Falling.

So apparently this guy, Arthur Aron, did a study where he came up with a series of questions with increasing intimacy for two people to ask one another, culminating in staring into one another's eyes for 4 straight minutes. 

Then this woman..this New York Times writer, Mandy Len Catron, tried it with this guy she'd had her eye on.  In her story, it worked.  She and that guy are now happily married.  And she says, at the end of her article that they didn't fall in love...they chose to be.

This is a question I ask myself and other people all the time.  Do people fall in love? Do people believe in the kind of love that just happens to you, the kind that you can't even help or stop or steady?  The kind that overtakes you like the waves of an ocean all warm and giddy and alive? 

I do.

The kind of love that happened to me and Tad is as undeniable to us as God is to people of faith.  It wouldn't be fair to tell us it doesn't exist. It would be blasphemous.  I want to find more and more people that believe in that kind of love.  That would be my kind of church.

I looked up the questions and found them in this New York Times article.

And then, last Saturday night, when we had a date because my parents agreed to take our kids overnight and he asked me what I wanted to do...I told him.

I wanted to answer those 36 questions and stare for four minutes into eachother's eyes.

Uh oh.  He said to me, smiling.

Now, let me clarify...the kind of love that I believe happened to Tad and me...it happened. But the kind of love we share now, the marriage, the partnership, the raising of children and running of a household? That we choose.  We work really really hard and some days it's wonderful and some days one of us wants to other one of us to bugger off for a while....  That's how relationships are.  But love...love is something else entirely.

Anyway, we went out for Italian food.  Actually we drove all the way to Hales Corners for our favorite Italian food at Mia Famiglia to find it is closed and moving!  So we drove to another restaurant in the third ward that I knew about and it was closed too!!!  Finally we found an Italian place downtown and went there.  We made it through 31 questions during our appetizer, salad and meal.  Then I wanted to go to Purple Door ice cream to finish the last five questions.  Wouldn't you know, it was closed too!!!  But we drove over to Outpost and bought food for the morning and desserts and asked our last four questions.

It was awesome.  We just listened to each other and talked and reaffirmed things we believe and reminisced and it was great.  We talked about our dreams and fears, family relationships, best and worst memories, things we have in common, things we like about each other.  After one of Tad's answers I told him, "See, now if we were first dating or just met, I'd be like, YEP, I could be with this guy."  But at another answer I frowned and said, "Well, that one would have been a turn-off!"  "Hey!" Tad said, his hands up in mock surrender, "There are thirty-six of these!"

We did the eye gazing too.  And it was nerve wracking and scary... deep and serious...silly and lovely.  It was another kind of communication.

I don't know.... maybe that study would work with perfect strangers, maybe not..I think the series of questions for SURE gives you the intimacy and connection with another person that makes you closer. 

But I still believe in the kind of love that takes you over without you choosing it first....

Loss makes you lose layers.....

I am sitting in my living room awaiting three of my friends and neighbors to come by my house so the four of us can walk to the funeral of the son of my next door neighbors.  I am glad we can go and show our support to two people who are not only mourning the death of their son, but who are the most giving, warm and kind individuals you can ever meet.

I'm also glad to be going because I like the feel of funerals.

Yep. I do.

I'll explain why.  I was telling one of my friends who is attending with me, that I am really really good at dealing with death and grieving and funerals and loss.  I think that I owe most of that to my parents.  My mom and dad, when my dear Auntie Patsy was dying (my Auntie Patsy and Uncle Boobers--yes, yes, I know..talk to my dad about the crazy monikers--along with my cousins Susie and Joey were the extended family members we spent the most time with and were extremely close to in my youth) involved my sister and I in all parts of the process.  We knew when she'd been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. We were in the loop about the treatment and the prognosis and all the stages of grief and loss.  My parents did not shelter us from it, but allowed us to see them cry, to feel all the feelings that go along with death and dying.  They laughed with us when my sweet Auntie Patsy's treatment left her loopy and making no sense.  They cried with us when we expressed our fear and sadness and they expressed their own in front of us. They were honest with us about all the unknowns and all the knowns too.  And they did the same when we lost other family members.  And in this way, I was armed with information about death as part of life. I was allowed to both cry and laugh through it and all of my (and others') feelings were accepted.

I think it's an empowering thing to understand that death is part of life and even as a child, not to be sheltered from it.  Loss is awful, death hurts all the people left behind...  But, it's there, a part of this wild and strange life...  It is a comfort to me, just to be aware of it somehow.

Now, here's the reason I love funerals.  At funerals and in other places of mourning, people are stripped down to the barest of who they are.  The walls come down, the energy in the room at a funeral is just all real raw human beings.  Oh, were it up to me, no one would ever feel the need for self-protection.  Everyone would be all vulnerable and bared down to their souls.  Obnoxious,  I know. 

