HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Ethel!

the memorial box I made for my mother at an art workshop in Oaxaca in 2017
and the birthday cake that was a craft project at one of my daughter's birthday parties....ages ago

The doors to the memorial box are usually closed as it sits on its shelf in my living room, but in recognition of my mom's birthday week, I opened them a couple of days ago.

Yesterday began with the faint scent of cigarette smoke in the air. This is not a smoke-free building, but I've never smelled cigarettes before... still, there it was, wafting in from somewhere. My mom is such a talented and persistent ghost. Then a phone call came in that resulted in a small financial windfall--much appreciated, given all the moving expenses that will take months to recover from.

Later in the evening there were tickets to a play that I'd made plans for last week not quite realizing that the performance was on my mother's birthday. The action of the play opens just as all the characters have died in a tragic accident so....welcome to the afterlife and the struggles and the dramas that ensue there.

One of my daughters had reminded me in the morning that she celebrates her grandmother's birthday by buying a lottery ticket and having a martini. Schedules did not allow us to get together for drinks, so I had my martini before the theatre.

In my theatre seat, checking my email one last time before I turning off my phone, I received a thumbs up from the literary magazine that was considering  an essay of mine...that is in large part about death, the afterlife, and my mother.

Some days are surprisingly seamless. Thanks, Mom. 

Dreams and Dream Journaling

(I did not make the marbled paper. But I'm going to learn how to do that.)

It's been years since I've kept a dream journal--though many dreams (mostly about the dead)  have been blogged about here. I'm taking a class about dream journaling where we make the journals and learn some tips about capturing the dreams. The process has surprised me. In the past three weeks I've learned that I'm still processing the end of my marriage, that I'm often trying to please people or to get something right in my dreams and not quite succeeding at it. I've had several dreams of the future with new iterations of current everyday things, and I dream of a future Earth with rising water, intense heat, mounting corruption, and shrinking resources. It's as if I am dreaming the dreams the Earth herself might dream. One night last week, I dreamed I had lung surgery, and the next morning I read an article about the burning of the Amazon in which the Amazon rain forest was described as the lungs of the planet.

I've also had two classic actor's nightmares and a naked dream which fit well with the kookie idea of making books out of paper bags with secret compartments where you can hide a troubling dream and maybe even glue it or sew it inside.

I've learned techniques for delving into dreams.

And there's something good about forcing one's self to write first thing in the morning. The co-ordination of eye and hand, the exercising of memory and beginning the day wondering what all of those midnight workings of the brain mean.

When getting dressed choose to wear a color that appeared in the dream is one of the tips from class. I meant to do that this morning but forgot.

Today I went to the gigantic Minneapolis central farmer's market and couldn't take my eyes off this plant.

I was wearing a green raincoat in last night's dream about a bicycling trip wherein I pulled a little trailer with all my gear. In the dream I was maybe 30, and I was traveling with good friends. In my waking life I don't know these friends, and I find that detail fascinating.

The plant is called "Mother of Thousands. It's easy to see why. Whenever it catches my eye, I say a prayer for the Amazon.

It's in the candleholder that was in Dan's bedroom.

The white squirrel and the moon

The moon nearly knocked me over on the way home last night. I looked up and there it was, its light transforming my condo building into a temple. I stopped and texted a friend, "Moon!"
"Sky!" he texted back.
"Yes!" I texted.
Moon, you were worthy of  all those exclamation points.

Yesterday morning's walk revealed its own amazing sight--a pure white squirrel (SO sorry about this photo--you'll have to trust that it's the snowy blur streaking between the trees) frolicking in Gold Medal Park. One of my daughters had told me recently about the white squirrel in her neighborhood. It's not that I didn't believe her, but I figured I'd have a better chance of running across a great white shark in the Mississippi.

When I got home, I asked scientist Google and found THIS. Read it. Watch the video. Go ahead, go down the white squirrel rabbit hole. And if you have a real camera and take real photos, I hope you'll post to the website. 

Birds of the day

I ran into some wild turkeys on my walk this morning. The avian version of the coyote, wild turkeys have adapted well to urban life--or at least here in the Twin Cities. They flapped and walked toward me as I scurried across the street.

A couple hours later, I was privileged to see the release of some rehabilitated green herons and a redwing blackbird that had been nursed back to health by a local wildlife center.
If you've been to this blog before, you know I'm most definitely NOT a photographer, but I take pictures anyway.

Maybe 40 people showed up to see the release. We gathered on a viewing platform around a marsh. The carriers were opened, and off the birds flapped.

All of them hung out in a nearby tree. Maybe it was hard to believe that they were really, truly free.