Why, Yes

Theine by Mary Kinzie

If compelled
to give it up
I would lift
as leaves do
loosened
from the tree
and feel the floating
thread of my thought
blown out
beyond itself
line loose
on the water
wandering
cinder
sleepier
than air

How I Feel About Time...

A Rune, Interminable by Marie Ponsot

Low above the moss
a sprig of scarlet berries
soon eaten or blackened
tells time.

Go to a wedding
as to a funeral:
bury the loss.

Go to a funeral
as to a wedding:
marry the loss.

Go to a coming
as to a going:
unhurrying.

Time is winter-green.
Seeds keep time.
Time, so kept, carries us
across to no-time where

no time is lost.

Angels in America

I had spent a long and lovely weekend celebrating Passover with my family, and on the way home from my brother's house, I stopped off at my mom's to visit with her for a while. My mom lives in a building with over 25 floors, with 10 apartments on each floor. This is the same building I grew up in , and as you can imagine we have a LOT of neighbors. One neighbor greeted us warmly in the elevator, a man I had not seen in years, but for whom I've always had affection. He's been kind to me since I was a small girl, and I was always beguiled by the fabled stories of his past--how he competed in the 1960 summer Olympics, held in Rome (he was a boxer) and though he never married, his popularity with the ladies.

When we saw him in the elevator, I was struck at how he is still so handsome and when he smiled, I almost fell over to notice that he had braces on his teeth. When I pointed at them, and exclaimed, "Look! Me too!" He said, "I'm 76 years old. Can you believe it?"

First and foremost I couldn't believe that he was 76! (He didn't look a day over 50.) But there was something about the braces on his teeth that made him even more appealing. Younger. Sweeter.

I'm firmly convinced that seeing him was no accident, arranged by angels on this most holy weekend. And maybe, just maybe, could it be? That I am also more appealing, younger, and sweeter with braces?

Hmmm.

Runnin' Up That Hill

It has been a long week.

Things have seemed so off kilter with our 29 degree weather on Monday and our soon-to-be 70 degree weather. I find that I am angry at things that normally roll off my back. I'm waking up anxious, my mind racing a million miles an hour. The only solution, it seemed this morning, was to go for a run. I haven't done that in a long time--not since I hurt my knee. Despite the rain, it felt necessary. It's been my best antidote to an overabundance of any emotion, and the easiest way to disperse it. I think better when I run.

The only people in the park were diehard runners and early morning dog walkers. I liked being among this "elite" group--the ones with true purpose, undeterred by cold and rain. I took a different route and chose to run up the hills as opposed to down them.

I've been thinking a lot about choices. Choices of all kinds. The choice to stay or go. The choice to get braces. The choice to change perspective. The choice to challenge myself or sit on the couch. Paper or plastic.

I love the line from Sunday in the Park with George, where Dot sings, "The choice may have been mistaken, the choosing was not."

I remind myself that where I am is product of many large, life changing choices. Some I question every day. Some I've made my peace with. There is comfort in knowing that the choosing is never a mistake. The choosing is what makes us alive. The choosing is the gas in the car, the rocket fuel, the nourishment for the body to run and jump and play.

What are you choosing to do today?

Spring Has Sprung

I haven't written much lately, as you may have noticed. I've been under the weather for the last three weeks and was sleeping as much as possible to try and get well. Monday was the first day I actually felt like myself, and I wasn't completely overcome with exhaustion and sneezing. I'm celebrating my wellness with these pics of Spring in Central Park:

Spring is a tough season. Everything feels like it's at sixes and sevens and this year I've been feeling downright dreamy. Perhaps it's because we really didn't have a winter coupled with the fact that it's going to be 80 degrees tomorrow that is allowing the forces that be to have their way with us. I find that I am overwhelmingly and irrationally upset at the things I know I cannot have. The view from my apartment on Chestnut Street in Binghamton. My grandmother's school ring from 1919, long ago lost. A conversation with a former boyfriend.

I read this a few days ago:

"A Course in Miracles teaches 'Your passage through time and space is not at random. You cannot but be in the right place at the right time.' You are not lost. You are not abandoned. You can abandon yourself and feel abandoned. But you will always find your way-- when you find your way back to simply accepting yourself without judgment and following your natural desires. You have your desires for a reason. " --Tama Kieves

I went to my orthodontist yesterday and he put on thicker wires ("fast wires" as he called them.) They hurt almost instantly. I asked him how much longer he thinks this will take and he said, "We're really at the end here, maybe another month or two." You'll forgive me if I don't believe him. He's said similar things before, and his sense of time is unreliable. Remember, we're now 7 months past the original date that was promised.

