Full Moon in Taurus, October 29, 2012: Commit Deeply

A late edit and apology:  The Full Moon in Taurus happens on October 29th ... not 20th ... my typo...so sorry!

The rains have soaked us. Three months of dry weather can do a world of good in a place where the verdant green is a substantial indicator of what is usual. Quiet now, the Tall Ones fill the moku with life -- oxygen and clarity crisp the morning after hours of drenching rain. A line of hemp rope stretched across the window as I write in the vardo extends the rain fly that is now not quite large enough to temper the downpour over the Quonset. Waterfalls dumped from the pockets of the nylon fly as Ka Lani (the heavens) opened up yesterday. We have plenty to do yet to make our nearly finished renovations warm enough for the dropping temperatures to come. Yet the lull of a rain-less morning is just the reminder we need to appreciate the good: shelter, dry surroundings, room to move, people we love. I count on the moon and recognize this is the beginning of the four 'Ole Phases of the moon cycle -- a time to take inventory, mend nets, weed the garden, do maintenance, before Mahina becomes full.

The four full moons of Kaulana Mahina during this malama (month)illuminate a very powerful energy of deep commitment available to us all. My astrologer, Elsa P. gives this insight to the Full Moon in Taurus on October 20, 2012, and in particular this angle fuels me:

...There is a chance for a big win here. A big score.  It could be a bunch of money, but most likley, you have a big idea or a vision of some kind. Now is the time to pull it all together and make a deep commitment to life (Sun) and your emotional (Moon) well-being...

The full moon in Taurus will light up my 4th House, and my North Node (using the unequal house systems). Again and again I write about that Taurus North Node to soothe and encourage the slow and persisting journey of being human. And, accepting that this journey is a changeable one I fold in the small shifts to get a bigger picture.The he'e (the octopus) flashes into my mind as I sit with what I am writing ... pausing to gather seemingly unconnectables, there is a way to commit to this artful life.

Elsa's thought, "But most likely, you have a big idea or a vision of some kind," rings long enough in my na'au (guts) and reaches for this mana'o from Kumu Hula KehauKekua when she speaks about the greed involved in developing the aha of Wailua on the island of Kauai.

“When I teach halau, I have absolutely no inhibitions. Nothing keeps me from speaking to the sacred and the profound. I have amazing trust and confidence in the power of the land and the gods and the ancestors... “Sometimes what appears to be a lost battle is really not. It’s an illusion. The natural world will always shift things back into balance. Some of the development, unfortunately, we’ll have to live with. But in no way, shape or form should it stop us from elevating the sacredness [of Wailua.] ...The pule(prayers) become even more important because you have to work much harder to make the connection, and unfortunately, a lot of people give up. Many have disconnected from the traditional practices. As a Native Hawaiian, I believe it’s our responsibility to continue them, even in these modern times, because sacred places are only in history books unless you’re practicing.”

Like the he'e (octopus) my practice as makua o'o is a path, a garden planted with experience that stretches me; tentacles that were once severed serve as reminders of my disconnection from the traditional practices. Back and forth I have traveled between the sacred places of my birth wandering and wondering if I have the scent of things or just the illusion of them. Never count us deeply connected Scorpio's out and down for the count; we are born to reassemble and rise from the ashes. This full moon approaching is fueling me to appreciate and be responsible for the sacred and valuable traditions that travel with me. Blessed with an enduring coil that depends on the natural world I think of the small stones, the pohaku li'i li'i hanau growing in a bowl of rainwater just outside the vardo. "I think it might be time for you to take care of these," my cousin Mokihana said as she handed me a Tupperware container with a blue plastic lid. Inside I saw four, maybe five stones. Pohaku. "Keep them watered, and malama them," she said. I have, and they do malama(care for) me.

The large stones give birth to the small stones.

