A letter home

131

Dear Candace,

I'm curled up in a blanket outside. The birds are chirping and my coffee is almost drinkable. Yesterday, in preparation for Mother's Day, M. planted a bunch of flowers. She insisted we go to look at plants, then picked out a beautiful snapdragon, potted it and put it on the kitchen table. Her love of plants mirrors your own.

Remember that time you came to visit and the plant in my living room was screaming at you that it was dying and you saved it? You were always so in touch with the green world. She's not always as patient as you were with the whispers of the grass and trees and flowers... but in time, I suspect she will hear it more clearly. I signed her up for an organic gardening class next year. It's what you would have done. I don't hear the earthy world as clearly as you did, I've always been more in touch with the watery one. She for sure gets her love of the earth more from you than from me. She doesn't really even like to swim.

She went to her first prom last night. She looked so much like you. It caught my breath a couple of times. She's got your stubbornness, humor, kindness... can you believe she will be 15 next weekend? How did that happen? Only a short time and she will be off to college.

I have the photo of the two of you above my bed. I remember how unhappy she was that day because you took her out of school to get the pics taken and that you didn't care because you knew it was important. You were in the middle of one of the rounds of chemo, but you looked stunning. Probably because you never took a bad photograph!  It's a beautiful photo and it captures the connection perfectly. I have one of your whole family in my office. I look at it every day.

I often find myself remembering what you taught me about friendship. Until I met you, I didn't really understand what it took to be a true friend. You showed me rather than told me - through your actions, your laughter, your anger, your honesty and your kindness - more about unconditional love than anyone I had met. Your spirit showed my spirit its value. I sometimes wonder if you were preparing me to be a better person simply by being with you. You used to say I was the most spiritual woman you knew, that even when I could so easily take the low road, I took the high road. I wish I could say that was true, but friendship sometimes makes it easier to not see another's flaws. If anything though, being friends with you helped me shine all the brighter.

But of all the gifts you left to me, all the life lessons, the memories of swimming at midnight down at the lake, the rehashing of relationships until 4am, teaching me how to be more aware of people, how to weed out the people who were mean or unkind to me... the best gift you gave me was trusting me to raise your daughter.

And in case I didn't thank you enough - not just for all you did for me, but all you did for your family, and for everyone who ever asked anything of you... Thank you.

And thank you for thinking... no... for knowing in your heart I would be a good mother for your daughter. I never thought I would be a mother and when that happened, especially because of how it happened, it simultaneously shattered my heart, and then completely filled it.

I think of you every single day and have a million questions about guys, and life and choices and love and what the heck am I doing? You know... the questions you always helped me find answers for - especially when I started spinning in my head about what to do. You listened, you told me your thoughts and you called me on my crap when I needed it.

I just wanted you to know, even though I believe you already do, she is doing well. I am doing well. We are doing well. And if I am half the mom you were on Mother's Day today... then it is because you were my role model and my best friend.

Miss you,

MK

An ode to organic and my mom...

42/100

I get my eggs from a family across the street. The yolks are deep orange. The chickens run around their yard. I don't even know if they have a coop. Yesterday? When I picked up my eggs, one of the shells was blue. The rest were a variety of crazy sizes and shades of brown shells with chicken dirt on them and hay. Honestly? If you made me an egg from some farm factory horror farm where chickens have their beaks cut and their legs grow into the wire mesh cages, I can't say I would know. Taste wise? These organic eggs taste similar to factory ones. You can tell the difference in the yolks because the yolks are rich and a bit larger than store bought eggs. Factory chickens are force-fed corn, grain and feed full of other dead chickens. I'm not even exaggerating. However, those pristine white eggs fry up like the organic ones I pick up from next door. Except the factory eggs cost about $1.85 a dozen. The  organic ones  across the street? Cost me $4. And I will pay it. Because those chickens? Roam around happily clucking and being chickens. 

Somewhere in the 1950s our country decided tv dinners and drive thru restaurants were awesome! Cool! The food of the future. A lot of people have made movies about it like "Food, Inc", and written books like "the Omnivore's Dilemma" so I'll spare you a full on lecture. All I know is that whenever I am able,  I choose organic if I can afford it. It's criminal that food raised organically is more expensive than factory food, but then, we pay for that cheaper food in so many ways... but I'm really trying not to lecture in this blog. I'm sharing my own issues with organic food. Sometimes I can't justify the expense of organic, but when I can? I do.

And while I might not be able to tell the difference between the organic egg and the factory egg all scrambled up, and while I eat factory eggs and other food when I go out to breakfast or dinner, there is something to be said about knowing where my food comes from. I *like* knowing who is feeding the animals I am choosing to eat, how the animals I am choosing to eat are treated and slaughtered. I try not to eat or buy from a factory system because they have taken away 'seasons' for fruits and vegetables, they've created 'monster' chickens with breasts so big the chickens can't walk because their breasts grow so rapidly they never learn to balance on their tiny legs, they've genetically modified corn to the point where it is almost impossible to get unaltered corn and because every dollar I give them is support for a non-sustainable way of living that will tear apart our culture.The worst part about it, is that they control the media to the point where they even control many of the organic labelled products and use guilt to 'convince' me that it is 'wise' to spend more on organic food that isn't organic! It's hard navigating shopping sometimes. It's why I love farmer's markets. Sadly, those aren't as common once October hits...

