13 Bridges

Dear blog,

I want to write you, and say hi.

It’s been snowing a lot outside, the wind was blowing like crazy, sifting off the top of our roof, in little gusts of icy wind.

We haven’t put our ice rink out yet, but I’m wondering if I should have. We had one sunny day this week, and that would have been the day to put it up. The wind, and tarps not a great combo.

I feel like it’s extra quiet outside, the snow makes things muted, and beautiful. I’m exited to see what the world looks like outside in the morning, when the sun shines through the trees.

It’s always an adventure to see what art the snow has made in the morning. Funny things with hats, and icicles in beautiful places. Our chicken coup usually looks very interesting, because the snow seeps in through all the holes in the wire mesh, and it has an igloo effect, as well as these funny octagon shaped snow bits that melt into the coup. I also like to peak into my greenhouse and see the muted light coming in, because the snow changes everything.

Yesterday it was so windy, when my sister was harvesting a big piece of cardboard from the ace dumpster and wind caught it like a sail, and I had to run, and grapple it to the ground.

Stained my blue pants, a nice green, from hitting the grass so hard, like I’d been splatted in manure.

We also ran into my niece and her boyfriend, at the store we were dropping fed-ex packages at. It was neat, because Bess and I had thought about visiting her, as we haven’t been to her house, and she sent them a text, but it didn’t go through, because she ran out of data for her phone.

                Either way, we ran into them. I even had some fairy earrings on that she had given me for Christmas, in case we did go visit her. And I thought it was neat we just ran into each other.

So, today, I’m starting koto lessons again.

And I’m a bit afraid. Because I quit lessons all of a sudden and, it’s a long story. If I write about it in depth, I’m afraid I’ll get too much into my mind. I may have to write about it, at a later time.

Mostly, I’m starting again, though I think my teacher is confused and probably very hurt after all that has happened.

 I think I have a pattern, I didn’t really know about. A pattern of getting very involved in everything I focus on. And then because of apparent over-focus, and triggers, and fears, I sometimes push things away, so abruptly that I hurt myself, and those I love.

This caused such a mind storm. I’m afraid. And I’m trying my best to make amends. To not quit.

But to play. And lay my ego down.

So, I’m starting again. Afraid mostly of over-thinking, and not being present. Of getting things right.

In my life, I haven’t had many official teachers. Ones that I needed to impress, or ones that were so kind.

So it’s a bit hard.

But forms come, and people ask us to do things.

And so we play.

And we give things a try.

Koto came into my life, suddenly, I will say thank you to whatever comes, and let it teach me.

 As I start again.

 I write this little prayer, and dedicate the music I play, to the service of the divine. To promote peace, peace of mind, of heart, and soul. To play it, like David and his harp, to calm storms, and stop my own mind from its endless weaving. I give myself permission to allow the sounds, as they come, imperfect or perfect. The energy that flows through me is not mine, so I give it back to God.

It is my heart's desire to play, and be spontaneous, and real, and unafraid, and in truth, as I play the harp.

As I play at life.

To thank God for the variety that has shown up in my life. Bess and I have had such a life, because we have been here so long, and let life give us its lessons, and teachers as they show up.

People, children, old and young. Beautiful souls, teaching us about ourselves.

Animals, so many. Different and unique. So fun, and they have taught us too.

Weather, storms, and sunlight, an rain, and wind, and sunsets of every color. How beautiful, and abundant, and delicious it has been. Also my teachers.

Troubles, and woes in all shapes, and sizes and flavors. They have been my teachers, aplenty.

Music, choirs, plays, instruments, opportunities to play, and to sing, and to make music, from drum circles, to care centers, to crowds, to kids in my living room. These have also been my teachers.

My mother, in all her shapes, and sizes, and eras of her life. She taught me to read, and to write, and read to me stories, growing up, and let me draw, and paint, and taught me things no other person could, ups, and downs. I’ve lived with my mother my whole life. And I’m not sure most people could say that. And as she grows older, she is teaching me still. Where she is needing things done, I needed done as a child.

My sister, she as also been with me my entire life. We have been down smooth and rough roads.  She has been a mirror for me, in so many ways. And sometimes when I don’t feel brave, or need advice, I look into that mirror, and she teaches me.

Books, and words, and wisdom. And beautiful thoughts. They were my friends my whole life. As they were my mom’s friends, as she was sick most of the time growing up. So books were her companions.

As they were mine.

Audio books, especially while I was drawing. Books on tape. Dramatized tapes, and scripture tapes, these were my teachers.

My dad, I think I inherited a bit of his unique quirks, he is very inventive, and curious, he likes being more independent in thought, and testing things out, and trying new ways of doings things, this my mom’s way too. Very much anomalies in a world where everyone thinks the same. My parents, my dad, my mom my family. My biggest teachers.

And so, I say whatever comes tomorrow.

I say thank you to my teachers.

My life has been rich, and beautiful, and as my bright sister Bess, is always saying. “We are so blessed. We are so so lucky. Look at this beautiful place we live. Look at the space. Look at all the beautiful things that just come into our lives. Look at the amazing variety that just comes.  Look at our beautiful pasture. Look at our beautiful goats, and animals. We get to do real things, and we get to decide, and wander and take breaks and naps, and pause, and go to the bathroom when we need to, most people have to stay in doors, and can’t even go pee, when they need to, because they are stuck in a classroom, or in a stodgy job. We are so free, compared to the rest of the world. We are rich. We are the luckiest people. We have so much, so much freedom.”

And so, I say, along with Bess. I am blessed. And lucky, and grateful.

Grateful for my life, for the goodness I have been blessed with. For teachers, and for students. 

They are all mirrors of something---myself. Teaching me, mostly, that beyond the form, we are all, one, no matter the mask, or the curriculum.

I am grateful for you who reads my words. And for a moment, someone is with me, and sees and knows, apart of myself no one else does. And partakes of a world, that few have ever understood or seen, or appreciated and loved, or heard. Thank you. Thank you for being present with me, and these words. For teaching me that I am not alone in this world. That no one is. Or has been ever. Not one moment.

No moment has been without grace, love or, forgiveness. This goodness has always been there. Surrounding us all the time.  And I am blessed to know this. And grateful for love, and for beauty.   And for sorrow, and for laughter.

For the sour, and sweet. Salty and bitter.

Flavors.

Seasons.

All turning. Changing.

Growing.

All beautiful things.

All my teachers.

I love every one of you. And bless you for what you have taught me.

And some things that teach you might have bridges you have to cross.

This one has 13.

And I hope to cross them, with grace.