So.  That's why I like the feeling of a funeral, I suppose.  There exists an hour or two to feel the energy of everyone all present and open.  It's beautiful. It's undeniably sad and it can be so painful, but to feel pain is to feel alive and there's something in that that feels powerful to me.

I hope my neighbors feel some comfort today at the presence of all of us who care about them and feel for their loss.  I hope they feel some of that real energy brought to them in the form of support and love and grief and sadness.

Anyone who's reading this and also feeling grief of some kind, I hope you can find some strength and peace.

Christmas Pneumonia: Day 15 of Christmas Break

Well, last I blogged, I was heading into break, guns of peace and presence a-blazin'.  And then the next day I was struck down with the flu which turned into Pneumonia.  Sigh.

So as I lay there in various states of repose, I composed a little song:

On the sixteen days of Christmas break Pneumonia gave to me....five antibiotics, four puffs on my inhaler, three cancelled lunch dates, two missed girls nights, a slept-through family gathering, and a fever of one hundred and THREE!!!!!

Ah but through the gloom of missing out on my much awaited break, there is a light shining through and that is my positive attitude. 

I'm trying anyway.

No, yesterday, actually I went for my first experience with acupuncture and as I sat there, trying not to be aware of the needles, I allowed myself some much-needed meditation time.  And what I did with that time was this: gave myself a major pep talk, ran over some highlights of the past few years, and thought about some concrete things I want to make of this one. 

And then I went out for some therapeutic shopping and dessert with my very dear friend Natalie and, I tell ya, even though it's back to work the day after tomorrow, I feel really good.

I am still working on my presence and my ability to be in the now.  And I am ready for 2015.

Happy New Year, y'all.

Christmas Presence: Day 1 of winter break

It has been a while since I've written, blog-style.

I have been a bit overwhelmingly busy at work and I have had sciatic nerve pain, which has given way to some deep muscle pain and more sciatic numbness and pins and needle style tingling which is far more excruciating than the pain itself....  Not to mention all the horrible news as of late, the anger and dischord and the lack of justice in the news lately.

Which has left me at a loss for words at the end of the day.

BUT

I have taken the last two weeks of the year off of work and am going to try and winter break-alogue my time.

A few weeks ago a woman approached me, upon hearing me complaining about all my pain and tingling, and told me two things, both of which made me feel better.

1. It will go away.
2. Maybe it's telling me something about a change I need to make.

Indeed.  This can probably be applied, somewhat to the political and social climate too.  There's a change we all need to make.

I've been thinking a long time about slowing down.  About not worrying about where I'm not and what I'm missing and just worrying about where I am currently.  I even had myself a  bracelet made that I've taken to wearing every day.  It says:

I have everything I need in this moment.

So, I'm going to work hard this winter break on being present.

And already today I sat with my daughter for a full ninety minutes while she read aloud all the contents from her cubby at school that she brought home when she cleaned it out on Friday.  I sipped tea and just looked for a long time at our living room all Christmassy and cozy.

Admittedly all this presence and slowing down is a lot easier to do when it's holiday break.... but they say it takes longer to break a habit than make a new one or something like that, so I have sixteen days to try.

Yesterday was the first day of break.  Coen got invited to a friend's for the day and then for a sleepover.  Lucy got invited to a friend's for the day.  Thus, Tad and I found ourselves alone, with no children, in our house.

I left Tad to himself to blare music and organize all his old writings that he dragged up from the basement.  I ran an errand for the kids' school after dropping Coen off with his buddy.  I went to a re-sale store and bought a hat. I went to the library and took out six books.  I went to a coffee shop and finished a novel I was reading and sipped a white mocha. It was all lovely.

Then, after checking social media, went right home and told Tad we should go over to the courthouse to support our friends who were there, one of whom was waiting for her husband to be released from prison after having been arrested at the peaceful protests against the murder of Dontre Hamilton and others of whom were more people we know and people we don't know fighting for justice.

After the release of some (but not all) of the prisoners, including our friend, we went out for dinner and came home in time for Lucy to be returned to us.

After she was tucked into bed, Tad and I watched the pilot episode of Masters of Sex and went to bed where I fell into a very heavy sleep, the best I've had in weeks.

And now my son is sitting patiently next to me, wanting me to play Cat's Cradle with him.  And so I shall.

Bleeding heart

This morning my whole family left the house at 6:45 to go vote right when the polls opened.  It was fun packing the kids a breakfast to go and standing in line as they opened the polls.

Coen and Lucy hung on my arms and followed me over to the booth, Coen looking between Tad and me as we penciled in the arrows and said loudly, "You guys are picking all the same things!"

We walked back out into the misty morning and Tad, who was walking a bit ahead of us, turned back to see Coen and Lucy both hanging on to my hands..
"So" he said, grinning at us, "You guys just want to stay close to the bleeding heart liberal, huh?"

