One Year Of Opus

This blog post is so important that I'm starting it a day ahead of time. It's Friday afternoon. Jay is on a little field trip. Stan is sacked out but (obviously) contemplative. Tomorrow, the 31st, is the last day of my One Year Of Opus. If you have no idea what I'm referring to, you need to read the July 16, 2007 post. Whew. Do I have a lot to talk about. So, go pour a cup of coffee, grab a beer, or make yourself a nice martini. This might take a while.

I did so many things I wanted to do. I knitted hats and made furniture and gardened and made goofy beaded glass candle hangers. I read a lot of books and I saw my own book become real. I wrote poems and ideas and letters. I made up recipes and cooked a lot of food. I tried to drink more water every day and eat better. I made collage envelopes and strange weird wire flowers. I taught poetry at the community college and did a couple Book Festivals. Okay, I even finger painted and wrote a poem on a pair of jeans with a bleach pen. I did not stick to the four-hour-a-day plan of being creative. But somedays I spent three hours painting, two more hours writing, and then another hour tending the garden. I also played kick ball and golf, started walking more and got back to dancing in the living room. I moved. I moved back to my old neighborhood, into my old house, away from bad decisions. I got to go on overnight, middle-of-the-week field trips with Jay. Some of those things I would have done anyway, Opus or not. But some of them I would have felt limited in, guilty or just too tired to do, had I not made rules and a conscious decision to be different.

One of the best things I was able to do in my year was to be with my mom. I got to be present with my mom when she was dying. I got to take care of her and feed her and see her to the end. I'm sure this blog got most of it across, but it was so hard at times. And it was so right and perfect and good for me. I cannot imagine not being there. Sometimes my whole insides felt hollow and empty, like everything had left except the grief. And then my mom would smile or give that little laugh and look at me and I felt so grateful to have that time with her. I would feel so filled up with absolute rightness.

I'll tell you a story....I used to be afraid of her body. I was afraid of how it might look. I didn't want to see her. Maybe it was even just the exposed, naked sense of skin transferring into the emotions. I was just frightened by the thought of sagging and sore parts and mess. The mess of the human body, old. How should one look at 87 years old? I was just afraid. Then one day, I went into her room and she was in the bathroom, just beginning to be bathed by one of the caregivers. She was sitting on one of those little seats. I kind of hung around outside the bathroom door. Then I mosied toward the bathroom and walked in. She was kind of fighting the aide so I just walked up and took hold of her arm and her shirt and help pull it off. I said, hey, I'm here, and she gave me this look like, Get me the hell out of this place, but she settled down. Wow, my mom looked beautiful. Her skin was soft and light. I just soaped up her back, which was as smooth as could be. I washed her hair and then I held her small, wet body to help her out of the chair. My clothes were wet and she was unsure of her footing but I helped her up and got her dressed and just thought, This is my mom, and she is so beautiful. I will never forget the grace of that moment. Like I was the luckiest person in the world.

If there was one reason for my year, I believe it was to be there, present, with her. I still have many moments when I feel selfish about my year. Like, who the heck am I to take time off and not have a full time job!? I know some people think I'm a little out of my mind. I love those people. I AM slightly crazy to have made the choice I did. But I have no regrets, only wonder.

Let's see, what else happened. The move back home was big. Mostly, I made a good decision where in the past I've made a bad one. That was a huge thing for me, feeling rather like a failure AGAIN, and then making and sticking with the decision to move on. And feeling strong in that....albeit, still a bit of a failure. And yet knowing, so KNOWING it was the right choice for Jay and I. This poem kind of says it for me....

The Journey
----by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Another thing about the year. Failure. It's okay. I failed sometimes. I didn't fail other times. Someone said to me the other day that it's our failures that we truly learn from, not so much our successes. I liked that.

One thing that really worked for me was the ban on buying clothes. Or jewelry. Or shoes, purses and ear rings. Aside from one accidental Arizona Cardinals Tee shirt, I did not buy any items of adornment. And it was a huge relief. I saved so much time! I could walk into Target and be done in 10 minutes. I walked right by Dillards and Penney's. It was not nearly as difficult as I thought it might be. It was a good and positive thing. Of course, I did buy a house.....

INTERMISSION
If you need to go warm up your coffee or make another martini, go ahead!!!
I have so much more to say :)

What next? WHAT NEXT!?!?

The next year...... From June 1st to June 1st. Now what? Holy Cripe. First, I've decided I want to have a year every year. A purpose, rules, ideas, goals. There were things that I thought about this year but didn't put into action....I could do those. Part of this is just how I am. Being a round peg, I can't fit into those square holes. I guess It's about time I realize that. When I graduated from high school my mom took me out to Macy's and bought me a suit. The soft brownish linen. The vest and jacket, and the skirt that came down to my knees. I thought, at the time, that was what I was supposed to do. Wear the outfit and get a job. Be a secretary. But I failed. I went to L.A. to be an actress. I drove n ice cream truck. I had mediocre, at best, relationships. I never made a dime at anything I did. I loved to dance. I loved to write. So I wrote. I liked to work retail and chat with folks. When I opened up my wine store, I did so because I didn't want my son to be in day care for 9 hours a day. That's all. I got out of the bad relationships before they killed me. (This all might be too much information but this is the last day of my One Year Of Opus so I get to spill). So, here's my next year....

It's the dragonfly year......

Dragonfly symbolism crosses and combines with that of the butterfly and change. The dragonfly symbolizes going past self-created illusions that limit our growing and changing. Dragonflies are a symbol of the sense of self that comes with maturity.

They are fantastic flyers, darting like light, twisting, turning, changing direction, even going backwards as the need arises. They are inhabitants of two realms - starting with water, and moving to the air with maturity, but staying close to water. Some people who have the dragonfly as their totem have had emotional and passionate early years, but as they get older they achieve balance with mental clarity and control. They gain an expression of the emotional and mental together.

Dragonflies are old and adaptive insects, and are most powerful in the summer under the effects of warmth and sunlight. Their colors are a result of reflecting and refracting the power of light. As a result, they are associated with color magic, illusion in causing others only to see what you wish, and other mysticism.

The are often represented in Japanese paintings, representing new light and joy. To some Native Americans they are the souls of the dead. Faerie stories say that they used to be real dragons.

Dragonflies are reminders that we are light and can reflect the light in powerful ways if we choose to do so. "Let there be light" is the divine prompting to use the creative imagination as a force within your life. They help you to see through your illusions and allow your own light to shine in a new vision.

I have a dragonfly doorbell and a dragonfly wind chime. Other than that, I am NOT becoming some cosmic whoo-ha. I'm still average and regular. And I am not going to start collecting unicorns and/or mermaid figurines (not that there's anything wrong with that).


So, actually, I just realized that it's still, technically, my One Year of Opus. Tomorrow, June 1st. I'll give you the rules, regulations, and hopes for the next one. The Year of the Dragonfly....