Inverted Commas

I have been terrible about writing lately. These past few months I’ve barely picked up a pen and paper or placed my fingers on the keyboard, and when you compare the frequency of my posts now to this time last year there is a stark difference. Of course, a year ago I was new to recovery, each day a fresh hell, and writing helped ease the burden of that struggle, somewhat.  Now that I’ve been weathering the fight for this long, that ‘fresh hell’ has become a quieter sort of subdued one that I doesn't usually require writing work through and process. That’s one reason for my absent posting, a valid one I’d say. The other - that I just feel too busy – is not. I know my schedule is not so full it prevents me from scribbling a mere few sentences, at least not if I want to become serious about writing.

So I have set myself a requirement. Not a goal, not a challenge, but an absolute, must do, no excuses requirement that I will write and share on this blog at least once a week. It could be about something I’ve done in the past seven days, an observation, a realization, a super spectacular (or fantastically horrible) moment, what I’m currently reading, an answer to a question, etc.… It might be pages long or only a paragraph, and perhaps, on rare occasions, a few scribbled sentences. I will do my utmost best to adhere to this, but I do ask for reminders should I start to slip.

So starting off this new venture I have kind of a conglomeration of the examples above. My book of choice this week is “The Gathering” by Irish author Anne Enright. I am just a little past halfway through and at this point my enthusiasm for the story is only slightly higher than lackluster. Her writing however is exquisite, and it does feel that the story’s gotten a little better as I've delved further into its' pages so I will read it through to the end. (Just FYI; this book was the 2007 Winner of the Man Booker Prize and has glowing reviews on the cover by the Los Angeles Times and New York Times Book Review so don’t let my comments dissuade you from picking it up). Anyways, last night just before the lights went off, I read one last chapter that ended with these words:

“I thought about this, as I sat in the Shelbourne bar – that I was living my life in inverted commas. I could pick up my keys and go ‘home’ where I could ‘have sex’ with my ‘husband’ just like lots of other people did. This is what I had been doing for years. And I didn’t seem to mind the inverted commas, or even notice that I was living in them, until my brother died.”

When death takes someone we love from us almost without fail at least one person will talk about how that loss has made them realize or remember just how fragile life is, that we should never take it for granted. It’s not uncommon for us to then re-evaluate our place in the world and possibly grab hold of that moment to chase dreams and opportunities that, for whatever reason, had been left untouched. I think this passage has that same message, only it didn’t so much make me question the dreams I was not aspiring towards or my complacency with the areas of my life I already knew were unsatisfactory. Instead, it made me start to wonder about what I’ve taken for granted as the ‘good’ and ‘happy’ and ‘complete’ parts of my life and whether or not they were in fact good, happy and complete. These words and the ideas they invoke have been hovering in my mind all day, and I have a feeling they won’t be leaving anytime soon.

 So I leave you with that exact question; do you have ‘inverted commas’ in your life? If so, what are they? And what should you do, what can you do, to change 'life'  into a life you are fully living?

High on Caffeine and Literary Bliss; An Afternoon in Salt Lake!

All this past week I've grown increasingly uneasy; I felt kind of stuck to the point that it was driving me to some serious distraction (case in point: I got home from the store Thursday evening and while putting my food away poured my entire bag of coffee beans into to my jar full of oats rather than my coffee canister (I wasn't able to extract all the beans and will be having coffee flavored oats for awhile!)). This morning my emotions worked themselves up to a deadlock, my restless mind had had enough, and it fast became clear that I HAD TO get out and do something - go somewhere - that I'd never experienced before. So I jumped in my car with my GPS in tow and drove south to the Salt Lake City Library.

Out of all the people and places in Maine there are very few that I miss more than the Brunswick library; really there isn't a day that passes where I don't miss being able to walk down Maine street to that old brick building to lose myself in it's stacks of literary magic. There is a library in Layton and while - as all libraries do - it has it's own loveliness it holds neither the charm or the selection of Brunswick's and I have been wanting for months now find a library that did. Circulating over 4 million items, the Salt Lake Library definitely meets that first desire, and what it lacks in old New England comfort it makes up for with big city WOW!

The current main location (there are 3) made it's grand début to the city in 2006 and was voted 'Library of the Year' in a national library journal. It's four above ground levels are filled with seemingly endless rows of books, CDs, movies, newspapers, and magazines. Comfy chairs, desks for studying and even gas fireplaces(!) on every level create a relaxed and peaceful atmosphere for families, students, and lone visitor simply looking for some peace and quiet. Their basement level showcases artwork from local artists (I saw some paintings by 8th graders that blew my mind with their talent) and a childrens section full of the obvious books, movies and computers, but also rooms for crafts and little cubby holes and hideouts for little ones to curl up and read. Sharing the main level of the building is a flower shop, a hair salon, a café, and the Library Store -
which is where I found some AWESOME cards and a Shakespeare coffee cup I've been wanting for years!). There is also a coffee shop - IN THE LIBRARY; my first experience with the Salt Lake Roasting Co. was definitely a positive one, I had an iced americano that was perfectly dark, strong, bitter and delicious! I walked out the doors a couple hours later feeling happy, refreshed, and seriously considering paying the $80/year fee it would cost for me (since I don't live in the city) to become a library member.