I don't know what it is going to take to find a more sustainable way of living. To knock us out of our plastic covered, boneless, hermetically sealed packages of food that somewhat resemble meat. In most cases? It is meat from cows from all over the world. Look on your package. If you buy ground beef? There is a good chance if you aren't buying from someone like "Laura's Lean Ground Beef" that beef is from Australia, Mexico, South America and *maybe* the US. I guess I can only start with myself.

Each day and each choice I make about what I am eating gives me the opportunity to live a more sustainable life. No, I can't always eat organically. But I can choose, when possible, restaurants that serve organic meat. I can also choose to eat less meat and pay more for organic meat when I do buy it. I can also, next year, start a garden. And who knows... maybe after the winter? I'll get my own chickens and let them wander around my yard... 

My mother used to have a huge garden. She'd grow all kinds of fruits and vegetables and can them or freeze them. We'd enjoy the benefits all winter long. I sit here tonight admiring my mom in so many ways. And tonight? I miss her just a little. Because I have to learn all these things on my own and I can't call her and ask her how. Luckily, I have her notes and her cookbooks. Now... if I just had her green thumb.

Peace,

MaryKate

Lessons from Lying...

34/100

I used to lie. A lot. I lied because I thought it made things easier to manage. I lied because I thought somehow it protected me. I got very good at lying. 

I lied mostly to myself. I think when someone battles with addiction (mine was/is food) she becomes really adept at lying. I spent all my time telling myself I didn't have a problem. Hey I can quit any time. I don't NEED that hamburger, but hey... I only had a small breakfast so a double cheeseburger is okay today. 

In my late 20s, I had a moment in my life where my lying caught up with me. Everything sort of fell apart and I found myself curled into a ball on the floor trying to sort out the pieces of the mess I had made of my life and the lives of others around me. The problem with lying is after a while the lie takes on a life of its own. You have to keep lying and eventually the lie becomes more real to you than the truth. 

From that moment on, I have made the conscious effort not to lie - especially to others. For someone who is a natural storyteller, it's hard not to lie about things sometimes. The story is so much better with a little exaggeration... and I am not innocent of that. However, at 42 I see where my body is because I am not always honest with myself about what I am eating or how often I am exercising. Telling a tall tale is one thing, lying to yourself about something that is destructive to you? Is completely another. I've learned to be honest with others, but still struggle at times with being honest with myself. One of the reasons I started this blog was to keep myself accountable and hone those 'honesty with myself' skills.

The issue of lying came home to me again yesterday. Many years ago, I posted something on a website... a positive review of a friend's business that I care about. Someone else had posted an unfairly negative review and I felt like if I didn't write something positive, there would only be that bad review for everyone to see. Except instead of posting as myself? I posted as someone else. As a writer it wasn't difficult to create a whole persona that was 'close' to true, but not actually true. Until yesterday. Yesterday someone seeking advice wrote to me because of the business review I had made. I was faced full on with a crisis. Do I continue the lie? 

What I realized is that I was faced with not only losing my credibility as a person, but if I continued the facade and got caught?  I would cause my friend's business to lose credibility as well. Now, some of you might be saying, "Seriously, MK? You got all worked up over one review you posted on the internet? A review you wrote because you cared about a friend? A review you wrote that was based on truth, but wasn't actually *your* truth? Get over it."

Except lying? Eats away at integrity. I know the reasons why I lied were in my eyes, 'noble' but the results weren't. It's made me look at myself and accept that even a lie told for a 'good reason' comes back and haunts me. Not only that, but in my profession of educator, I spend a great deal of time talking to my students about lying. How can I, as a teacher, tell my students not to lie, when I don't own up to my own moments when I don't tell the truth?

In the end? I found a good way to 'fix' the situation. It was more honorable and more accurate than when I tried to 'fix' the situation on my own. I think, because I spent my life trying to 'fix' situations as quickly as possible I jumped to the 'easy' fix. I jumped to try to fix it myself instead of looking at the larger picture and finding a situation that didn't cause me to compromise my own integrity. The 'easy' fix of telling a lie doesn't end up being easy and in the long term, usually ends up being painful.

So here's a toast to the truth in all its sometimes ugly and usually difficult glory. The more I deepen my relationship with it, the fewer burdens I carry and the lighter I become.

Peace,

MaryKate

ch _ _ ch... what's missing? UR

28/100

I went with my friend to church today. I haven't been to a Catholic church in many, many years. I went a couple of times in college because two of my closest friends at that time were both Catholic. I grew up Missouri Lutheran, so I pretty much knew what I was doing and all the creeds and such.

