The wind is a solid force blasting up from the south, rattling the beaded hem on the shades in our living room, knocking framed pictures off end tables, keeping up a steady clangor on the wind chimes, never letting them even catch their breath. All day the wind blows hard as it did yesterday and the day before and the day before that, too. Sometimes at twilight the wind slows to pause, as when you take in a deep breath, and then in the pallid moonlit darkness, releases a breeze that rouses the chimes and the sleepers from their slumber.
What most of us think of as summer is nearly over and I am not ready for the change, for the approach of autumn. This is due in part to the chores that need to be done before winter. Now I have to try to crowd them into shorter days and soon real autumn will appear and then I will have the autumn things to do as well. It is like this nearly every year and at some point I look out at the yellowing grass bowing before the wind and wonder what I will give up, what chore will remain undone and perhaps reflect on the relative value and importance we put on things. Somehow the choices we make are all so arbitrary. Combine this with the fleeting nature of our lives and what do you have in the end? Nothing; the impermance of life is what we have.
It is easy at this time of year to think of cycles, of seasons, of the recurrence of things just like last year and the years before. The smaller details change; what comes to fruition in the garden, what fills the freezer and what we put into jars to get us through the winter and spring till late next summer when the empty jars wait for what we receive as a gifts of living. The details change but the life, the living goes on. We choose what we put into the jars to get us through winter. Likewise we choose what we put into our lives to get us through the days and weeks and years.
The wind continues to blow as if its' very life depended on never ceasing
and the crickets saw their legs back and forth, back and forth.
From the kitchen the warm smell of bread baking flows back against the tide of wind
whistling in through the screens
sounding like a foretaste of winter.
The green hummers chirp and dart headlong into the gusts
landing on the swaying feeder. I wonder
if they know about tomorrow
or migration or just the emptiness of the belly?
Peace and love to you all,
Mike
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
We walked the walk
If you have been wondering how the Relay for Life went and you have been waiting patiently, I apologize for the delay. No excuses really. I just got up the next morning, went to work and life was full speed ahead once more. Tonight I have the time because I am sick; too sick to do anything but huddle under a blanket on the couch and shiver.
We had a long day at Relay for Life. We arrived about 11:30 in the morning and got home about 12:30 the next morning. I don't know why the organizers of these events want them to be marathons. If you are a survivor or caregiver, you have already been through enough. What good does it do anyone to stay up till midnight? The luminary walk began around 9 pm. A part of that ceremony was dedicated to the caregivers, in my case Karen. Emotionally we had done pretty well till then. About halfway through that lap Karen began sobbing and we sat down on a bench and I held her. We never really had closure when my chemo was done and I called off the celebration party so there had never been a time where we could look back and say "There. We're done. We survived." I guess that finally, in the warm glow of hundreds of candles burning in luminaries, Karen was able to let go. I fully expected to be all tears and snot throughout the day and I choked back a few sobs from time to time. At first I was a bit surprised at Karen's reaction but when I look back at all she went through I am glad she had tears to shed. I think we both have many more tears deep inside.
Because rain was in the forecast the event was held in the Commercial Arts building at the fairgrounds. We did have hard showers in the evening so I guess that was ok. Still, the walking would have been easier on our feet and legs if we had not been going around and around on concrete. I was surprised at all the work that goes into putting on a Relay. There must have been around 20 teams, with unique booths, t-shirts, and gimmicks to get you to hand over more money. Everything cost money but all the proceeds go to the American Cancer Association, so that is good.
Because we were inside I never did get a chance to open up and really walk like I had hoped. But that was alright. I strolled past the luminaria, reading the names of survivors and those "that survive in our hearts". I recognized too many names. I thought of Thich Nhat Hahn and his book, "Peace is Every Step" and his practice of mindful walking where each step is another prayer, another meditation. What better place to practice mindful walking than in a room full of white paper bags decorated with the names of cancer victims? I tried for a few moments but felt like the slow car in a fast lane so I gave up and resumed strolling. Once, early in the afternoon I had to excuse myself and go outside. I needed the fresh air and the quiet. I needed a chance for the tears behind my eyes to run down my face. They never did.
This event came complete with a DJ running a sound system and video screen and the whole 9 yards. I still wonder how loud music videos help honor survivors, caregivers and victims. I guess it is a spin on celebrating that I just don't get. Kind of an odd contrast; all the noise and hullaballoo, then SCREECH! the brakes come on and we are supposed to be solemn.