Before leaving the city I decided to make a quick stop at the Oasis Café/Golden Braid bookstore which my HR director highly recommend I visit, and I am glad she did. After a not so quick meandering through the store I wandered back out with more cards, gifts, and another cup of coffee (also good but the first was definitely my favorite). I arrived home high on caffeine and literary bliss and dug into a heavenly bowl of garlic pasta and broccoli (my goal these past few weeks is to be better at scaring myself with fear foods, hence pasta). My adventures today were exactly what I needed and to sign this post off I leave you with this little reminder I came across today...

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Exciting Things are Happening!!

 'Catawampus'. This delightful word with a definition of: askew or awry, pretty much describes this past week. I've been up and down, people around me have experienced the same, even the weather seems to be on a roller coaster ride. In short, it's almost as though Alice's Cheshire Cat has decided to temporarily leave Wonderland and play tricks on my life instead. Unfortunately for that cat I am a) used to mischievous cat faced creatures (thank you Faelina) and b) too excited about what is happening this year to be bogged down by it's chicanery. It's actually quite amazing what I have to look forward to.

I'm going to become an aunt to Kairi's little boy and Tori's little something (she's going to be surprised!) in June!! I will be GOING HOME TO ALASKA for Christmas to meet these two little babies (and see the rest of my family of course!), and I haven't been home since 2013. I have a whole new state to explore and discover this summer and fall. All of that in and of itself is amazing, but there does happen to be one other thing...

Seven months ago, I wrote "...I know now I need to expend every effort to one day return. After all when one encounters something whose whispers beckon so strongly, a place who echoes a soul so perfectly matching their own...what other choice is there..."

I was referring of course to Norway, the country I'd spent the previous month calling home. My feelings towards leaving were similar to my opinion of an elephant using me as a soccer ball and I've missed desperately every day since I've left. But now my homesickness for Stavanger is at least temporarily appeased because I am going back!!!!! I depart on June 4th  for two weeks of climbing mountains, exploring small towns, and walking the cobblestone streets of Stavanger. I can scarcely believe my luck that I get to go to two years in a row. And I'll be there over my birthday - how resoundingly fantastic is that?!!

 I am enthusiastically, ecstatically, excited, and I just had to share that with you all!!!

Fairy Ring

 This has been somewhat of a lacklustre weekend. My poor best friend is battling strep throat and seeing her miserable is one super unpleasant experience, I myself woke up feeling a bit off this morning making me nervously apprehensive that I might be next, and my hopeful To-Do list was barely even considered much less worked on. Despite all that, there have been a few bright spots; I've read a lot, got lost in a wonderful nap this afternoon with both cats curled up next to me, and was able to muster enough creativity to write this little poem.

 

Deep within the sylvan shadows,

 and soft emerald mossy growth,

golden magic shouts infinite laughter,

for this is where the Fae call home.

