Haiku to Hugh

           i am the cold dawn
          bare branches thrilled and quaking
          awaiting your breath.

                     

Awake

“My father says that almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know. Everybody you see. Everybody you talk to. He says that only a few people are awake and they live in a state of constant total amazement.”

— Patricia on Joe Vs. The Volcano

Post-It-Note Perfectionists

 (originally uploaded  by  Adrian Wallett) 

So I tell myself not to write unless I have something meaningful to say.  And then I realize I have too many meaningful things to say.  It's just that I can't choose.  I can't choose because I tend to have a post-it note sort of brain.  You'd never think that a post-it-note brained person would also be an incredible perfectionist, but that's what it is after all.  People who have everything neat as a pea-pod aren't really perfectionists. They are just tidy folks who want control of their physical world.

Post-it-note perfectionists are mighty dreamers.  Besides the swirling about of limitless thoughts and ideas, they want a sense of ordered meaning to these thoughts that will benefit mankind in earth shattering ways.  Because their intentions are so vast and yet specific, the post-it-notes pile up in hopes of becoming as a a perfectly juicy orange, in presentation and satisfaction. 

I miss writing.  I think I should be doing more important things.  Like talking to Clover about why everyone would rather play with Zani.  I tell her it's because Zani is older.    I tell her it's because there are only a couple of girls here age around our neighborhood, and there are about twelve Zani's age. 

Still, I need to write.  Even if it's rambling post-it-note style. 

More soon I hope. 

:)

Adoption: Mother Love

(Mom and my three girls)

My mother isn't happy with me and while I should be used to it after 38 years, I still have this little girl need to please her. To prove my bottomless gratitude to her for heroically plucking me from a precarious existence and giving me a home. To regularly recount all of my positive childhood memories and my admiration of her. To show her that I am loyal to her above all other people, in particular, anyone who shares my DNA.

My mother and I love people differently and we love different kinds of people. My mother loves her children and very close friends. I love the cashier checking my groceries, the construction guy holding a stop sign, the mentally ill homeless woman who lives on the side of Hugh's work.

I love my mother, my father, and all of my siblings. I also love my biological family. Dennis is not my dad or my father. That title goes to my "real" dad. The one who drove me back 60 miles to the car dealership where I left my baby doll, and bought me a root beer float and hot-dog on the way home.

Nicolette is not my mother. That title goes to my "real" mother. The same mother that toted me to ballet lessons, wrapped my neck in Vicks and alcohol when I was sick, and taught me what it was to follow my path regardless of others opinion.

I love all of them. Differently of course, but all of them and lots of other people too. My wellspring of love isn't diminished with each new recipient, it's deepened and broadened. My love of James, for example, hasn't lessen my love of my other five brothers. It's actually increased my love. Meeting Nicolette skyrocketed my gratitude for my mother, and as much as I try to prove this to my mother in action and words, it doesn't seem to translate.

Sigh.

I will be 40 in eighteen months. I think it's time to take my mother's advice to a deeper level and follow my path regardless of her opinion. That means that I can and will love as BIG and DIVERSELY as I feel like loving. I will probably never please her, but I will always love and cherish her, my mother.

Love, Love, and More Love,

Melanee

Note: While the general public may regard the biological parent as the "real" parent, most adoptees regard their "real" parents as the ones who raised them.

Apple Crisp and Other Musings

I promised a friend I would write tonight, though I've never seen her. She writes too, and when I read what she writes, I feel connected. At home. Inspired. Okay about myself.

In two days, my oldest daughter will turn twelve. We will go to Marrakesh for lunch, Powell's Bookstore for a little excursion, get a facial, do and do a little shopping. Being sentimental, I am surprised at my lightness of spirit about this important advancement. I've decided that it's because I've had so much quality time with her, that I have few regrets. She is such a poised, delightful, compassionate young lady, that I look forward to seeing her grow into the fine woman I know she will be.

This month will mark the one-year-anniversary of James and I going on our road trip so I could meet Dennis, our birthfather, for the first time. My love for James has deepened and settled into a comfortable spot, and even still, I am in awe of the blessing of him in my life.

Meeting Dennis has been incredible. He is soulful, fascinating, and full of pure love. I look forward to many long conversations and much connection in the years ahead.

I want to be more holy. More disciplined in things that make a difference. I want to be filled with pure love, so that it seeps from my pores like liquid gold, increasing the wealth of everyone around me.

A big shout-out to my darling brother-in-law who won a seat on the town council tonight. Talk about discipline and passion and a desire to serve. Congratulations, Dave!

Hugh is waiting for me to watch a show with him.

Warm apple crisp with vanilla cream,

Melanee

Luminosity and Shadow

I'm taking this moment to say, from the bottom of my toes,

that I am

H A P P Y .

I do not worship happiness, and happen to enjoy a wide variety of emotions, but WOW. This particular emotion, when experienced authentically, is just that.

WOW.

I believe that there is opposition in all things, which means in part that without sorrow, joy may not be touched in quite the same way. A bright and shining day in the midst of a Northwest winter, would mean little to the desert dweller. Likewise, a blessed rainy desert evening would produce but a yawn to the typical Northwesterner.

Carl Jung once said, "Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word happy would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. It is far better take things as they come along with patience and equanimity."

And so I open the palms of my heart to the luminosity of this happy day, tipping my hat to the shadows for making it all possible.

