What Is The Place That You Call Home?

"I come to you and you see me whole," he says. "You love me all the way around the equator and not just for some story I wrote. When your door closes and the world's outside, we're eye to eye." ~ Stephen King (pg. 125 Lisey's Story) A little more than a short while ago (Summer, 2010), I was reading the best book EVER! ~ The Lacuna, and at heart it seemed to be about the topic of "Home." It's by a novelist (Barbara Kingsolver), writing about a novelist (the protagonist - Harrison Shepherd), what could be a safer topic? And yet it's fraught with danger. You will have to read the book to understand what I mean.

https://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/08/books/review/Schillinger-t.html

When I read the book it was an apt subject since we were moving, after slightly less than a year at our First Place in Florida, and so soon after the Big Move from Milwaukee. We had very little to move but it still felt scary. I was working a newish job where I still felt unsure of the terrain, which also felt scary. And with the move, my commute changed drastically (which was the impetus for the move, actually). I wrote then: "Today I drive my 18.2 miles home and feel safe with David, but have to go back again the next morning. Soon it will be only 8 miles and I wonder if I will feel differently..." 

Flash-forward to today, when I am leaving that same job in about a week and my commute will change again - plus a lot of other things, obviously. We're not moving this time, but it is interesting to look back upon the time when even a temporary "home" changed for us, and feelings about danger vs. safety were running rampant for me. When we moved from Milwaukee was possibly one of the scariest periods of my life...we went through some rough times even once we landed here safely. But we did find our way in Florida, found jobs, a daily rhythm that worked for us, dare I say some peace and um, security? 

Only to then have the shit hit the fan - literally - that summer of 2010, when our house (no longer a "home" per se), in Milwaukee filled with four feet of sewage water in the basement, and we would have rather it been carried down the bluff and dumped into the Milwaukee River than have had to deal with the ensuing chaos. And it happened not once, but TWICE. We tried to do right by our tenants, did the best we could dealing with it all from afar (read: men in HAZMAT suits called in to clean up), but it was pretty traumatic; a lot was lost in "the flood" (view youtube footage via hyperlink below, if you don't believe me when I call it a "flood"), by our tenants and by us.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FDi7OtULmyA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7fOFXTXdFU

Some of my step-son's childhood drawings and letters being only the most poignant example. And, sadly, we are still paying some of the bills from that disaster (no FEMA aid for us, falling through the loophole of being not a business exactly and not living on the premises). So, a money-sucking burden we can't get rid of - that's what I think of THAT "home" at least sometimes, when I even let myself think of it. We got a new property management company last summer that is way more on top of things, and this has helped some. And I generally just let David deal with it. But it continues to be this worry-thought that comes up sometimes when I can't sleep, a black-and-damaged spot that still exists somewhere inside my head....and I feel so much sadness about this former "home" of mine, now just a "house" and how it was once a beautiful place I loved, where I felt safe and lived for close to 10 years. 

But maybe "home" is somewhat portable, in that it's ultimately where ever you feel safest - a place where you can crawl up into a ball and it's OK - be pajama-feet bare with your soul, have cups of chammomile-tea-intimacy and no one will laugh at your worst fears. Or your best hopes and dreams. Maybe that's why my "home" is with David and where ever he goes. But oh, it's scary to depend on one person so much, a whole other set of fears! (and a whole other blog post) So, if you are up for it, try asking yourself these questions: what's scary? what scares you most? and - what is your home?

Maybe All My Thoughts and Ideas (about Writing) Are Wrong?

"I'm thinking it should start in Paris and then move. It's what happens in Paris that fuels the fire. You can't have the rest without it."

"You always said you couldn't write about Paris because you were too close to it."

"Yes, I know, but for some reason it's coming easily. We were in Pamplona two weeks ago, but I can write that, too. I don't know why. Maybe all of my thoughts and rules about writing are just waiting to be proven wrong."

"It's good to be on fire, isn't it?"

"I hope it goes on like this forever."
The Paris Wife
(page 340)
by Paula McLain

MyFavoriteAnimal

"I like it very much," I said again, because I had two strong arms and ten Alps in sight. He pulled me into the room and we lay down on the featherbed and made love. And I was reminded of what was best about us. How very easy and natural we could be as bodies, with no sharp angles or missteps and no need for talking. How in bed, as nowhere else, he was my favorite animal and I was his.
The Paris Wife
(page 290)
by Paula McLain

Limitless?