My soul's unquiet with restless desire,

to step inside that hidden ring,

to breathe, to see, to touch Fae fire,

for only then would my soul be free.




~~~~

 

Fig the Pirate Cat

A week ago, I asked friends and family for new writing ideas. A friends daughter requested a story about a one eyed cat named Fig. Fictional stories are by far my biggest writing challenge, so here is what I was able to come up with, though I may one day need be visiting Fig's story again.

Fig was a brave little cat,
he did not like to take naps,
he'd tease and trick his older brothers,
he loved to roll in peanut butter!

When you first saw Fig you were surprised,
'cause he was born with only one eye,
he loved to wear a patch outside,
and pretend he was a pirate in disguise!

One day Fig's patch was lost and missing,
making him one very sad, lost little kitten,
he searched and roamed trying to find
where his pirate patch had gone to hide.

He climbed tall trees to search birds nests,
but that made all the mama birds protest,
he tried to swim to the bottom of the river,
but the water was too cold – it made his whiskers shiver!

He looked under rocks and in a strawberry patch,
but only found one pair of socks that didn't match,
from dawn to dusk he wandered wide,
but when night came he went home somber and tired.

His mom asked him why he was so blue,
for he was too sad to even eat his food,
he took a deep breath and told her his tale,
as he came to the end one blue tear slowly fell.

His mom hugged him tight and said 'Cheer up little man,
just look what I've got here in my hand',
Fig looked down with his little green eye,
and let out a yell full of delight!

For in his mom's paw lay his pirates patch,
and right next to that was a real pirate hat!
He squirmed to the ground and donned his new gear,
He was a real pirate now – with nothing to fear!

He kissed his mom's cheek and then ran out the door,
he had oceans to cross and the whole world to explore;
And never again did his patch go missing,
he was forever and always one brave pirate kitten!

A Year Ago

A year ago today my future was a mystery, daily life was anguish, I felt utterly lost. I lived so confused that every breath I took seemed only to bring me more questions about what I should do, questions so strong I feared I might never find their answer. I knew I had to leave Maine. As beautiful and wonderful as it was, it simply did not have what would keep my soul happy, and yet the thought of saying goodbye to that place I had come to love so deeply was agony. I wanted to hold onto it longer, wanted to keep the life and structure I'd built there, wanted cling to the small sense of safety it brought me when so much else of my life was uncertain. And I was living with her voice in my head, plaguing me each and every second with her desperate attempts to lead me back down the trail of death. Part of me was afraid to recover, and each day was a precarious walk over that tightrope to recovery, with the fall into relapse an all too easy and temping step to the side. All together I was scared, terrified, petrified. It seemed I was facing the impossible.

Slowly though the decisions came and with them doubt ever so slightly began to fade. Fear roared then became a whisper then was silenced. Each passing day I found new, steadier footholds to guide my path, months came and went bringing with them the gift of more confidence in myself. And then, almost as if by magic, it's suddenly now – today – and I am able to look back on this past year with nothing less than wonder.

I have experienced moments I never could have imagined, seen things that before only existed in my dreams I have learned so much about the world, discovered so much more about who I am. As I look back on all the choices, adventures, and challenges that took place I know now it was year that I truly lived. I didn't listen to the weakness of my fear, I followed my strength of my heart, and I could not be more grateful. I'm not saying my life is perfect now, it isn't. My job is sometimes stressful, I still have her as a daily companion, each day isn't full of nothing but carefree happiness. But here is what I do have...deep joy. For the first time in maybe forever, I have a job I am excited to wake up for. And while 'fully recovered' isn't a tittle I'd apply to myself, I am doing well, and no longer is each bite of food agony. My cats are both happy and healthy. I get to see my best friend every day, and watch her kids grow. My mom is well and my sisters flourishing - this June I get to become an aunt not just once – but twice! I am surrounded by mountains and soak up their silent, guarding beauty each and every day. There is a thin blanket of fresh fallen snow outside my bedroom window as I write, and warm blankets and good books are always beckoning me to go lose myself in their magic.

A year ago my future seemed a haunted mystery. The beauty of the future though is that it is a mystery that will always be solved, and as mine inevitably unraveled it brought me the most incredible gift; that is a deeper knowledge of what I am capable of, an awareness of a strength I had not known I possessed. I wonder today where I will be a year from now. Will life will be heaven or might it be hell? I will only know with time. But everything I have done these past 12 months to get to this exact moment, this exact place on the earth, well it has brought me hope, strength, and acceptance for whatever will come.

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Snowy Morning Peace

Faelina finds the good quality expensive food I buy distasteful, and instead prefers the food meant for Stephanie's cat. Faelina refuses to touch the treats I give her, unless Synge gets one first - she doesn't like Synge getting something and not her. Faelina pushes Synge out of the way when I feed them, because she doesn't believe in letting others go first. Faelina spends the night curled up calmly by my legs, but pounces whenever Synge decides to crawl under the blanket and curl up in my arms - heaven forbid she not get the most attention.  Faelina waits until we're not looking to jump on counters and steal the kids food, even though she knows this is NOT allowed. Faelina likes to pick fights with Steph's, hissing at him through the glass door, even though she is inside a nice warm house and he is not. Faelina likes to write things on my computer because a) the keyboard is warm and b) she knows that gets my attention real quick. Faelina has put holes in every piece of clothing I own and given me more scratches then I can count, all due to her daily workouts that entail climbing straight up me.

Faelina is kind of a punk.
and yet...

She only climbs me every day because she always wants me to hold her, and my left shoulder is her favorite space on this earth. She has such delightful zest and determination to catch the lights and shadows that dance across the floors and walls as the sun starts to rise, or twilight begins to fall. Her unceasing fascination with the falling snow outside never fails make my heart smile, and I just love the way she walks across the room, slinking her body in an S shape with her long tail doing the same. She has made Synge happier, given her more peace, than I ever could have hoped, and her quiet purr is one of my most favorite sounds in the world. She has become my shining star, bringing joy to my life each and every day. And as I sit here watching her golden eyes race back and forth trying to keep up with the snow floating past my window I am filled with gratitude that the universe saw fit to bring her into my life.