That's how the Relay for Life went for us. Yesterday we had 37 degrees and light frost on the roof; didn't touch the garden though. The garden is steadily coming to fruition; more red tomatoes every day. The plants look like little Christmas trees decorated for the holidays. The last few days I have been so tired. Some of it may be left over from the Relay. I think some of it comes from the shorter daylength. Maybe it was this darn flu sneaking up on me. I do change in the fall. At supper yesterday I told Karen how I felt kind of lost and not sure what I was doing or where I should go and what am I going to do with my life.... She reminded me I go through this every year at this time and I guess I do. I am sensitive to transitions and often have some difficulty moving on to the next step. This time of year is a big transition. This stage in my life, our life, is poised for transition whether we are ready or not. "You cannot step into the same stream twice". Life is all about change. Nothing ever stays the same.
This has been a long blog. It is late and I am tired so it must be time for bed . I hope I feel better tomorrow and I hope none of you come down this flu junk. Thanks to all you who supported us in the Relay for Life and supported us on this portage we know as cancer.
Peace and love to you all,
Mike
We had a long day at Relay for Life. We arrived about 11:30 in the morning and got home about 12:30 the next morning. I don't know why the organizers of these events want them to be marathons. If you are a survivor or caregiver, you have already been through enough. What good does it do anyone to stay up till midnight? The luminary walk began around 9 pm. A part of that ceremony was dedicated to the caregivers, in my case Karen. Emotionally we had done pretty well till then. About halfway through that lap Karen began sobbing and we sat down on a bench and I held her. We never really had closure when my chemo was done and I called off the celebration party so there had never been a time where we could look back and say "There. We're done. We survived." I guess that finally, in the warm glow of hundreds of candles burning in luminaries, Karen was able to let go. I fully expected to be all tears and snot throughout the day and I choked back a few sobs from time to time. At first I was a bit surprised at Karen's reaction but when I look back at all she went through I am glad she had tears to shed. I think we both have many more tears deep inside.
Because rain was in the forecast the event was held in the Commercial Arts building at the fairgrounds. We did have hard showers in the evening so I guess that was ok. Still, the walking would have been easier on our feet and legs if we had not been going around and around on concrete. I was surprised at all the work that goes into putting on a Relay. There must have been around 20 teams, with unique booths, t-shirts, and gimmicks to get you to hand over more money. Everything cost money but all the proceeds go to the American Cancer Association, so that is good.
Because we were inside I never did get a chance to open up and really walk like I had hoped. But that was alright. I strolled past the luminaria, reading the names of survivors and those "that survive in our hearts". I recognized too many names. I thought of Thich Nhat Hahn and his book, "Peace is Every Step" and his practice of mindful walking where each step is another prayer, another meditation. What better place to practice mindful walking than in a room full of white paper bags decorated with the names of cancer victims? I tried for a few moments but felt like the slow car in a fast lane so I gave up and resumed strolling. Once, early in the afternoon I had to excuse myself and go outside. I needed the fresh air and the quiet. I needed a chance for the tears behind my eyes to run down my face. They never did.
This event came complete with a DJ running a sound system and video screen and the whole 9 yards. I still wonder how loud music videos help honor survivors, caregivers and victims. I guess it is a spin on celebrating that I just don't get. Kind of an odd contrast; all the noise and hullaballoo, then SCREECH! the brakes come on and we are supposed to be solemn.
That's how the Relay for Life went for us. Yesterday we had 37 degrees and light frost on the roof; didn't touch the garden though. The garden is steadily coming to fruition; more red tomatoes every day. The plants look like little Christmas trees decorated for the holidays. The last few days I have been so tired. Some of it may be left over from the Relay. I think some of it comes from the shorter daylength. Maybe it was this darn flu sneaking up on me. I do change in the fall. At supper yesterday I told Karen how I felt kind of lost and not sure what I was doing or where I should go and what am I going to do with my life.... She reminded me I go through this every year at this time and I guess I do. I am sensitive to transitions and often have some difficulty moving on to the next step. This time of year is a big transition. This stage in my life, our life, is poised for transition whether we are ready or not. "You cannot step into the same stream twice". Life is all about change. Nothing ever stays the same.
This has been a long blog. It is late and I am tired so it must be time for bed . I hope I feel better tomorrow and I hope none of you come down this flu junk. Thanks to all you who supported us in the Relay for Life and supported us on this portage we know as cancer.
