How do you explain death to a three-year old?

I'm really asking. I don't know how to explain death to myself, or maybe what I mean is I don't know how to accept death, how to think about it without becoming overwhelmed with sadness and anxiety, and so I had a hard time thinking of what to say when it came up in a conversation between me and Evelyn yesterday.

This past April Evelyn's great-grandfather passed away. He would have been 80 tomorrow, and while his health had been deteriorating fairly quickly these past few years, I don't think anyone in the family expected him to go that soon. He was a very loved man, survived by his wife of nearly 56 years, 8 children, 24 grandchildren, (some of whom are married/partnered), and 10 great-grandchildren. There could be more, it's easy to lose count! Needless to say, his life was abundant with hard work and love, and there is much to celebrate in memory of Robert Prissel.

Instead of attending the funeral I chose to stay home with Evelyn. My reasons for this were several, one being that less than a week after Grandpa Bob's funeral I had another funeral to attend (a frustratingly tragic death that I can't bear to think about), and I don't know if I could handle two funerals in a week. Two grieving families. Two dead bodies. Gah, I get choked up just thinking about it! I'll never survive a tragedy.

Anyway, my other main reason for staying home with Evelyn is that I didn't want her to attend because 1) I didn't want her to witness myself and everyone else crying. I didn't want her to feel sad for us, to worry about us. She's got plenty of time to feel sad later on, so I guess I felt I was protecting her. And 2) I didn't know how to explain the death. Her younger cousins (ages 2, 4, and 5), are being raised Catholic and were simply told that Grandpa is in heaven now, in a better place.

I would like to think that heaven exists, because, c'mon, wouldn't that be fucking awesome? Eternal life with the people you love? But I don't think that heaven exists, and I don't want to give Evelyn the easy answer if it's not something I believe. If she chooses to believe in heaven when she's older, of course, that's fine, but I feel very uncomfortable telling her what I would feel is a lie.

But then what do you say? This weekend the family is getting together in Wisconsin, including Evelyn (I won't be joining because I'm shooting a wedding in North Dakota), and yesterday we were talking about everyone she would see there. She's staying at her great-grandparents' house, and she said, "And great-grandma will be there... and great-grandpa..." and I had to tell her that he wouldn't be there. Of course she asked why and I told her because he died. She asked why and I said because he got old. She asked why and I said because that's what happens when you live a really really really really really really really long time (I don't want her to fear herself dying, or me or anyone else she knows dying.. I'm not sure if 3-year-olds are capable of that but she's so bright and intelligent that I wouldn't expect any less of her. I fear everyone dying so I'm probably projecting my own fears onto her. I don't want her to be so afraid and anxious like me). I quickly added, though, that she can still think about great-grandpa, that we have lots of memories about him, and we can remember him and his big glasses and his smile and his cane... the details she might remember.

The conversation made me second-guess my decision to not attend the funeral with her. Would it have been easier to explain death had she seen his body? Should I have given her the opportunity to see his body one more time? Thankfully, she saw him just days before he died, and I hope that if she does have memories of him when she's older that they're of him laughing, a twinkle in his eyes, because that's what he did best. He lived and he lived happily.

Read his obituary here. It does lessen my anxiety to think about the fact that when he was Evelyn's age the year was 1935. Life, in a way, is long. But still...

Also, I should clarify that this is Evelyn's dad's side of the family, so it's Jason's grandpa, not mine.

Grandpa Bob. this photo isn't mine so i'm not sure when it was taken, but probably in the past few months. 

rilke begs me...

I want the whole damn world...

It was so eerie to be driving today and hear this new single from Edward Sharpe...



I'm a man on fire
walking through your street
with one guitar
and two dancing feet
There's only one desire
that's left in me
I want the whole damn world
to come and dance with me

....

Everybody wants safety
Everybody wants comfort
Everybody wants certain
Everybody but me...


I'm a man on fire
walking through your street
with one guitar
and two dancing feet
There's only one desire
that's left in me
I want the whole damn world
to come and dance with me

thinking

from the college diaries {vol 2}

Wednesday, October 3rd, 2007, 12:45 p.m.

