Is Anything Better than Hanging with Writers?

Another Ghost Story Weekend has come and gone. Fifteen of us this time (two over the limit) showed up at Siltcoos Station on a brilliantly beautiful weekend to write the dark and horrific, and we all did an excellent job.

The Surviving Members of Ghost Story Weekend 2009

As usual, there were stories of vampires, of haunted places, of mysterious ghosts, of friendly ghosts, of helpful ghosts, of harmful ghosts. All ghosts were welcome, and they came in well-considered abundance.

But what could be better than hanging out with other writers for a weekend? We ate together, laughed together, camped out in cabins like the adventurous souls we are, and tried to scare each other silly. And in so doing, we became better friends.

This was the 19th annual Ghost Story Weekend, and one attendee, Christina Lay, has only missed one of these annual fests. This year she brought finger food (literally). I wonder what she would have brought to that missing weekend. Maybe we’ll find out next year.

Meantime, I can’t wait for another spring to roll around and I put out the call for all ghost story writers to converge on a hopefully-haunted boathouse on the spooky Oregon Coast.

It’ll be another great weekend, I’m sure.

Join us?

The Year of Tao

Last year I named my year “Hesed,” the Hebrew word for lovingkindness. Upon reflection, I believe I made good progress in that area. I want to be less cynical, more forgiving, and I think I am, at least a touch.

This year I’ve dubbed “The Year of Tao.” I’m studying Taoism in school, and am amazed, amused and delighted by it, especially the part where the books tell you that this is one “religion” (I don’t think of it as a religion) which you cannot study by observing it. You have to be Taoist. You have to do Taoism. Only then can you understand it.

So I’ve got a translation of the Tao Te Ching on my nightstand, and am reading every night. Some of it makes no sense, and I’m not sure if that is the product of this translation, the aggregate of 2500 years of translations, or concepts too advanced for my poor brain.

Several years ago, I wrote an essay called “Living in the Slipstream,” and it was all about cruising with life rather than trying to swim across the current and banging on the rocks. Little did I know then that I was talking about Taoism.

So 2009 is the Year of the Tao.

This is a good thing, naming the year. It gives life a modicum of generalized focus, if you know what I mean.

The Year in Review

Happy New Year, everybody.

Wish you’d done this?

I say, it isn’t too late to start.

Strangely mesmerizing, this.

What a summer

I’ve been a practicum student at Serenity Lane this summer, a drug and alcohol treatment facility in town, working with the chaplain as she ministers to the spirits of the patients. What an education that has been! Yikes. I see myself in so many of them — their eyes, their stories, their fears, their shame. I identify and empathize, and yet I know the other side of that misery as well. If only they will stick with it, if only they could glimpse what I know to be true about a clean and sober life…

If only that insecure but talented writer could keep the faith and keep putting the butt in the chair and keep pumping out the words. If only they could glimpse what I know about successes as a writer…

If only that young married couple could stick it out, reach deep and find the reasons they were attracted to each other in the beginning, and rekindle that respect for each other. If only they could glimpse what I know about the sublime pleasure in a long satisfying marriage…

These are the pleasures of age.

I am one of the extraordinarily fortunate ones, and I am grateful every second of every minute. The question now is how to share the knowledge in a meaningful way. Other than walking the talk–which I try to do, and accomplish with varying levels of success–that is the current quest.

But more will be revealed, if I suit up and show up, and that’s what I’m doing.

What a summer.

Naming the Year

I spoke with someone yesterday who said that she names her years.  She doesn’t name them Harry or Joe, but with intention and forethought as to how she wants the coming year to proceed.

This ritual began for her one New Year’s Eve as she reflected on a particularly trying time, and she said, “I guess that was the year of struggle.” And then she said, “My next year will be different. It will be a year of…”  And so by naming it, she made it so.

I like this idea a lot. It is like having a concrete goal, a yardstick by which to measure one’s days. Things happen to interfere, of course, but instead of being blown about by the details of the year, we can rally ourselves and bring ourselves back on purpose. 