Sacred everyday, and the gift of handwriting

I was in town yesterday in and out of the post office, into the local coffee shop and community gathering place where Pete and I are planning to play Konane; meeting and greeting my neighbors and friends who were strangers to me three years ago. Several things needed doing at the post office: a card and letter of condolence needed to be written to my family back on O'ahu -- my aunty passed last Monday; another card to my son's girl friend in France needed a message written and a stamp ($1.10 for a snail mail communication); and finally a piece of mail needed to be forwarded to my son. After paying cash for the postage to France the woman helping me asked, "You're from Hawaii aren't you?" It's been a while since I've been asked that. I said "Yes," and was asked the often accompanying question, "It's quite a change for you, isn't it?' Sometimes, the pair of questions will unwind stories I wish to keep untold preferring to soothe my newly retrained amygdala from inciting a riot of fears and regrets. It really does me no good to light that old fire. Yesterday my mood and my sense of well-being were gently living within me and I chatted with the kind and helpful woman telling enough my story to become a little more known to her. We talked of Pele and the reality of the vog as an issue for me, and many others, who cannot tolerate The Goddess' inevitable magnificence. The making of new 'aina (land) is a powerful responsibility and she, The Goddess takes her kuleana very seriously. Reminders of why I can no longer live on the islands of my birth are present daily; bittersweet acceptance is something I embrace with a tender hand. My heart is bound to those islands and yet I remain inseparable wherever I am ... I know that today as I've not known as a younger woman.

The late October skies and temperature have taken on that cloak of grey wool. It is damp here in the woods as I sit next to the heat with layers of ankle length coverings, a scarf around my neck and an ancient purple sweater. Yesterday in town where the Tall Ones have been cleared for the shops and services that make Langley a sweet to know village, sun warmed me as I sat in the Subaru to write my cards and letter. I recall the feeling of ... what? anticipation as I sat with the pen and three blank pages (cards, a letter) to fill with my handwritten messages. Photographs taken by my friend and turned into cards gave me the visual inspiration to draw words together and scratch them with pen; practicing that craft I have loved since a girl. I wrote stories from scratch and left on the blank page a part of my yesterday.

The first card was written to my uncle(and his children) who grieve the loss of his partner and love of seventy years, and mother who lived to be in her mid-eighties. The photograph I chose for my family was a view of Deception Pass in the fog. Shot off a tri-pod my friend told me it was the last shot of the day and a tri-pod was new to her. The image was sublime in greys, the Deception Pass Bridge linking the grand flood of water below. Almost un-noticed but present in the left lower corner of the photo were leaves of a shrub or tree nearest the camera when MK took the shot. The present -- more dense, deeper and close. Inside I wrote to say we here were with them in spirit, and feel the loss with them across the way. Precisely what I wrote? I don't remember. The second card was written and sent to Granville, France on the coast of Normandie. This protograph was of a "hold fast" a fist size ocean rock at a low tide with glossy sea lettuce flowing from it. Held fast to the rock the two were one. There were thoughts and feelings to share with this young woman who wears my mother's jade and garnet ring. Leaving etchings of my hand on the card bound for Granville I could tell her something about me and my family as the letters connected. The third writing was done on a sheet of note paper with a drawing of a papa kui'ai (poi board) with eight different types of pohaku kui'ai (poi pounders). Onto this sheet of paper I wrote a letter to my uncle filling both sides. I had meant to enclose the letter with the card of Deception Pass, but I had sealed that card. Sometimes the universe and the Muse of Pens will intervene and it is those sometimes that enforce the sacredness of the everyday. Into a separate envelope went my uncle's letter. It was written for him alone.

As I age my comfort with pain changes. The heart ache of pain is as real as a sip of tea still too hot to drink; I love the drink but know sometime waiting is best. It's that way for me when I wish I could be _______ and yet know waiting or releasing is best. I allow myself limited visitations to memories and websites/blogs that present a view of Hawaii that is difficult. One of those blogs is that of Joan Conrow, writer, blogger and nature lover who lives on the island of Kauai. I made my once every several months vist to Conrow's Kauai Eclectic and discovered she has a second blog called Kauaipiko, or PIKO. This post was inspired originally by my visit to Conrow's blogs and in particular this essay from PIKO called "The Sacred and The Profound." (The entire essay is deep and provocative exemplifying the reason I visit Joan Conrow's writing only when I am strong enough to eat it.)

Conrow began her essay-article with this:

"There was a period, last November, when unremitting lightning brought day to the night skies over windward Kauai, as thunder boomed, cracked and rolled. Brisk winds swept in rains so heavy and insistent that streets ponded, mud slid and streams rose, flooding buildings, forcing evacuations, closing bridges and breaking water lines. When it was over, Mayor Bernard Carvalho surveyed the damage and issued a disaster proclamation.

The dramatic display by the elements coincided–though Kumu Hula Kehaulani Kekua would say it was no coincidence — with an aha hoano, a sacred ceremony, that she and other cultural practitioners were engaged in at the mouth of the Wailua River, whose source is Waialeale, the wettest spot on Earth...

