Knowing Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.

—Naomi Shihab Nye

I'm feeling reflective again, thinking about relationships and my own responses to others.  Sometimes I fall into the space of being on-guard when dealing with people and  being very concerned about someone seeing me in a way I don't want to be seen, and being willing to die on the cross defending the correct image.  Guess what?  That's not a place I want to live. That's not the way I want to be.  I could explain and justify all the reasons WHY I go there, how I got to be that way, but it doesn't really matter. All that matters is that I am sort of that way and I need to think differently when something riles me up, instead of jumping into overreact or attack mode.  It's my choice how I react and I don't have to feel offended or angry.  And I don't want to. I want so much to live in peace, harmonious with others. 

For instance, I want to be a better parent.  When Jack uses my shower and covers the drain to make a mini bath and a little water spills on the floor, I should not yell at him and freak out.  I should say, 'hey buddy, next time take a bath', or' just try to keep the water in the shower, yo.'  Parental reprimands probably shouldn't start with 'Goddamit Jack!"  Maybe once in a while for something super naughty, it's ok, but in general, I need to step back and relax and as a friend once said about my management style, half as much...half as much.  That's right. 

Or like when Scott scheduled Caroline's teacher conference on a day I'll be out of town, without even asking me.  My instant reaction was: pissed!  How could he not even think of asking me!  He knew I was going to be out of town that day!  I take offense!!  But before I called him to bitch about it, I stopped. I thought, I'm choosing to feel slighted.  Stop it!  There was no malintent.  Relax.  Call and tell him it doesn't work for me that day and to please talk to me first next time.  So, I did.  And we worked it out peacefully. And I didn't have to feel mad about it.  Yay!

Or like when someone says something to you that you know they don't mean to be hurtful, but you choose to take it that way anyhow and tell them.  And choose to be offended and get upset.  Why do that?  Don't be so concerned with setting straight well-meaning people.  And for goodness sakes, don't lose your temper.  And when you do, apologize. And hope the people around you love you enough to accept it.  And to accept you, and to know that you will always try to do better. 

One of my Sisters, Many Blankets, just handed me a piece of paper with a poem about attitude on it.  It totally goes with all of the above.  Part of her poem says:
"Attitude, to me, is more important than facts.  It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than what people say or do."

Bingo.

Airly Autumn Days

"...There's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here--
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock--
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock."

--James Whitcom Riley

JWR is a real favorite of mine, and I can't imagine better words to describe the feeling of these days.  I've sort of been floating through the last few weeks, busy with activity but sort of paralyzed, too.  I'm not sure that makes any sense, so I'll try to explain. 

I have been so lucky lately, spending time with some of my favorite people.  Lots of visits, lots of plans, and these days, these airly autumn days with so much to do outside.  I want so much to freeze time, or at least stretch it.  Make the hours from 4-6 go on and on, holding the day's last light.  Make the weekends last 4 days.  Have time every day to walk around and breathe the leafy air. Rake the earth.  Dig in the dirt and plant spring surprises.  Sweep the deck and clear the gutters.  Chop more wood.  Read for hours by the fire in the quiet with the cats in my lap.   Talk to people and hear their stories and play music and sit outside by candlelight, wrapped in blankets. 

I've been doing many of these things, but I need more time.  And I'm sort of overwhelmed by the richness of all of it.  Totally in a good way, but it's made me a little flighty.  I've neglected the inside work a little, let the papers pile up a bit, been behind in the laundry, haven't been blogging, felt a little space-y at work, that sort of thing.  Writing this out helps me make sense of it though, and maybe I just need to let go of all the life-managing for a spell.  That would be prioritizing at its finest, and it brings me joy to do this important work of living the glorious fall to the most-est and loving the people and animals around me. 

So, I'll end with that for now and try to focus on getting my secondary work done so I can get out there and be in the day; it's gorgeous.

"...It sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!"

And How Like a Field is the Whole Sky Now

Neighbors in October

All afternoon his tractor pulls a flat wagon

with bales to the barn, then back to the waiting

chopped field. It trails a feather of smoke.

Down the block we bend with the season:

shoes to polish for a big game,

storm windows to batten or patch.

And how like a field is the whole sky now

that the maples have shed their leaves, too.

It makes us believers—stationed in groups,

leaning on rakes, looking into space. We rub blisters

over billows of leaf smoke. Or stand alone,

bagging gold for the cold days to come.