Why is the sky blue? Why?


Headlines in the Star Tribune Today: 


Do officials need all that leg room?
Tribe puts money to good work
A Mexican cowboy extravaganza
Lack of proof cost Spears custody, lawyer says
Ducks and more ducks
Meth scare at St. Paul Middle School

Wednesday, October 10th, 2007, 9:11 a.m.

I feel so alone
but don't a lot of people?
It makes no sense then,
for us to feel this way.

Wednesday, September 26th, 2007, 1:16 p.m.


I lie here on the grass in the middle of campus and watch the world and its inhabitants pass by. I feel sick to my stomach because for some reason they are all so annoying. "Did you buy your Homecoming t-shirts yet?!" Everyone is so excited for Homecoming and to wear t-shirts that say "It's 10 a.m. Where's your beer?"
School spirit?
Homecoming is just another excuse to spend the weekend in an overly-intoxicated state. Do you really need an excuse? It happens every weekend anyway.

Tuesday, November 13th, 2007, 10:58 a.m.


I hate when people make me feel stupid. A lot of times I make myself feel stupid. I hate that too.


Wasted nights lead to wasted days.

before my eyeballs fall out of my head

I will just say that it is not healthy to be on the computer this much! But what is there to do when I need to type? Invest in a typewriter?

My eyes are burning.

melancholy much?

sometimes I'm not very fond of where I live, especially in these cold and dreary months when there's not much of an option besides staying inside....not that I'd want to live in the heart of the city (although I might) but gosh, the closest thing to diversity and culture around here are the thrift shops and antique stores. and that's it. am I missing something? where is my community?

in the summer it's better because I'm happy with warmth and sunshine anywhere I go, but currently Big Lake, Minnesota is totally  not my scene. I think I would like to sometimes step out of my front door and head down the street to a bookstore, a coffee shop, an art gallery, a friend...

from the poem "Crunch" by Charles Bukowski:

there is a loneliness in this world so great 
that you can see it in the slow movement of 
the hands of a clock...

"My work becomes my cure"

write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write

etc.

My time in Vermont has inspired me so, as it always does, but this time it's been more life-changing than ever. I've learned to trust the process, to know that "messing up" doesn't mean I have to start from the beginning but to just continue. There is only one beginning, and everything after that is part of the process, and this is something that we can all apply not only to our work but to our lives.

I am also so inspired by Keith Smith's essay "A Book of the Book," in which he writes (my emphasis):

...Rather than waste more time, I recognize I am at a dead end. I start to work on another book, leaving this one on hold for a day, a week, or maybe five years until I know how to proceed.

This is how I work. I always have one to two dozen books in progress. When insight comes, I work on the appropriate book for as long as I am progressing. If my mind is scattered, I cut book boards, buy supplies and do the little things which do not require much critical thought. When I find I am depressed, rather than allow my mood shifts to immobilize me, I channel those feelings into an appropriate book. My work becomes my cure. When I was a student, Sonia Sheridan gave invaluable advice, "Put your work into everything, and everything into your work." The artist does not sit until inspired to make a masterpiece, and art does not have to be monumental.

I really like that part about work becoming the cure. Even if it ends up being a dead end, a non-masterpiece, it's still a part of the process, and art is an excellent cure for so, so much.

My work has become my cure--such hope this gives me.

Who's got their sh** together?

Because today I definitely don't. Or maybe I do and I just think I don't, which would probably be an indication that I probably don't.... 

Maybe it's just the exhaustion from the past week and weekend (two photo shoots, a paper, 8 poems, cleaning, holidays, travelling, etc. etc. etc.). Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I live with a toddler and five animals and like to have clean and organized spaces but have never been the best at achieving those kinds of spaces, and the child and animals don't make it any easier. Plus, I have a million projects running through my head, many of which don't exactly involve said child and/or animals, but I'm not one to neglect the child and/or animals, so I must try to be patient until I have time to myself, meanwhile my mind races a thousand miles an hour, anxiety builds from having to try to be patient.... because when I do find time it's never enough time. But that could my own problem. 

