Walkers, Runners, Changemakers

 

Whew, the last few days I've been inspired by the power of people and what they are capable of, both individually and collectively. We headed down to Rhode Island Friday evening for Providence's Walk MS, an annual tradition for our buddies and one we started participating in last year. The walk was on Sunday, the most perfect sunny, bright, and blue-skied day for a four-mile stroll through Federal Hill (I may be totally wrong about that because, as normal, I actually have no idea where we were). For the most part, I tend to be skeptical of people's ability to actually care, but boy, was this experience a direct challenge to that notion. So many people who were so clearly passionate about the cause and willing to spend their day trying to contribute to change. Something about the size of the group and the power of these people coming together really made me feel happy and hopeful.

And then yesterday I watched 30,000 human beings challenge themselves to run 26.2 miles in the Boston Marathon, a thing that in itself is entrenched in emotion and passion. A friend who ran her very first steps just over a year ago ran the entire race in support of charity. Millions of dollars were raised by similar runners participating to achieve a feat most of us never do, but also to make Boston a better place not just for themselves, but for everyone. I'm amazed at all of them. And as usual, I felt a millisecond desire to take up running. Then myself chuckled at myself and I settled back onto the couch. 

A Poem For A Friday

I Would Live In Your Love
Sara Teasdale

I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea,
Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave that recedes;
I would empty my soul of the dreams that have gathered in me;
I would beat with your heart as it beats, I would follow your soul as it leads.

It is National Poetry Month so my poetry list-serves have really ramped up for April. This one popped through as part of an examination of metrical poetry; you can hear the rhythm within the lines, especially if you read it aloud. It seems to be more and more rare in contemporary poetry nowadays (Sara Teasdale wrote in the very early twentieth century) but I like it, especially when the rhythm supports the images...waves, heartbeats, love. I never thought of it this way but the excerpt that accompanied the poem mentioned how today, fewer and fewer poems use this "anapestic rhythm," but instead we hear it in places like rap. I knew there was a reason I like rap!

Right Now I Am

Standing at the breakfast bar hearing the birds and sensing Merwin languishing on the carpet nearby.

Tired.

Tired of Facebook. So sick and tired of Facebook.

Wondering if willpower is in my vocabulary and capability. If it were, I'd quit Facebook and be a vegetarian.

Hoping the forsythia branches in the vase will bloom today. I need yellow.

Worrying that I'll never stop worrying. 

Contemplating fitted sheets. I am sure I will NEVER be able to fold them right yet it seems everyone else can. 

Counting the number of tennis balls the dog leaves scattered around. His excitement when we arrive requires him to get a new one and scramble through the house in a squealing mass of happy fur. I smile at that.

Great Expectations...And Letting Them Go

Expectation is a funny thing. We form expectations of how this should be or how that should feel, thoughts about moments and experiences that have yet to come, experiences that are well into the future. It's impossible not to create some sort of vision of how things will turn out. Sometimes expectations are good. They can help us make decisions by imagining the outcome of one scenario or another. But they are bad when we are so tied to imaginary scenarios that when we finally arrive at "the moment" and it doesn't meet the irrational image we concocted, we are disappointed, stuck, resentful. 

This weekend we headed to the lake and friends joined us Saturday afternoon. Typically when we get together, it's fun with their two-year old (seriously one of the smartest, most entertaining tiny humans I've ever met) followed by food, games, and excellent, thoughtful, yet hysterical conversations. We jut click with them. It works. That was my vision. 

What we experienced was quite different. Hazel had a stomach bug earlier in the week and nary a sign had unearthed itself in either of her parents...until they arrived at the lakehouse. Poor Dan was a vomiting mess, Brook followed him around with a bucket of bleach while single-parenting a slightly cabin-fevered toddler, and said toddler seemed confused throughout the whole thing. No games, not many conversations and overall, not a relaxing endeavor.

At the time if felt like a disaster. Some sort of unfair failure of a weekend. But here's the thing. Instead of playing Euchre with her parents, I got to play games with Hazel, who in her young little brain somehow found something in me that I wasn't sure I had...some sort of Toddler Understanding System. We clicked. It was fun. It was exhausting. And yeah, it didn't meet my expectation of wine and peaceful moments gazing across the lake, but it was still an experience that is part of me, and maybe part of her.

And more than anything, it was a lesson in learning to release those expectations when they aren't fully realized. Let them go so that when you are actually in that moment you so vividly pictured, you can adjust to the actual reality and enjoy it no matter what it looks like.

Happy Happy

Taking a moment to celebrate our nearest and dearest today. These two are just the bestest of friends we could ask for and I love recalling their special day two years ago. They were glowing and the celebration was perfect (not to mention that cake!) Happy Cotton Anniversary you two! 

Scenes From The Weekend

At the last minute, we decided to take off Friday and head north. Simon's little brother (as in Big Brothers Big Sisters) joined us and as usual, no matter when we go or who we bring, it was beautiful and refreshing. The roads and paths were pretty muddy with heaps of snow still surrounding the cabin and bunkhouse. It was balmy on Friday - nearly 60! Despite the warmth, the lake was still frozen, though the surface was a bit slushy with a thin layer of water over the top. Felt secure enough to venture out on but that wasn't true at neighboring Great East Lake, where Merwin tested a sheet of ice near the shore, made it out aways, then broke through with a splash. Instinct kicked in and he managed to scramble out, but he did seem a bit shocked. Luckily it was shallow water and he was completely unscathed. Provided a good laugh for the rest of us.

It is hard to understand how this one place, this tiny little pin dot of a space, is just so perfect to us. In all of its simplicity, it is really everything and I am so thankful for it.