The Art of Losing

 

Last summer I was on a walk with my daughter, and we were processing her great loss, the loss of her person, the one she still loved. I can't say that I lost a person in the same way she did--still so deeply in love with them. Those are not the kind of relationships you usually see come to an abrupt, and I do mean abrupt, end. We were all in shock, because no one saw it coming. It will take a lifetime to process for us, many more lifetimes for her.

But I was trying to cheer her up, (I'm not good at cheering up, that's for damn sure) and I remembered an old villanelle from my Modern Poetry days, called One Art. My memory was bad, and I thought it was called, The Art of Losing, but it's One Art, by Elizabeth Bishop. (Would that poem cheer you up? I don't think it did her either.)

I started to recite the bits and pieces I remembered, going on and on about losing this and that, and something about a disaster.  It didn't so much speak to my daughter, but it was yelling, quite loudly, to me. Later, I looked it up, read it over and over, tried to memorize it.

More months passed, and I forgot about the poem. But then, a few days ago, remembered it again, on another walk, with my husband, trying to recite One Art, still messing it up, still renaming it The Art of Losing. 

So, yeah, I made a decision to have that depressing little poem framed and hang it in my new room in the barn. It was the first personal item I decided upon, and it was decided from my heart, not my brain, but now, from this vantage, I see it is the theme since we broke ground on the barn. The perfect first item. Why? Because it's true, and it is begging to be acknowledged, even accepted.

That is where I am at with the barn project: What do I bring into this sacred (yes, the barn is sacred to me) space to express this point in my life?

Updates On the Barn Project

The structure of the barn project is finished, but the finishing touches are still in the works. The stain we used was an opaque one called "Bay Blue" from Lowes. It came the closest to what I was looking for, and it has a great deal of variation, depending on the light. I appreciate that complexity in the color. It's fun. Almost like a different room every time you walk in. 

Here it is with moderate light on a cloudy afternoon. (Today)

I'm sharing a wider view below because to the left of the photo, against, the wall, there will be an electric fireplace with white mantle. In the center of the chairs, there will be a round, wooden coffee table with wrought iron legs. Both are on the way.

The next photo was taken yesterday, at a different time of day, and you can see the color changing.

Here it is another day, before I moved the loveseat. You can also see the large round window that looks into the barn. It's really hard to capture the entire room from any one perspective, but this is pretty close.

Here it is on yet another day, and you can see the view of breezeway and stalls.

Look at how blue it was this day.

 grandson photo bomb.

The fun leaded glass windows we found.

The sink cabinet was really throwing me off, and I wrote a post about it. There were so many possibilities. However, as I looked at the rustic metal roofing we used, taken from an old barn in Coeur D'Alene, Idaho, and saw the leftover pieces we had, it struck me that we should build our own and use that metal. The sink will be placed on the wall below where the plumbing is coming out of the wall.

I drew up some plans for my husband. Haha! Poor guy. But he got the picture enough to accompany me to Home Depot and help me buy the parts necessary for him to make it come to life.

Obviously, I am not an engineer or an architect.

Here's where it's at so far.

The top is a butcher block style counter top they sell at Home Depot, and is acacia wood. We're going to sand it down and stain it some version of the mixed redwood/walnut, then seal it. My husband is going to cut a portion out for the sink on the right. He's also going to cut off 3" on each side to give it an equal lip all the way around. 

Here are some of the parts that will be installed when it's done. A white, cast iron sink by Kohler, a black, wrought iron look faucet, also by Kohler, and a small hot water tank.

The cat modeling my old table is Tuffy. He was born in the barn almost 13 years ago, and he is loving the new room. My husband built him his own door to go in and out, but he prefers to stay in. Unfortunately, he isn't one to use the kitty litter box much. We will have to figure out how to train him better, if that's possible at his age.

Here's another photo of the cabinet, in an earlier stage. My husband used the leftover blue pine as the bottom shelf.

Here he is cutting the metal panels.

