ear of the powerful. What I mean is that I'm more interested in connections others allow me to make, to swim through the differences to our common joys and sorrow, our yearning to be happy and free.

And Brian Doyle could be Jesus or Buddha or Mohammed or Mother Teresa. And so could you and I.

Um, an update on the 'new sister' situation. She was born 5 MONTHS before me.

The plot thickens.

And we may never know the 'truth', which I actually think is a slippery eel kind of a thing.

BTW-did you know there is a dish called eel pie. Ew. Thanks to my British ancestors. At least it's not haggis.

Dear ones,

This very day I was born 70 years ago. Many people have celebrated this occasion with me but today, mid-week, was pretty quiet. I meditated, walked the dog, swam, went to a French film and wrote an email to my newly discovered half sister.

WHAT????

Two days ago,  my younger child called to tell me that her cousin Deirdre in Belgrade had been contacted by a 72 yo woman who found her from Ancestry.com. She was born in 1948 and adopted out at birth. She's got a child and grandchildren. Eden is already on Facebook with her new cousin.

To say I'm shocked is an understatement. Just doing the math...Dad was married before my mother and he had a son, my half brother, in 1945. He divorced that wife, met my mother and I was born in 1950. So somewhere in there he had a fling? an infidelity? who knows?? and this person showed up. We're speculating that he wasn't even aware that he had another kid.

We all knew Dad was a ladies man, In other words, he got around and had affairs when he was married to my mother. It was never talked about but we all knew. We all knew.

Anyway, her name is Lauren and I'll just wait to see if she responds.

When Eden called, she said, "Hey mom, you have a sister! Happy birthday!!!" hahahahahahahaha.

Jeezus.

Some of my favorite people. The Oregon coast is glorious.

We've had so much rain here the ground has liquified. When Felix and I go to our park, it's a muddy soup. He slides around and loses his footing. And as he is white, he is like one of those half moon cookies, white above and brown below.

I got him into the lake where he swam for a bit. Then he stood shivering on the shore. No amount of showing off for the black retriever could convince him to go back in one more time.

On the 15th, we all head for the Oregon coast and a seven bedroom house with a sauna and a short walk to the beach for my 70th birthday. My daughter put together a montage of photos to music and while watching, I thought, 'Jeez, I'm fat.' Really Beth, that's all you can say about living this long, in reasonable health, with family and friends who love you. How ungrateful.

I've been elected to a new BOD. It's all white folks. I'm afraid I'll be the squeaky wheel board member, you know the one, who's always complaining about the lack of diversity. I'm gonna be that person. My friend Rachel says if I complain, I need to also have a solution. How about this-Hey, lets start over, using a truly diverse community as our template. And have a BOD that is at least 1/3, 1/4, some number that is POC. How about that?

Apropos of nothing, I bought a new computer. The old one was stuttering and sticking and misbehaving. I got a champagne pink one. It's very pretty.

Don't walk, run to see 'Pain and Glory' by Pedro Almodovar. It is truly a beautiful and beautifully acted film. Antonio Banderas. Penelope Cruz. Other gorgeous actors. I compare it to Moonlight. Really.

Just back from the desert with these darling people

It was a tough retreat but I now have a food handler's certificate for San Bernadino, woo-hoo. Don't  ask. Joshua Tree National Park is soooo alien to my NW life. I kept touching cactus (don't, really) and pulling out thorns with tweezers for  the next few days. After the retreat was over, we repaired to a BNB that had a hot tub, a TV and big soft beds. Eden came with her massive cooking skills so we ate beautiful food. I am so grateful to these women in my life. More than I can ever say.

Dears,

It's snowing here and we're all contemplating alternative routes to work, if there is work or school tomorrow. In advance of the snow, I went  to the Safeway. What a mistake. Huge lines and  I had to wonder if I really needed rice crackers (yes they still taste like cardboard) and a yam. The guy behind me said he would continue to gain weight stuck in the house. He had  yogurt dipped pretzels, two kinds of Ben and Jerry's and a whole lotta other stuff. I didn't mean to be nosy but I'm pretty sure there weren't any vegetables in his cart.

I sent out a big email with the update on my 70th birthday. Next month. On the Oregon coast. Folks are coming from far and wide. Bad poetry night, game night, a treasure hunt and so forth. Plus dogs and kids. And my brother and sister, what's left of the siblings. Much food will be  consumed too.

A cross section of people are coming: gay, straight, trans, POC,  Jewish, Buddhist, agnostic, a woman who is a zoo keeper for gorillas (surely a faith-based occupation).

Snow is still falling. I do love it.

In spite of the weather here right now (rain, gray, cold, yuck), we often get to see the beauty that is Tahoma, the First Nations name for Mt Rainier. Tahoma means white capped or snow covered. And she hangs on to her white head all year because she is very tall.

When we hiked the Wonderland Trail  around the mountain back when, the astonishment of the daily hike compelled us forward. Fields of wild flowers, shallow ponds full of tiny tadpoles, view after view of the peak from different angles, snow fields we crossed,  mountain goats and ground squirrels. The only place I have even been that close was Glacier Bay in Alaska. Astonishing.



