this is elly, with a "caterpillar" on her head:::::: it was one of my last days of babysitting her! we will miss her charm around this house::::but we will still see her plenty. . .
i got finn some new flannel car sheets in an attempt to get him to really, really love his bed and WANT to sleep there, and sleep through the night. . .something i am dreaming of right now; something that, towards which, i have had to really really reach for any patience that is in my soul. this is only the latest in a string of strategies in which we try to get finn to sleep in his own bed through the night; or at least only waking up once! who knew that humans would need to be taught how to sleep? when i think about it, it does makes sense. and also the fact that finn slept between the warm bodies of peter and i nearly every night of his life for over 2 years. . . and also the fact that we haven't been the most consistent of parents; we put the futon by his toddler bed and we would lie next to him; we put the futon sitting up and we would sit next to him; we put the futon next to his bed and he slept in the futon with us; we, finally, recently, relapsed into letting him sleep in our bed when he was sick. no wonder he is confused! now the strategy is, we took down his toddler bed and set up the futon as his bed, and we sit next to him holding his hand as he falls asleep. i still end up sleeping in his futon with him for half the night, but it is getting easier, and i just have to be consistent and patient. . this sleeping in his own bed, this is its own kind of weaning. sad and happy, sad and happy and difficult, all at the same time. . .
we went to des moines last weekend;; we are staying home and having our own little famiy thanksgiving this year. i wonder if it will feel a little lonely tomorrow? but i am looking forward to centering, starting on holiday crafts and gifts and decorations, and just being in our warm house together during this little oasis in our hectic semester (almost over now, really!). and also looking foward to baking! i am baking pumpkin pie and wheat germ rolls as well as roasting a whole local (kalona) chicken with rosemary and garlic and butter! i have never done that before. . .but i must say that in this whole recent period of my life--in which i am working so hard on centering, feeling okay, and feeling a sense of accomplishment in the here and now-- baking and cooking at the end of every packed week has been a real place for me to go to work meditatively and dissolve some of my stress-flames. where was i? oh yes, des moines. there's a new sculpture park there. . .this is one of the pieces, lit up at night. can't remember its title;; shall we call him the letter man?
been doing tiny bits of patchworking, here & there--
finn and his baba, as he calls him--
and i have been returning to this book, "positive discipline" again and again lately, working through finn's late-night hour-long fits, among other things! that is one thing to be thankful for right now: those fits seem to have subsided, for the moment.
i am also thankful for this kind of glimpse of returning faith that i have had lately;; i am regaining my faith in myself, and remembering that it actually doesn't matter--about teaching jobs, life-paths, money:::that it actually will work out and be fine:::::i mean as long as i can just keep my faith in what is most important to my being (faith that it will return):::that is, my faith in creativity and imagination. i think those are the most important things. my sense of exploration, play, and love. yes. and remembering my true education: my education in experiment, friendship, spontaneity, risk, humor, music, listening, improvising, expression as freedom, everything (even silence) as music, the IMAGINATION that is freely interacting and touching others' imaginations as blessed as blossoming, as my true education.
when i was experiencing my true education (and i think i still am, but the time of which i speak i was mostly in my mid-twenties) i learned to listen. to be open and free. to find and look for fresh powers of being and creating. this sounds nostalgic and glossed-over--and i am well aware that the times of which i speak also had their ups and very-downs--but bear with me, i am trying to get at something here--
this true education--it is a wellspring, i believe, that i can draw from, and it is one that i have faith in. i am thankful for it, and thankful for all of you, my creative friends and loved ones in your various forms, for helping me experience this. it is something i think of so much lately, and am so grateful for. i realize this all may sound vaguely abstract and/or vague. do you know what i mean, about true education?
there is one more way i could put it: my true education was a natural outgrowth of creative friends . . . it happened naturally; it was authentic. it is why i feel like a fraud at times doing anything other than playing music (especially teaching, applying for poetry contests, etc).
i have been doing lots of thinking on creativity itself, inspired by some random reading i've been doing (as in, grabbed-a-book-off-the-shelf). . . more on this later.
happy thanksgiving--
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
an anne carson poem for november
God's List of Liquids
It was a November night of wind.
Leaves tore past the open window.
God had the book of life open at PLEASURE
and was holding the pages down with one hand
because of the wind from the door
For I made their flesh as a sieve
wrote God at the top of the page
and then listed in order:
Alcohol
Blood
Gratitude
Memory
Semen
Sons
Tears
Time.
It was a November night of wind.
Leaves tore past the open window.
God had the book of life open at PLEASURE
and was holding the pages down with one hand
because of the wind from the door
For I made their flesh as a sieve
wrote God at the top of the page
and then listed in order:
Alcohol
Blood
Gratitude
Memory
Semen
Sons
Tears
Time.
Friday, November 5, 2010
some more halloweenyness and hello november you curling death month
quite possibly we found the last dandylion::::and finn really did love his pumpkin bucket so much:::::::our house at night (especially on halloween) looks like this:::::::and then all the kiddos, wrangled up and on or near the steps of the porch!
i will now leave you with a passage from poet barbara guest;; it is sort of novembery, to me:::
". . .the body moved, but with a stilly motion the way a wave curls over a birthday where nothing remains except the foam streamers, like giggles after deep laughter, like death closing in."
i will now leave you with a passage from poet barbara guest;; it is sort of novembery, to me:::
". . .the body moved, but with a stilly motion the way a wave curls over a birthday where nothing remains except the foam streamers, like giggles after deep laughter, like death closing in."
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