I sat and read Conrow's blog describing the sacred and profound displays that go on over and over across the Earth; and witness the duality of language and words' influence on the whole. The great floods on Kauai, the "disaster proclamation" juxtaposed with Kumu Hula Kehaulani Kekua's words of an aha hoano, a sacred ceremony describe the same event. Yet, the story that rivets the memory of most? More than likely, the disaster put upon the streets, buildings bridges and water lines will fill more print. What I was given after reading PIKO was the Universe, my 'aumakua, my collective resources who reminded me to be the cultural practitioner I am in the sacred everyday, everywhere I am. Play games, play music and remember to play from the piko and practice protocol where all things connect.

Many thanks to Terri Windling for the inspiration to value the gift of handwriting, written as she is recovering from flu today, Thursday, October 18, 2012.

Evidence of magic: collecting miracles

Pete and the 'Little House that Grew", October, 2012

Visiting Jay Shafer's Tumbleweed Tiny House, 2007

The Long House with remnants of the original Quonset Hut (the blue back wall)

Once upon a time, not so very long ago two old dears took themselves on a road trip to visit a young wizard who was said to be making quit a stir. That young wizard, who was not so very young, was saying things that made a lot of very important people very leery. Things like, "small is enough" and "tiny" might be just right and on and on. He built tiny spaces and lived in them. Famous people like Oprah found out about the not so very young wizard and invited him to be on her very famous television show. After that ... many more people thought lots and lots of things about him. The two old dears were fighting for their lives (as they knew it at the time) and felt the voice of miracles and magic making stirring in the pot that will not die. Unsure of most of life at that point, the two old dears headed for the wizard in San Sebastopol in California and joined the tiny house wizard for one of his first workshops.

Time has passed and the wizard and the two old dears age and the collection of miracles continues. The wizard is now married with a wife and a son; the tiny house pictured above (the one in the middle of the three) remains the original TUMBLEWEED Tiny House. Since 2007 when we traveled south to California the wizard has influenced and inspired a revolution of grand proportions causing many humans to rethink the necessity and requirements for a house. We, two old dears, were well along the road of rethinking these necessities when we met Jay Shafer. His example and that workshop was a milestone along the path to making nests and growing tiny living spaces. Pictured above is the Quonset Hut 'the little house that grew' into our Long House a tiny bit at a time. The fall winds stir everything up ... inspiring and conspiring with the present to make a future worth enjoying. The pathways have turned to gold with the long needles of pine. Brilliant as any yellow brick road the forest trails are lit with magic. We collect that magic and give many, many thanks for the miracle of appreciating it in the moment.

Hauoli Makahiki Hou ... the new year begins!

Aloha,
Mokihana

GO PLAY: KonaneOnWhidbey

Pete and I have lit up an idea for having some fun this winter. In time for the Makahiki Season that begins with the NEW MOON, Monday, October 15, 2012, we're gonna see if we can find some new (and old) friends to join us for some Hawaiian-style fun. Hawaiian Checkers. KONANE is an ancient board game for two people. Played by ali'i (royals) and maka'ainana (common folk), makua (adults) and keiki (children) the game is easy to learn and grows in complexity as patterns and strategy for play comes over time.We've created space for this play-time with KONANEOnWHIDBEY, putting out a call to the island folks of Whidbey Island (posted soon on our local coconut wireless DREWSLIST) and the publishing our our newest blog www.konanewhidbey.blogspot.com. 

Click on the link to KonaneWhidbey(the link was wrong, it's edited and works now, 'aue!) to get a look at what two old dears are cooking up for some Makahiki fun! If you're in the area, or on the island look us up and come join us at the board (the konane board.)

Happy New Year Hawaiian Style. Hauoli Makahiki Hou,
Mokihana and Pete

Time and Turnings: New Moon in Libra, Monday, October 15, 2012 and the start of Makahiki

Hawaiians observe[d] Twelve Lunar Months every year. Each month featured 29 or 30 lunar phases (the Mauli phase at times being omitted) and was divided into three anahulu called Ho'onui (rising or waxing), Poepoe (full or round) and 'Emi (diminishing).

The start of the new year was marked with the rise of Makali'i, the "little eyes" (Pleiades). The first lunar month of the year, Makali'i, is said to begin with the first New Moon following the rise of Pleiades on the Eastern sky..."

