Lunar Eclipse

Last night there was a full moon. The full moon was eclipsed by the sun. Actually, the earth came between the sun and the moon -- brutal earth!

It was really cold out, but we went out to see it in 15 degree weather. The night was absolutely clear and there really wasn't much wind. While we were watching the eclipse out in the front yard, I thought about the university observatory up on (of all things) Observatory Hill. I remembered it was a Wednesday and thought they might be open. (They're open sometimes on Wednesdays). So I loaded everybody in the little put put and we headed off to see if the observatory was open.

When we got to the observatory, there were students with high-powered lenses looking at the moon. They shared their great "kid that can afford to go to college" binoculars with us. But the actual observatory wasn't open. There was a note on the door to go down to the new-fangled one down the street. Na.

It was pretty. It was happening as we stood there. The weather was happening. The time was passing. Something about being there with other people added a dimension to it. So I wasn't so disappointed that the observatory wasn't open. It finally peaked and I thought I'd better get little Simon to the car, it was so cold, and you can't really tell how warm those crummy kid winter clothes are -- and Mr. Simon never complains!

The eclipse passed, like so many things in nature, smoothly, with an obvious orbit. Slow, steady and with some weird aspect of grandeur. Most things, I'm not patient enough to wait for, especially other human beings. But the seasons passing, the eclipse of the moon, the phases of the moon, the tides rising and falling, and other such events happening from time to time on this cosmic spaceship we are all riding, just fascinate me, and slow me down to what I'm guessing must be the "right" speed.

Even in the bitter cold, everything was marvelous. Maybe there aren't enough people in my life. I'm pretty scared of people. I'm scared I won't be able to give them what they want. I'm scared I'll wrong them somehow. This is my head, the inside of my crazy head. But for some reason, just looking up at this moon, and watching it glow amber, made me feel for a few seconds that I was part of everything, I disappeared into that wonderfully lush indigo sky with the planets and the stars sprinkled around and a moon that I need to be tethered to or I will just float away into my head and maybe not return.

So it was all good. It was a reminder that there is a broader reality than just the inside of my head. There is a love that isn't romantic, it's a love for mere existence. The mere spec of time we are here. I'm convinced it's all we have. Our ego anyway. The me part. But so much of our time here we are eclipsed by societal obligations. Which is right, because what would happen? But when we step out of the shadow of life and our selves to join the rest of humanity and stare up at that beautiful orb, we've named Luna, time recedes, the ticking fades and we float through along with it with everyone else watching. There's something real about that for me. It's something you can't take a picture of, or catch on Youtube. I think Jung tried to figure it out, but after all, we are mere mortals. Puny little mushy vessels plunked down here on the weird spinning, orbiting, violent ball of a world.

It's actually pretty cool when you stop thinking about it.

That's what friends are for

All my life I haven't been much of a friend. I was the baby of the family. I was spoiled. I didn't really get that there were other people in this world than me that needed all the things I needed. I wasn't really trying to be inconsiderate, I just never learned how to be part of a family.

Naturally when I grew up and tried to have relationships they all went to hell in a hand basket. There are many hand baskets down there that have my name on them. Wonderful little hand baskets, but with big gaping holes in them. Holes that I created. Baskets I destroyed.

But I'm here, what am I going to do? So I go on. I win for a little while, then I lose big time. Trying to figure out how to balance desire with reality. Very hard to do.

So when it came to friendships the same ends were achieved. Some kept forgiving me, like Lisa, who was such a wonderfully well-adjusted person. But then she died of a brain aneurism at only 26. I don't thing anyone since has given me so much leeway.

This whole going to church every week and being part of a group of people of which you know their stated goal is to try to live by the rules Christ taught. Especially; "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you" is really helping me grow as a friend. I still suck at it, but I see some improvement.

