Lazy W Marie

Carpeing all the diems in semi-rural Oklahoma...xoxo

getting centered before Thanksgiving

In our corner of the universe, everyone is a bit wound up about Thanksgiving. In good, happy ways, mostly, but also in covid ways. We have the exact same dilemma you have, which is how to gather safely and responsibly while preserving our mental health and holiday traditions as much as possible. We are wound up over how to stay connected when we are entering a season of necessary separation. You know, all of it. We are all in this.

It’s hard to make hard choices, and I know we are far from alone in this. It’s all valid, not imaginary, and occasionally makes me cry.

Somehow I woke up extra early Saturday morning and felt a new uprising of optimism and hope about it all. I woke up remembering the essence of giving thanks and of keeping traditions. Our outward expressions are not the whole story, after all. The root of it all is untouchable, no matter what else is happening. The root of it all is Love, and Love always resurfaces eventually. Love always wins, and it always makes good choices.

Today’s weather is a great illustration of this. We have cold, grey skies and thick clouds over the farm. It’s a dim atmosphere, not awful, but also not glorious. Until the sun busts through. All throughout the day this intense metallic light keeps making these surprise appearances, gilding and glittering the oak leaves and evergreens, illuminating the patchy grass and purple mums. It just enlivens everything, and without warning the gloom is forgotten. A few times today it was so surprising that I gasped and panicked over having wasted a pretty day indoors.

We are in charge of this stuff, friends. We literally rule over our perceptions and focus.

We can focus on the statistics and on what others are doing and become overwhelmed and sad (or angry); or we can acknowledge reality then focus on what health we are enjoying today, affirm good choices, and make the absolute most of what is available to us. We can do everything in our power to live out Love, even if it all looks very different than we are used to.

We get hooked on the habits and details, sometimes, and forget that our habits and details are born of deeper, more meaningful values and truths. Repeating traditions is just a way of conjuring up good feelings, and that can be done in myriad ways. We are infinitely creative creatures, capable of making magic. Holiday magic. Even in pandemic.

For me, the trick will be allowing this holiday season to be exactly what it is, really digging in and enjoying it all, without comparing it to huge, glorious holidays past or even more liberated holidays in the future. Definitely let’s agree to not compare our Thanksgiving to anyone else’s. This year more than ever, that’s just a fruitless endeavor. We are all making complex choices with fluctuating resources and energy levels. So, no comparing. xoxo

I intend to celebrate the generations of Love and effort invested in us so far, everything beautiful in each of our families that has led up to this year. I will make silent promises to reinvest that Love and effort into others, every chance we get, both now and going forward.

Let’s also remember that some of the best traditions are sparked from weird, necessary moments of impulse and invention. Let’s all be open to what new beauty might come this Great Pause.

Okay. Happy Thanksgiving Week, friends. Whatever you are planning, may it be all you need and more. May lots and lots of golden-silver autumn sunlight hammer apart your gloom. May the essence of every family tradition be findable, the effort behind every good thing repeatable in new ways. And most of all, may you and your family stay safe and healthy.

Please Wear a Mask
XOXOXOXO

forty seven years and many more to go

On this cold and variable autumn weekend in late October, my beautiful parents are celebrating their 47th wedding anniversary. Rumor has it they stole away to their own backyard for a brief and covid-friendly date night, which is to say that they are finally getting a room. Get a room guys! hehe

Mom, baby me, and Dad, circa 1974.

My parents married especially young and had me almost immediately, then they had four more kids who were also, well, pretty good, depending on who you ask.

Genevieve, me, Angela, Philip, & Joey (not in birth order or coolness order either)

All my life our parents have been the young parents in every crowd, and I have loved it. I grew up very accustomed to my female friends having crushes on Dad and my male friends having crushes on Mom (a particular devastation, though, when I reached the age to have crushes on those boys). Moreover, I always just felt like part of them. No kids remember life without their parents; but I felt a unique sense of almost kinship or camaraderie because we were relatively close in age. Understandably, they were less advertisory about this fact to the world at large. I suppose, especially in the 1970s, people might be judgmental and have plenty to say about it. But I was always proud of them, and I still am.

