2016: Cape Cod Birthday Sail and Sunset

14088672_10154084263861387_5718654010065167714_nYesterday, I went sailing. The wind was just puffy enough on our little bay. The sun was shining. It was perfection. The sun said goodnight in a blaze of orange goodness.

Except every year I forget that the sailing part can only follow the contortionist upside down yoga rigging the boat time, various bumps and bruises time and a required period of coordination that I never even have on land.

This past year has been a bit like that. Gorgeous peaceful bliss can only be earned by time proverbially banging my head and balancing upside down.

Today is my birthday. It’s been a triumphant twelve months round the sun but it’s also been horrible – not planning to candy coat it. Being in your forties is humbling. I have gotten so much better at so many practical things (please read that as it was implied, I am definitely more mindful and not an owner of a whole plantation of bananas, maybe I own just a small plot these days) but life never does let up.

Here is the great news – there are beautiful sunsets to start the next year right, I actually can balance upside down on a bobbing boat (in life and on the water) and I made it – heart healed, tougher, smarter and well, you get it.  

 

2015: Cows, California, Cafes and Chalupas

“We must always change, renew, rejuvenate ourselves; otherwise, we harden.” Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Even if I didn’t write about them, I did have some lovely adventures and I love a sunset all over the world. Here’s 2015’s collection.

California for some calm and a birthday, Mexico for some chalupas and time with my cub, Michigan for a coney hot dog and some love, Cape Cod as a constant, rounding out the year with cafes in France, Costa Rican coffee and life in my cow town too.

Happy happy new year to all my loves.

2013: the year in review, the year I did more living than blogging

I used to wish for peace but as this year unfolded I’ve realized peace is an elusive and hard to pin down thing and when you do find it, you usually loose it and begin the cycle almost immediately. So frustrating. So annoyingly brief. So little, after so much. Makes me think of that Greek myth about that poor man and the giant rock that he had to roll up the hill over and over again for all eternity (that mean Zeus).

Instead of peace, I’m calling 2013 the year, I learned that really grace is the thing I’ve always longed for in life. The grace to navigate all these ups / these downs / these sideways moments – to be able to take in the sights, the news, the living part of life and place it all down in a pattern that makes sense and not let my proverbial emotional boat get swamped.

My laundry list of places is nothing to be ashamed of: Florida – the middle and either end three times, Cape Cod too many times and yet never enough, Ireland, Iceland, South Africa, Botswana, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Brooklyn a dozen times and a lot of time here in the Berkshires/Southern Vermont. I saw Victoria Falls, the northern lights, an August meteor shower, my first and probably only African fin foot duck. Babies have been born, children have gotten bigger, houses have had to be sold, jobs have been changed – lost/found, hearts have been broken, love has been found in surprising places, relationships cemented with marriage/moving in together, good health news for some, terrible crappy rough health news for others, new friends made, my mother’s sight has worsened, lost a dear friend unexpectedly, people have moved, others have moved back, a family memorial service for one of our oldest brought cousins together and through it all, a great lesson was learned.

Sure, my mother is loosing her sight but she’s got one of the best minds going for an eighty three year old, sassy & funny as ever.

My nephew continues to flourish.

My friends who have been challenged with health news are fighting for their lives with every cell of their beings and they are showing me what bravery looks like every day.

I am over run with family and friends who I treasure.

My job has gone from a chore to something that is a pleasure to do everyday due to a fabulous new co-worker.

My friend, who left us far too soon, has taught me to tell people good things more often, to share all those complements we store up and make sure the rockstars of our lives, well, they know, they really know, how special and dear they are to us all.

For once in 2014, I don’t have many plans of where I am going and what I am seeing except that I want to see and do things with my beloved people and I’ll take it from there. I want goodness. I want to see all those babies born/grow/graduate. I really really want to hear good health news for all of you heroes.

Most of all, I want to keep working on this grace thing and really nail it down.

PS. Good news… just in case, I haven’t forgotten you can say it in pictures – here’s a little slide show of my best places/faces.

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Cape Cod 2013: a reboot and at last some sunshine

All the lion time in my life has to have a price. This spring’s return from Africa = a cold, job changes and adjustment – nothing horrible or life altering, just unsettling and time consuming.

In the meantime, on the eastern seaboard, the sun is finally out and summer, in all her glory, rolled in yesterday under the almost full super moon of 2013 (it was really quite HUGE last night).