Not every day is like this. Just today. And sometimes other days. Maybe it's all because I haven't sat by sunlamp for two days now. Yes, Jason bought me a sunlamp for our anniversary, and I think it's been working, giving me energy and clear thinking space and such. 

Does anyone out there have their shit together today? I hope so. Give me some tips, please. Sometimes I feel like everything would be so much easier if I had a super organized office space or something. Plus maybe a slightly different brain?

source

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to conceive or not to conceive... is that the question?

One of the most common questions I receive as a mother is whether or not we'll have more kids. The answer has wavered from "definitely not" to "probably not" back to "definitely not" several times. Lately, as Evelyn's been repeating that she wants a sister, along with my recent maternity and newborn photography sessions (see above), the thought about whether or not to have another child has crossed my mind several times. It can be a fun idea to entertain -- all the cute little baby clothes, the baby breath, the soft skin, the small hands, the first time she looks into your eyes....the idea of creating human life....

is also fucking scary. It's more responsibility than I can put into words. It's anxiety, stress, guilt. Maybe I'm biased because I had Evelyn when I was only 21--a college student loving her new-found freedom and life--and was not ready for it at all, sometimes still don't feel ready for it.

But don't get me wrong--Evelyn is the most beautiful and most challenging thing that's ever happened to me -- which has made me, and continues to make me, grow exponentially. Which I am so thankful for. Sometimes I feel like people don't understand that not wanting another child doesn't mean you don't want the child you already have. It's because I love her so much that I don't want another one -- I want her all to myself, and I want to give all of myself to her (and poetry and love).

"Your Own Damn Life" {quiet afternoons foster deep thoughts....}

I've been reading this interview in the magazine The Sun, called "Your Own Damn Life: Micheal Meade On The Story We're Born With." The introduction describes Meade as an "author, mythologist, and story teller," and I have to say that some of what Meade discusses in the interview is a little too abstract for me and I don't quite understand what he's getting at (for example, he says that to him, the term "God" is "short-hand for the ineffable divine presence" -- what does he mean by that and why, how....?) BUT, he also makes some valid points and interesting comments in regards to being human, being oneself, and I'd like to highlight and discuss some of that here.

To begin with, I really liked this (my emphasis):

"There's an African proverb: 'When death finds you, may it find you alive.' Alive means living your own damn life, not the life your parents wanted, or the life some cultural group or the political party wanted, but the life that your own soul wants to live."

Now, we can have a whole other conversation about "soul" and how people interpret that and what it means, but the message here is that YOU are living YOUR life, not subscribing to someone else's ideals, whatever those may be. I think it's important for us to realize this for ourselves, but also to realize it for other people, for us to encourage each other and allow each other to live our own "damn life"....

Naturally, the interview moves to thoughts on mass media and the Internet, which I found particularly appealing because lately I've been making serious efforts to detach from the Web (this doesn't mean to abandon the Internet all together, obviously, but to just detach, to realize what's a priority and what's not). Says Meade:

"My complaint is that the World Wide Web, with all its horizontal strands, lacks a vertical dimension. . . Take social networking. The problem is that it's not really social enough. "Social" suggests being together, being companions in life. The story [of life] comes not just from horizontal experience. The dramatic part appears when it goes vertical."

This is not to say that social networks like Facebook are bad or useless or impossible of fostering deeper connections, but that there is so much  more:

"We're not supposed to live a horizontal life on the surface of things. We are supposed to live the entire gamut, from the heights of thought and imagination all the way down to the depths of woundedness and the deeper capacity to love.

[...]

What's often missing in modern mass culture is this depth of connection. When you see a culture dividing into simplistic polarities -- which is all of our politics nowadays and most of our religion -- what's going on is a loss of soul."

Polarities not only divide us, they reduce us to labels, ideologies, he-said-she-saids. We are so much more than that. And Meade encourages people to realize that, to discover what we are, collectively and individually. WHO ARE YOU?

Meade continues, encouraging others to discover themselves by doing what they love:

"When you sing [or dance or write or run or do anything you feel deeply passionate about], you realize that you are human, and that the people you are passing judgment upon are also human souls trying to find their voice and way to proceed in life."