So, we are not ready for our final "reveal," but this gives you a good idea of where we're going. 

I have to admit, I will be very happy when my barn is no longer a construction project, but considering everything we've been through in the last few months, it is a miracle we've gotten this far. 

Speaking of miracles...I had my husband drive me back to my wishing fountain, aka the Rotary Fountain in Riverfront Park. 

It almost looks like a portal to the universe, doesn't it? 

Well, as we pulled up one evening, I looked around my car to see if there was anything we could leave there as a marker of the wish, and I found exactly two pennies in the center consul. Two shiny pennies, one for me, and one for my husband. We took turns going to the center and sending up a wish & a prayer.

Acceptance

Happy New Year, everyone. Welcome 2024. (So far, it hasn't been much different than 2023.)

I have been enjoying all of your blogs, but having a very hard time commenting on them since I updated the app on my phone. It absolutely does not allow me to comment from any of the phone browsers. Very strange since it does allow me to sign-in, but then it acts like I'm not signed in when I comment. I have to go to a computer somewhere in the house to do so at all. Please forgive the delay from reading your posts to commenting upon them. I will keep trying to figure it out. It keeps telling me to check my browser settings, but in every browser. 

(photo I took of the clock tower in downtown Spokane.)

Reading Aurora's post at Equine Expressions and Shirley's at Ride a Good Horse, the idea of a guiding word for 2024 came up. I liked both of theirs Release and Patience.

It got me thinking about my own word, and the one that resonated with me most, which is an awful lot like release, but not exactly the same, is Acceptance.

I had to make a hard decision yesterday, January 2nd. It was one that I have been considering and working through since about a year and a half ago or so, trying to find ways around it, or to change it, but nothing worked and the decision, or some decision, had to be made. That is all I will say for now, but it did lead me to that word--Acceptance.

I was talking to my mom about it this morning and how Truman and Oppenheimer had that famous conversation about the Atomic Bomb--Oppenheimer feeling guilty and responsible for developing it, but Truman telling him that it was his decision to drop it. The buck stops here.

It reminded my mom of what her mom, my grandmother, used to always tell her whenever she struggled with a decision--make your decision and live with it.

Make your decision and live with it. Hmmm. I tend to think about decisions, put them off, think some more about them, perhaps act, then wonder if it was the right decision forever. That is lead to an early death type of thinking.

Acceptance: make your decision and then live with it.

It's kind of like release, because you are releasing the worrying, ruminating, and stress and moving more toward a thoughtfulness and action approach.

If we did everything we could do, the best we knew how to do it at the time, knowing none of us have a crystal ball, or are perfect, but trying our very, very best at each juncture--what more is there to do?

The other side, of course, is what others do to us that's out of our control. I'm not sure which is harder to accept, but the same response is required. How do I react? What did I learn? How do I proceed now?

In 2023, and now the start of 2024, there was plenty for me to accept, and the universe does not seem ready, yet, to let me escape the hard choices.

----

(The fountain in downtown Spokane. Stand in the center and make a wish!)

I am a big fan of New Year's Resolutions. My brother and I started a family tradition 25 years ago of putting them in a box on New Year's Eve or New Year's Day, then reading them the next year.  We used to even have a family trophy which was passed off to the winner each year. It brings laughs, love, tears, and lots of applause when they are read out loud and we celebrate each other's accomplishments. 

One year, my husband wrote: Love Linda like she's never been loved before, and he has never lived that one down. The next year, when they asked me if he'd accomplished it, (this was many years ago when we were basically still newlyweds) I said absolutely yes! They all laughed and clapped and then teased him mercilessly every year to follow. The reason that one stands out it is because my sister gave us all a video of that Christmas and New Years Eve this year as a Christmas present and that whole scene was recorded on it--the mushy love note, the hilarious jokes that followed--all there. It was sweet and had us in tears.

