I went for a walk this afternoon. The dogs came with me.  They played rough and tumble, faking and then dashing another way. They play when it is just the two of them, but it seems to delight them even more to play when I’m with them.  Spine, Ahmis’s beautiful black cat, joined us for the walk. Spine makes me smile and laugh the way he can send Chaya running the other way with just a turn of his head.

I set out with my camera.  It was cold, but the sunshine was out and I thought it would be a good chance to take some photos.  It was.  I took quite a few.  They will show up here, I’m sure.

But what I couldn’t take my eyes off of today was the water.

The wind played on the surface of the water, while the sun, sky and earth took their turn at splashing their color onto the watery canvas.

The patterns, textures, and colors changed so quickly that it was likely walking through an art museum trying to take in thousands of masterpieces before they took down the display.  The watery art was created so effortlessly, quickly and then would disappear before I had a chance to take in my next breath.

As I started toward home, I walked slowly with my eyes closed.  I turned my face to the sun. I breathed the fast, crisp air.  I soaked, splashed and played in the moment. I wish you could have been there with me.

I had a dear friend say something to me today that was completely self-deprecating about himself.  If it was a one-time thing, that would have been one thing.  But this is ongoing.  It opened up a floodgate for me too though because his story is my story.  You’ll see what I mean as I keep going.  I’m going to share it because I’m guessing that our story may be your story (for some of you) too.

I was as straight as possible, not couching what I felt with niceties.  This is what I told him:

Your self-view is so distorted it’s embarrassing and sad.  Your years and years of hateful and negative self-talk have done a number on you and it makes me very sad and sometimes angry.  I hope you will start to take your negativity on and not let it rule your life anymore.  You are an amazing man with an amazing family who loves you so very much.  You have every reason to live like it.

I know firsthand what it is like to be under the spell of self-delusion that you believe to be truth.  People have asked me to see what is really true and I’ve insisted that they are wrong - and in my mind just told myself they are trying to be nice, or soothe me so I won’t feel so badly about what is really true about myself.  But we have trapped ourselves in our own minds, in our own self-delusions and live there instead of in the real world.  We don’t trust the people closest to us.  We disrespect them by rejecting what they say to us.  We live a horrible and tragic, but ultimately self-indulgent and selfish, existence.

It reminds me of CS Lewis’s writing about the dwarfs in the book The Last Battle:

“Aslan,” said Lucy through her tears, “could you — will you — do something for these poor Dwarfs?

“Dearest,” said Aslan, “I will show you both what I can, and what I cannot, do.”  He came close to the Dwarfs and gave a low growl: low, but it set all the air shaking. But the Dwarfs said to one another, “Hear that? That’s the gang at the other end of the stable.  Trying to frighten us. They do it with a machine of some kind. Don’t take any notice. They won’t take us in again!”

Aslan raised his head and shook his mane.  Instantly a glorious feast appeared on the Dwarfs’ knees: pies and tongues and pigeons and trifles and ices, and each Dwarf had a goblet of good wine in his right hand.  But it wasn’t much use.  They began eating and drinking greedily enough, but it was clear that they couldn’t taste it properly.  They thought they were eating and drinking only the sort of things you might find in a stable.  One said he was trying to eat hay and another said he had got a bit of an old turnip and third said he’d found a raw cabbage leaf.  And they raised the golden goblets of rich red wine to their lips and said “Ugh! Fancy drinking dirty water out of trough that a donkey’s been at! Never thought we’d come to this.”

But soon every Dwarf began suspecting that every other Dwarf had found something nicer than he had, and they started grabbing and snatching, and went on to quarreling, till in a few minutes there was a free fight and all the good food was smeared on their faces and clothes or trodden under foot.  But when at least they sat down to nurse their black eyes and their bleeding nose, they all said:

“Well, at any rate there’s no Humbug here. We haven’t let anyone take us in. The Dwarfs are for the Dwarfs.”