We all laughed.  Make no mistake, Tad's heart bleeds too, (though he doesn't always admit it) but we have a different mode, walking around the world.  The other day we were talking about how much I worry about how people feel and what people think and we had this conversation:

Tad: That's why we're such a good match because I couldn't give less of a crap.
Me: Yeah! And I couldn't give more of a crap.
Tad: If you gave more of a crap, you'd have to be committed.

Happy Election Day people.

I think no matter how we vote, we all give a crap!

We belong

When I was in college, I was over at a friend's house.  We were blasting Pat Benatar singing "We Belong" and singing along at the top of our lungs, windows open.
After a while, a police officer came knocking at the door and told us there'd been some noise complaints. He was smirking. He'd heard us singing.  He told us to keep it down and left, smiling, calling back over his shoulder, "Don't quit your day jobs, ladies!"

We piped down after that and laughed together as the night grew late and we all went back home again to bed as the sky grew pink and yellow.

How wonderful it felt that night to be together, a group of girlfriends, people I saw every single weekend and some weeknights too....getting in trouble for singing to loud.

How wonderful it felt to belong.

And you grow up and trade in those every day girl friends for a partner. And children.  A job to go to every day...co-workers and and that guy or gal at the coffee shop you see every time you go.

And in that way, you do belong.  But sometimes you miss that larger belonging....

That is a feeling that I strive for all the time, to feel like I belong.  When I chose I school for my kids, I looked for one with a community.  When we bought a house, we wanted a neighborhood...  And I do feel like I belong.  To my family, to my work community, to Milwaukee...

But sometimes, it can be difficult. Especially in the age of online sharing, tweeting, face-booking, instagraming, googling plus about where you were and who you were with and what you were doing and how fun it was....

I don't know about you but I start to feel like I don't belong. Or worry that I don't. I see pictures posted of a party I wasn't at and I wish I was there.  I see a post about a gathering I wasn't part of and feel left out...   I wish I could be everywhere somehow.  I start to feel my reach growing and thinning and meaning less and less as I want to be THERE! And then THERE!

Oh why can't I be EVERYWHERE where EVERYONE is?!!!!

It's so funny too, because then I think about my schedule and trying to fit in a dinner party here or a girls night out there and it's all so trying.  And I have to wonder.... What am I so worried about missing when I barely have time for all the things I want to do?

I want to be better at living in the moment.  To be where I am and be happy with that.  We all belong.  We belong where we are in each moment we're in and the fact that we're not part of another moment is okay.  Good even.

I'm working on it. To be satisfied with my now, all the time.  Not to look out the window and wonder if there's something better going on out there... Not to wonder what I'm missing.  It doesn't matter.  I have everything I need right here, right now....

We belong to the light

We belong to the thunder

We belong to the sound of the words

Weve both fallen under

Whatever we deny or embrace

For worse or for better

We belong, we belong

We belong together

It's funny snogging a girl when you're drunk and she's sober....

Do you ever listen to a song and suddenly get transported back to a certain time of your life in your mind...smells, sight, feel and all?

I was driving this morning and a James song came on my mix CD and I was thrown back to 1998, living in London on a study abroad program.  I was in college, so, as was often the case throughout my twenties, I was sober, hanging around a lot of people getting very intoxicated on a fairly regular basis.   I feel like going overseas made me expand in mind and soul and take me into the journey that I'm on today.  So when I'm thrown into that memory of my time in London, it all feels very magical and good and happy...as do many of my memories from my twenties.

But a lot of times when I reminisce about those days with others, they only can shake their heads over how much they drank and how they don't even want to think about that time of their life.  It makes me feel a little lonely when that happens--that a memory that's lovely and light for me is one someone else would rather not have.  I guess it's the same kind of lonely I felt back then, once it began to turn yellow out (as my dad always says) and people were drunk beyond their real selves, too far away for me to laugh with, connect with, or reach.

I was in a dance club once during that time--The Borderline--oh it was the best dance club ever, all British pop and cute bartenders.  I was kissing some boy I met who was drunk (of course) and assumed I was too. When he took me to the bar to order us drinks and I asked for a Coke, he was shocked.

"You're not drinking?" He said, aghast.
I shook my head, smiling.
"You're not drunk?"
"No."
"Well...I never kissed a sober girl before."

I remember feeling a little sad at that statement, but glad I could be someone who might stand out in his hazy memory of drunken make outs.

"It's funny snogging a girl when you're drunk and she's sober" He said later.
I doubt he could have picked me out in a line-up three hours later.
But that was part of my twenties.  Being sober in a sea of drunkenness.  I loved telling my friends stories about what they did last night, over coffee the next morning.

Listening to James today and remembering that time was fun, and a little moving.  I wonder what the other people who were in that program with me remember, if it feels like a good place to return in their minds, or something best forgotten.

Me (second from the right) in London, 1998

I know it's been awhile since I've blogged.  I've just been traveling again and thinking and having summer.  But as the weather gets autumnish and the leaves start falling, I usually want to write.  Thanks for sticking around.