When I was younger I thought there was such mystery in a church. I remember how I loved to sit in the pews when no one else was in the church and just look at the candles. Our church was a stark one, and very conservative. But at 12, I didn't know about that sort of thing. Later on in my life I can remember wandering through Mexico loving the churches and the beauty of the stained glass and cathedrals. I felt the ancient mystery there and it was impressive to me.

I have wandered into and out of different churches since college. I had a conversation with my father once about the Power of Myth. He said to me, "Believing in God isn't a problem, believing in a personal god, you got problems." I asked him what he meant and like the most irritating koan out there, he didn't say. I railed against him. "I have a personal God", I shouted, "I have an incredible relationship with God!" He just shook his head.

Once I understood what he was trying to say, my relationship with god was never the same. First of all, I didn't even want to use the word 'god'. For a while I used "goddess" but I got frustrated at most of the 'goddess' worshipers I met. Most of them seemed to just be really pissed off "god" worshipers. They hated each other and hate wasn't what I was seeking. It seems a lot of people played the 'my god/dess is better than your god/dess' game and I got sick and tired of all of them. Wars being fought in the name of religion... trade centers crumbling and being blamed on religion... it seems like everyone had the ONE RIGHT WAY... and no one knew how to listen to each other anymore, unless you purchased with your soul their ONE RIGHT WAY bumper sticker.

I tried a more 'humanitarian' church. Unitarian Universalist. It was a good fit for a while... but their all out refusal to use the word god started to irritate me as well. I didn't want to get RID of divinity in my life, I just wanted a way to touch it again...

Then I went through a big existential crisis. There I was... the woman who for all of her life had this amazing relationship with divinity, not even knowing how to pray anymore. Not even liking the word prayer. This time in my life was the most difficult time ever. I felt outside of myself. I had been studying myths so much I couldn't see the forest for the trees. How could I believe ANYTHING??? The stories were beautiful, but all the magic of the myth were lost.

I'd say the last five years of my life have been lost. I have felt outside of myself and my spirituality.

But lately I have felt more myself than I have in a long time. I feel connected again to the magic that is life. I still try to avoid the word "god" or "goddess" or any name to a concept that is beyond my capacity to name it or define it. The minute you start to define you get religion and clearly.. I have some issues with those...

I realized today, I won't be going back to any form of rigid dogma again. Today? I couldn't even see the beauty of the mystery. I just felt so angry with all the talk of sin and guilt. I wanted to walk out of the church when a woman got up and said how proud she was that she was picketing the Planned Parenthood in Everett. I know people who use that Planned Parenthood, that organization does a great deal more than the one thing she felt it was her duty to prevent.

But I am wretched? I am sin? I am an unworthy sinner in the eyes of their god? I couldn't even enjoy the singing today because I kept listening to the words of the music, the sermon and the messages. I could barely get through "Amazing Grace" which used to be one of my favorites. In all fairness, I wasn't brought up Catholic, but Missouri Lutheran is similar in many many ways. The whole service didn't work for me and it truly bothered me. In the past I could sit and appreciate the faith of others. I could have heard the talk about the poor and how it is our job to minister to the poor and enjoyed it. But not today. Today I couldn't get past the message of guilt and sin and how much I felt that the words that were said were one thing and the actions were quite another. I realized the days when I could just go and sit in a church and soak up the mystery of the experience are over.

Then I went to Deception Pass (the irony of the name is not lost on me). My friend walked around while I sat and stared at the ocean. The smell of the water, the gulls, the breeze, the beauty... I felt closer to my spirit than I have in a long time. It was renewing. It was affirming. It was magical.

So in the end, I am grateful for today. I'm not going to lie, I am frustrated that others want to tell me how to believe. I do not think I'll ever be able to join a group again that insists I need a mediator between me and the Divine. I do not need my understanding of divinity to be personal. But I need a connection. And I apologize now if I am coming off as saying that religion is bad. I do not think it is. What doesn't work for me, is a specific form of structured religion that may very work for someone else.

I think faith is beautiful. You seek what makes your heart sing and live that. My issue comes when you tell me that how I see Divinity is somehow wrong or flawed or 'sinful'. Heck you can even believe that if you want, I'm not going to tell you how to believe... even how you believe about me. But for the love of your faith, please don't force me to see things your way. Don't take away my choice to believe how I wish to believe. As long as my way of seeing divinity doesn't take away your rights to see divinity how you want to see it? We'll get along just fine.

I do believe in mystery and magic. And I can see the deeper message in the word both written and spoken. And I may call my connection God, or Goddess or god or goddess. I may quote from Jesus, or Buddha, or Confucius. I may meditate, pray, do shamanic journeying or sit quietly by the beach and feel the earth between my toes. Those are my ways of connecting. And I can barely begin to tell you how glad I am to be feeling them again.

It is good to be back.

Peace,

MaryKate