Beautiful day in the San Francisco Bay: we walked in Tiburon this afternoon, so bright and warm, just as summery as could be. The view you see is from Tiburon across the water toward the Golden Gate Bridge (can you see it?), and the photo of my sister and me was taken by a passing stranger. He did well! It does look as though I'm busting out of my blouse, though it's really just that I am missing a button, thankfully I had a little tank top under there! giggle...

I'm at the ocean now in my favorite town of Pacifica. It's quiet except for the roar of the waves. The moon is but a sliver. I can hear my heart beat, it's so quiet here.

Good night.

At the end of the hot/cool jazz night...I think we look a bit dizzy (I'm not accustomed to drinking, ya know) but happy.

We heard Dr. Lonnie Smith, master of the Hammond B3 organ, and his tasty jazz trio at Pearl's in the city...North Beach, right across from City Lights, the bookstore of Kerouac fame.

Really dug Dr. Lonnie, who makes that organ sing and wail and whisper, and he scat-sings, and sort of conducts the drummer with one hand, and his guitarist was out of this world, made you think of Wes Montgomery, and oh so elegant in a suit. They head to New Orleans next, and they're in Europe this summer, and back in Calif. for both the Monterey and San Francisco Jazz Festivals this fall. If you are ever near a place where Lonnie Smith is playing, please go. Unforgettable!

We crossed over to City Lights, which stays open til midnight, and perused poetry and Kerouac books. Found that there's now a collection of his letters out which includes the summer when he met and stayed with our dad in NYC (July '62). We were so excited to read that. I got myself a paperback copy of my fav. Kerouac book: "Visions of Gerard", a thin but deeply meaningful book for me. We had the hardcover version (with orange and black design) on our coffee table when I was a teenager, and I loved this book so much. It's "about" two brothers, one of whom is dying. How ironic that later in my life I lived this (as the mother).

We had our photo taken upon our arrival back home. I wish you could see my sparkly heels. Very princess'y!

from our morning walk at Tennessee Valley trail, Mill Valley, CA

morning fog...

deer, horses, wildflowers, birds, turkey vultures, hawks overhead

Sister time!

Larkspur, California

A very tired traveler, that's me, and a happy big sister to welcome me.

Holding my friend Pam in my prayers and heart this week. Isn't she beautiful?

That's Lake Superior, also known as "the ocean" by those of us living in the Midwest!

I'm headed for the real ocean (Pacific) on Friday morning, just for a long weekend. Will blog and post photos from there...

Blogspot ate my post from last night, about my dear friend Pam. So I'm writing again this morning and posting two best-friend photos from our trip last fall to the windy, cold North Shore of Minnesota's Lake Superior. We were cold! but happy.

Pam's very dear to me, and her mother died in a car crash yesterday. Such a shock. Her mom was a terrific, hard-working, lively, opinionated, warm, thoughtful woman. Very special person who touched many, many lives.

I had Pam on my mind all day yesterday, and phoned her midday, which I never do. I also wore a shirt which Pam gave me yesterday, and I rarely wear it 'cause it's too big for me, but it's soft and pink and makes me think of Pam, and I had it on when Pam called to give me the bad news last night.

My heart is with her and with her son and family. She's always been there for me, and I will do whatever I can to help her.

Meanwhile, she insists that her mom would want me to go to classes today and plug away at my grad. school work, so I will. Her mom was VERY hard-working and a teacher, and I know she would be pushing me to focus on my work. Ok!

Today I need to be able to look at this little face whenever I choose, so I am putting Ethan here. I hope his radiance shines on you today, too!

Someone so small, and yet so determined to be here with us. I wonder where he got that stubbornness?

On a lighter note...

I took this photo of A.J. and his Gramma (my mom, Joanna) at her apartment one rather wild afternoon. As you can see, Gramma had had enough of A.J.'s high=energy shenanigans and decided she'd take a break to do her meditation practice. A.J. insisted on being beside her, and promised he'd be quiet. Indeed, he was, but look at his face!!!!

Love this.

I'm going to hear Van Morrison tomorrow night. There were only single seats left when I discovered that he was coming to town, so I boldly decided to go solo. It should be something! I've never heard him live in all these years of listening to him, since "Astral Weeks" came out in the '60s.

I haven't blogged much this week 'cause I'm so busy, I can barely keep up with work and school, and I don't really feel like belaboring the point of how wretched it felt to be dumped, how I'm adjusting, etc. I'd rather pour myself into the present moment and try to make progress in my work.

I hop a plane next Friday to San Francisco for a long weekend, so will have some good posts then. A week from right now, I'll be at my sister's house. Yeah!

Hope my blogger friends are all doing well.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
There was a little girl

There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.

When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.



Notes
Longfellow's second son Ernest says of this poem: "It was while walking up and down with his second daughter, then a baby in his arms, that my father composed and sang to her the well-known lines .... Many people think this a Mother-Goose rhyme, but this is the true version and history".

God's Heart

We don't know God's heart,
though we see
something that showers down around us
like rain over our hands.

We don't see His eyes,
though we sense
an imperceptible light over everything
as on a summer night.

We don't hear His voice,
though we find
roads everywhere and signs in our hearts,
paths of quiet light.

-- by Rolf Jacobsen, translated from the Norwegian by Robert Hedin

Let's come up with some good break-up songs...post some if you can!

I have had Neil Young, two of his songs, in my head since Friday.
"Only Love Can Break Your Heart"

and

"Tell Me Why"

Both are good to play over and over in your head.

What are your best break-up songs?

She loved being a gramma. I love these photos 'cause you can see how close they were. She just couldn't get enough of A.J.! He was a great joy to her.

It's April 10th, my mom's birthday. If she were still alive, she'd be turning 70 today. Her name was Joanna. She's still here with me in many ways.