I'm really very zen here. I've decided somewhere solid inside of me that they will be off by July. It's a worthy experiment to see if that becomes true. I just can't let this rule me anymore. I've said that before, but for the first time, I think I mean it. Maybe it's the dreamy nature of Spring, but something else has a hold on me.

Dictionary.com's word of the day was "profluence" which means "flowing smoothly or abundantly forth."

Sounds like a good Springtime mantra to me.

Miami Medicine

My family planned a vacation to go down to Miami for the long President's Day weekend, and it was one fantastic time. My niece and nephew were incredible company on the flight down. It was 80 degrees when we deplaned. We were greeted with warm, chocolate chip cookies when we checked into our hotel. We zipped into our bathing suits and swam in the heated pool until the sun went down, all of us happy as clams.

I was so surprised by how content I was, and how perfect it all felt. I told my mom that I've been really depressed--though trying really hard not to be--and it's the simple pleasures that change everything. Toes in the sand. My sister-in-law's cooking. My littlest niece saying my name for the first time. The giddiness I felt on the first day lasted for our entire trip, no matter what we did.

Today, I read this Note from the Universe:

It may seem a bit backwards for some, but the first step one might take towards rearranging the present circumstances of their life is to stop dwelling upon the present circumstances of their life.

Or to put it more succinctly, just choose to be happy. I've been trying to choose to be happy for a long time, and it was so maddeningly elusive. For whatever reason, it was found in North Miami Beach. I gathered it up, packed it in my suitcase and took it back with me up to Brooklyn.

On the way back from LaGuardia Airport, we were stuck in tremendous amounts of traffic, and though we were sitting still on the highway, our cab driver was playing great Haitian music which once again transported us back to a sunnier place, and I dare say even made even the traffic enjoyable. When I got out of the cab, I thanked him for the music. He popped the CD out of the player and said, "Keep it! I can get a new one, but you will not find this here. This is not from Port-au-Prince--this music is from the country. They call this Campas."

I was so incredibly touched. The happy I packed in my suitcase got even bigger. And as I sit here writing, I'm still grooving to L'Orchestre Tropicana D'Haiti. As they say in Haitian Creole, Mesi mil fwa, my friend!

Happy Birthday

It was my birthday this past weekend and there was much revelry and celebration. There was a dinner party. There was champagne. There was Bo Ssam and the most delightful dumplings. There was a fantastic five layer ombre cake made by the equally fantastic Alicia. And as I sampled all of the delicacies, it was inevitable that I would pop off one of the brackets that was just put on a week and a half earlier.

The loss of the bracket made the whole armature of my mouth sag, and it started to make me lisp. The braces were dragging on the corners of my mouth when I talked or smiled, and though I wanted to forget about it, I reminded myself that I am not dead wood, and anything alive gets the damn bracket fixed.

I went to my ortho today and I have to admit that I was nervous about it. Would he refuse to replace it as he had done in the past? Would I have to fight him on it, as I had done in the past? Every time I asked myself these questions, something in me was calmed, and a very secure sense of "it's all going to be fine" came over me. This does not happen often, but I've learned to recognize and trust this feeling when appears. I told myself that if he gave me any grief, I would just have to say, very simply, "I need you to take care of me."

Inside the doctor's office, he replaced the bracket. He was receptive and kind. He explained what he was doing with some of the other appliances in my mouth. I left his office feeling good. Giddy in fact.

It's a 10-15 minute walk to the subway from the doctor's office, and a few steps from the subway entrance, I noticed that the bracket felt lower than my tooth. "That's funny," I thought. So I pushed my tongue against it to find that the bracket has already popped off once again. Needless to say, I yelled more than a few expletives as I turned on my heel to hightail it back to the ortho's office.

Once there, he was still nice, still calm, still receptive. He attended to the tooth in a way he hadn't before, added everything back, and I was on my way. And though I didn't have to articulate the words, the situation did it for me: "I need you to take care of me. And I will keep coming back until you do."

And so, somehow we've turned a corner. This makes me feel strangely hopeful where I have not these past six weeks. Truly it's all going to be fine. And that is the best birthday present of all.