He then goes on to talk about the importance of authentic experiences, how they shape us and help us grow:

"...with young people it's critical, especially in our substitute, technological, materialistic culture. The people most valuable in a culture aren't those who avoid all trouble, those who never slip up or fall down. The most valuable people are those who fall down and become deeper and figure out how to grow from their descended place. . . When times get hard, you don't want leaders who have never taken risks. You want leaders who have survived mistakes and then figured out where the beauty is, where the meaning is, what real courage is."

And on a final light-hearted and self-serving note, I'll end with this quote from Meade:

"In the long run it's the poets, not the newspapers, who have the news. The news is a superficial exchange of information that can never tell the whole story. The poets tell us we're in this great, on-going dance that includes opportunities to fight and love and fall down and get back up. Hopefully we have the occasional chance to do our particular dance in the middle of all that."

The interview spans several pages--I just shared the parts I found most valuable. Read the interview in its entirety (some of which I don't necessarily align with, but that's what makes culture, individuality, etc.) online here.

why do we work best under pressure?

Well I do, anyway. This month's packet is due on Monday, the 26th, but because we're going out of town from the 22nd through the 25th, I wanted to have it done on the 21st. Those five less days can be a lot, especially when I have so many other ongoing projects. So for the past few weeks I've just  been extra scatter-brained, constantly thinking of all the things I have to do before we leave on the 22nd. Yet somehow, here I am on the 15th, and I've written my 10 poems, read my three books, and just about finished my 5-page paper (I just need to write the conclusion and then edit). Ummm.... what?

I'm glad that I have the drive to get these things done (it's funny, I'll be late to almost any appointment but I have never and won't ever not turn in school work or turn it in late), BUT, I also wish I had more self-discipline so I could just pace myself and not be such a maniac. Not really self-discipline maybe but....patience? When I want to do something I want to do it NOW, and the inability to do something right away makes me very anxious. SO, like yesterday for example, I should have started my paper during Evelyn's nap but really wanted to research some art magazines/websites/venues for submission/etc. Like, I HAD TO KNOW. So that's what I did. And then I had to prepare a print order to drop off for a client (ha, don't I sound so business-like?). And then I never worked on my paper.

So today I hopped up on caffeine and have been in the library for four hours, chugging away at this paper, which is almost complete.

Four hours? That's it? Why was I so stressed about this thing? Not stressed exactly but it's just been nagging at me ("write me write me you have to write me before you do anything else write me write me write me!"), but why was it nagging when it ended up just taking me one afternoon anyway? (plus probably an hour tomorrow) Maybe because I don't usually get four hour blocks of time so all my projects have to be broken up into 1)the time in the morning before Evelyn wakes up and then 2) nap time if she takes a nap and then 3)time at night if I really need to and am not exhausted. So I usually don't finish a paper in a day.

But I bet you if we weren't going out of town I would not have that paper finished until next weekend.....

All this breaking up of time is skewing my sense of perception.

I think I need to leave the library and pour a nice glass of wine, preferably red.................

"The Art of Recklessness"

Another great thing I came home with from Vermont is a list of reading suggestions, both prose and poetry, and one of these books just came in the mail: The Art of Recklessness by Dean Young (I posted a poem by him the other day), recommended to me by Matthew Dickman. Matthew said that this book strongly influenced him and made him feel incredibly free. Matthew says that when we're making art, when we're writing a poem, it's the only time in our lives that we're truly free. He quotes Larry Levis, a poet who once said of poetry, "Out here I can say anything." I agree with this notion, yet I don't feel totally free yet, not in the way Matthew speaks of, and one of my goals this semester is to secure that creative freedom, to create beyond any limits, beyond potential. I've only just begun reading The Art of Recklessness and already I can tell I will gain much from it. Young opens with this:

Let us suppose that everyone in the world wakes up today and tries to write a poem. It is impossible to know what will happen next but certainly we may be assured that the world will not be made worse. I believe in the divinity of profligacy*. The creation of art, okay, just the attempt at the creation of art, as well as the appreciation of it, is both an enlarging and an expanding of the consciousness. To write a poem is to explore the unknown capacities of the mind and the heart; it is emotive, empathetic exercise and, like being struck by lightning, it will probably leave you stunned, singed, but also a bit brighter, and too your odds of being struck again then go much higher.

