A. Lazarus, I'm thinking of you. Beloved, beautiful name. My long-lost childhood pen-pal, we wrote letters to each other every day. The real kind with an address and a stamp that get delivered to your mailbox. Sometimes I even got two letters in one day from my prolific friend.

Today's message reminds me of you and your big smile. A friend who gently and warmly calls you out of hiding, persistently reaching out to you, writing your name into the dark, inviting you into a close relationship.

Often I hear this "yes" messaging - like in one of the featured interviews at the end of May I Be Frank, a fantastic documentary about transformation. Generally this message is aligned with saying yes to the "universe", which is harder for me to really internalize than saying yes to an actual friend.

Maybe I just can't conceptualize that big, maybe it's the exquisite painting in the background or his accent that captivate me, but I find this message more compelling, more real, more helpful than a vague universal invitation. It feels like this one has my name on it, with a pretty stamp in the right corner, and a sender, too. Insert music... ;)

Blessings for the Journey
- Jill Terwilliger

For the longing that told you it was time for a change,

We give you our blessings

For the courage it took to answer the call,

We give you our blessings 

For the choices already made, and for the daily

choices that will shape the life ahead of you,

We give you our blessings

For the communities that have shown you who you are and the new communities waiting to discover you in your new ventures,

We give you our blessings

For the great mystery of what lies ahead,

We give you our blessings

And our love. 

May you see something of beauty along the way,

Touch hands with those you love,

Give more than you get,

And find some pattern in it all. 

Amen

Today I stepped on my Bible. I left it on the floor after hastily unpacking my bag and then in the morning frenzy, the cover opened, my foot landed, and I stepped on it, creasing the first few pages. Probably punishable in several countries but I'm telling myself that Jesus wouldn't get too bent out of shape.

I've been wondering what is going to happen to the steps of our house. Not these little stepping stones, but the perfectly intact, recently poured, smooth and solid concrete steps, six to be exact, that led up to the front door. Can't they be used, transplanted, melted...something? I can't quite wrap my mind around this destruction.

That was the way in, the way up, the way out. That's where the flowers, the pumpkins, the cat and I sat, to take a rest, to pet the dog, to tie my shoe, to find my keys, to watch the kids. That's how I got home. Today...I stepped on my Bible.

Bulgur, Spinach & Apricot Salad, an admittedly good variation on a recipe from this lovely book.

 

Bulgur wheat
Spinach (fresh, baby)
Chick peas
Apricots (dried)
Almonds

Dressing:
Olive oil
Lime
Cumin
Red pepper

2/3 cup of bulgur (rinsed and drained). Cover with 2/3 cup boiling water and 2/3 cup apple juice (I used apple cider). Never done this next part before but it worked well. Spread the whole mixture on a baking sheet and put in oven at 275 degrees for 20 minutes, fluffing once with fork. It seemed way too watery at first but came out nicely!

Meanwhile, chop dried apricots and almonds. I used 1/3 cup of each. Prepare dressing: 3 T olive oil, juice of 1/2 lime, 1 tsp cumin, few shakes of red pepper, s&p.

Combine bulgur, spinach, chick peas (I used 2/3 can), apricots, almonds, and dressing. Would probably be good with a little red onion but I didn't have any. Enjoy!

For a Young Dancer on St. Patrick's Day
- A.E. Stallings

At six, her stance is
like a professional's - she waits her cue
Intensely and with no expression,
The youngest in the troupe of girls
Costumed alike in skirts that flare like bells
Embroidered with designs -
Abstracted tangled animals and geometric vines
Drawn from the Book of Kells,
Hair done up in headdresses of artificial curls
To bounce in time to lively Irish dances,

But it’s the music of a Shaker hymn
When she takes her place
Alone on the plywood stage, candescent with such fierce
And concentrated joy
As no smile will pierce
And no trivial laughter can alloy,
Each swift and nimble limb
Inhabiting its quickness without haste,
As if she had only herself to please.
All gazes

Fix on her, not because,
Or not only because, she is a lovely, solemn elf,
Not that her eyes
Are just the shade of blue
Patterned on antique Delft
Or that cliché of cloudless skies
(Though bored through with the blackness of unfathomable Space),
And it is not her fearsome self-possession
Around her, tightly furled,

Rather the possession of her self
By a vaster power
Whose presence in this low room till this hour
Had been unknown to us
And momently amazes,
As the wide wind that breathes upon the world
Enlists the tossing of high-masted trees,
The bowing of the grass,
The shiver of a roadside flower,
So we may see it pass.

