Tag: goodness

Meliorism

On By AmyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Happy very late Sunday night Travellers,

Let’s start with something I said last time I was here about great words and how we tend to neglect a flourishing vocabulary in favor of what is comfortable…this evening I have a good one, meliorism which is the belief that the world can be made better by human effort. Obviously better is subjective, but what a great word…what a great thing to try and do despite everything…

In case you are just stumbling into this space, I’m going to do my formerly regularly scheduled Sunday night dish of goodness that I haven’t done in a long time…

I should warn you that some of the things I’m going put on the table may not in fact seem like goodness. I’ve become very aware of in the past few years that great pain leads us to places we may never have ventured on our own. And I think it’s a gift to arrive in the space that despite it all, you would never undo the choices that led you there. Because it makes you into you.

And maybe the best wisdom or goodness is gleamed in the darkness. I think this is where courage grows for us all. It’s like the night shade of virtues.

I was driving to Lawrence Saturday night, and I took this shot of the sunset from a rather unusual perspective for me. Later I realized I liked it so much because it reminded me of the last moments of the “Six Feet Under” finale. Something about catching the sunset behind me instead of in front of me. I’m not sure how to describe it, so give it some thought…

I know we’re not suppose to look back too much in life because we can’t drive or move forward very well, but a glance can’t be helped now and again, can it?

And this was a doozy of a sunset. The way it unfolded itself was exquisite. I’ve seen a few this year that left a lurking afterglow on the horizon. Almost like the sun wasn’t ready to go to bed…

It’s Fall right now. I realize that many of you don’t have Fall where you are reading this from, I can’t imagine that kind of absence. My dear friend who moved to Texas always says she misses the seasons.

Fall in Kansas is like fireworks done in the medium of vibrant leaves. Minus the exploding noises, but you get the idea. All the colors of red, orange and yellow in all pigmentations and combinations. I find myself often lingering and staring as I drive down the streets in wonder…

I could shoot hundreds of photos of said leaves on trees, but here are my two favorites.

The first is a tree in a neighborhood that I pass through each day on my drive into work. It’s the color of sunshine and I kid you not, it glows when the sunlight hits it. It’s ethereal and unreal. AND I desperately want to go lay under it and take a photo like I’m looking up it’s skirt, but I’m not sure how the homeowner would respond to a random girl laying in their yard taking photos so this is what I have…maybe close your eyes and imagine what it would look like laying under it’s boughs…the staggering grandeur.

One more thing, the day I took this photo, the sky was the most beautiful shade of blue. Actually, azure. And the combination of the colors was just the kind of thing that makes you want to memorize the details and pack it away in your suitcase of memories on Earth.

This one is my blueberry bush. Not sure if it’s Larry or Curly at this point, but the two new ones went fiery red while my original one is experiencing his first outdoor Fall. This will be the first year his leaves will change colors outdoors. You can see he is currently resisting as his foliage is mostly green, BUT I am seeing colors. I’m oddly happy for him getting to experience this with fellow blueberry bushes.

One final note on the Fall leaf situation, I’ve found myself drawn this year to the leaves lying about the ground or when I happen to pass by and catch them floating mid-air on their descent to their earthly graves. It’s beautiful in a way I have failed to notice until now. It’s like a slow strip tease for trees and life. Just strewn about, all around us. They have become the teenagers whose clothes are ALL OVER THEIR ROOM and not getting picked up anytime soon.

I bought a new cactus. Shocking I know…the guy who grows these is the most inspired gardener I’ve ever met… I will bet he names all of them and talks to them. He can grow varieties I’ve never seen in my entire life… some I keep alive, some not so much…SHHHHH!! Don’t tell him…I loved this one because of the pink blushed edges on it’s leaves and these little guys growing on it…again, wonder is alive and well in this world AND you can care for it…GROW WONDER. How about that???

Okay, so here’s the serious plot twist..one week ago, Dave’s dad passed away from Covid. Mike was a good man and a parent to me in my life when I needed one. He was honest and hard working and had the best genuine positive attitude. I can still here him saying my name in my head as I type these words.

The last time I saw Dave, Mike was with him. Dave once told me that I reminded him of his Dad and Mike told me that’s probably not a good thing Amy. I never talked to him after Dave committed suicide, but I always remembered when he once said to me that Dave had never been happy in his whole life in the middle of an odd conversation about plates. And I felt for him in that moment. My whole heart hurt for him. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have a child struggling with an illness that is foreign to you. Mental health is so hard to understand because we cannot feel each other’s insides and it’s the hardest bridge of understanding to cross, isn’t it?

I genuinely consider it my privilege to have known him. And again, I don’t know where we go next or how long we linger or what part of us remains here with those we love, but I hope we meet again somehow.

On the one year anniversary of Dave’s suicide last month, I had reached out to his mom and I realized in that moment, she and I were always still traveling together through this life. Silently for most of this past year, but together.