"Limitless" - An interesting movie about how we use only 20% of our brains...and what would happen if you took a drug that unleashed that unused 80%. And would you do it? Movie Trailer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vUkAfjfWh5g

But...I think, what about a close relationship, a marriage say, one in which we're only using 20% of that capacity? What would happen to your life, to your work, your other relationships, your family...what would happen to your marriage...if you unleashed the unknown 80% that was possible? Would you do it? And what would happen? "Seekers Who Are Lovers" ~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wf1tEMlViLY&feature=bf_next&list=AVGxdCwVVULXe5YZpIp_8gjO81RU_PDXM1&lf=list_related"

Finally, I can see you crystal-clear" ~ "We could have had it all" ~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYEDA3JcQqw

toxic shock syndrome

this way of waking up
in touch of hands
is ruined
and becomes complicated
turns into merely a syndrome:
a cluster of symptoms to be treated
and caused by lovely
minutes when she let him in
to space already occupied
by string and cotton

it wouldn't have happened
without this silver moment of allowing
ourselves to live
only in the present
jangling the nerves
saying: touch me there
the skin glowing
colors of physical excitement
in process of gradual abandon

the quick and healthy
reaction comes to stop
under white lights
in the stirrups
on the steel table
for only an excrutiatingly slow moment
of toxic extraction
and antibiotics to follow for infection,
only slight, you were lucky
the nurse said

and the nurse said: you should've been
worried three days ago
but she didn't ask how it happened
and she didn't say what the woman
on the table heard anyway:
you should be ashamed
and the woman was
and the woman always is

shame is a metal tool
entering to grab
what was kept too long
in there and soaked to obliteration
ruining the fibers they say
in cuddly commercials
are meant for protection
damaging the surrounding tissue
so soft and receptive
entering the bloodstream with poison

toxic to the way lovers want to
wake up, touch and lose themselves
shocking them out of an oblivion
they had blissfully chosen

shame ruins
the jangling moment
when you say: touch me there
and enter into the emotional complications
be part of
the beautiful forgetfulness
and never return
to the cold steel
table of the world again

Animal-Love

My sister Stephanie has had a recent love affair but it's not with a human. It's with...Toonces...who is a cat (as my sister named her, after the SNL skit which I had to Google, you may have to as well, it was from a really bad SNL period, in my opinion, when not much was funny but apparently this was). But not just ANY cat, mind you. This stray cat in her neighborhood that climbed into her life and captured her mind & heart has become something else. And then, heart-breakingly, this stray cat had kittens....and they are so SOFT (as she tells me) it's unbelievable! Almost criminal. This animal-starved sister of mine and her recent erotic cheating-with-the-cats night when boyfriend was out of town (cuz he can't stand them), compelled me to write this post about what I think about loving animals. Maybe it's only cuz I don't have children of my own, and all that nurturing energy has to go SOMEWHERE but I have this animal love/yearning also. The dogs in our apartment complex we see out being walked, with their "know-all, tell-nothing eyes" as my husband once put it, draw me to them. We stop and pet, adore & coo, but we don't have them (or their poop to pick up) and come away a little bit empty, always. Even when it's a relief to think we don't have that work to do. It's still an ache (the memory of the cats I had, and gave up when we moved to Florida), and the love for animals is powerful. It's a love that has nothing to do with sex or romance or babies or family or whatever else you might want to turn it into. But whatever it is, it is very personal. Recently I talked to David about making a trip to the local Humane Society, just to hang out with some cats (but we didn't go, maybe next weekend). And lately when I've passed by a place in a slightly bad neighborhood, not far from my work, called the "Cat Depot" - I've just been filled with such cat-longing & rescue-fantasies....that's how animal-starved I've been. Maybe we could do some kind of cat-foster thing, like I remember one friend did, no commitment but we could help out and I could get that need fed?! No matter how perfect a husband I have (which he's not, of course) it's like still needing a good therapist, despite how great he is and how he listens when I talk-talk-talk - he still can't fill ALL my needs! :) And so, I offer this story - written by my sister years ago, isn't it adorable?! Tiger My family used to have a very handsome cat named Tiger. Not only was he handsome but friendly as well. People would come by our house and stop to pet Tiger and he wouldn't scratch or run away but let them stroke his black and white striped back. One summer day when Tiger was in his usual place, nestled down in the grass under a chair relaxing, my Dad came home from work to find a surprising note on the door. The note read these exact words: "We have been looking for a mate for our luscious seductive pussy cat. We followed a striped, extra-toed hunk to your porch. If he (if it is a He, we can't tell) would be interested please phone us as soon as possible! Thank you, Mary" It was not the kind of note we got every day, and my Dad was surprised. He showed the note to the rest of us when we came home from the beach. We all thought it was very funny. The only problem was Tiger was neutered and couldn't get other cats pregnant. Even so, we tried calling the woman to let her know but we couldn't get a hold of her so we never contacted her. But from then on Tiger was known as The Hunk.