Peace and love to you all,
Mike
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Paddle first, then walk
Thursday evening, a belly full of fry bread taco and red wine; an impeccable combination. We have been on the edge of rain all day. About a half hour before quitting time southerly gales ripped whitecaps from the green waters of Lake Irving and peppered the windows with rain that fell like driven hail. By the time I mounted my bike for the ride home the rain had let up and I arrived home, only damp instead of soaked. At suppertime our friend Susan called with a chicken emergency and Karen ran up there to help. It remains to be seen if she will geek the chicken or help stuff prolapsed innards back up inside the Pope's nose.
The tomato plants struggle to support the weight of numerous green fruits. I suppose it is time to pick green beans again, maybe cukes too. Squash continue to appear and the older ones get larger every day. Last night we made chokecherry syrup with berries I picked on Saturday. The goal was jelly but I probably didn't cook it long enough. No worries, I love chokecherry syrup.
I picked the berries between races, from a tree at City Hall. I was paddling on the City's team in the Lake Bemidji Dragon Boat Festival. Put about 20 people, not necessarily skilled or motivated paddlers, in a long 'canoe' and sprint to the finish line some distance away. We came in about 37th out of nearly 70 teams; a big improvement from last year's standing so I guess it was a success. I got to paddle hard, got wet and came home with 3 1/2 gallons of chokecherries. It was my first time participating in an event like this and I will wait till next year before I decide whether or not I choose to do it again.
That was last Saturday. This Saturday I will participate in my first Relay for Life. I know Karen mentioned it in an earlier blog. I am looking forward to this though I have to confess I sometimes have difficulty thinking about the event without tears welling up in my eyes. I do not really know what happens except we get to walk and I think I really need that. I like to remember the line from a Greg Brown song "We used to think we could walk all night and we could and we did.." I like to think I was born to walk, to cover distance; not necessarily fast, but steady. Being able to walk and walk well was something I was always proud of; a bit vain actually but not so much anymore. My stride is uneven through lack of practice, and hip and foot problems contribute to my uneven, sometimes jerky perambulations. I do not to end up with the halting, staggering gait that visits so many people as they get older. As I said, I am a bit vain about that.
Because I do not know what will happen at the Relay for Life, I can easily imagine enough time and space to open up, to let my stride find its natural length and rhythm, to recover in part, one of the joys of my life. I will have plenty of time to think of the people I know who are struggling with cancer now, as well as those who have passed on. In either case, the list is too long; the list is always too goddamn long and participating in the Relay is a way to raise money to fight cancer and raise awareness and honor the memories of those who have survived, and those who haven't.
I can't say why it has taken me this long to be part of something so vital, so generous and affirming. I know I have thought of participating many times in the past but didn't and I don't really understand why. Maybe I will have a clue come late Saturday when we return home footsore and weary. Maybe it is just because someone asked if we wanted to join. How many opportunities pass us by because we have not been asked? How many riches have we squandered because we did not ask someone else to join us in something as noble as a Relay for Life, or as simple as setting down to share a place at our table?
Paddle first, then walk. That pretty much sums up what portaging is all about. A year ago Karen and I were not sure where we were heading, we did not know how long we would have to walk before we reached the other end of the portage, nor what we would find when we set our packs down on the other shore. I am, we are, grateful beyond words to find ourselves still together and alive. Surviving was main priority. Figuring out what to do afterwards was something we had to put off till later.
Later is now and we are still feeling our way on this new portage, though this one is not so dire or full of foreboding. This one is unveiling itself slowly, allowing us the time to consider, to deliberate on the choices ahead of us. We are given this one life and Karen and I want the time left to be a reflection of goodness and peace and love. And adventure, in whatever form that it chooses to take. Really, I think most of you would agree to wanting these things in your own lives. Sometimes we have to be asked; sometimes we just have to smile, open our mouths and let the words come out. As Karen says, "The answer is always no if you never ask."
If you're in the area come join us for a lap or two at the Relay for Life at the Beltrami County Fairgrounds on Saturday. Join hands with survivors and others who walk in our memories. It is not too late to pledge if you're interested. Go back a few blogs to find the link posted there.
Peace and love to you all,
Mike
The tomato plants struggle to support the weight of numerous green fruits. I suppose it is time to pick green beans again, maybe cukes too. Squash continue to appear and the older ones get larger every day. Last night we made chokecherry syrup with berries I picked on Saturday. The goal was jelly but I probably didn't cook it long enough. No worries, I love chokecherry syrup.
