Saturday, July 31, 2010

Mount of Olive

One spring weekend, lifetimes ago,  my best friend, Samm  and I escaped our New England prep school and  hitchhiked up to her parents’ vacation home in Jeffersonville, Vermont. Nothing that she and I did together was ordinary and this adventure could so easily have ended in tragedy. We were picked up by a man who claimed to be an auctioneer and immediately charmed us with wild stories in syncopated language, when we suddenly realized that we were being driven the opposite way from where we were headed. When we questioned him he totally ignored us and we  chose to  jump out of the speeding car. We were ‘rescued’ by a caring, fatherly man and driven to within a mile of our destination, being lectured passionately the whole way about the evils of hitch-hiking. We heard him. The moment he was out of sight we stood looking at a pasture full of cows, in grateful wonder,  and at the same split second we each noticed that one of the cows had a hoof poking out from her rear. Amidst chaotic scrambling and language we found the farmer whose cow it was and we three delivered the baby calf in the barn...together.

That evening, lounging by candlelight to the music of Judy Collins and a dinner of spam and peanut brittle,  Samm climbed up on a chair and unhooked a prism from an elegant chandelier that was hanging over the dining room table. She held it up to my face, slowly twilrling it around and she  said  “You know what this is, Plum?” “Yes” I said, “It’s a prism”, and she laughed with a guffaw that only she could rally at such a time,. and she said ‘NO  IT ISN’T!”

Silence as I re-grouped from her spell breaking outburst and she continued to stare at and twiddle the glass object in the candlelight.

“It’s a many things”.

“A many things?”

“Yes. Hold it up to your eyes and look all around you and you will see that everything changes with the slightest turn. Each of its sides is different so the light reflects the images differently and nothing looks the same, ever.”

Oh Samm, you brilliant shining star, I  miss you. You were too much for this world!

Right now we live on a mountain top with Olive and Ben, two canines, though Olive truly rules the roost.  Every evening I drive and sit  for an eternity in traffic and then, with one simple turn off of Figueora, I’m at the base of the mountain. My windows roll down and I take a deep breath.  I can’t help but think that I’m ascending into heaven as I wind and climb and wind and climb up it’s steep and narrow road, into the light and quiet of this land above the din. A whole world up here that many locals don’t even know exists. Coyotes roam, skunks run amuck, winds howl, fennel grows wild. And so it is, my ascension of the Mount of Olive, and as I look out I can hear Samm’s laugh and I see many things.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Ode to Melanie

In a flash! The daughter that I know now as a grown woman in luscious full bloom shuffles back and forth in my mind’s eye to the infant, the child, the emerging teen, the young woman to now. Back and forth, back and forth, is this what birthdays do to us mothers?

The pregnancy, the birth, the dawn of the getting to know, the expressions, the passions and fears, the strengths and talents, the achilles heels, the favorite foods and ways of eating, the first step and posture and gait, the tiny triumphs, the phenomenal triumphs, the losses and positioning around disappointments.

The duck feedings, Mardi Gras beads, beach romps, petosky hunting, shrimp fishing, piano recitals, flower sniffing, Nutcracker seasons, moo shoo, horse back riding, theater classes, cotillion, auditions, Oxford, NCSA, USC, plays, plays, plays, yoga, laughter, tears, truths, beauty.

Strawberries and chicken in biskits, one candle, giant doughnut, two candles, angel food cake, three candles, anticipation, tears, relief, five, six, seven, eight, nine candles, pinata, ten candles, blurrrrrrrrrrrr.

Love beyond love.

Thank you Melanie for choosing me.

Happy Birthday my darling.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

The House of Fame and Honors

And so I see that astrologically my ruling planet is moving (and that means me) into the house of fame and honors for the next two and a half years! Deep breath, is this a ‘like it or not?’

No, no, no. The stars are lined up to support such a thing but we get to choose. Always.

I remember once upon a time when I was living in New York City, chatting with a friend on the way to an art opening at the Guggenheim, and saying “Someday my tapestries and I shall be famous! You will see!” And he said “Why would you want that? Isn’t it enough to have a passion and a skill and simply be able to DO them? You don’t know how blessed you are! The rest means nothing.”

Adam’s words connected me back to that simple truth that I knew but had strayed from. How is it that we meander from such fundamental knowings and then hitch our wagons to stars so far afield that we miss the heaven that we are in.

And so, dear planets, bring it on! And swoop me in if you will! I intend to steer my magical carpet according to my heart’s conscious desire, and of course I welcome all support!


Tuesday, July 6, 2010


I am joy! Whirling and twirling and racing by the sea whilst meditating and manifesting, look out world! I shall surely burst, any second, into a million dandelion fluffs. And if you happen to catch one, make a wish, because it will come true.

This has happened before, many times. I have been accused by family members of being too happy on a multitude of occasions and begged to simmer down. I can behave and postpone but once the cork has popped, God has spoken.

Once upon a time I read a book called “Letters to Theo” which was a collection of letters that Vincent van Gogh wrote to his brother, Theo. He spoke of many things, amongst which the ebb and flow of relationships and life. I have just ridden a month-long road of wings folded around myself. Emotional and creative hibernation, withdrawal from friends and from the lapping of life, and for no reason at all, as suddenly as the opposite hovered and stole me away (the way the monkey princess in Babar was kidnapped by the black cloud) I kundilinied into this moment. This liveness. This joy. This fresh beginning.
“Oh world! I cannot hold thee close enough!”
This is true.
And so the dance is on.