6 months, 4 weeks

Occasionally the distractions of life seem nearly insurmountable. But here we go on, and here we go on, muddling, truddling, trundling along. Jamie grows in whispers and shoots, he mumbles under his breath his own secret language and he proclaims “Dadadadada” when he’s happy and “Mamamamama” when he’s crying. I put him down on his belly and he assumed the crawling position for the first time in his life. I think it’s because he was around older children last night – at the first UUCP potluck I’ve attended. Wonderful people, wonderful world. I find myself constantly lost in this reverie about what I’ve lost and what I’ve gained through leaving the great wild road…where would have been a better place to raise children, what have I traded for what? Family, community, the seasons, the farm vs. the great wild wilderness, the pull of the tides, the ache of the sunset over endless meadows, the long expanses of land. I don’t know what is better, how to qualify or quantify what is better or worse…what would be better or worse for a child. I know that I hate the congestion, the pollution, the zipping of cars, the humdrum of the highway and the barrage of billboards and trinkets that litter my visual space. I know that no matter how deep I go into a park here I can never feel quite lost, quite spacious and ancient. And I know that despite its silent beauty and deep whispers…the winter is hard. The winter is long. The winter is desolate and keeps you indoors, in front of screens, solitary and sedentary. But the rewards of the summer are grand and glorious. And the spiral of the seasons unfolds in the most holy way. I cannot simply reduce myself to thinking that it all balances out- it all evens out, yet one cannot win over the other. There are two realities and I am living this one. And perhaps the benefit of this one is that is imbues the wilderness with an innate sense of magic, specialness and sacredness that inherently lessens when you live and breathe in it. To take it for granted- that is the worst thing. So I have to keep returning myself to trust in that this is where I am supposed to be. At this time. In this place. With this life. And it holds its own wilderness – the wilderness of commitment, of trust, of relating to something that knows you and is known. Life is always, always.
“Well something’s lost, but something’s gained in living everyday” – Joni Mitchell

Puerto Rico

It’s all code for I love you endlessly.
Little boy you laughed and giggled and snorted and whinnied. You made wonderful sweet sounds and gorgeous little smiles. You have a way of looking straight through someone with your eyes that makes them feel as if they are the only person in the world you could ever love. You make people feel seen. You glow and shape and continue to learn – to splay out your limbs and reach into the world with a wide open heart and soul. I love your outstretched hands, your shimmering fingers, the determined look on your face when try and try and try again to take a small grasp of what this world is around you. The world is a strange and indelible place of gargantuan losses, wins and winds that wind you around every branch you could never climb. I love the endless way the world blends and heaves our love together like ancient bodies getting to know their souls. We are all always here and there and together lost inside the air.
We hiked through El Yunque rainforest to a waterfall at the end…I got in and swam under the waterfall…the water was icy but pure and cold but renewed me from tip to tip and from core to light. We hunkered and bunked through hills and around vistas and corners, sliding our way up and down peaks and valleys through twilight and the burning light of day. We travelled through the pastel sweet kaleidoscope streets of San Juan and into the smells and scents of tropical fruits and plants. We hiked through a local forest near a lagoon and played in the shade of a tree. We wandered up and down the beach, playing in the sand with bamboo sticks as shovels and gazing at the everlasting beat of the waves against the shore. We snuggled and swam and slid you around the pool in a little spaceship made just for one. We lotioned with sunscreen and covered you up, we danced around in circles and ate meals together under the sunset. We hiked through another forest and went down into the depths of a cave, sliding and switching and praying for light. We heard little bat voices screeching and sliding above in the darkness, felt lime stone dripping and drying and plants shooting up in the darkness. We traced the track of a huge ancient root, slicing its way through an underground cave- around rose quartz and fragments of stalactites and mites, we felt under and over and all through the night. We got in a kayak at the thrill of twilight and paddled into a sacred grove on mangroves, pushing our way through the steadying darkness, to muster the courage to clear through the bay, dip our hands in the water and watch magic splay out like a million tiny fingers swaying with ancient murmurs. We paddled back through the mangroves one by one, hitting our boats together and following by the sound of voices and muffled lights, still watching that water being lit up within and hearing the silence within the trees grow. We read and relaxed, we kicked off our skins and shed our old words, we dove through the ocean and balanced on wind. Jeff even pulled a few tables out of the ocean, a frisbee and some coral. We made our way slowly but surely to the other side of the island to see Amy aglow with a thousand joys and felt cars whiz by on the side of the road, heralding the come of the sunset. We danced on the beach outside of a bar and got back in the car and drove home late at night. We took late night walks on the beach and midnight steals through the grove of pools and palm trees that surrounded us. We had joy, we had growth, we had renewal and remembrance. We had the sound of the sea and the song of the sky and we finally remembered where we were going and why.

It was soft cotton whispers of the wind and ageless rings around the cycle of sky that enfolds us. You were glowing and growing and garbling up bottles of sunshine and sand.

We raced willy nilly through the fields and the forests, down up ways and down ways and sideways and through ways. We cast aside old ways and took up memories of newness. We were old and new and young again and again and again.