When she called me about Mike, I thought of the gift she gave me when Dave left as we were divorcing. She sent it back with Mike for me. It says “Be Brave”. I know she will find this post and I don’t know what the words are right now to help you know that you’ll make it through this, so I wanna tell you about something that happened tonight instead…

Years ago there was a place in Lawrence called Ingredient. Over the course of a decade or so, we frequented it in varying combinations of myself and Dave, Martha and me, I think all four of us, and Martha and Mike. It closed a few years ago, but there was this soup. The greatest tomato bisque in the history of humanity. Yes, the greatest, nope, not gonna back down from that claim…

Tonight I believe I experienced what can only be described as a celestial culinary event.

A supernatural alignment of soup.

That bowl above is from the local Co-op in that same city, but tonight it was EXACTLY like the soup from Ingredient. Taste, texture, viscosity and this very specific thing that I’ve never had anywhere else. It’s a little tiny crunch.. Until tonight…tonight there was magic here in my house.

I actually giggled when I took the third or fourth bite…because I recognized it, because I have missed it, because it’s not from this place, because flavor is as unrepeatable as moments.

BUT for just that moment, I felt very connected to all of us. Martha, Mike, Dave and me and the life that we all shared. Those memories before the world broke open. The life that remains here for her and I without them. This month is Dave’s birthday and I have to say Mike’s death knocked something loose in me and reignited my feelings about Dave in a way that I can’t explain. The human nervous system is a mystery, but we’ll talk about that another time…

ALSO worth noting, mac and cheese from said Co-op is AH-MAZING dipped in this soup. Always always try new things. Especially food, what do you have to lose anyways?? That’s actually one of the best things I learned from Dave, taste new things.

Now I’d like to leave with a song that I don’t want to explain right now, but I wanna leave it here anyways…and something the weirdly wise Keanu Reeves said when asked what happens to us when we die. He replied, “I know that the ones who love us will miss us.” I like to believe they miss us too, don’t you?

See you soon.

One last pineapple before we go…

On By AmyIn Uncategorized1 Comment

Buenos Noches Travellers,

I would offer an apology for my extended absence, but it would be more of an apology to myself than to you.

I say instead, let’s call it research, otherwise known as living a human life.

I had been doing this little thing here on Sundays in attempt to illustrate that despite all of our worst efforts, little splendid moments are still budding in our lives…

Did you read those?

Here’s the first one, give it a read, so we can all be on the same page…

But instead of one week, this one is a summer’s worth of good small things…

Tonight I will give you the words and tomorrow night will be the images.

It’s like I’m going to first present you with the tell and tomorrow night give you the show…get it? Tell show, show and tell…

What did you think I would be less clever when I returned?

Come now, I would never disappoint you like that…

In no particular order of importance or any sense of chronology, here we go…

Strawberries. Strawberries. Strawberries…they are my favorite thing to grow. And photograph. And just marvel at…Hands down. The way their viney little selves twist and sprout and re-root. Their lovely little pink and white flowered faces peering up through their giant green leaves towards the sun.

And I’ve fallen in love with the life cycle of the berries themselves as well. I love to watch as they turn from a sort of albino white, to a barely blushed flesh to full luscious red. Their red is one of the lovliest shades. It’s so alive.

There should be a crayon called “Strawberry Red”. Someone call the Crayola committee.

I remembered the garden we had when I was a kid in New Mexico. My parents were still married and the ground was mostly cracked and dried, but there was a smallish garden patch situation. And there were strawberries I’d eat straight off the vine with my tiny fingers. One summer or fall, I remember that whole area of the yard was covered in Monarch butterflies and I wondered if they came for the berries. Because we think that stuff when we are young…

Side note, I have savored very few of my strawberries due to the squirrel. Don’t even ask me about that mother-effing squirrel…There will be a reckoning next Spring I assure you all.

Morning walks continue in all their glory. Mo is 13 now and I can see the age in her hips. We walk all the walks because I want to squeeze as much joy out of this life for her to take with her wherever she goes next. I want her to know how it has been my privilege to know her and call her mine.

I’ve seen cat tails for the first time this year, and these two little paths that call to us in an adjacent wooded area. I’ve also become very aware of these strange drifty swaths of cool air in the morning. The way it feels on my skin. I wonder if the ladies can feel it under their fur coats. It’s a distinct and unusual sensation.

My favorite thing about our walks this year has not been the sunrises, but the shadow of the three of us walking together around this one particular corner of our neighborhood. I feel like I’m going to remember that turn and our shadows together when I’m old and gray.

The sunflowers are out hitchhiking on the sides of the highway again. Every Fall they show up in droves and I just love seeing them. It’s very Kansas.

AND there is this field, half on a hill, half in a valley kind of arrangement…right now there are hay bails spaced out across the plowed landscape and I can’t explain what it is, but I look for this area each time I take the drive. I find it comforting and reassuring in the weirdest good way. And I don’t have a photo of it, because I just like to see it. I like to know it’s there still.

I’ve eaten TOO MANY good fresh cantaloupes, pineapples, peaches and mangoes to count. Best combo ever goes to Bing cherries, champagne mangoes, and pink lady apples all diced up together in a bowl that I stirred with my hand.