Earlier this month I had the opportunity to answer a question about their youth, when I posted about Dad’s 63rd birthday. A new Facebook friend noticed the narrow age difference between Dad and me (I am 46), and I quickly confirmed it. I am never shy about this. I said that yes, they were very young when they married, and the five of us kids have been the luckiest kids ever for their love and devotion, not just to us but to each other.

Growing up with young parents was gobs of fun. They were energetic, playful, driven, attentive, hard working, and always up for every good tradition, big and small. They fed us healthy food every single meal, read aloud to us and in front of us, took us on all kinds of trips, threw countless parties, fixed our cars, made us laugh, connected us to family and friends at every turn, kept us in Catholic school whether we deserved it or not, and endured all of our adolescent weirdness and young-adult griefs. They gave us everything, most of it made from thin air, and I honestly do not know how they did it. What I do know, in my bones, is that our charmed and beautiful family life was a product of sheer will, determination and, yes, passion (get a room).

The older I get, the more I realize how lucky we are to still have our parents alive and healthy, still married, and still celebrating their anniversary in personal, unique ways. They still tease us and feed us. They still laugh hard with us and read books and ask us what we are reading. They still try to get us all together as often a possible, whether it’s a weekend cookout or a special group travel plan or, during pandemic, a family Zoom. It sometimes makes me cry thinking of how much of their human lives have been spent, literally, on us.

group candids = the best

We have received the full force of their loving personalities for forty seven years, and now a whole batch of grandchildren are soaking it up, too. Maybe soon, great grandchildren.

Seeing Mom and Dad celebrate privately now, and seeing them enjoy their home in this brand new chapter of middle aged romance, is lusciously sweet.

The photo above is from when Mom and Dad renewed their vows in the Church. (Their first wedding was several years prior, and before Mom took her Catechism and joined.) See Mom’s wedding band on her necklace? My memory is that she and Dad both wore their bands this way for several months leading up to the ceremony. It was a very intentional second engagement, something they didn’t experience the first time around. I think about this all the time.

Mom and Dad, you never pretended like marriage has been easy, but man, you have made it look so completely worth all that was asked of you, and that is inspiring. Wildly encouraging. We might never really understand how hard it has been for you, or what you have sacrificed to be our parents. But we hope to have many decades still to say thank you and to encourage you to live life for yourselves as much as possible. Your efforts have not been in vain. I hope you feel as much joy and satisfaction, as we all feel gratitude. I hope your backyard pandemic-style anniversary celebration was romantic and happy!!

“You come from a long line of effort.”
~Mickey Sperry
XOXOXOXO

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together…

Did the title of this blog post make you sing I Am the Walrus? Good. Good, good, very good. I love that about you.

Dulcie is annoyed at no longer being the darling of the farm. Seraphine is fussing with Romulus, who is easily cowed down by her. Meh is bright and chipper, oblivious to the conflict.

Let’s talk about loneliness and connectivity.

My Mom asked me recently how I got so good at being alone. It’s a new problem for many people, this coping with the discomforts of extreme, open-ended social distance, and I could feel the weight of her question.

My first response, internally, was to begin outlining the thinking habits and reframing disciplines I have learned over the years, all the tricks and time management strategies that have helped me feel more productive, more fulfilled, less alone in the short term .

Blah blah blah

But as I brainstormed my overly long answer to her really sweet and important question, it slowly dawned on me that the answer to how do I get better at being alone is nothing close to how do I further insulate myself so that I feel less alone (because that’s all most such efforts are, at the end of the day, fillers and illusions). Rather, I think, the answer is to realize that we are not that alone after all.

I’m about to tell my sweet mom this, and though she isn’t much older than me, she is is still my elder and she is certainly wiser. I expect her to smile and say thank you sweetie, but maybe inside she will cringe, thinking her firstborn has completely discounted how alone so many people are feeling right now.

