#7.

1.
the dogs are pacing
what could they be expecting?
same as yesterday

2.
Benny is barking
Dusty is staring at me
they want attention

3.
More about itching
can't get no satisfaction
but it's worth a try

4.
fear won in Houston
two percent of registered polled
tyranny of fools

5.
yoga class tonight
embodied wisdom free
let me know my strength

6.
effortful practice
frees heart's wisdom embodied
yoga for the soul

8.
boing boing boing on page
punning gibberish for art
dada with strict rules

9.
tender baby spouts
survived two hundred year floods
can't wait to eat you

10.
learning from boredom
disconnection from the real
kills heart's drive to love

100 Day Haiku Challenge: Day 1

8.

1.

Begin the counting
five seven five times ten times ten
already cheating

2.

endless distractions
inner critic shuts it down
facebook sabotage

3.

ten haikus a day
practice it practice practice
okay not perfect

4.

tell yourself you can
dabble in imperfection
traitorous mind fuck

5.

rearrange the play
gerunding verbs adverbly
toss that word salad

6.

five for counting sounds
five for creating a mood
distraction abounds

7.

strip words to transform
superfluous metaphor
just say what you mean

9.

wake up play with words
spinning dizzy fly from swing
can I stop at nine?

10.

by ten words spent
duals dealt meaningless
last line makes up missing counts

impossibility... part 2

It's a lesson in attachment, aversion, resistance. I don't have the answers. I guess there aren't any answers to those things. Only acknowledgement that they are there, that they are happening. That moment of acknowledgement is a release, an instant of awareness.

And then... what?

Imagine what it might be like to NOT be attached to... your mom, your dead mom, the fact that your mama is gone. Does it mean you don't care? Does it mean you didn't care?

I know this isn't how it works. But that's kind of how it feels.

Why? Because I don't let myself feel it. Feeling it is the answer. The truth is, you don't fall into an abyss of sadness. You feel it, and then it goes away for a while. It comes and goes just like everything else -- unless, that is, you don't acknowledge it. Then it persists.

So, what do I do? Get up everyday and make myself feel sad? Feel angry? Feel something?

Guess I'll try that for a while.

Impossible

Dear Mama,

I lost Benny on Tuesday. I mean, he tunneled out of Enrique's yard and... was gone.

I got a text: "Benny escaped. Looking for him now."

He was out in the world, having his adventure for at least two hours. Two whole hours. My world closed in on the few blocks around Enrique's house. There was only that moment, and the IMPOSSIBILITY of Benny being gone.

Just

Like

That

No Benny?

Impossible. Because -- I don't lose Benny. I take care of Benny. This isn't how the story goes. I don't know how the story goes, but for sure, it does NOT include me losing Benny.

This was almost more impossible than losing you. You were sick for so long. You got worse. You were so very sick. I worried you might be dying. Then I knew you had to be dying. Then you were dying. Then... you were gone. There was a sequence. I could at least sort of process that it was happening. Then it happened and I'm left with the ... impossible. You do not exist. Anymore.

I left the house to go to a meeting and got a text an hour later that Benny was gone.

Is that how it happens? Just like that? No process. Just... gone.

So, what I realize is just how close to the edge I am... all the time. We found Benny. But it could have been something else. It could have been any number of random things. I cling to what I think I know, the security of the routine, what I can count on... because every day I am already living with the impossible -- that you are no longer here.

Impossible. How is that possible?

And yet... here we are. Here I am. This is what is real. And it is no more impossible than any of the things I take for granted every day.

And now I know just how much I fear falling into the abyss of the sadness I do not acknowledge-- and how hard I fight to keep it at bay. I persist. I make it through each day. I go to work. I work. I do things. I do not sit and stare into space. In fact, I do not sit still much at all.

That would be impossible.

New Year's Day

I've held myself together for the past 4 months by NOT thinking about Mom's death. This is really no way to go through life. But, is has enabled me to function, minimally... to get through each day, one day at a time.

Christmas in Costa Rica helped me open up to the pain. Now, as I've said, the flood gates are open. So, maybe I won't be a zombie any more... but I think I'm going to cry a lot. I have been.

And this is better, I think.

Back to normal?

Really, there is no going "back" to normal. There is only to find a way to exist in the "new" normal. I hesitate even to suggest "going forward," because it's all I can do to stay in this moment.

I feel suspended... it's a little like I'm locked in that moment when I realized she was gone, somewhere between the panic (oh my God, this is happening, this is really happening right nere, right now) and the pain (oh my God, this happened. She is gone).

When I lost her, I lost a big chunk of myself. I lost my best friend, my fiercest defender, my most beloved champion, my sweet little mommy. But, those are roles she played as a third person in my life. I also lost something I can't describe yet. It's like a primary filter through which I know the world has been clouded -- obscured, or removed: I'm not sure which. Is it clearer now or cloudy?

The giant black hole, inky and oily, centered beneath my heart, sucks the air out of the room, sucks me into myself. Now, I'm supposed to rise out of the darkness like a phoenix-- recreated in my own image, different, tested by fire and pain, reduced to ash and reborn MORE myself, less myself/my mother, my other.

How can I be"come" more of who I really am when I've lost so much?

Day 5

Dear Mama,

I'm up. I miss you.

It's raining and I know little Benny must be trembling. Dr. T is taking care of him, though.

Today is the day I need to start calling your people. I know you said not to tell anyone... but I need to. They will be so sad, but they will tell me how wonderful you were, how loving, how funny, how smart, how beautiful, how full of life... and it will help me.

But for now, I'm going to sit in my little house, watch the rain, and listen to the tenors, REALLY LOUD. (Lenny doesn't like it!) Usually I stay away from music when I am sad... but I want to be filled with the beauty of perfection and feel you in it. I'm taking Melly to the Waldebuhn in June. We will sing and dance with the Germans, and cry and be happy. I know you'll be with us.

I love you so much.
I tried to do everything I could for you that last day. I know you suffered so much, for so long. I know you must have been scared. I felt so helpless. I hope you felt loved.