Stress-change-stress-progess.

Something like that.

This change is for sure bringing about stress. But is was also preceded by many years of stress that prompted the change. That stress - the kind that eventually results in  a change, the change-provoking  stress - was longer, deeper, more diffuse, almost undetectable because it was basically a way of life. This stress - the kind that is a result of  a change,  the change-provoked  stress - is acute, unnerving, volatile, and thankfully relatively short lived.

We're in the throws of it right now, with a taste of the past-present-future all palatable at once. Fortunately, we can already see the future improvement this change will provide financially and emotionally. That sustains us in the present stressful midst of this chaos. And I guess there's still just enough bitter left in the bittersweet-ness of it all to remind us that this change really is necessary. Casting away the doubts that creep in the crazy moments...

Yes, it is worth it, yes, this is the way. As long as we're moving towards progress, March Forth. 

Managing March moving mania...

Furniture: My favorite category (and the easiest, to me). Keep or sell, that's it. Doesn't require deep thought and the results are big. When something goes, it frees up lots of square footage, compared to say...

Books: harder, at least for us, because of sentimental attachment. They're heavy to move and quickly take up a lot of boxes. Nobody really wants the junky ones yet it feels wrong to throw them away. Fortunately this service exists existed, but even still, it's hard to decide which ones to give away. Of course, one could argue that almost none are needed what with technology these days, but that's too radical for me and nobody is ready for that in this family ;)

Appliances: Functional ones are easy to get rid of via CL. Apparently the house contract says the dryer will remain, which is silly because there were tons of people who wanted it and could use it and were willing to pick it up with their bare hands and move it in seconds flat. (sigh and march forth)

Clothes: Some sentimentality involved (looks like my grandmother's wardrobe is getting moved again) but aside from that...nothing is wasted, since it is either: in active duty, donated, or turned into rags. Moving presents a good opportunity to go through everything, something I really need help with since I tend to keep on the basis of functionality (these pants still "work"), not style, thereby leaving me with a closet full of the "I have nothing to wear" syndrome.

Papers: My most dreaded category. They are infesting my life. Literally, they collect those little paper bugs. And dust. Papers from every corner of my life, in every corner of my life. Daycare, elementary school, middle school, high school. My parents saved everything, and I did, too: college, grad school #1, grad school #2, journals, letters, cards, recipes, jobs #1-5. Not only at home, but even in the trunk of my (former) car otherwise known as the "binder-mobile", absolutely all over my desk at school, and don't even get me started on the teacher hoarders whose classrooms I seem to inevitably share.

Yard equipment: My dad so lovingly cared for these things, categorizing each item so carefully. Everything from gloves to rakes to hoses to sports equipment has a special hook and spot in the garage or tool shed. It's a little sad to think of it all being pillaged by the neighbors, but it provides him with social connection, and them with something useful, which in turns makes him feel good.

It's odd that of anything so far, the only thing I'm sad about is a trowel. Apparently someone took all that stuff today. Too late, I realized that was something I really wanted: a handy little tool my dad took such care of and used for decades to beautify our world. Really, the yard (.75 acre) was his job, and he took that seriously.

March 4th. Saints a marching, lords a leaping, I've imagined this day for so long and now it's come and almost gone!

I wondered how I might name this endeavor, since naming something is powerful in and of itself, and also just a nice shortcut for a long explanation. Project Joy, the Happiness Project, the Infinite Garage...all taken. And then it came to me, sort of like what Elizabeth Gilbert describes (roughly 11:00-12:00). Except it came from a family friend who pointed out the significance of my parents' moving day, the only day that's a command: March Fourth.

Selfishly, I thought: Tuesday is my easiest day at school, not really worth taking the day off, too bad it isn't Monday or Wednesday or any other day. I annoy even myself with this mentality. Then I realized...it's the perfect day. This day had their name written all over it: March Forth. Exactly what they are doing, exactly what needs to happen.

Forth-er-more, it's Mardi Gras, a day of celebration :)