Source: http://www.wpcouncil.org/indigenous/Indigenous_Display-1.pdf

New Moon in Libra, October 15, 2012 is Monday approaching. New Moon, New Year the potential for something new (an idea, a cleaned floor, a washed window) all stack up as a focus as Earth rotates and revolves in the heavens. The astrology of this New Moon? Here's what my astrologer Elsa wrote:

...The new moon is  supported by Jupiter so this offers a great chance for a fresh start on a Monday morning. Jupiter’s energy is protective. It’s benevolent, visionary and expansive. Libra deals with love, money and sociability.  Try to incorporate these things when you set your intention.  More (Jupiter) love (Libra) for example. Try to get along (Libra) with a broader range (Jupiter) of people."

That last line "Try to get along (Libra) with a broader range (Jupiter) of people" rings the bells in me as I get closer to a solar return, a birthday coming in mid-November. The New Moon and the New Year of Makahiki give me cause to celebrate positive and amazing progress in a life that needed reassembling. October 15 marks a year's anniversary of committing to retraining my brain (the limbic system-the ancient brain) and in particular the almond-shaped amygdala. For nearly a year of daytimes and night-times I've taken the path less traveled to re-define ideas, images and feelings about big and wild things like: fear, threat, danger and safety. That less traveled path is the one not trodden by habit. If there is one big, big thing this journey of healing from MCS has taught me it's this: the choice is ultimately mine! Blaming others for the habits or choices they make that (might) affect me is my habit. Habits and expectations are locked in if left unquestioned and last October 15th I made a choice to choose differently. Changing is difficult mostly because I have to keep believing the change is worth the discomfort; the water is deep when you launch from solidity of shallow water. The muscles for swimming new and deeper water (change) are unused to the exercise. For me, one of the muscles that needed exercise is the muscle that make my mouth say, "NO. No. nO." No, this is not for me. No, I have had enough and I'm leaving now. No, you don't really know what's best for me."


We watched the 2009 movie The Soloist the other night. The film is based on a true story of Nathaniel Ayers, a musician who develops schizophrenia and becomes homeless. If we had not 'become homeless' and without a house for seven months ourselves, the film would have struck me differently. Since we have the memory and the experience of being without a house the drama played notes on my internal strings: notes in minor keys the haunting and lower notes that bring up grief and sorrow. The most potent lines of the film were spoken by the social worker-maybe the director of the homeless shelter LAMP, when he is dogged by the well-meaning journalist who 'discovered' the musical genius Nathaniel Ayers  in the Los Angeles' Skid Row. The journalist is sure that the solution or fix for Ayers is therapy and drugs. "You can do that, right! Diagnose him and treat him with drugs. (paraphrased).' The answer the journalist receives is something like this: "These people have diagnosis, upon diagnosis. They don't need or want one more diagnosis; and drugs? Which drug haven't they had. LAMP is a program based on the belief that names its goal: HOUSING FIRST.

"The approach we use, and helped to pioneer, is called Housing First or permanent supportive housing. Conventional wisdom has long said that homeless people with disabilities had to “straighten up” before they could obtain housing. But people with severe disabilities cannot access treatment, let alone make dramatic changes in their lives, while struggling to survive on the streets.

 " Housing First approaches are based on the concept that a homeless individual or household's first and primary need is to obtain stable housing, and that other issues that may affect the household can and should be addressed once housing is obtained. In contrast, many other programs operate from a model of "housing readiness" — that is, that an individual or household must address other issues that may have led to the episode of homelessness prior to entering housing...

Our Quonset is now fully enclosed and mostly sealed against the dampness that moves back into the woods for winter. The look of a Long House creates joy. Pete is off for a few hours of his away-from-home work, but as he prepared to leave he turned around. I was hugging him but he could still look over my head. "It's just where I wanted to be before it starts to rain." We have lived in many places, and many on-lookers would never call these places "home" as they look on: a front yard in a Windward O'ahu residence; a driveway for the night; a parking lot stall along the white sandy shores of a Hawaiian beach ...

Watching The Soloist rewound memories just enough to bring me to the crossroads of my road less traveled; the one where I understand to stay off the trodden path of an incited amygdala. To have a house that we call home ushered us into this space "a homeless individual or household's first and primary need is to obtain stable housing, and that other issues that may affect the household can and should be addressed once housing is obtained."As the New Moon and the Pleiades signal the beginning of a New Year approaching I write from the comfort of that housing obtained. Without housing my decision to begin retraining my ancient brain ... the one that is ignited and left in the fully-on position, the one that is probably living with most homeless, was not an option. Timing is divine, we have made sense of trauma and come to a new island, a place where we are housed and at home.