So let me share this much first: I have felt alone too, many times, often for long stretches of time, never knowing when some terrifying storms would end. I have felt alone in my unique schedule, way back when I was stay-at-home-hobby-farmer-mom alienated from her young daughters, especially back before we had Klaus and when my husband traveled a lot. I have felt alone in the midst of private, complex grief scenarios and in weird life circumstances and in hobbies and failed career efforts and religion quandries and all kinds of stuff.

I am not alone in feeling alone, and neither are you.

Without a doubt, pandemic has ushered in a whole new level of loneliness for many of us, even if we are mostly healthy, but especially if we are struggling with the virus (or fear of it) or depression or limited finances, or social conflict, or other very real stressors. Because loneliness is not just a question of proximity to other warm bodies; it’s about connection.

Even introverts, who recharge with regular bouts of solitude, still need to see and connect with people occassionally.

My assertion that we are not as alone as we think is more than a hopeful platitude. Connections are everywhere, we just have to see them. Following are a few links to things that have helped me so much. I hope some of it helps you too!

ONE… Read these two books:
The Book of Joy is full to bursting with not just encouragement, but well defined explanations for human behavior and lots of luscious mind exercises and meditations for everyone, regardless of your religion. Archbiship Tutu’s anecdotes about UBUNTU were life changing for me. Me= We. I am a person through other people. Everybody, Always by Bob Goff is a shorter, softer read but just as nourishing, a beautiful reminder of the many ways we can stay connected to people through Love.

TWO… Listen to this podcast:
The Anthropocene Review, an episode that aired on May 25 of this year, titled You’ll Never Walk Alone. Jessica’s boyfriend Alex recommended this to me several months ago, and while I have listened to and enjoyed other episodes by this production, for some reason I let this particular episode sit in my downloads, unplayed, until today. It turned out to be the perfect moment to receive the beautiful, intricate message. If you can give 15 or 20 minutes to one podcast soon, make it this one. We are not alone. Not in the world, not in our failures and short lives, not even in grief, no matter how it feels from time to time. We can keep walking, no matter the cirumstances.

THREE… Watch this Netflix special (just the first episode):
I started this docuseries on the treadmill a few days ago and was hooked. The first episode about Doc Rivers, NBA coach, had me wishing I was seated with a notebook handy, it was so filled with good stuff. He shared a pivotal moment in his coaching years with the Boston Celtics, when a stranger introduced him to the concept of UBUNTU (same as above, with Archbiuship Tutu). She told him to research it for himself, to learn it, and he did. He said that she was right, that it’s not a word but a way of life, and it transformed his basketball team. 35 minutes, friends. Give yourself this gift.

also a family ohoto, before llamas, circa olan mills era

If you are feeling lonely or disconnected, please reach out to people. Please find ways to remind yourself that you are woven into the fabic of community, and you can feel safe recognizing and opening up to a variety of connections. They don’t have to be perfect relationships to be deeply, beautifully nourishing. In fact, the weirder the connections, maybe, the better?

Ha. I don’t know.

But I do know that we are designed, programmed, and forever meant to be in flow with others, not alone, not independent. We affect each other whether we like it or not. We feed and are fed by others. We are bouyed and cushioned and lifted up and then caught, safe and sound, by actual people and their human efforts. You are a person who is needed by some other person, by many people in fact. And your needs will be met in large part by other people just like you, probably even people who don’t realize they are meant to help you. Back and forth, inward and outward, forever and ever.

Connectivity.

Okay. I am closing for today. Much to say soon about those aforementioned thinking habits and disciplines, ha!

I love you Mom.
Coo Coo Ca Choo
XOXOXOXO

friday 5 at the farm: bouts of optimism

What a week! What a luscious, productive, happy week. And we still have the entire weekend to enjoy and maximize.

summertime flowers shade garden

Our weather here in Oklahoma has been unseasonably mild, so I was able to dive headlong into gardening tasks without once stopping to say, “Whew, hot enough fer ya?” Maybe it has been the weather, in fact, that spawned a pleasant wash of optimism. Here are five ways this optimism has manifested:

ONE: After wrestling all spring and summer with a muscle imbalance and some shifting tendon pain and joint stiffness, I am feeling pretty good again, almost fully normal. This week I have found myself thinking more about long term running goals, and this particular optimism is thrilling. In my situation, having the 2020 race calendar wiped clean is not a big deal. My heart goes out to my friends, many of whom are pretty devastated and also out lots of money for travel accomodations on top of race fees, but my goals will keep. I am in no hurry, and the joy I get from running is actually sweeter when I extract it in privacy.