Bea-u-tiful Quote from Biutiful Movie

We can't understand what is happening to 'something'
if we aren't looking.

But nothing is going to happen to that 'something'
if we don't look deeply.

That's why so many things with incredible potential go unnoticed,
because nobody bothers to look.

Like Schrödinger says,
what you see in the world is what you get
and that determines our destiny.
~ Alejandro González Iñárritu, about the movie "Biutiful"

Safe

I
In anonymous airplane space
we are all muted and blank

Safe, but not safe, as
time slows down

Changes, becomes artificially
ventilated

As we move across the map of this world
and navigate the stupid crowded cabin

Or stare out the window, watching God play
with the fluff of our lives

The weather outside sparking
suddenly, like a child with matches.

But we are also children inside
this regulated and controlled environment

Fearing adult things
like losing jobs, unavoidable

Death and taxes
as the ice cubes melt in my plastic glass

While tears run down my face
in heavy, messy gashes.

II
Memories visit me, like vivid
photographs floating across private
space - my pristinely new sorrow

Or a movie playing me
the time he listened so patiently
to my five-year-old grievances

Just after the horrible tantrum
as he was putting me to bed
so kind and wise and gentle

While the work waited
on his desk and just behind
his furrowed brow, the worries

The problems, of never enough
money, never enough time, to do
the other things he wanted

The dreams deferred or
completely abandoned for the
inescapable demands of children.

III
Rocking in the beautiful and turbulent
night air, high above the clouds

I remember the details of my father's
complicated love, feeling anger, awe and fear.

Never Safe again like I was when
I was there, in his warm attention

Past the hiccupping tears and nodding into a sweet
sleep where I was all that mattered to one person.

Waiting for it to be Otherwise

Waiting for it to be Otherwise
~ by Michele Hirning
Waiting for the call
that tells me he is dead.
Waiting for the fall
for the failure
the loss
I'm sure is coming.
Expecting it all.
For me, unfortunately
it is always
already, somehow
Otherwise.

Otherwise
by Jane Kenyon
I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birchwood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.

Requiem - A Poem

REQUIEM
~ Michele Hirning, Spring 1995
That was the week
of nothing to say
but Yes
to different mouths
varied hands
curve of belly
arching back
length and width of thigh.
How uniquely each one
would sigh
among the blankets and pillows
that were not mine
and needed to be washed on Sunday.
Merely there
we did not own anything.

That was the moment
of nothing to do
but try
the hot tub
and closeness
of the water
silent steam
made me feel we had a
chance for intimacy - something
more uniquely sensual
than these nights of hedonism
and pure physicality
not mine and needing to be
washed from my body.

Merely there
when we emerged
chlorine-covered, pruney
glistening in the light
ashamed and hiding,
bathed but not clean.

That was the damage
after the partying was
over, before the family
was home from Mexico
when, in the rain
with the help of my father
to shovel the dirt
I buried their cat
that had crept out of the
window through the steam
while I was carelessly craving love
and not watching.

Made suddenly stiff and silent
from living claws and fur
a small dead thing -
so eternally hurt she was
past all vulnerability.

That was the week
that in my heart
underneath black earth
and rain-soaked leaves
a small dead thing
was saying yes
losing control
feeling scared
and trying to find a way
to finally say No.

I am covered in dirt.
I do not own anything.

Pie Jesu (Andrew Lloyd Webber)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OhOstwxcwWs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=df5X_BaWaRE