I picked the berries between races, from a tree at City Hall. I was paddling on the City's team in the Lake Bemidji Dragon Boat Festival. Put about 20 people, not necessarily skilled or motivated paddlers, in a long 'canoe' and sprint to the finish line some distance away. We came in about 37th out of nearly 70 teams; a big improvement from last year's standing so I guess it was a success. I got to paddle hard, got wet and came home with 3 1/2 gallons of chokecherries. It was my first time participating in an event like this and I will wait till next year before I decide whether or not I choose to do it again.
That was last Saturday. This Saturday I will participate in my first Relay for Life. I know Karen mentioned it in an earlier blog. I am looking forward to this though I have to confess I sometimes have difficulty thinking about the event without tears welling up in my eyes. I do not really know what happens except we get to walk and I think I really need that. I like to remember the line from a Greg Brown song "We used to think we could walk all night and we could and we did.." I like to think I was born to walk, to cover distance; not necessarily fast, but steady. Being able to walk and walk well was something I was always proud of; a bit vain actually but not so much anymore. My stride is uneven through lack of practice, and hip and foot problems contribute to my uneven, sometimes jerky perambulations. I do not to end up with the halting, staggering gait that visits so many people as they get older. As I said, I am a bit vain about that.
Because I do not know what will happen at the Relay for Life, I can easily imagine enough time and space to open up, to let my stride find its natural length and rhythm, to recover in part, one of the joys of my life. I will have plenty of time to think of the people I know who are struggling with cancer now, as well as those who have passed on. In either case, the list is too long; the list is always too goddamn long and participating in the Relay is a way to raise money to fight cancer and raise awareness and honor the memories of those who have survived, and those who haven't.
I can't say why it has taken me this long to be part of something so vital, so generous and affirming. I know I have thought of participating many times in the past but didn't and I don't really understand why. Maybe I will have a clue come late Saturday when we return home footsore and weary. Maybe it is just because someone asked if we wanted to join. How many opportunities pass us by because we have not been asked? How many riches have we squandered because we did not ask someone else to join us in something as noble as a Relay for Life, or as simple as setting down to share a place at our table?
Paddle first, then walk. That pretty much sums up what portaging is all about. A year ago Karen and I were not sure where we were heading, we did not know how long we would have to walk before we reached the other end of the portage, nor what we would find when we set our packs down on the other shore. I am, we are, grateful beyond words to find ourselves still together and alive. Surviving was main priority. Figuring out what to do afterwards was something we had to put off till later.
Later is now and we are still feeling our way on this new portage, though this one is not so dire or full of foreboding. This one is unveiling itself slowly, allowing us the time to consider, to deliberate on the choices ahead of us. We are given this one life and Karen and I want the time left to be a reflection of goodness and peace and love. And adventure, in whatever form that it chooses to take. Really, I think most of you would agree to wanting these things in your own lives. Sometimes we have to be asked; sometimes we just have to smile, open our mouths and let the words come out. As Karen says, "The answer is always no if you never ask."
If you're in the area come join us for a lap or two at the Relay for Life at the Beltrami County Fairgrounds on Saturday. Join hands with survivors and others who walk in our memories. It is not too late to pledge if you're interested. Go back a few blogs to find the link posted there.
Peace and love to you all,
Mike
Monday, August 9, 2010
Jacked
If you think a hot humid morning is a crappy way to start your day....couple that with finding out your email and facebook has been hijacked! Yup, that's my story. I'm sure many of you have received an email telling you I am in tears and in England. I am neither. I'm sitting here in balmy Bemidji, Minnesota, sipping a gin and tonic trying to get over a "mad".
So, don't go sending anyone money, unless, of course, it's to me. My sister has got the Zion police working on the case and I am working on getting my facebook back. I think the email is going to be a bust and I will just start over with a new account. I will let you know what that account is here on this blog. I know I will miss some people that way and I don't have all the email addies of 'ya all so maybe you'll spread the good news.
In the meantime...stay cool and stay in touch.
Peace,
(except to the "jackers")
Karen
So, don't go sending anyone money, unless, of course, it's to me. My sister has got the Zion police working on the case and I am working on getting my facebook back. I think the email is going to be a bust and I will just start over with a new account. I will let you know what that account is here on this blog. I know I will miss some people that way and I don't have all the email addies of 'ya all so maybe you'll spread the good news.
In the meantime...stay cool and stay in touch.
Peace,
(except to the "jackers")
Karen
Monday, August 2, 2010
Slow Food
My kitchen smells earthy from beets simmering in a pot on the stove. My sister would tell you it smells like dirt. She would say, that, beets taste like dirt. In a way she is right and maybe that's why I love them; they are about as close to eating rich lovely soil as you can get away with. They are a connection with the land from whence they come. The smell is sun and rain and the time and work of the farmer who brought them to my table. The beets have been simmering in the pot, wholly intact for the better part of 30 minutes now. Still, they are not done. This is not "fast food".