Here is a little montage, part one, in tribute to her. Two of my favorite Joanna-as-a-young-girl photos, and two report cards (from the 1940s, when she was in grade school). "Whispers too much"! How fun is that? I love it. She was full of mischief and was a great flirt, a beautiful woman in spite of her many earthly troubles, a "cool mom" and a fun gramma, and really my best friend. She died in June 2001 and was only 65 when she died.

We went through so much together and one thing I always knew is that I could be honest and myself with her. In fact, she had emotional x-ray vision with me, always knew what was really going on inside, even when I tried to be brave about something that was bothering me, she'd see right into me and address it.

She would be proud of where I am right now in my life.

I've been dumped.

It's especially hard because it was a long-distance relationship, and he broke up with me in an e-mail. The curse of our modern age.

We went so well together, when we were in the same room. We had problems keeping it uncomplicated when we were apart. I've known and loved him for nearly my whole life, but never had a chance to really be a couple until now. We had some amazingly good times together, and now he wants to break it off completely. I have no choice but to agree. If one person doesn't want to be in it, there is no relationship to save.

I remember taking this photo, the last night we spent together in California in February. Just as I was all packed and getting ready to check out for my drive to the airport, I looked at the closet and thought of how well our coats fit together, the leather, his so worn and mine still new, just hanging there together, not quite touching, but so close together, like us...and it just seemed so sort of fitting to take a photo.

Hmm. It's the last photo of us together, and we're not even in it! But now I'm so glad I took it.

My naturally curly self!







My hairdresser and I decided to let it do what it wants to do. Instead of fighting the curl, I will accept what my hair wants to do.

I'm going to choose my new glasses this weekend (bifocals, eeek!). Guess I'm in one of those changing times, again. Stay tuned!

"Cactus Tree" by Joni Mitchell


There’s a man who’s been out sailing
In a decade full of dreams
And he takes her to a schooner
And he treats her like a queen
Bearing beads from california
With their amber stones and green
He has called her from the harbor
He has kissed her with his freedom
He has heard her off to starboard
In the breaking and the breathing
Of the water weeds
While she was busy being free

There’s a man who’s climbed a mountain
And he’s calling out her name
And he hopes her heart can hear three thousand miles
He calls again
He can think her there beside him
He can miss her just the same
He has missed her in the forest
While he showed her all the flowers
And the branches sang the chorus
As he climbed the scaley towers
Of a forest tree
While she was somewhere being free

There’s a man who’s sent a letter
And he’s waiting for reply
He has asked her of her travels
Since the day they said goodbye
He writes wish you were beside me
We can make it if we try
He has seen her at the office
With her name on all his papers
Thru the sharing of the profits
He will find it hard to shake her
From his memory
And she’s so busy being free

There’s a lady in the city
And she thinks she loves them all
There’s the one who’s thinking of her
There’s the one who sometimes calls
There’s the one who writes her letters
With his facts and figures scrawl
She has brought them to her senses
They have laughed inside her laughter
Now she rallies her defenses
For she fears that one will ask her
For eternity
And she’s so busy being free

There’s a man who sends her medals
He is bleeding from the war
There’s a jouster and a jester and a man who owns a store
There’s a drummer and a dreamer
And you know there may be more
She will love them when she sees them
They will lose her if they follow
And she only means to please them
And her heart is full and hollow
Like a cactus tree
While she’s so busy being free

A few moments from class last night that really got to me:

* Our new professor, who has much life experience and clinical experience as a psychologist, had asked each of us to talk about our theoretical leanings, ie psychoanalytical a la Freud, behavioral, narrative, family systems, existential, feminist, all types of therapy which are based on certain theories we've been studying. It was his first night teaching us and he was putting a big effort into getting to know each of us a bit.

Quite a few of us answered by saying that we were still learning and in fact have an affinity for several theories. That's good, and realistic, and he encouraged us to combine two or three perspectives and really study those thoroughly.

But later in the evening, we got back to that topic, and he was talking about narrative therapy, which is one of my interests. He said that listening to our clients' stories is how we really get the sense of who they are in their world, and then he went further and said that in terms of finding the theory or theories that best fit us and our clients, he hoped that we would each find our own theory, based on our own life story.

This is so true. Those things in our lives which have shaped and changed us have made us who we are. We'll be better therapists if we can integrate all of that into our practice. It's one reason I want to work in grief counseling. I've spent so much energy and time with grief, and I've learned and grown so much. I would go so far as to say that with the loss of Ethan and the way I processed that, I was forever changed, and it led me to this field of study.

So yes, our life stories will provide the real-life meat of our own theories, informed of course by all of the theories we're studying and by our ongoing learning in the field.

And by the way, my current answer is that I'm drawn to narrative, feminist, and family systems theories.

* The other thing that got to me in class last night was a comment made by one of the young women in our class. She was speaking about kids she's worked with in group homes, and she talked about the necessity of getting to work with the whole family, not just the kid. She said that these kids "carry the burden of the family on their shoulders" and that she wanted to help the kids by working with their families too. It was such an apt metaphor.

* And finally, one of our classmates announced that she is pregnant with her first child and had just come from hearing the heartbeat at the dr.'s office. The whole class celebrated. Very exciting news! And her baby is due on A.J.'s due date of November 19th. A special day. Of course, A.J. chose to wait until the 24th to emerge, but it's still a date I'll always remember. Your baby's due date. A milestone sort of date. So happy.

Some of the students in my class are on the two-year track, which means they'll do practicum/fieldwork in the fall. The rest of us, the three-years, have to wait until fall of 2007. I got so excited hearing the two-years talk about where they'll be working. I want to be at that stage! But I still have a lot to learn and classes to complete before I will get there.