I love to eat with my fingers instead of forks, don’t you? Food tastes better when you use your hands. Touch your food people. Obviously, wash your hands first, but touch that food. Especially the ones that can stain your skin. There’s something really marvelous about that…it’s sexy.

I saw a hummingbird in my own garden. First time ever. It was rather serendipitous. I had just taught my yoga class and we were discussing how I had never had one in my yard. Never. EVER. Within an hour later, I was on the phone and glanced out my kitchen window and there he/she was. Just like that suckling the flowers on my cactus. Just suddenly there. It makes me smile still… it’s so good just remembering.

One of my clients had this fantastic t-shirt on one day at work. It was a play on the old Jaws poster, but with Cookie Monster. It’s 100% fabulous. A week or so later, he knocked on my office door and presented the shirt to me in a bag. He had bought it at a Thirft Store and he said it was meant to be mine, he had just gotten it into my hands.

See that, Kindness is still here with us.

AND he’s a tall guy, so this is a t-shirt that could be a dress on me. Or a night shirt. And THAT jarred loose a memory that had been long lost about how as a kid I liked to wear my uncle Mike’s t-shirts to sleep in. Proportionally speaking, this shirt fits me about the same. And when I put it on, it made me feel something like however we feel when we are kids, and don’t know what the world really is. Like a kind of safety. A kind of safety I hope children can still find in this world. Even now.

I have been to two concerts this summer…the Foo Fighters, with 18,000 people. YES, 18,000. Accompanied by a guy who does not know how good of a guy he is…like when you know someone and wished that they could see themselves. He’s one of those and he’s hot. He doesn’t see that either, which is part of his charm. We are seeing his favorite band in October the day after the one year anniversary of Dave’s suicide, so kind of a big deal.

The best past was not just the show, the Foos are worth at least twice the price of admission. It was just being there, outdoors, with all the people…it was the closest to 2019 that I have been…it was like visiting the memory of our shared humanity. Where there were no variants of any kind, human or virus.

It was SO good. And SO bittersweet. Like we had taken a ride in that infamous DeLorean.

Concert #2 was Dermot Kennedy. I bought the ticket the morning of the show and I went on my own. First concert by myself. Hold your applause. Here’s the thing that makes this extraordinary, this day was the last time I felt Dave’s presence and something changed after this day.

I had this feeling that day, like the most reassuring feeling deep down inside myself, that I will be okay if I have to go it alone for the rest of my life. I have been loved, had all the sex, in all the places (Sorry Dad) and I have loved more than one boy. And it’s been more than most get.

When I went to the show, the opening was Bishop Briggs, whom is the last person Dave and I saw together in concert. I didn’t know she was the opening act AND she changed her emblem to an angel. And when Dermot Kennedy sang this song completely accapella, I could feel Dave. Just there next to me.

I know how this sounds, like someone call a doctor, she’s obviously misplaced her senses, but truly, I had the strangest car ride home. I encountered a shooting, a car accident, an accident involving a flipped semi and then a downpour of a storm with a sky full of lightening.

And when I woke up, I felt different and I’ve felt different ever since in a way I can’t explain. I’ve almost made an entire trip around the sun without him. Whatever is left of my life, it will be without him. And I will miss him, as I have missed him. And when I think of him, my eyes well up and I cry, as I am now. He’s on my short list of the souls I hope to meet again someday. Here on Earth or somewhere else.

My dear friend celebrated his 86th birthday for which I made another Hummingbird Cake. Rest assured no actual hummingbirds were harmed in the making of said cake…no idea why it’s called that…if you figure it out let me know. The real point is that friendships taste particularly sweet in this world, don’t they? They have become a fortune even greater than they were in the prior incarnation of human life on Earth, AKA pre-Covid.

I tried out dating apps…I know, Boo, Hiss, Gasp…I did a week-ish on Bumble, Hinge, and Tinder each. Safe to say, it’s not for me. Let’s just call it a smattering of boys or men…dates, conversations, had some drinks, some kissing, hugged a couple, one put his hands on my legs while we talked at a bar and on my low back as we wandered downtown Lawrence in such a way that made me feel like life was reminding me of what it’s like to be with someone. In the best way.

When I was in the process of getting divorced, I heard this song and I felt so very strongly inside that there was someone out in this world for me. There was a happier ending for me, another chance for me, another soul I hadn’t crossed yet and just something good was going to happen. I had a dream not long ago that I was getting married in Centennial Park and while I didn’t see the guy, my brother was walking me down the aisle and my friends were waiting for me and I was so happy. Everyone was so happy. And it didn’t feel too far away, somewhere in the nearby few years, so who knows…

That’s really what I want to drive home to everyone here. The world appears to be an enormous dumpster fire of legendary proportions, but I still believe we can make something good happen. In our own lives, in the lives of the people we care for, in the lives of people we don’t know…but it starts inside us.

Look for the goodness. The remnants of our human-ness. Kindness. Delish-ness. Softness. Ember in the darkness. A kiss on the nape of your neck sexiness. The stains on your fingers from fresh cherries beautifulness.

You have my word, it can still be found.