THE SADNESS OF BROKEN

Stuff gets broken. A few days ago as I was returning from dumping waste into the compost bin, I noticed that my beloved garden cupid had dropped his wing. As I picked up the pieces I realized that it had once been repaired. Do I remember doing that? It was the Stix All adhesive that I always use for such repairs. Don't remember the when or the circumstances of it.  I brought him onto the deck.  Bill attempted a Duco Cement repair. It didn't take.

This is the garden cupid that sits on the top of my blog. I have had him for quite a long time and have taken numerous pictures of him during various seasons. It is sad. Being broken is sad.  And having been fixed and breaking again is VERY sad indeed. I made the decesion to not  attempt another repair. Some things have served their term and need to be retired. This is very apropos of relationships also. An omen.

I cried this morning. Things that are broken and cannot be repaired are sad. Very sad indeed.

THE HELPFULNESS OF PRAYER

 

 

 Yesterday my Bishops led a walk through Washington to witness against violence.  They walked and prayed the Way of the Cross.  The walk and the prayers may be found here.  My priest also offered the same walk through the neighborhood around our church in Norwalk.  I was unable to participate in either one of these walks.  I was, however, able to pray the prayers.  

 

The readings and the meditations and the prayers are quite moving.  I could not read them in one sitting and so chose to spread them out over the day.  Because of the references to Sandy Hook, I was deeply moved and they are quite personal.  I have saved them on my Desktop so I can revisit them in the days to come.  And to remind me of the JUSTICE attitude that I want to make a part of my being.

 

In the meantime we are embarking into the intensity of Holy Week.  Lois, our priest, passed along Praying the Hours which she found here.  I do not know how faithful I can be to these; I have downloaded them also.  I have them on my IPad which is easily accessible.  Sometimes prayers that have been put together by others enhance my own humble offerings to God.

 

All this and I began a dialogue with my SO this morning.  Nothing dramatic.  An opening of a conversation that can continue.  It is a start.  It took a great deal of courage on my part and I stumbled through my opening sentences trying to put some of my thoughts and feelings on the table.  Nothing dramatic.  At least a beginning.  I don't even know if I was really heard.  At least it is a start.  Nothing dramatic.  Low key.  Heartfelt.  A beginning. 

 

LIVING INTO THE ISSUES

In the midst of chaos and confusion, heartbreak and grief, self doubt and anger, I try to find peace.  Well, at least solace.  Yes, solace.  That's it.  Comfort.  Knitting helps.  Maybe it is the constant rhythmic motion that soothes me.  My hands are creating something with these needles and this yarn.  It is good.  Soothes the mind, calms the body, replenishes the soul.

A return to blogging after more than a year is both daunting and challenging. It is time.  It is time to return with these issues in my life as I struggle to understand and live with them.  To make sense of them.  To move on with them to the other side of them.

Gabriel, my lovable, six pound Shih Tzu, of some twelve years, is losing control of his rear legs.  He previously lost his left eye and his right eye does not see a whole lot and is treated with drops twice a day.  He is small.  He is precious. He is couragous.  We will care for him and give him all the comfort and support that we are able.  We will not let him be in pain.  This is a difficult path for me to live.  But live it I must.  Blogging will keep track of how we deal with this issue and what it does to alter our lives.

Secondly, the church that I have attended for the last twenty years is closing.  Grace Episcopal Church, Norwalk cannot continue for lack of parishioner participation in doing God's work and funds to maintain the physical plant.  I have been a very active member of this parish serving in many roles and this is breaking my heart.  I am in a greiving process.  I cry a lot.  Sometimes I am angry.  In less than two weeks those eligible to vote will vote to close or stay open.  Blogging sooner would have tracked what has led us to this point.  That is hindsight.  It just is.  As time goes on perhaps some of that will come forth as I look back from where we are.

Thirdly, relationship issues.  I will keep those quiet for now, perhaps journaling them as time goes on.  Bill and I have been together for thirteen years now and there are yet differences that can be resolved.  We have been in relationship therapy for four years and it continues  to help us to communicate and understand one another.

SOoo, three huge issues to handle all at once is difficult for me in this, my seventy fifth year.  I will live into them.  I will be changed. 

TREACHEROUS BEAUTY

 

There is everywhere ice.  When I took Gabriel out this morning it was soft ice.  Soft and textured.  I was careful.  I did not fall.  The temperature is iffy.  Some places locally are a little colder than others.  The telephoned Police Alert advises us to stay off the streets and DO NOT TOUCH fallen branches as power lines have been pulled down.

