*
It’s late. I’m up past my bedtime.
The jury has the case and now we’re just waiting for them to finish deliberating.
I hope they don’t fuck up.
*
My woman is setting off from Florida tomorrow, going to work her way back home over the next couple of weeks, driving her new campervan, White Dragon Horse. The vehicle that carried the monkey king and his message of the buddha’s teachings from East to West.
Maybe she’ll enlighten me when she arrives.
I hope so.
*
After I got home from work I picked up my grandbaby from my mom and took him home and feeded him and played with him for a couple of hours and gave him a bath and changed him and gave him a bottle and laid down with him until he fell asleep and if there is anything more holy and real than that I don’t know what it could be.
*
The last two hours I been reading through the last five years of this blog. Seeing patterns emerge. Looking at the deep ruts I’ve dug in the world. I stick to the same paths. It reminds me of this kid I knew in sixth grade, he had this plot of land his house set on, about an acre, and he had this old working dog that ran the perimeter of their land all day long. It wasn’t any fence to it, except where it fronted the road, but he’d worn this smooth dirt path exactly along the property line all the way around the house.
Probably ran it a hundred times a day.
I’m the same way. I’m not going anywhere, not really. I got my anxiety and my fearfulness and my small-heartedness. My rages and my longings. Deep interstellar space and deep time and evolution and emergent properties and matter and meaning and of course dead bodies and gunfights and blood and tears and shit and art and love and drinking beers around a fire, and that’s pretty much it. Throw in some Cormac McCarthy to read and some Terrance Malick to watch and some good food to eat and you’ve got me pretty much summed up.
But the other thing I saw in going through all that is how awesome you all are. How much sustenance you have given me over the years. How all this time I’ve been rowing in the hold and you’ve been right there with me. Rowing and listening to me bitch. Putting salve on my blistered hands. Acting like you don’t mind when I’m being an asshat.
It’s touching.
*
Namaste.
***
The Dishwasher's Tears 
I remember those days when Owen was younger and it was just me and him and our rituals of the nap and it WAS holy. These are the things we hold on to, I guess. Those moments when the baby’s eyes close and his breath gets so slow and easy you need to put your hand on his chest to make sure it’s still there.
He was born three years ago today. I hope we (all of us) have loved our boys into goodness. I pray that in my non-praying way.
Mary
I don’t know if you can love somebody into goodness or not. It didn’t work with my kid, at least not in any kind of normal way. Still, loving her as she grew up with us was the great and deep joy of those years and I only miss them, never regret them.
You are a wise woman, I’m glad we’re friends.
there is a grace, a loving-kindness, an appreciation and fierce realism that pervades your posts… your sincerity and openness are appreciated and cause those of us who read to take a look at ourselves and see what kind of big picture is being painted with our details…
while you may feel like you run the track all day – there are certainly mountains and valleys that do not show in an aerial shot of the path, but they are there… and you make your way up over them and up out of them…
all the while loving fiercely –
i love that about what you share – your deep love of your family, your devotion…
and even though our kids (and grandkids) might not remember those moments we wondered at them and felt humbled in their presence, enveloping them in a love that brings one’s heart near to bursting – i think it becomes a part of that deep down feeling of being loved and feeling safe… the world may challenge it, but our anchors bring us back…
fingers crossed that justice prevails –
Just wanted to say again how much I love reading your blog. Thank you for the companionship. It’s good to be in the boat with you.
It’s damn good to have you here!
Mary Jane Dodd-
Thank you for you kind comment. I’m glad to have you here.
Left a good comment that the internet ate.
It was a warm thank you and it still goes.
I hate when that happens! shit.
thank you, though. It always makes me happy when you come by and say hi.
I’ve been reading you quietly for about 5 years, never commenting but always deeply moved by your beautiful images and your words. Your honesty and how openly you write about struggles and self and family also touch me, give me something to think about, even though I’m wordless here. Thank you for being fierce and loving, for opening your arms to your readers in this space.
Your comment amazed me. Reading here FIVE YEARS and you kept quiet all that time! You should get a prize.
Seriously, though, I’m touched and glad that you spoke up, and said such a wonderful thing.
thank you for coming by. I hope this is just the start of a good conversation.
I can remember late nights, unable to sleep, coming to your page and reading you, and feeling somehow as if a kindred soul was on the other side of the continent, and I was less alone. and all the the days and months and years now, since, it has been a comfort, just to know you are here, wrestling with the things that confound me, sharing your insights, your heartache, your gut-wrenching soaring art, your love, all that is holy, your shining-ness. I am glad, so glad to be here.
I feel the same way about going to your blog and reading about your life and your beautiful, astounding, wonderful family.
It gives me a renewed faith in our little world.
How big your heart is!
An Asshat? You are not an asshat. Sometimes we all get confused, angry, scared, weirded out, exhausted… bored with ourselves, etc.. but I don’t think thats being an asshat.
I remember talking to a friend once because I was freaking out about the fact that I didnt really DO anything. Then she said back “What do any of us really DO?” I mean, yea, there are people who do stuff that help the greater good and etc… but Im sure their lives seem boring to them. And the fact is that you help the greater good. With you job, your art and your words. But again, i get how tired one can get of one’s own prison… (of sorts) I do that often, but then I try to redirect my thoughts and focus and stay in the present. Children are good for that.
Hoping the woman has a safe and speedy trip home. You do seems to unravel a bit when she’s away, and rightfully so.
Hang in,
pf
PF-
thanks for the little pep talk.
yeah, when the woman leaves, I get all unravelled indeed.
hope she puts me back in order.
Your “Fearless Leader” may not remember, but you’ll never forget these quiet times.
I Love your words, your insightful questioning and your fierceness. I find your art and what you say stuck in my head as I move about my day….sometimes that’s disturbing, but often I’m awestruck by your perception and vision.
Thank you.
Allene-
Ain’t you sweet!
Hope we’ll see you soon.
It is touching. Like marriage. Not as deep obviously. But there and important and good.
Yeah, it seems real to me, these connections we make, each to each out there in the ether.
I claim them as real, and let someone else prove it wrong.
all best to you, as always.