“You see,” said Aslan.  “They will not let us help them.  They have chosen cunning instead of belief.  Their prison is only in their minds, yet they are in that prison; and so afraid of being taken in that they cannot be taken out.

We are so afraid of being taken in by those closest to us who tell us we are incredible, amazing, beautiful and loved that we turn them away out of hand. We feel like it wouldn’t be honest to believe what they say.  We “know better” and so we mock them with our words and put down not only what they say but their self-worth and value too.  I know just how hard it is to give up what you think about yourself.  It feels so true and that we would be just duping ourselves if we believed what they had to say about us.  But, seriously, they aren’t the ones who are delusional.  We are.

Let’s break down the bars of these prisons we’ve built around ourselves.  One painful and difficult bar at a time.  The work is hard.  It’s painful… almost to the point of being physical pain sometimes.  But on the other side, is freedom, deeper love and relationships with everyone in our lives.  On the other side of those bars, in the REAL world, is more beauty than we can imagine.

I love you so so very much!  See you on the outside!
Janece

I can’t go to bed because my sheets are in the dryer.  I do have another set of sheets, but they aren’t flannel.  I want to go to bed in flannel sheets.  Flannel sheets with soft pillows and down comforters feel like gentle but consuming hugs.  I need hugs tonight.

Freeni is nearly immobile and because of that incontinent.  We have him in a large space that is closed off so that when he goes, he goes on towels that are on top of a waterproof mattress.  Tonight, I placed him in the middle of the room on an old folded up sheet while I set to changing out the soiled towels and cleaning the mattress.  While I’m working, he meows.  I reach over to pet his head and he starts.  He’s startled by my touch because he is nearly, if not completely, blind.  The strokes took his coordination first.  Then they took his back legs.  Next, his strength followed by his eyesight.  Unless in the brightest sunshine, his eyes are fully dilated.  They look like bright, reflective marbles.  He mews quietly again.  That’s another thing the strokes took.  His voice. I miss his voice so much. He had a meow that was a cross between a strange bird call and something akin to rolling your r’s.  I wish I had thought to record it.

I interrupted my cleaning to gently scoop him up and take him into the bathroom.  I held him steady while he drank from the running water faucet.  He’s never liked drinking out of a water dish.  Tonight, I figured it was the least I can do.

I think I’m hanging on too long.  When I hold him, when I pet him, he snuggles and purrs.  He is happy and content.  I sense him inside this small body that has betrayed him.  My brother-in-law shared with me last week about how his sweet dog, Annie, let him know when she was ready.  Freeni hasn’t done that.  I’ve asked him but he hasn’t given the secret high sign.  I’ve given him permission to go.  Yet, he stays.  His spirit has always been so vibrant, curious and alive.  When we met him nearly 14 years ago, in the animal shelter, he was at the front of his cage.  His body pressed against the bars and his paw reaching out between the metal.  His shiny green eyes looked into ours and he greeted us as we walked in the door.  There was not another single cat out like that.  We knew immediately he was family.

I got his fresh new bedding arranged and settled him back in.  My face scrunched and pinched into hot tears.  I don’t think Freeni is going to give up.  I’m afraid that, until the very end, he’s always going to be ready to keep on living.  I don’t want strokes to cause him any more pain, any more loss.  And I don’t want to betray him by taking away his life.  That’s what it feels like to me.  It’s not fair. I know his body is giving up, but his spirit hasn’t.

… isn’t doing well.  I’m afraid our time with this sweet, smart boy maybe coming to a close soon.  Freeni has been with us for nearly 14 years.  I can’t imagine our home without him.  I really can’t.

My first answer was so long, I needed to break the questions up.  I can already see the 4th and 5th questions taking some time to answer (what those questions are, you’ll find out shortly… only Natalie knows as of right now.). 