Home ... inside a well-built nest

Homelessness is an equal opportunity experience. Exemption is not guaranteed, and the fix? No easy solutions. But, there is a grace to the potency of a New Moon intention to "try to get along (Libra) with a broader range (Jupiter) of people." The gray skies mute the senses today. I think of the many new relationships I have experienced since committing to retraining my amygdala; practicing limits and exercising my mouth and mind to say "No" and mean it. A year of practice and I can feel how much more space I have in my heart for "Yes!" I'm just where I hoped to be before winter came.

Get fired up ... get fired up ... get fired up

That's the former Blue-sides kitchen at the end of the path

We're busy piecing together the newest version of our Quonset kitchen, transforming the small blue sided hut into a Long House blessed by Ravens. All around us the activity of the season shifting models for Pete and me: gather nuts, eat the sweet, sweet berries now, sleep early rise early. Get fired up, get fired up, get fired up ... winter's coming so get that fire in your belly now.

Life and death, short visits, long friendships. Shifting skies and solar returns. So many thoughts have been jumbling through my mind: busy innards, juggling, tossing, struggling. Across the ocean Aunty L. passes last of the female elders in my family I feel her let go of the oars and the stars call me from sleep to witness the passing ... Makali'i (The Pleiades) rising in the early morning; space for one more is made.

We're busy piecing together the Long House blessed by Ravens. A pair of the shiny black winged ones swoop and call above as Pete works at the steel corner curve. Four more feet this new extension offers us. Four feet, four years, we have been moving toward this expanded space to be with Ravens who dance and scold and watch for signs of hesitation: Forgotten have they? Forgotten have they the lessons, the habits of hesitation stilling them when all that is needed is to get fired up, fired up, fired up. It might have been the box of lettuce heads that tempted Raven to get as close as that. Or maybe, the sight of the beautiful Long House in colors just right for the shiny long black feathered-ones brought them for an even closer look.

We're busy piecing together a nest-building life that is more bird-like and animal by the day. Looking back at the choices, the situations and the cross roads where each of us individually, or together as a pair decided to go that way, do that thing now or wait till later looking back gives only so much food for moving forward or living fully in the moment. Yesterday we received word that we did not receive the grant to help us with our nest-building this winter. We are disappointed. Rejection is never easy. Other people are more desperate for help, more in need now. But the panel of decision makers were 'impressed with our upgrade plan.' Five years ago we were probably among those the decision makers would have deemed more in need. Now, we are nest-builders who have begun a time when the wildness of birds and the application of that inner fire simply fuels us to be birds.

Tomorrow evening an Audubon gathering is planned a few miles north of our nest. We hope to be there. The topic Life Among the Trees seems perfect for us.

"Learn how the trees and other plants in our local forests provide habitats for birds and other creatures, and how birds in turn shape the forest. Steve and Martha Ellis will focus on the factors that influence these forest types and the seasonal use by birds. They'll also highlight specific locations for each of these types of forest and give tips on how to find the birds among the trees."

We're busy piecing together a nest-building life among the trees in a fashion that is different than many humans; similar to birds though different, too. Not exactly a guerrilla life-style we do nonetheless live outside the box of many systems. Astrologically, I found this blog post written by Satori over on ElsaElsa to be an angle worth chewing on. This is snip of that wonderful angle from a former tobacconist.

..."With Saturn conjunct Mercury and aspecting Chiron you’re likely to run into situations where people get triggered by perceptions that bring up past wounding. Mercury sextiles Venus and both quincunx Uranus. With Mercury conjunct Saturn, this can result in snap judgements, yours and theirs. Making judgments limits your perception. When you slow down your rush to judgement and allow more time to gather your thoughts and perceptions, you allow a more complete picture to emerge. Reality is a continuum, not a moment in time cast in stone"

I particularly like the last two lines.

And finally as I flush through the days and nights since last I sat to post a ramble here, I found this marvelous example of art made from the everyday passion -- the fire within, made good in the every day. Another example of Kickstarter's viral influence on a world that really is more magic and wildness that many will allow. A couple of artists, one with a name so similar to my (last name) I couldn't help but love it are seeing America as the Trading Tortoise. Watch this for a bowl of inspiration and fire for your belly. I love this world!