--David Baker

Today was a perfect fall day.  Slept in until 8:30, which if you have smallish kids like I do, you know that's sort of late-ish.  Let the squawky chickens out of their coop to roam the 'hood,  then made some coffee and pumpkin pancakes for breakfast.  I almost always make pancakes from scratch, cause they consist of, like 5 basic ingredients, but these are a Trader Joe's mix and trust me, they are next level!  TJ's only has them in the fall and winter, so if you want to take some to the beach in August say, you should probably STOCK UP before they disappear (note to self!).  

Then, the firewood people from Craigslist called to confirm that I still wanted my cord of wood dropped off today.  YES, I most certainly did.  I was so excited when the guys, Jeremy and Jeff, drove up with my load of wood.  They pitched it out onto my driveway, because I told them I wanted to stack it.  Really, that's too good of a chore to let someone else do.  I loooove stacking wood. I love how it smells and the feel of each piece in my hand and the puzzle of stacking it evenly and soundly.  If you ever need a bunch of wood stacked, I'm your gal.  Seriously.  I also like to help people pack and move, but that's another story (but keep me in mind, ok?)  Here's the pile and then a shot of what was stacked at that point.  Isn't it GRRREAT?!

and later:

We all had our work to do.  Caroline mugged for the camera with her jack-o-lantern smile, then swept the deck. 

And Jack pitched pieces of wood to me and  then mowed the lawn.  The whole ding dang thing!  Sweeeeet!

Glory be for fall chores!

Blessings on Thee, Little Man

Two little feet, so small that both may nestle
        In one caressing hand,--
Two tender feet upon the untried border
        Of life's mysterious land.
--Anonymous

My lovely cousin, Marion, had her sweet Baby Malcolm 2 weeks ago today.  I went to see them last weekend and oh my, what a sugary little bundle he is.  First, look at this foot.  I'm a sucker for baby feet, the teeny tiny toes, and the sentiments in the poem snippet above.  Almost too much sweetness to bear!

Malcolm is Marion's second babe, and she's a natural mama.  I sat with her while she held and fed him and it was a truly sacred experience.  Is there anything more precious than this?

Welcome to the family, dear one!

as small as a world and as large as alone

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)


and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and


milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;


and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and


may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone


For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea


E.E. Cummings


Isn't this a neat little poem?  I hadn't read it in a long time, but recently heard it, in the form of a song!  Natalie Merchant has an album called Leave Your Sleep that is ALL poems that she's turned into songs.  She made the record for her 7 year old daughter and it is wonderful.  The music is fantastic and catchy and sort of old-timey sometimes and jazzy other times. The kids and I both like it; it's like, real music. And poems!  


The song came on tonight while we were eating dinner and I told the kids it was a Cummings poem, and how he was the one who wrote the little lame balloonman poem (one they know).  Then I pulled a 'My Dad' and went and got the book with the poem, and let them read it while the song played.  Actually, My Dad would have recited the poem with Natalie, like a folk-star groupie, but close enough--yay!  


It's been a great afternoon/evening at home!  Although I had a lot of fun today at volleyball.  My 7th grade girls are soooo cute!  We lost a game yesterday and we were talking about it today and one said, "I think it might be teenage hormones or something, but I just couldn't stop crying about it last night!"  And she laughed and we all laughed and it was a dear moment.  Then they were talking about how we should have a team slumber party!  And that I should come!  And then the same girl goes, "I'm not just saying that, I'm SAYING THAT!"  Awwwwww, OMG, UR sooo sweet, M!  


Here are some things we've done upon arrival back to the suburban farm:
* gathered eggs (4), cleaned the coop, and gave the girls a treat:  leftover spaghetti.  Guess what ? They loved the noodles but left a little pile of meat sauce.  I think they might be vegetarians. Too bad, cause when I gave it to them, I evilly smirked to myself that they were stickin' it to the cows!  
* dug potatoes--like hunting for buried treasure.  ARGGGH!
* made a fire in the wood stove.  Hello, Cozy!
* poem at the dinner table  (see above)
* listened to the kids chase each other around, screeching loudly with laughter and telling myself not to shush them and repeating one of OM's mantras:  I am a calm and patient parent.  It worked!  Oh, and I drank a beer. 




...and maggie discovered a shell that sang

so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles...