TWO: Speaking of running, yesterday it seemed like a very good idea to take Klaus for a four or five mile run. We had such fun! He was all sparkly eyes and and high legs, exploring one of my favorite run spots in Choctaw. But we called it good after one mile and went home, ha! I finished on the treadmill while he slept like a sweet fluffy bear in winter hibernation.

THREE: With roughly 93 days still to grow food before our first frost, I planted lots of new seeds like small pumpkins and more winter squash. Also several new leafy greens and radishes. I also ordered even more seeds for the late summer push, many of which need almost 100 days to grow to food-fruition, ha! It feels good, though. It’s fine. I have a positive sense about them all.

FOUR: This week I have allowed myself to daydream more and more about travel, as unlikely as it seems right now. My imagination has included a tropical getaway with my husband, a fun New Orleans week, a hiking excursion in Colorado with Jocelyn and Jessica, a Mexico trip with Gen to run the Copper Canyon mountains, and even a trip to Europe. I would love, at some point, to visit Germany with Jessica (see the convent she once considered) and Spain with everyone to see Joey & Halee & their boys while they are deployed there, and Italy with Handsome. I was lucky enough to travel Italy at age 13 or 14, with our church choir. How amazing would it be to see it all again, as an adult.

FIVE: I woke up this morning to a husband who was ribs-deep in design plans for a sweat lodge. Or maybe a yurt. Ok like a spacious teepee, but not exactly. I personally want it to have a combination of Native American and Tibetan aesthetics. The functions will be various, for all kinds of health and wellness practices. More to come, friends; we are very, very, very excited. Something he and I have in common is a gnawing hunger to make plans, to build things, and to advance the farm constantly along its path to being a full bodied human retreat and community epicenter.

Wedding Meadows at sunset…xoxo

As I finish typing this, our overnight rain and thunder are edging eastward past the farm, and the sky is brightening up. Our forecast is less mild now, more summery from here on out, but we love that too. Having made good use of this past week of easy temps and low humidity, I am excited to sweat hard and luxuriate poolside again.

What has you feeling optimistic today? And is there anything on your heart, in your life, to which I can lend some of my optimism? I wish you something better than you expect. A long ribbon of magic that absolutely takes your breath away!

Believe it, give thanks for it all, ahead of time.
XOXOXOXO

“we are permanent”

Jess and Bean are back!! We picked them up Sunday afternoon, and the wild romping and untethered conversations ignited right away.

So far we have swam like fishes and coined the term hydroventilating, to describe the way Bean partially inhales the water as he chomp-swims.

We have played tetherball, keep away, and chase and have deeply watered and weeded the shade garden. Jess has also tormented Pacino with her do you wanna bite game. It’s a whole thing.

For dinner last night we made pickle-brined chicken tenders, macaroni and cheese, and Martha Stewart’s cornbread, salad and and marinated garden tomatoes on the side. This morning we all woke up pretty early and drove with the pink daybreak to find donuts. The dogs went, too. There was a maximum amount of joy and anticipation in the truck and again at home.

Have you seen Troop Zero yet? We watched it a second time last night, first time for Jess. So sweet. And how fun to pull apart and absorb the story with our daughter as an adult, when so many of its details remind me of her as a little girl. I highly recommend the movie, by the way. Its themes include childhood, gender roles, authenticity, community, grief, eternity, making your mark, friendship, mentorship, and much more. I know it will stand as a lifetime favorite of mine, and I was so happy that Jess enjoyed it with us.

I could honestly talk to you guys about this, about our life, all day. We are having serious fun, and we are doing a lot of mutual healing and deep connecting. The only reason I won’t spend more hours writing is that I am ready to continue living. The day marches on. See you soon, thanks as always for checking in!

Here I Am
I’m Here Too
XOXOXOXO