2. Morning Bird or Night Owl, and why?

Since Amira was born, I’d have to say I’m both… I tend to go to bed between 1, 2, even 3 am and then get up with Amira between 6 and 7 am.  Chronically under slept is my middle name, and I’m not proud of it.  I believe in the importance of getting a good night’s sleep.  I’m rabid about Amira getting the right amount of sleep.  I nag Paul about not getting enough sleep. It’s important not just for our body but for our mind and spirit.  But I still don’t do it.

I think I most naturally gravitate to going to bed late and sleeping in.  Paul is a night owl and so I tend to drift that way too.  But that said, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve found a growing desire to be more of a morning bird.  I’m seeing an energy and possibility there that I’ve never had an eye for before.  Being a night owl is counterproductive to me at this point in my life.  If you can’t tell, this is something I think about everyday.  I resist going to bed, but it hurts to get up so early when I haven’t had enough sleep.  And I hate losing big chunks of my day because I need a nap.  But then, evening comes and I stay up late again.  Bleah.  That’s a cycle I’m ready to put a stop to.

3. What holiday in the year stirs you most and what makes it ideal?

It would have to be Christmas and simply and wholly because of family.  Our family has gotten together for 20+ years at Christmas time and it’s a treasured part of my year.  Over the years, it’s gotten more challenging as families have grown and changed… and that’s hard sometimes… but my fondest thoughts when it comes to holidays is Christmas and being with my family.

I’m late in getting these interview questions answered - but I hear late is better than never.

1. My family and I are fascinated by the glimpses we have seen of your home, the area around it… What is it like where you live?

A year ago this past weekend, we moved from strip mall filled surburbia to the rural, farmland and forested Kitsap Peninsula. We are a ferry boat ride away from downtown Seattle.

I found the listing for the now affectionately named Loving-Moment Place on Craigslist.  The first time we drove on the property, we were immediately taken with the property.  When we came back for a second visit to meet Ahmis, we were giddy.

It’s hard to believe that we have been here a year.

What a gift this property, home and most of all, Ahmis has been. When I knew a move was going to happen, I prayed and hoped for a place for our family. I think I’ve confessed before that I have an unfortunate yet persistent misgiving that God, the universe, the fates don’t want to, or won’t give me what I ask for. So much so, that I plan mind games with myself that if I “don’t tell” then it can’t be taken it away or will somehow be “accidentally” given to me. I operate with the hope that I can fly under the radar. And yes, I totally hear how crazy-making this is!

And yet, in defiance of my own crazy monkey mind, I asked for a place that would bring us beauty, joy and peace. I asked for a place that would be good for Paul, Amira and Tova. I prayed for a place that would grow and challenge us. I asked for a place of rest and renewal.

I wasn’t baited and switched, I wasn’t tricked… we were graced with every last request.

We live on 2 1/2 acres with a lovely plake (my new term for a body of water somewhere in size between a pond and a lake). The lake is ringed with willow trees, cattails, blackberry bushes, pear trees, horsetails and grass. In the middle is a small island. Experiencing its various moods through each of the seasons is magical.

Spring

Summer

Fall

Winter

We live just a hop away from the Hood Canal.  On foggy nights, I’m lulled to sleep by the melancholy and mysterious tones of the fog horns.

As we drive around the peninsula, we have views of Mount Rainer, the Olympic Mountain Range and farmlands with cows, horses, llamas, sheep, ponies and donkeys.  Nearly every day, I drive up a short 5 minute hop to Port Gamble, a 150-year old logging town.  There are days where I can feel the history of the town in the air around me.  I feel as though I’ve been whisked into a time/space portal that allows me to see and feel, all at once, today and the many, many yesterdays of this town.

As I’m answering this question, I’m sitting at our kitchen table looking out the sliding glass door onto the pond.  The ducks are cruising, bobbing, and flapping on the water… leaving wakes and ringed rippled patterns.  I couldn’t be luckier.

So, that, dearest Natalie and dear readers, is a little peek into where we live.  There’s so much more to share and so much I haven’t seen in the short year I’ve lived here.  I’ll do my best to show more views of this amazing corner of the PNW in the coming days.

Questions 2-5 to follow…