This year's resolutions were well met by us--one of them having been, FINALLY finishing our barn! Woot! Woot! (Photos coming soon)

For 2024 I put in walk/hike 100 days and work with my horses 100 days. Seems simple to accomplish, but when you have so many responsibilities pulling you this and that way, it becomes tough to follow through. We have two trips planned to Sedona and one to Houston, so I do see a lot of hiking in my future. And, the weather couldn't be better for getting that 100 days in with the horses. I have a granddaughter horse camp scheduled here for March. Yay!

One last thought: there is so much that is out of our control in life, and so many hard decisions to make, also somewhat out of our control--it can overwhelm. But it also creates that much more need and desperate necessity to enjoy the beautiful bits and pieces of our lives.

Happy New Year, friends.

The Healing Road

"What do we do when our hearts hurt?" asked the boy

"We wrap them with friendship, shared tears and time, till they wake hopeful and happy again."

The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse

I found this photo of Cowboy as I was putting together photos of Little Joe for a memory album I'm making for my granddaughter. I took it just days before losing him, while I was out at the barn cleaning stalls. I miss that intensity we had and how he was always there watching me. It gave me this sense of never being alone.

My cowgirl friends had our annual Christmas party this year. It was our 16th gathering.

Instructions for living a life:

Pay attention.

Be astonished.

Tell about it.

Mary Oliver, "Sometimes"

I want to tell you about something that astonishes me: how deeply horses love.

When I walk out to the pasture to find comfort from my friends, they are so happy to give it. They walk right up and put their noses in my face. There's this fierce willingness to be together, and it is tempered with this great gentle quiet. There's nothing that compares to the bond of the herd.

Foxy is special. There is something transcendent in her. She is extremely kind-hearted, warm, and wise. I see why Tumbleweed loves her so deeply. I would, too. All the horses in the herd love Foxy. When she comes up to me, her spirit is strong and I sense being in the presence of something unearthly, unworldly. She is a powerful healer of hearts. 

Beautiful, on the other hand, is the enforcer, and she teaches me about having good boundaries.  Here, she's telling Foxy to stay away while we have our time.

Leah, what a gentle soul who gets pushed to the bottom of the herd, but has such a sweet spirit. She should have been someone's one and only horse. I am grateful for all that she gave me when she was my trail partner. 

Tumbleweed and Epona have become very close, and are often together at the bale or in the pasture.

Incoming kisses.

This is how I feel about all of them. Thankful.

Winter Solstice

let me hold on

to the edge of your robe

as you determine

what you must let be lost

and what will be saved.

Mary Oliver, "Maker of All Things, Even Healings"

Winter solstice is incredibly symbolic--it is the darkest day of the year, but we know, with certainty, that the darkness will be put behind us--gradually--and we are guaranteed to experience more light every day.

My daughter, husband, and I are planning a party for that day, December 22, 2023. 

One of the things we will be doing is having a bonfire, and we will throw in something that has not served us well in 2023. 

I have been thinking about what it is I'll be throwing in, and I'm having a hard time naming it.

As you can see, I've been reading Red Bird, by Mary Oliver, again. There is this line in "Night and the River:"

I could not tell

which fit me

more comfortably, the power,

or the powerlessness.

What has not served me well is trying to control the chaos. I think the powerlessness suits me better. So, this thing that is so hard to name, but that rears up inside over and over again, and is quite painfully let down every time it does, is...what?  The story, the pride, the expectations and judgments?  Can it all be encapsulated in the word power?  Power is an illusion.

There is a line in Rilke's "The Monastic Life":

I want to unfold.

Let no place in me hold itself closed,

for where I am closed, I am false.

Unfolding into powerlessness, even embracing the powerlessness, while holding on to everything that comes to comfort: all that has been, and all that will be. 

Cowboy continues to come to me from somewhere. 

Whatever it is of him that is willing to remain, I want to take it with me into the healing days, along the healing road, and into the growing light of what is to come.

 

Wintering: A Video Blog

I thought I'd make my post a video blog today, just to do something different and fun this winter.

I hope you enjoy it. Tell me how you like this format.

Happy wintering!