Raven art credit:
Raven Silhouette clipart
from Clker.com

"There must be more to life than having everything"

“There must be more to life than having everything.”
― Maurice Sendak

Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak

The sky is that soft flannel blanket blue and from my window in the vardo Mahina the moon is crisp against it present in her cap of white, her day hat for it is nearly the 'Ole Phases. Present for those who notice, our only moon reflects the sun's light so we can see the wild and wondrous things that are inside.This has been a wild, wild week. Astrologically the past seven days were described like this[subscribe to Elsa's weekly newsletter for a weekly plan that might help]: "This will be one of the most dynamic and challenging weeks we've seen this year.  We're two t-squares and a poorly aspected, explosive full moon in Aries. It makes sense you be armed with a plan so that's what I'll offer." I have been wrestling with issues folks like me at near age 65 are challenged to deal with: Medicare-- to pay for health insurance, or not to pay for health insurance. This post is NOT going to be a debate about health insurance. Instead here is a place where an elder in training picks up her digging stick once again and asks: What's best for her now? Saturn moves into Scorpio (where many planets and interactions take place for me) tomorrow, October 5, 2012. I attend to the heaven's pathways and here's something from Eric Francis I'm considering:

"You are approaching one of the boldest “get serious” moments of your life, a process spanning nearly three years... I’ve described Saturn in your Sun sign (or in your rising sign) as an extended phase of coming to terms with yourself. Said another way, this transit is about becoming your own inner authority, something that few people ever do—and which is much likelier with Saturn in your neighborhood. One sad story of our society is people refusing to grow up; other people continue to have authority over their choices and even their opinions. Saturn in your sign can feel like authority figures or seemingly more powerful people imposing themselves on you. This is a reminder to take authority over all of those aspects of your life, and many more where you anticipate this kind of involvement by others..."

Many "get serious" moments fill my life; internal conflict is tattooed into my astrological chart.The years of living seriously with multiple chemical sensitivities gifted me with an incredible remembering, or what I described in my mythic memoir Wood Craft (soon to be published!) as reassembling.

From Wood Craft this description, "Reassembling is  version of recycling beliefs and attitudes that no longer served the original design of Creation. Bits of the original belief or attitude might have sustaining value. Rather than throw the whole kit and caboodle out, to become part of the Cosmic Heap, the wise Creators gave us the inspiration to simply reassemble and start again without too harsh a melt-down, if at all possible."

From this beautiful place in the woods, my family and I continue reassembling a life that is built upon foundations that are less grand; built less on hubris and more with humility. The extended clear and dry season allows us to rebuild the 8x8 Quonset hut adding more space for two old dears and their cat to enjoy a comfortable winter, stretched out together on chairs around a sweet round table for hot food and lively conversation. Not too much to expect, and definitely a progression over the past five years. Our choices to build what we build has been influenced on all levels by our finely-tuned connection to how we build and why. No longer willing to believe that if we had everything we would be happy, we needed first to live within -- diving into the deep tunnels and hidden compartments of beliefs to make sure we know our contents, and own them. Last night Pete and I were glad to climb onto the futon after a hot shower toweled dry with a clean bath towel.

Pete had worked all day and into the early evening muscling the long sheets of weathered copper and red siding that will be our new Quonset. Steel is unforgiving in his tensile strength. Screwed in place against the curved frames there are slight wobbles to the shape of things, and the paint will need to off-gas more before my tender eyes do not weep from their volatility. Lengths of salvaged green canvas needs to be cut and sown into ribbons to hold our winter pouches of insulation in place. The wooden table under the apple tree waits for me to finish my ribbon-making; after a romp with words I tell the table and the green canvas ... soon back to you I'll come.

Settled onto the futon, under a jumble of cozy blankets we pushed into a movie and watched and listened to the story of Max and his wild rumpus with The Wild Things. Five years ago the reassembling process for these two old dears began in earnest. There was no turning back, only moving steadily forward down the stream, over the rapids and onto sand bars for rests and rejuvenation; then dive we do again as life awaits us.

“I have nothing now but praise for my life. I'm not unhappy. I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can't stop them. They leave me and I love them more...What I dread is the isolation. ... There are so many beautiful things in the world which I will have to leave when I die, but I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready.”
― Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are

And you?