The biggest thing I can find when I try to look at what has changed about my "friendship" abilities is that my ears have grown bigger. I've always had a huge heart. I love people and life, but I feel awkward navigating through relationships. So my heart has always been broken because of my inability to engage with people in general, but mostly people I love.

My ears have grown to help me hear what my friends are saying. I can sit and listen to them. I can try to block out my ego for some moments and really try to "feel" them. I am also noticing, not only my ears getting bigger, but my mouth is starting to shrink. Enabling me to just listen and not opine.

What a relief. I thought everyone expected me to have answers! Now I get it. They just want someone to talk to. They just need a friend. A gentle companion in this violent world. One who doesn't judge, or try to "fix" them. Just someone they can relax with. I think I get it. Although my countenance has undergone some great changes, my spirit is even more altered. It is still really hard, but some times I actually can just shut up and listen.

scar tissue

After years of not seeing him, or knowing quite where he was, I finally located my ex-boyfriend, still friend, Michael this week. Every so often I would search for him on line. I watched for his band to show up on Youtube. But it seemed it would never happen.

A few years ago when I searched for his name, his father’s obit came up. It indicated that Michael was living in Plover. The last I’d talked to him, he said he hated email. So I didn’t figure him to be on line. But I searched nonetheless.

Last week I again searched on Youtube for a Sacred Order video, and there he was. Wow! There’s Michael! He looks good! Then I wondered who put the video up. It was Beezer. I knew that was a guy he was in the band with back in the 80’s. I started listening to the videos and it was so much fun.

Then I noticed some videos that were even more recent. Put up by none other than Michael himself! I immediately tried to find my Youtube password and logon so I could leave him a message. After much digging and searching I found something that worked, logged in and emailed Michael.

I waited. I figured he had to look at his site soon! Maybe over the weekend. Sure enough, I checked my email on Sunday and there were messages from Michael!

It’s so nice to hear from someone from your past that you actually love and remember with true warmth the things you did together. Michael and I were quite out there. We were definitely partners in crime. We had a lot in common, I think.

We both were artists and he was a great writer. He ended up writing for the band. Wonderful and funny songs. We both were heavily into punk rock. Hippies from Stevens Point always wanted to beat Michael up because they thought he looked like “a fag.” He wore his hair in a spiky "do" like Bowie. Later he went further towards a Hard core skinhead look and got a flat top, but I really think it was homage to his father Jerry, who inspired both confusion and pride in Michael.

Michael had a great family. Sharon his mom was auburn-haired and loved horses. Later she hurt her back and wasn’t able to ride anymore. I remember her fit and vital. She was beautiful.

We dated for a while, fell madly in love, and decided it would be a good idea to move in together. It was fun for a while. Then I think I started goofing it all up. I guess I wasn’t ready. Things never really recovered from that. I’m sure Michael had his transgressions too, but I don’t know about them… except for Terry, the neighbor, I thought maybe something was there.

When we moved in we bought glass Pyrex mixing bowls -- the nesting kind. We bought Gerber knives. We got all kinds of stuff. We had twin beds that we pushed together in the little bedroom. We were so young.

We used to drive around to grave yards and motels and record stores. We partied in Appleton at the Thirsty Whale on “Punk Night.” I danced so much I actually lost weight when we were doing that.

After we broke up, we tried a few times to get back together. It never seemed to work out. The timing was always bad. Then I got married, had a kid. Then he got married. Then we both got divorced. But during that time didn’t talk. I don’t really know why.

But there are scars from that relationship etched upon my heart. Scars I don’t really mind having. They’re more like tattoos. Brilliant and ornate, they inform my present reality. As I trace around their contours in my minds eye I giggle with delight remembering Michael -- a witty, funny, bold, bawdy, sensitive child of a man. Damaged yet undaunted by this brutal force that is life. I love you Michael. How could I not? I don’t think we can ever be separated. Those beautifully gaudy scars run too deep.




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vXxg5maBinM&feature=PlayList&p=421B5B68F1533B8E&index=2