missing christmas

dazzle me, LV

so, it wasn't the million dollar art work (shown here) or the fake volcano show, and it sure wasn't the gambling that got our blood flowing. but it was the malaysian home-cooking from an old friend and catching up a little that dazzled us indeed.

restless wind

texas in all her glory

characterful cabin

it's ready, all except for the front screen door. and the fence needs to be put up, so sophie can visit. mom has settled in, with some adjustment time taking its toll on HSP me. but there's a mountain in back and a meadow off to the side, and as i sit on the back porch between moving of boxes and furniture and sorting through WWII letters, i remember the plans of a cabin built around a meadow. this tiny, simple house was well planned with special touches here and there for ease and joy. i wish my father could see it, this house built atop his abandoned fruit tree orchard. We were all amazed when the pear tree decided to bear fruit this year after so many years. And as i pass it, i wonder, "is that you, dad?"

good bye, victor

Annie Dillard wrote in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek: The world has signed a pact with the devil; it had to. It is a covenant to which every thing, even every hydrogen atom, is bound. The terms are clear: if you want to live, you have to die; you cannot have mountains and creeks without space, and space is a beauty married to a blind man. The blind man is Freedom, or Time, and he does not go anywhere without his great dog Death. The world came into being with the signing of the contract. ...this is what we know. The rest is gravy.

But Victor had little freedom and time and i say the contract seems kind to me and unkind to Victor. But i also know that Victor would hold no resentment towards me. He took what he could from life. He grabbed the best and the most from those all around him; his friends and family were his mountains and creeks, and he would say he was blessed.

This life after Victor's death seems not so much a cliche' of valuing life more but a pressure-less leaning to live well, to be calm and content with the things we have done. To hope and plan for things to come. To hold on to our blithering emotions and love who we are--not always connected by purpose but always by a mutual destination.

how i spent my summer vacation

ellis island

"here is not merely a nation, but a teeming nation of nations"

preface, Leaves of Grass, 1st Ed, Walt Whitman, 1855

meadow-cow-river: south-east-north view

clear river

porches

me and porches go back a long way. my inspiration for this attachment probably goes back to my favorite movie, to kill a mockingbird, with scout and atticus swinging on their front porch and talking about things that matter. my mom's riverside porch swing keeps me at peace with myself with the rhythm of the chain clanking against chain as i gently glide my feet back and forth to keep moving. and as we build the little cabin for my mom across the street, its essence is the porch that looks out into an open meadow with sometime cows and always wide open space. i guess the house was built around the view. and there will be a front porch, too, to watch the old homestead and the river goings-on. we need entry ways to secure our inside where we guard our secrets. but the porches themselves are there for all to see and for those lucky enough to sit a while, looking out from them, all can see us. it's all about openness, i think, this draw i have towards porches. or maybe i am guarding my secrets, keeping watch, enjoying someone else's openness. there will be rocking chairs and swings and time to figure it all out someday..on my porch.

images of leaving

waiting

this picture may capture best what i do these days. that's my daughter going out to the ocean (off the east malaysian coast) for her first deep sea diving, after one swimming pool training session. the instructor turned to me and asked, "You're not going to wait here for an hour, are you?" I just looked him in the eye and he knew the answer. So i sat in the sand and for an hour i waited until she emerged and came toward me. Only then, did my breathing get a little easier. And she is home now from college, and my other daughter from her new home in NYC, and i am breathing easier. Waiting is the toughest job of a parent. But oh the thrill we feel when we see them emerge, stronger and wiser in ways and very much the same in other ways. i feel that in letting them go, in pushing them out towards independence, i have earned the right to be more possessive, when they come home. all mine, you are. my little girls. i will feed you and listen to you, and hold you, and send you out again. But i will always be waiting right here.

woman shy, woman worthy, woman safe

i am currently reading Eve Ensler's Insecure At Last, a memoir of her journeys into the lives of men and women at home and abroad who have lost all security by way of rape, abuse, war-torn lives and families lost. No security, but peace and forgiveness and survival that leaves one wondering what security really is. I was looking for Ensler's Vagina Monolgues as i am helping coordinate a local presentation of the same, and i found this gem of a book instead. She refers often to her interviews with the women for the VMs and it's been pertinent to my clinic this week as i saw several women from faraway lands and different customs. I found myself answering questions for one shy woman for, well, the big night. I think the need to know and love our bodies is universal and her smile told me that what i was saying was okay. I'm not sure that talking about vaginas is the answer to preventing abuse, but the community that is built with people gathering to open up about once taboo topics is part of the answer. I am grateful that women trust me with their questions. I feel honored to offer some answers to the mysteries of our bodies, but mostly i am humbled that she asks, and in our talking together about such intimate things, her worth as a woman is validated.

pileated woodpecker, 1976

i am trying to write a piece about my transformation from creationist to true believer in science. Dr. Kenneth Miller, in his book, Finding Darwin's God, meticulously answers each of my questions regarding the fossil record, the biochemical possibilities in changing matter and the truth about mutation. I am forever grateful that he listened to the creation scientists' arguments and refutes them one by one with sound data. At last, someone from the evolution side takes the time to explain why it can't be so. It seems other scientists have refused, which added flame to the fire of intelligent designers' passion.

And here is a peak inside my innocent creationist mind, from my 1976 journal. I meant no harm in my beliefs. Indeed I saw the vestigial gills in the cat in my anatomy lab in college, but i also tripped over creationist pamphlets in the hallway saying evolution was from satan. (bible belt college) My relationship with God was emotional yet central to my growth at that time in my life. Creation made sense to me; it fit my God of wonder and miracles. And now, evolution fits Him even more, as my eyes are opened. More to come.