*I admit I had to look up the definition for profligacy, and here's what I found:

1. shameless dissoluteness*; 2. reckless extravagance; 3. great abundance

I then had to look up the definition of dissoluteness:

1. lacking moral restraint; indulging in sensual pleasures or vices.

Hmmmmm......I think I can buy into the divinity of profligacy. Sounds damn refreshing. And free.

"There's so many different places to call home"

This fire grows higher
This fire grows higher
This fire grows higher
This fire grows higher

When there's a burning in your heart
An endless yearning in your heart
Build it bigger than the sun
Let it grow, let it grow
When there's a burning in your heart
Don't be alarmed

This fire grows higher

When there's a doubt within your mind
Because you're thinking all the time
Framing rights into wrongs
Move along, move along
When there's a doubt within your mind

When there's a burning in your heart
And you think it'll burst apart
Or there's nothing to feel
Save the tears, save the tears
When there's a burning in your heart

And if you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born
Then it's time to go
And define your destination
There's so many different places to call home
Because when you find yourself the villain in the story you have written
It's plain to see
That sometimes the best intentions are in need of redemptions
Would you agree?
If so please show me

This fire grows higher
When there's a burning in your heart

fireworks & metaphors

Last night I had the privilege of watching the Montpelier, VT fireworks with the poet and artist, and beautiful soul, Jen Bervin (see last post). She asked me if I remembered the first time I made a metaphor. I'm still thinking about this, but I don't remember. I don't remember, but wish I did, the first time I realized the effect of making an unlikely comparison between one thing and another...... I remember, and still have, the first journal entry I ever wrote, which tells about going to the circus for my 5th birthday. And I think I have my first poem, written when I was 11. I don't think I wrote poems before that, and if I did, I don't have them.

Do you remember the first time you wrote something for yourself? As in, not a school assignment, or a handwriting practice task?

Then I asked Jen if she remembered the first time she saw fireworks. She doesn't. I don't either, even though it seems like the type of thing most people would remember. I remember specific instances of seeing fireworks, but I don't remember the very first. Do you?

where do these ideas come from?

So for some reason yesterday I was hit with the thought/desire to delete this entire blog and start a new one. Crazy? Silly? Regrettable? Where do ideas like this come from? Part of it may be because starting over can feel so refreshing. Cleansing. I love that feeling. Like showering, you know? Who doesn't love showering?

But I don't think I'll delete it. That would be a lot of words and thoughts going down the drain....I'll probably give it a real good shower though, and totally change things. When I have the time, though, so who knows....

SAD

I'm pretty convinced that I have a form of SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), although in addition to feeling down for most of winter, I think I have a form of it that surfaces whenever I experience a lack of sunshine for several days, even in the summer (I don't know if a form of SAD like that actually exists, I'm totally self-diagnosing here). For instance, today has been the first sunny day of the whole week, and there is a significant difference in my mood and energy level compared to the last few days. The way I felt the last few days (lethargic, exhausted, overall blah), is how I'm used to feeling during much of winter. According to PubMed Health, these are the symptoms of SAD:

• Afternoon slumps with decreased energy and concentration (check!)
• Increased appetite with weight gain (weight loss is more typical of other forms of depression) (half-check--my appetite increases but my weight does not and I think this is because I have a freakishly high metabolism, and a two-year-old)
• Increased sleep and excessive daytime sleepiness (problems sleeping are more typical of other forms of depression) (check!)
• Lack of energy and loss of interest in work or other activities (half-check....I usually don't lose interest in my work, except maybe during January, the coldest, shittiest month of the year)
• Slow, sluggish, lethargic movement (check!)
• Social withdrawal (um...I think I'm normally socially withdrawn, but only when I'm in the mood to be. In other words, my social withdrawal has nothing to do with SAD but with my personality)
• Unhappiness and irritability (check)

And the way I felt this week was not just an, "Oh gosh, I didn't have enough coffee this morning" kind of tired. And it was not an, "Oh, I'll just take a 10-minute snooze and my energy level will be right back up" kind of tired. I was so tired that the second Evelyn was in her crib for nap I walked the 20 steps to my bed, fell into it, and zonked out for over two hours. This was Tuesday. And I wasn't up late the night before, and I'd gotten up around 6:30-7 and had my big cup of coffee just like I do every morning. Ridiculous, I say.