Please see this film if you can. Paul Stamets is here in the NW and he taught and studied at my very alma mater, Evergreen.

In a week I'm going to Joshua Tree, which is the desert outside LA. Also splendid.

It's so easy to love the Earth.

I must tell you about the sing-along Messiah Judith and I went to because, well, I must. First of all, I usually go to the Unit church, you know, the Unitarians. They have a real orchestra and a packed house of singers and mountains of cookies for the breaks. Oh, and a really, um, hot conductor with a half white and half brown eyebrow. So there's that. And they give away prizes and let one of us conduct the Hallelujah chorus.

However.

This year I was out of town for that event so we went to another church and so.

The conductor has recently had two knee replacements which he reminded us of a lot. The orchestra was skimpy, very skimpy. And no trumpet. :-(. I mean, how can you sing, "The trumpet will sound" without a trumpet. In fact the only woodwind we had was a clarinet which was quite squeaky. And the violin was cringy. The cellos were ok and thank gawd for the piano.

We stumbled around quite a bit. Some of those choruses are tricky without strong singers and I am not what I would call a strong singer.

The whole thing lasts 3+ hours on a good day but with one thing and another we took almost 4 hours. At one point I looked at Judith and her eyes were closed. I thought she might be meditating but she told me later she was sleeping a little. Oh dear.

Anyway, the Hallelujah chorus sounded splendid. You really can't fuck that one up.

May we all survive 2020 with sanity intact. Avoiding all but the most pressing news would be a start for me. Every tweet from the asshole in the White House is not necessary to know about.

More love. More joy.

Buddha at the airport

Maya had her birthday again and we gathered to celebrate her. On the way home, a Buddha watched over weary travelers outside the Alaska gates.  Life is full of unexpected moments. Thank goodness for my beautiful family. I love them so.

We saw Trevor Noah Friday night and he was splendid and so funny. I brought a hanky so I could wipe my eyes and blow my nose. From laughing. And he FILLED a stadium with people. I sacrificed my tiny Swiss army knife when I wen through the metal detector. It was worth it.

Trevor was polite, no swearing or misogyny. Just plain funny. And he warned us that Pence is scarier than Trump. Gawd.

Yesterday we saw the incomparable Dina, also a need for hankies to wipe eyes and blow noses.



Judith and I will do the sing-along Messiah after I get back from SF and Maya's birthday.

I actually put tiny lights on my wreath on my gate. They've all burned out, guess they're not made for rain.

Another year almost at an end. Time to watch the 1957 version of A Christmas Carol with the incomparable Alistair Sim. Misanthrope becomes Boddhisatva, ta-da!!

Yesterday at the park! In the big city!

She was walking down the main path with purpose. She veered into the bush and came out behind me on the path again. Lots of people with dogs on leashes...Lots of people.

There are bunnies in the park, breakfast for this critter.

Why am I listening to the impeachment hearings? What a river of words. What badgering, talking over, buckets of sarcasm.

I saw "It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood" with the lovely Tom Hanks last night. Read the article the movie is taken from here https://www.esquire.com/entertainment/tv/a27134/can-you-say-hero-esq1198/

Mr. Rogers was a thoughtful, kind and loving man who helped children (and adults). What would he say about our current political squabble. Squabble, hate-filled rhetoric, grandstanding, whatever you want to call it. Mr. Rogers would have waded in to confront the sad, angry, vengeful person with love. With kindness. With brave attention. With raggety hand puppets.

Really.

How old fashioned.

This morning my tai chi teacher and I walked back to the parking lot together. She is Chinese/First Nations and she's working on archives of Chinese people/families who were deported from the Seattle area back in the day because they were 'taking jobs' (sound familiar?). She says there are transcripts in English but lots of transcripts in Chinese including handwritten stories. The Americans also have written out Chinese names phonetically so that makes the investigation challenging. Local officials did sent people back to China; sometimes a child, sometimes a whole family. She says it's slow going but mirrors current border policies today. Ug.

We meet on Monday in Kabota gardens to practice. The man who designed the garden was imprisoned during WWII because he was Japanese.

You know what. I'm going swimming and then I'm gonna walk the dog and I'm turning off the radio.

Now.

Waiting for Judith to arrive. We are going to Cloud Mountain, a retreat center where I have spent many hours in silence. Consider it a monastery where we are invited to simplify our lives. We put down daily activities-no cooking, no cleaning, no electronics (!), reading is discouraged, no talking or eye contact. We have a simple schedule, waking, meditating, meals, an afternoon break, a talk in the evening, early bedtime, early rising in the morning. An opportunity to gather, make peace with inner turmoil (or at least greet it with some kindness)...

This weekend we are volunteering-cleaning the whole center; bathrooms, bedrooms, dining hall, kitchen, dharma hall. I've signed up for outside where we will prune the grapes, hack away the bamboo and build a bonfire for s'mores.

Mathew will cook for us. Living alone, another person cooking oatmeal for me is such a luxury. This trip, we can talk with each other, find out where we are from, have spirited conversations about politics, the eight fold path, how hard is it to knit socks...

Then we'll come back to the city, in the cold and dark rain.