Summer means one thing to my family – it’s time to head to the water, Cape Cod, Massachusetts, specifically. My family has a shared place, a magical house, we’ve managed to hold on to since 1927. My mother, her siblings, my cousins, their children, my sister, my nephew and countless visitors over the years have been able to time travel to a place where time actually has stopped. For me it is a place, the past, the present and the future all cross – I am five, I am 24, I am my age, I’ll be 55, 85… you name it. My father, my grandmother, my uncles and aunt, well, not to go too ghost hunter on you all, they’re all here too or at least a trace of their energy anyway. An old friend said once that when you walk, it’s like the house gives you a hug.

And so, when the world seems a bit upside down and I need to exhale, sleep late, hear the chirp of an Osprey training her young to fish, the roar of a motorboat, the rustle of a sailboat, I head here and really, it doesn’t take much time for it all to seem okay again.

Bridges 2013: Old and New

On a lazy Sunday morning recently, I saw a story on Bartonsville, a small Vermont town that lost a covered bridge in Hurricane Irene a few summers ago . The locals refused to accept this loss and one very determined woman, as she watched the bridge wash out in the flood waters, made sure it was rebuilt.

Ever since, I have been thinking about bridges a lot – a lot, a lot – maybe too much – who knows why – hibernation has grown claustrophobic. Ice pellets are still falling from our skies. Just every so often,  a a blue skied day with a hint of spring in the air keeps me going a few more weeks. I love these hills of mine but I sure do start missing the leaves right about now and my mind looks for an escape, and if not in body, my mind sets off traveling over bridges, old and new.

And it spins on… burnt bridges, crossing bridges, all the bridges I have ever been on, wanted to see, will see someday – all of this shuffles through my mind like a deck of cards.

Burnt bridges always first. I have burnt my fair share of bridges but what if it isn’t a burnt bridge? What if the bridge was environmentally unsound and never should have been built? I know, that’s just annoying. Not a bridge that has burned – one that isn’t essential to be put back? I am talking about the non-essential temporary bridges? Shaky relationships, built on bad pilings. I know that’s a bit much but it helps me when I like this – I’d rather picture the bridge being carefully dismantled and the river/stream/ocean returning to its normal natural state than a blackened pile of embers? It seems kinder, healthier somehow.

Despite my proverbial bridge burning, my travels are littered with great bridge memories.

Watching for the Sagamore Bridge to Cape Cod, after hours of being squashed in the car with my family, a summer’s prize to be the one to shout “I see the bridge, I see the bridge” first.

Living in London (man, was a long time ago) and walking across Battersea Bridge on Bonfire night with a box of wine & a mind for mischief.

Crossing the most unsubstantial, shaky, bamboo bridge somewhere in the wilds of Thailand and having one of those moments when I wondered what the %$#* is in the river below me and wishing I passed on that last serving of mangoes and sticky rice, almost being knocked over by a thousand year old woman with three tons of things balanced on her tiny body.

Guarding my valuables on Charles Bridge, warned that I would be outsmarted by the wily pickpocketers of the fairytale city of Prague (my pocket and I made it, despite the hype)

Pausing on bridge in the Serengeti to watch what I thought would be a bunch of hippos but instead was one glorious bird for what seemed like a life time – the silence of Africa getting into my soul.

Driving over the newly unveiled Zakin Bridge in Boston on the way to a job and in the middle of a time in my life that was perhaps the making of me but for a while was the breaking of me.

The loved up and beautiful bridges of Paris for too many reasons to list because my love for Paris is at the center of my sentimental heart and where my traveling all started.

And rebuilding bridges…. back to our intrepid Vermonters.

Last weekend, I drove through my wintery hills to see an old friend that life’s silliness almost washed away from my life. The kind of friend you make when you are young and foolish, who many years later proves that time traveling is possible, who will make you remember the best and the worst of your life, and make you belly laugh and cry at the same time. Someone I missed terribly when our bridge was out – sometimes, rebuilding is the only way.

Maybe I love bridges because I am a bit like those Bartonsville folks. I washed that bridge out myself but damn if I didn’t spend the last few years wishing I could rebuild it and what I lucky woman I am that it could be. Bridges, so many bridges, to be burnt (maybe not too many more, I am not getting any younger), crossed, seen and rebuilt.