The night before the morning after:

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Is it really true? Another year come and gone? And is it possible I could be asking myself such cliché questions? To all three, the answer is . . . apparently so.

There are certain markers that we all measure our brief lives against, and almost all of them are associated with time. Birth and death and all of those years in between, beginnings and endings. And here is where I mark one of those endings by beginning my blog entry with,

Is it really possible?! But I think what I really mean to say with these words (this time) is Did I really make it?, spoken with a metaphorical brush of the brow. And once again, the answer is . . . apparently so.

I have lost a great many things in 2008. Rather, what I have lost was greatly meaningful to me. Midnight will not mean an end to my tears, I know, but I can hope for a few more smiles in the coming New Year, can’t I?! And, I can celebrate the successes achieved in this one, despite the punch of the un-successes.

My achievements have had nothing to do with money (in case you were wondering...). I have dared to grow as an artist and as a teacher, and my footfalls have been fruitful to both. I have also dared, in spite of my grief, to love. Like a pig in a sty, I have rolled back and forth in that messy, sticky slop, and I have lived to tell about it (though not in this forum).

And so, for daring to (despite the dirt it leaves under my fingernails) I will celebrate in my own quiet way tonight. Unless, of course . . . someone asks me dance!
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My best snow angel, ever!

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Atop a hill near Pine Point Rapids, shin-deep in virgin snow and lungs filled with sunshine . . . this is how I spent my December 25th.

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I hope that your day was also filled with JoY!

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To -- for saving my life

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Returning from the studio the other day, I passed the same school I always do, eyes rotating around my head for anything little dashing about. School zones are such a tricky maze to master, aren't they? And with even the best intentions, I am always aware of the power I don’t possess in predicting the little ones’ next thoughts.

I did my stint as a crossing guard when I was younger. I was all of ten years old and feeling very much in control when I donned my fluorescent orange, city-issued shoulder banner. But that wasn’t what I was recalling on my way home from the studio the other day. It was about the time I almost died that was on my mind.

I liked making my friends laugh back then, usually with a whole lot of silliness involved. There was little I wouldn’t do to put a smile on their faces or have them roaring with laughter. I think it made up for the lack of it at home. But really, that has little to do with almost dying. Or maybe it does.

Bouncing about the grassy boulevard one sunny spring day, my girlfriend and I stood on the curb and waited to cross the busy 3:30 after school street. Certain it was clear, and still gesticulating about god knows what, I took a step off the curb. I felt a hand clasp firmly at the back of my shirt then. I felt the current of the speeding school bus against my nose and lips. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before or since. For a moment, my right foot was underneath the vehicle, my face less than an inch away from its side (we hadn't gone metric yet..).

I had never felt so close to death. And the girl who saved my life – she remains faceless despite my best efforts – knew it too. We gazed into each others' eyes for what felt like a long time, and without a word, we went our separate ways. It felt like the right thing to do.

On Tuesday, driving by the same school I do every time I go to and from the studio where I read books for children who can't, I was suddenly struck by the knowledge that I’d been given a second chance. That was nearly forty years ago. And here I am now wondering what to do with this second chance at life.
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december moon haiku

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full moon lost beyond
snow globed milky winter sky;
globe god found blinded.

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And by the way,

everything in life is writable about

if you have the outgoing guts to do it,

and the imagination to improvise.

The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.

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Sylvia Plath

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kandinski

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grief, (iii)

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I give others what
would be yours
and yours and

frighten perfect strangers
with my love
for you

In every face I see you
and hear your laughter
in the crowds

I pretend you are still
here with me so that
time might disappear

Then I recall the circle games
I play over and over until
you are gone again
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¿did h'e-

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His tongue twists this way and that
And he wants to say he loves you
.................................................... did he ask you how?
But you stop him before he paints
Your soul a shade of faded fantasy
.................................................... did he hold your hand?
So you stand before him naked
And your skin curls against the cold from
.................................................... did he ask you why?
The shadow that he casts upon your hope
But you want to stay and hold his hand
.................................................... did he understand?
And ask him why and understand and
Embrace his sheltered body with your heart
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Et il revint vers le renard:
- Adieu, dit-il . . .
- Adieu, dit le renard. Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: on ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.
- L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux, répéta le petit prince, afin de se souvenir.
- C'est le temps que tu as perdu pour ta rose qui fait ta rose si importante.
- C'est le temps que j'ai perdu pour ma rose . . . fit le petit prince, afin de se souvenir.
- Les hommes ont oublié cette vérité, dit le renard. Mais tu ne dois pas l'oublier. Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé. Tu es responsable de ta rose . . .
- Je suis responsable de ma rose . . . répéta le petit prince, afin de se souvenir.

A. de Saint-Exupéry

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