Wednesday I did a photo shoot and then was Evelyn's party, so I couldn't think about being tired (see, that's part of it, I need plenty of distractions), but then yesterday it was the same thing - a deep two hour nap in the middle of the afternoon.

And when I woke up this morning the first thing I said to Jason was, "The sun is shining," in a groggy, half-asleep stupor, but still thrilled. And it is now the middle of the afternoon, and I don't feel the need for a nap (yay!). I've already mowed the lawn (and picked up and stepped in dog shit), inflated and filled Evelyn's new pool, and I even felt so energetic that I decided to go beyond the easy spaghetti for tonight's dinner and took Evelyn to the store (and post office and bank) for ingredients for penne w/ ricotta and zucchini. And big organic strawberries for dessert. I'm even wearing a sundress and feel great!

Of course, I've never been clinically diagnosed with SAD (and probably won't be due to my strong aversion to clinics and such), but I swear the sun has got me under her spell..... I told you I was meant to be a California girl.... ;-)

Garage Sale Etiquette (and me rambling my brains out)

I'm a very socially conscious person (if "socially conscious" is such a technical term), in that I pick up on social cues without even trying. I'm always reading people and adjusting my tone and actions in accordance, in order to minimize awkwardness in situations as much as I can. Sometimes this is a positive quality because I think most people feel comfortable around me (I hope?), but sometimes my social-sensitivity can be a negative thing, too. Because sometimes, a lot of times, I overdo it. Not that anyone can notice, but I drive myself crazy. Like at this garage sale right now. I'm totally over thinking it, 'cause I see people pull up, and I'm inside waiting for Evelyn to wake up, and I'm like "Should I go out there and say hello? But I don't wanna make them feel pressured. But then again, I don't want them to think 'Where's the person who lives here so I can buy something?'" And all morning I've been wondering if I should play music to break the awkward silence as strangers rummage through my junk. But then of course I wonder what kind of music--is everything on my iPod appropriate? And then I wish I had lots of coffee or tea to offer people, especially since it's a chilly day, and it's my home, so I feel like I should be fairly hospitable, maybe offer cookies or fruit, but if I had enough money to do that then I probably wouldn't be having a garage sale. Maybe start a friendly conversation? But what if the person isn't interested in conversation? And besides, I'm not very good at small-talk. I suck it. At least I think I suck at it. Which probably causes me to suck at it more than I actually do (are you done listening yet?....wow). And I suck at it (or think that I do) because I don't enjoy it all that much. If we're gonna talk, let's talk something real (not that small talk is fake, you know what I mean). Tell me your true feelings today. Are you down? Let me get you a cup of coffee. What do you think about the universe? Here, let me show you this poem, this painting, this song.... what's your favorite song? Let's stop talking and listen to it.

more words from Rilke

"...if there is nothing in common between you and other people, try being close to things, they will not desert you; there are the nights still and the winds that go through the trees and across many lands; among things and with the animals everything is still full of happening, in which you may participate; and children are still the way you were as a child, sad like that and happy,--and if you think of your childhood you live among them again, among the solitary children, and the grownups are nothing, and their dignity has no value."

Try to imagine something a million times larger than the sun....

....now multiply that by a thousand. That's how big the largest star every discovered is - one billion times larger than our sun. But also remember that we're talking about our sun here, which is one hundred times the size of the earth - and think about how big the earth is compared to the size of you. Thinking about this makes my brain stretch, and I am addicted to that feeling. Click here to watch a cool video that illustrates all of this.