Sweet Sunday

After laying low the last 4 days or so, following the nasty throw-up bug that Jack and I had on Wednesday, today woke me back up to the world.  When you're sick, you sort of forget how good it feels to be well.  Today, I remembered.  Hally-looyer!


The kids and I met up with our dear friends Jen, Joey and Carly and Jen's old friend Stacy and her sweet, smiley 10 month old daughter, Mason, at Tolt MacDonald Park in Carnation.  This park has been special to us since the kids were little; we have many, many wonderful memories from our days there.  To Jen, it's even more special, because her very own grandfather, John MacDonald, helped create it!  My kids and Jen's kids always have a ball together and today was no exception.  


The park has an amazing suspension bridge (that Jen's grandfather helped engineer!), and today when we crossed it, we saw a sight we hadn't seen before:  the whole Snoqualmie River was filled with salmon, swimming upstream to spawn.  They were EVERYWHERE!  I believe they were humpies, as they had large humps on their backs (I'm a genius, I know!).  We stood on the swaying bridge and watched those fish for a looong time.  I could have watched forever.  They splashed and jumped and twisted and fought their way toward their destiny.  They came from the OCEAN for goodness sake and they were in Carnation and they must have been SO tired, and many were war torn and beaten up, but they just keep going, back to where they were hatched.  How do they do it???  Jack's 3rd grade class is studying salmon, so I'm hoping to have some answers about this soon.  Here are some pics of these magnificent creatures:

NOTE:  humps 

there is still beauty here, I think

kids being AMAZED

on the bridge
  

Tonight, after dinner (spaghetti), I was cleaning up, and Caroline asked me to come downstairs and watch her do her "show."  I sat on the couch and watched her dance, in the dark (the lights had to be off because she had 3 flashlights set up for "spotlights"), to the Amelie soundtrack that I had on upstairs.  It was one of those perfect times in life, where you just get totally caught up in the present moment and can appreciate the pure beauty of it.  Her dances went with each song, in spirit and moves.  She twirled and leaped and pretended to swim like a salmon and it was very dramatic and lovely.   Here's a little video clip I took of one of her numbers.  And maybe it's one of those things that doesn't really translate out to anyone other than Caroline and me, but I'll share it anyway, for posterity:

Actually, NEVER MIND--the technology wouldn't allow it after an hour (really!) of waiting for it to upload.  Just use your imagination, and make it rich!

Oh, what a sweet, sweet Sunday it was!

I Carry Those Days in a Tiny Box

Remembering

When there was air, when you could
breathe any day if you liked, and if you
wanted to you could run, I used to 
climb those hills back of town and 
follow a gully so my eyes were at ground
level and could look out through the grass as the stems 
bent in their tensile way, and see snow
mountains follow along, the way distance goes.


Now I carry those days in a tiny box
wherever I go.  I open the lid like this
and let the light glimpse and then glance away.  
There is a sigh like my breath when I do this.
Some days I do this again and again.


--William Stafford


I gathered up a few of these days for my tiny box this weekend.  The weather was incredible on Friday, so after dinner, the kids and I decided to go out to the meadow with the swing.  They carried their own packs for the first time--they wanted to--yay for me!  They each brought water, a sketch book, and lined paper for writing poems.  I brought water, bug spray, chapstick, camera, and a journal for writing poems. It was 80 degrees at 6pm when we started walking out to the spot.  We also brought a little pail for blackberries and I picked many along the path, and came home with none.  We didn't see another soul--amazing.  The path cuts through fields and open space, winds around and ends by the river, and just before is the big maple with the swing.

On the way back to the car it was getting dark, and we walked in silence enjoying the last light and the nature all around.  Well, silence until we kicked up a pheasant hen and I got startled and hollered out!  Which the kids thought, of course, was the Funny Business (it was)!

On Saturday, OM brought out her young and we met up with A and her cubs at the Daugherty Farmstead.  It was the Duvall Heritage Festival and the Daugherty Farm is the Real McCoy, one of the earliest houses in the valley.  It is on the National Historic Registry and it's a gem!  It was chock full of the pioneer spirit, too, with all sorts of activities for kids.  See:


tractor "driving"

corn shelling

rope braiding

Lil E getting knighted, country-style

boys with ropes and a smilin' OM

Caroline carrying Finny like he's her babydoll

frolic

the music makers

climbing a tree in the pioneer cemetery

Oh, me oh my!  What good times to behold!