It is so very beautiful.  Hard to understand how such beauty can be such a danger.  It seems like some kind of trick.  Sometimes I feel as though life is like that also -- some kind of trick.  I go along and everything seems peaceful and good and then -- wham -- I get blindsided.  Sometimes that is because I am just unaware and not paying attention to the whole of life.  Zeroed in on my own self too much maybe.  Have to pay more attention to what is going on in the lives of the people around me.  Open myself up to the needs and feelings of others.
 

NOT WHITE

 

'That is not white,' said I after the fresh paint had been applied under the sink.
'It's white,' says he.
'Not white,' I reply.
'The paint can says white - something or other,' he says.
'Just look,' I say, 'the PVC pipe is white, the toilet tissue is white, the paint is NOT white."

We have had these 'color' conversations before.  Never quite so graphic as this though.  I am always startled at how differently we see things.  Now this is obviously not white to me.  And it is just as obvious to him that it is white.  These observations spill over into other areas of our life together and it is more than frustrating for me.

Some things are not worth the discussion.  Especially where the memory of how/what transpired is concerned.  I am learning to let those things go.  Not easily, I might add.  This, however, just made me so furious.  This is something that any numnut should be albe to see.  Is it me?  Am I wrong again?  I don't think so.  Not this time.  And I'm holding on to that.
 

AND ALL THE WIVES SAID "AMEN"

 
 

There are volumes that I could rant about this.  I think Blondie has said it all.  It is just that sometimes I feel that love isn't enough.  And then I feel badly about myself.  But not enough badly that it lasts until the next time that love is called upon to rise to the occasion.

 
 

DIFFERENCES

As I struggle with my clutter, Bill seems to be struggling with his own issues. I see things differently than he sees them. I see CLUTTER, he sees unfinished chores that need doing. The thing is, my younger son and his family are coming for Thanksgiving. They have not been "home" since Bill and I have been living together, and have not been "home" since we renovated the house.

I am seeing my clutter as a negative reflection of my personal comptence . I finally realize that Bill is seeing certain aspects of the house/home as a reflection upon his capabilities as my partner and soul mate. I want the clutter of my studio area organized, he wants grass growing and the driveway sealed; I want the cellar dejunked and straight and ready for workshop projects, he wants the shingles/shakes cleaned and stained.

It has been really hard for me to understand these differences. My inability to see them has resulted in many an argument. BUT, I'm learning.

POST TRAVEL

Safe Home as the family informs one another upon their return from a trip. And I have even done the dreaded unpacking so that now I can actually enjoy the memories unencumbered. I took very few pictures. I seem to have to be in the mood for picture taking. Or have some plan in mind for their use. Lacked that motivation this time.

The Monet exhibit, Drawings and Pastels, was a good fill in for other Monet exhibits I have seen. And the display of many of his sketchbook pages gave me new insights for Moleskin usage. In fact later that same day in a Borders outlet I came upon the Moleskine sketchbooks for $2.99. Grabbed some of those suckers.

From Monet at the Clark Institute we went down to the Norman Rockwell Museum. Much different than when the museum was down the street from the Red Lion Inn. This museum is quite put together, paintings nicely spaced, audio clear and interesting. I remember as a young, young girl going to my grandmother's house and sorting through the stacks and stacks of Saturday Evening Posts looking for Colonel Stoopnagle's. And, yes, we appreciated the covers too. Rockwell was a genius at catching the meaningful moment of life.

Gabriel survived the night at the Animal Inn. In fact we were told that he was a quiet and enjoyable guest. I may take him there again on another trip.

And discussion on the way home was enlightening and hopeful. Yes, we can change our attitudes and our behaviors and make better choices for ourselves to make all relationships better. Life is good.

RELATIONSHIP

"There was a fine line between love and hate, you hear that cliche all the time. But no one told you that the moment you crossed it would be the one you least expected. You'd fall in love and crack open a secret door to let your soul mate in. You just never expected such closeness, one day, to feel like an intrusion." -- from Jodi Picoult's The Tenth Circle.

These words jumped right off the page and hit me between the eyes. Smack! I feel like that sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. Why is that? Because I let someone in, gave too much of myself away, allowed the crossover into intrusion? Scary. And even more frightening is the fact that the other person doesn't know. Doesn't understand the change in attitude. The backing off. The silences.

Yes, I feel the intrusion. Sometimes. Maybe he feels the same thing. Hmmm... I wonder how we correct this. Or if we even need to. Maybe couples need some space. Sometimes. Maybe we also need to take a look at what and who we are to one another. What we hope for ourselves. What we hope for the other. Do couples have these conversations?

We are going away for a few days. Away from the routine of every day. Maybe we will look at some of these questions. Maybe there won't be answers but we can acknowledge the questions.