Bonne Nuit.

the sweetness of natural wealth

Lately I've been feeling unusually content. I told Hugh as much when he took me to a Mexican restaurant last weekend. Normally, I enjoy my food, but am conscientious about calories and health. This time was different.

"Do you have any idea why I've primarily been wearing dresses and skirts the past few months?" I asked.

"No idea," he said.

"Well, it's because I've gained a few extra pounds, and I'm not willing to buy pants that fit," I confess.

"And?" he looks at me with those knowing eyes, expecting a dissertation on the philosophy of feminine fashion.

"And, I frankly don't care. It just doesn't matter to me. I feel completely fine." I scoop a dollop of guacamole onto my fajita, and add sour cream for good looks.

"You are fine," he jokes. "And your curves are great."

While I'm glad he thinks so, I really wouldn't care if he didn't. Really. I sit there on the lumpy bench in our modest town, and sense this wakeless, succulent, interior self-acceptance in a way I've never felt. In a way I've never tasted either, because never have I savored my dining experience so wholly as in that moment.

After a leisurely dinner, we thank the waitress, Hugh leaves a happy tip, and then puts his arm around my skirted, satisfied waist as we leave. I tell Hugh that Socrates was right. Contentment is a natural wealth. He smiles and nods, already knowing.

:)

Goodnight.

LiveHappy: Snapshot and Savor

It's been awhile, I know. Many challenging and joyful happenings here, with little time to sit and write.

Today I downloaded LiveHappy my first purchased app for my iPhone.

"Optimists set higher goals and persevere at them. Researchers have shown that optimists are more likely to persevere and to engage fully even in the face of difficulty. They also set a greater number of goals- and more difficult goals-for themselves."

The Savoring Album allows you to take a picture of something of beauty you encounter, and write a short text description of what you found to be beautiful about it.

The next page tells me to choose my beautiful something, take a picture with my phone camera, and write a short text. I can then email it, text it, or post it to various social networks.

At first glance, I thought the savoring function was cute, but not particularly profound. But when I think about using it regularly, I have this feeling it will be more meaningful than I think, particularly being very visual.

If you don't have a camera handy, make a box with your fingers from where you sit. Look around your space and focus on something noteworthy and take a snapshot, complete with a short text.

My noteworthy, beautiful something had to be Hugh, poring over our taxes at the dining table so I don't have to. Talk about LiveHappy. I'm looking forward to an increased basketful of happiness as a result of these noted snapshots. May it be so for you too.

:)

Goodnight.

Poetry Reading

This afternoon, the girls and I are attending the filming of a poetry reading for local television. Somehow or another, a few of my poetic verses have been chosen to be read by a professional reader, as part of this little bohemian gig. It should be fun. As long as they don't film me, I'm fine. We shall see...

UPDATE:

They ended up filming me, Zani, and Clover, reading my poetry, and the poetry of others. It was a very low-key event, I met a few new friends, and we all had lots of fun. :) Hooray for poetry!

Faith is more than a feeling...

it is a decision.

Paycheck

Email to Dad

You still owe me.
$10 September 3rd, mowing the lawn
$20 Babysitting while you were in AZ
And then for the tooth that I lost.

Love,
Zani (11 yrs old)

Judicial Humor

This morning Hugh sent me this note from his judicial colleague in a neighboring city. In the middle of the email, he asks a legal question, which I have left out.

(Gary Varvel: Editorial Cartoonist)

Dear Smart Friends:

I am a simple person content to wallow in the joy of the simple dramas that play out in my courtroom:

The man who walked into court without a shirt because he heard I didn't like tank tops;

The woman who showed up with way too much cleavage, who, when asked to cover up, used her handy ski mittens (don't ask); and

The man who showed up in Court with his parrot seated next to him who, when asked to "Take out his bird", flipped me off ( no contempt--"remove" would have been a better choice of words)

(Legal questions, etc.)

Now I have to go back to Court and contemplate the man who showed up for his jury trial (2 hours late) with a seeing eye dog he stole on his way to being late for Court. I would do this job for free.

:)

Back Flip

(originally uploaded by Yagmur Kizilok)

Could it be possible?

I think I'm coming back.

Back from a long hiatus in the forest.

Back flips on the beach.

Positively yes.

Fragrant Friendship

(Originally uploaded by julia.picturetaker)

What smells so good in here? Hugh asks as he walks into our bedroom after work, making his way to me through piles of books by my bedside and kissing me on the forehead.

I return the kiss and shrugged.

"Must be my little bloom," he replies, pulling the covers snug around my neck and closing the blinds to make my rest more comfortable.

No knowledge of why I am in bed at 5:30pm. No judgement. No concern about dinner or disarray. Just concern for me.

And oh how I love him. My husband with his never-ending tenderness, respect, and honoring. My husband with the sweetest of eyes. My husband whose constant attention is on the needs of others always. Always.

May the fragrance of our love bloom and grow forever, mon ami.

je t'aime.

For the past few days

originally uploaded by Rahee Nerurkar

I've been celebrating
my own private victory.

To give you a clue-
It's partially a victory of hope.

And what is life
without hope?

black and white at best.

I keep catching glimpses
of a 64-inch plasma screen-
a rainbow bursting with color.

Hope. Maybe.
Please let it be yes.

For you too.