About a year ago our diets changed in correlation with Mike's chemo/radiation. We came off of our whole food diet in exchange for more processed food which was supposed to be easier on Mike's digestive tract. We found ourselves eating out, a lot, because of traveling here and there for appointments. We were both tired, exhausted at times, and it was quite often easier, and quicker, to pour something out of a can or packet. I must say we did a pretty good job of avoiding the "fast food" joints still we ate a lot of food fast. When Mike was undergoing his second round of chemo there was this monster appetite. He could not wait for prepared food. When he was hungry it was NOW and there had better be something there to eat at that moment.
Over the course of the last year we developed some, and I hesitate to use the word bad, maybe, some unfortunate eating habits and they happened fast. We forgot the joy of preparing and cooking together! I even confess to buying pop-tarts! Horror!
But, we are back on track. We are eating better, eating in season and eating local. The beets we are having came from the local farmers market where small scale organic farmers meet several times a week to sell produce grown on soil within a 30 mile radius of Bemidji. We are also having cukes from our garden, some corn on the cob, some awesome pasta salad which Mike made from scratch and small steaks. The steaks were an "on sale" item from a large local grocer. Though, don't confuse that last item as eating local. I'm sure the steaks were feed lot raised. We are fixing that problen in the next few weeks, however, because we have bought half of a cow raised by my friends son for 4 H and Mike intends to harvest a deer this fall. I've seen this cow, steer, I've fed this cow and I have patted the steaks, roasts, stew meat and burger on this cow.
This year we intend become more mindful of where our food is coming from, what, exactly, is in that food and how it was raised. We will harvest, raise and preserve as much of our food as possible. We will prepare our food at home and cook together. We'll support the farmer's market instead of Green Giant, eat in season and use meals as a time to slow down with slow food. Does this mean you will never see a McDonald's bag in the trash container in my car or that plain Lays potato chip bags will never take up space in my cupboard? NOOO....there are still a few things that we will treat ourselves to. We do like to eat out sometimes and we do occasionally like the sour cream donuts they sell at Leuken's for breakfast but they will be treats instead of staples and we will still eat them but I promise, we'll chew slowly.
Peace,
Karen
About a year ago our diets changed in correlation with Mike's chemo/radiation. We came off of our whole food diet in exchange for more processed food which was supposed to be easier on Mike's digestive tract. We found ourselves eating out, a lot, because of traveling here and there for appointments. We were both tired, exhausted at times, and it was quite often easier, and quicker, to pour something out of a can or packet. I must say we did a pretty good job of avoiding the "fast food" joints still we ate a lot of food fast. When Mike was undergoing his second round of chemo there was this monster appetite. He could not wait for prepared food. When he was hungry it was NOW and there had better be something there to eat at that moment.
Over the course of the last year we developed some, and I hesitate to use the word bad, maybe, some unfortunate eating habits and they happened fast. We forgot the joy of preparing and cooking together! I even confess to buying pop-tarts! Horror!
But, we are back on track. We are eating better, eating in season and eating local. The beets we are having came from the local farmers market where small scale organic farmers meet several times a week to sell produce grown on soil within a 30 mile radius of Bemidji. We are also having cukes from our garden, some corn on the cob, some awesome pasta salad which Mike made from scratch and small steaks. The steaks were an "on sale" item from a large local grocer. Though, don't confuse that last item as eating local. I'm sure the steaks were feed lot raised. We are fixing that problen in the next few weeks, however, because we have bought half of a cow raised by my friends son for 4 H and Mike intends to harvest a deer this fall. I've seen this cow, steer, I've fed this cow and I have patted the steaks, roasts, stew meat and burger on this cow.
This year we intend become more mindful of where our food is coming from, what, exactly, is in that food and how it was raised. We will harvest, raise and preserve as much of our food as possible. We will prepare our food at home and cook together. We'll support the farmer's market instead of Green Giant, eat in season and use meals as a time to slow down with slow food. Does this mean you will never see a McDonald's bag in the trash container in my car or that plain Lays potato chip bags will never take up space in my cupboard? NOOO....there are still a few things that we will treat ourselves to. We do like to eat out sometimes and we do occasionally like the sour cream donuts they sell at Leuken's for breakfast but they will be treats instead of staples and we will still eat them but I promise, we'll chew slowly.
Peace,
Karen
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