2012

When I was this age, or maybe a bit younger, I figured out that I would turn 50 in 2012.  It seemed like an unbridgeable distance of time.  Like another continent, some place I would need a passport to enter.

I had no idea that time would travel so quickly.  That there would be college.  Then Miami.  Then graduate school. Then Cleveland, and more Cleveland. I had no idea there would be loneliness, deep sadness. Years spent wrestling with myself, forsaken.  I also had no idea there would be tanned feet.  Carriage houses.  Odd Girl Out. ZOOM.  Fernway. Forest Hill.  I had no inclination there would be Kenyon.  Karen.  Chardon Lakes.  Highland Park. I did not know I would meet Helen.  Or Sarah.  Or Grace.  Or John. I did not know I would shatter an arm, shatter a heart, hold her hand as mother died.  I never envisioned Asheville.  Zinck's Inn.  Ithaca Gorges. Superballs.  November sixteenths.  I did not know I would come to count on a man from Gloucester, a woman from Minnesota, two lawyers, and a four year old. Never planned to take walks talking about breast cancer, never planned on crying in the middle of Main Street in Akron.  Didn't ever conceive of a shaman retreat or a palm read in Lilydale.  I would never have thought it possible that I would stand in a pulpit.  Stand in front of an applauding audience.  Stand in front of a football stadium full of people.  I had no idea I would be given some 600 hundred children to love. No, I never thought about that.  Or a home on a street like this street.

All I knew was that I would be fifty.  I hoped I would be some older version of myself: smart enough, athletic enough, funny at times, kind.  Lucky for me, I've turned out to be all of those and more.  (And truth told, the "more" is more important than those first attributes assigned to me when I was young).

I thought, for sure, I would be old.  Married. Gray haired.  Mrs. Someone.  Interestingly, none of those are true.  I am far younger than I ever thought I would be, still naive and trusting.  Still single.  Still Reinhold, no Mrs.  I never dreamed I would still have so much to do and so much still unanswered.

None of my life was known to me when this picture was taken.  Nothing that matters now had occurred.  That's a retrospective wonder, that tonight, as one year changes to the next, seems to create beautiful entree to the next 30 years of empty space.

Not empty, as in void.  Empty, as in so much to learn and do.

Hello 2012.  I'm glad you are here. 

Seeing

I do not think this day is about a baby born two thousand years ago (though it might be). Nor do I think that this is a day to celebrate a generous and giving God (though I certainly do that). I think this day is about being awakened again.  Opening our gluey eyes again.  Feeling with our numb fingertips for the first time again.  

Tonight I noticed the pure white marble in this marble jar for the first time. I have seen the jar hundreds of times.  I purchased it eight, maybe ten, years ago.  My neighbor and I have splayed all of the marbles out on the carpet and sorted them by color.  But it was today that I saw the white marble, this anomalous gem throned at the top of the pile. 

That is what today is.  Being brought down to this earth.  Pulled out of our clouded minds, with their niggling worries and deadlines.  Today is about touching beauty.  The smallest beauty.  The unsuspected beauty.  Today is about turning our heads from side to side, catching the shiny glimmers.  Reaching out our hands, like a newborn, toward the ones that feed us.  It is about crying ourselves to sleep, wanting to be held.  Then awaking up, squirming and kicking our legs, wanting to be move.  Today is Christmas.  Time to rub our eyes.  Then open them wide.  Then stare, with wonder, as if we have never been here before.

I thought

Your night hands were only for me.
Your night words, too.
The softening of the speech,
the quiet words caressing.
I thought the slowing of your breath
was something that my breathing tempered.
And that the warmth of me
is the thing that made your night warm.
I thought that the dark was our dark, 
that that space was our perfect space. 
But now I know that darkness is everywhere,
as is love, and sometimes
those two wiggle toward each other
on their own, not needing you and me.

There's something about a circle,
the way it never ends, or never starts.
Or is always ending and starting. 
Or changes the places it begins and ends.
Or maybe the thing about the circle is
the fact that no matter
which way you look at it it is.
No top, no bottom, no edges,
no hard sharp corners, no right angles,
no wrong angles, an infinite number of points
rolling around the same center.
What would it mean to look at life the same way?
Yesterday as the first day,
tomorrow as a million years ago,
nothing ever out of place, or fixed in place,
or lacking somewhere to go.
Always knowing there are a billion of me suspended
around the same core someone,
who never shifts but is always shifting.

Making books

May the day be filled with silence,
as to hear the sound of the deeper hush.
May the circle be wide and open,
as to spin itself into strength.
May the hands create,
and know they are part of creation.

What if what is right is not true? 
What if the hard thing is the right thing?
What if the right thing is hard?
What if you hear more than you speak?
And know more than you say? Is that lying?
What if your heart is saddled across a wall?
What if you know decisions need to be made
before the end of the year? That fifty
feels like a fresh start and you need to be naked?
But there are so many layers on you:
what if thankfulness and fear
are holding hands across your belly?
What if the track is hovering right over your head?
So close you could jump the train?
Head where you need to go faster?
Would you stand there, feeling the rumble,
your feet shaking through the soles of your shoes?
Would you turn your head east?
Put your hand to your eyes?
Temper the sun's glare?
Stare down the thing that is coming?
Show it you are ready for it to come?
What if your jealousy is a nudge
that you need to do what she is doing?
Letting your boldness own a home in your head?
What if you could life your love?
Love your life?  What would be possible then?