I didn't write this morning because the black dog had my throat in his jaws.
It was pretty bad. Lily and Jessie invited me out and I just couldn't even go. I took a good walk but that didn't loosen the jaws at all. I got a second invitation to join them and Billy for lunch at El Patron and I couldn't even do that.
Now you know I'm fucked in the head when I can't participate in an opportunity like that but it was what it was.
Here are pictures. I wish I'd taken them.
About halfway through the day I discovered via FB that a man I'd known well forty years ago died this week. I hadn't seen him in years but the news hit me hard. He used to play in a band with my first husband and Bill Wharton and a few other people and we were like family, all of us. He had a wonderful woman then whom I also loved and he was the first person I told I was pregnant with Hank. I'll never forget that. When I told him he said, "Far out!" and we went to Howard Johnson's and had celebratory fried clams and he was a very good man, a sweet man, and I don't have one bad thing to say about him. Not one bad memory.
So it's been a rough day and I didn't do a whole lot. I finally went out to the garden to pick beans and ended up getting down in the dirt for a short time. Here's my little harvest from my tiny farm today, eggs included.
The last of the carrots, a few red potatoes, two beautiful purple potatoes, a good-sized bowl of green beans and a little dish of peas. I know what we're having for supper. And that will go along with some fish Mr. Moon caught offshore yesterday.
I feel quietly proud. Also- ant bit. And mosquito bit. Because I hadn't planned to hang outside very long I didn't spray myself with mosquito repellent and I didn't put my real shoes on so I deserved what I got. I hope to spend a lot of time out there this weekend and will prepare properly.
I do bitch about the garden and how much work it is but it surely does satisfy my soul on many levels to keep up with it. The planting always feels so good, tucking the tiny seeds or seedlings into the dirt and watering them. The meditative state I get in when I weed. And then of course, the food that comes forth from our efforts.
This is all part of the way I medicate myself and I am aware of that. I am grateful I have found this way to soothe myself. It feels right in my bones.
It's so odd to be able to hold so many conflicting feelings in my heart and my head at once. Such sadness and dullness, such gratefulness too.
May all be well with you.
P.S. Hank and Togi and Anna are on Dog Island right now and Hank said to send his love on the blog and so I am. Here's a beautiful picture Anna took of a storm moving in and then moving on.
A reality and a metaphor both.
And completely beautiful all on its own.
I was concerned about the big dog when I didn't see a post this a.m. I'm sorry you missed out on time with your family, but I guess you needed time in the dirt. My dog has slowly been letting go, and I hope yours runs off with his tail between his legs!ReplyDelete
That bastard dog. Since there are no words to make that fucker go away I will just send you love. xoReplyDelete
Sometimes we just need to be with ourselves and feel what we feel. I'm so sorry about your friend. I imagine it was jarring to learn that someone so central to an earlier aeon in your life is gone. When people we love like that leave a little piece of us goes with them. At least it feels that way to me. I miss the person and I miss the us that once was. I ache for times past lately. I look in the mirror and I don't know myself. I miss the person I was back then. Where did she go? All that to say, breathe my love. Let's hold hands.ReplyDelete
I'm sorry about your friend's passing. I wonder if you had some premonition. Sending you love.ReplyDelete
as someone who is also "fucked in the head," I feel your pain Mary. I am desperately craving solitude today and wish I had a goddamn garden to go stomp around in. Sigh.ReplyDelete
Not even the grandies could pull me out of my head this week.
Sometimes life is too much.
Let's hope our heads are unfucked soon.
Dear Mary. I'm sorry about that fucking black dog that plagues you. I'm sorry about your friend. I'm sorry I'm not there to sit with you in your beautiful sanctuary. Sending you love and light. Always,yReplyDelete
I enjoy reading your words daily. You are a wonderful writer! I imagine that writing also keeps the Black Dog at bay...I hope so anyway. Wendy
I'm sorry about your bad news. I'm guessing 'friend clams' is a typo, but it's so lovely in the context of that story. And you had no pregnant lady fear of shellfish, neither.
As I mentioned before, I'm so sorry to hear about your friend. I love that photo from Dog Island. What a view.ReplyDelete
Dog Island seems like a piece of heaven. Sorry to hear that your long time friend died. Too much of that happening. Thinking of you.ReplyDelete