I have named 2008. I want to see significant progress in one area of my life by the end of the year, and so I have determined that this will be the year that I incorporate that aspect into my daily living.

So now I want to know: If you were to name your personal 2008, what would it be?

A New Year

So here it is.  The dawn of a new year. Time for reflection, time for setting goals, time to clean out the file cabinet and set aside the old year.

2007 was a good year.

We got a dog, a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever. Her name is Jook, and she is a great companion. I call her my treadmill, and we actually went for a run yesterday. She’s goofy and a lot of fun.

We took some good trips: to visit family in Weeki Wachee and Key West Florida, I went to Tucson for a weekend, and to Lopez Island. Al went fishing in Canada and duck hunting in Montana, and we both spent some time on the Rogue River. We also went to Whidbey Island for a writing conference and to Bainbridge Island for some quality goofing off.

My daughter and her boys moved back to Oregon, much to my delight, and identical twin grandsons were born to my son and his wife.

I got my BA degree and began graduate school.

Work has been good for me, and retirement has been good for Al.

My mom died, of course. That wasn’t a highlight of the year, but it certainly was significant.

On Tuesday I will clean out the filing cabinets, and finish–as much as possible–the financial updatings for the tax year, box it all up and have fresh file folders ready for 2008. This is one of my favorite rituals of the year.

And speaking of the new year, we’ve got some good things slated. A trip to Hawaii, first, to get out of the Oregon rain and into the warmth and sunshine. I’ll go back to Tucson for a weekend to visit my friend Maggie. Al and I are going to explore Alaska in September, and of course he has his usual jaunts to Canada and Wisconsin to hunt muskies and to Montana to hunt ducks. I expect our health to stay good and our gratitude for so many things–but especially that–to grow every day.

And now, to the real question: Resolutions.

I hate resolutions. I could aspire to a lot of things that I’m not and have never been. All I can do is my best every day, and so that is my resolution. To be me, every day.

And that’ll be good enough.

Pain

Man, this getting-older stuff is not for sissies.

I email daily with a friend and the other day I wrote “I have a new pain…” and it was true. Still is true. She, a little older than I, completely understood what I was saying. We’re not used to pain, but eventually we become accustomed to the little ones, and when a new one shows up, it’s noteworthy. I’m still about 36 in my head, although my body is older, and when my body squeaks, it always surprises me.

But it won’t slow me down, not for long, anyway. I have too much fun stuff on my plate. I suppose that this latest pain is telling me to go for longer, more frequent walks, and I’ll do that, especially since my dog has been telling me the same thing. And that will be good for both of us.

So I guess that’s the message: we listen to our pains and learn what they have to tell us. This is especially true for emotional pain, maybe even moreso than the pain between my shoulder blades. I suppose the day will come when pain fails to teach us and instead merely terrorizes us, but until that day, I’ll listen, try to learn, and try to accommodate or at least compromise.

My compromise with this new visitor (a temporary guest, I hope) has been a chiropractor’s appointment, a pillow behind my back in my desk chair, some good stretching exercises and a doctor’s appointment next week. Oh, and those longer walks with the dog. That’s about as far as I’m willing to go with this one. 

I hope it’s listening.

Speaking of old friends…

Last week I got an email from a man I dated when we were both in high school. It wasn’t serious dating, we were good friends and enjoyed each others’ company. I have many fond memories of our times together, hanging out, waterskiing, going to the zoo… and when he left for college and I had demons pushing me in other directions, we lost contact. And then… all these years later… I get an email.

We’ve been corresponding a little bit since, catching up on each other’s lives, and it reminds me again that relationships happen outside of time. When I see my cousins after many years, we pick up–literally–right where we left off. No time has passed in our friendships, regardless of our outward appearances and the changes that have taken place as time moves us along.

So what is it that we share between us that transcends time? And whatever it is, does it endure to death–and beyond?

To you, Richard: we may  never lay eyes on one another again except via emailed photographs, but know that you’re in my heart. Always have been, always will be.