MOM, MOTHER, MAMA, MERE, MATKA, MADRE, MUTER, MUM, OKAASAN

 MOM IN COLLEGE

There are so many different words and spellings for the incredible women who gave us life. Today is Mother's Day - a day to honor the amazing women in  our lives. A day celebrating the women who birthed us from their bodies, but also those who gave us & our dreams life in their hearts through adoption or mentoring or friendship or love. While I hope we shower love upon and celebrate these women every day, it’s nice to have a day to shout their praises loudly and openly.

It’s a difficult day though for women who have lost their mothers or their daughters or their children before birth or for those who could not have children and become mothers. I always considered myself a mother without a child. I lost my baby girl, Eva Grace, through miscarriage at 5 1/2 months. The only times I was able to hold her, was when I held my hands over my belly bump above her. I can almost still feel that. She would be a woman now and I always wonder what & who she would have become… My mom has been gone 23 years... and I also wonder what living and growth she would have seen.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the women who nurture, who lift us, who support us and our dreams, who grieve with us and celebrate with us, who sit with and give time to us, those who fan our flames to be the best best we can be, to the encouragers, to those who wrap their arms around us and infuse us with strength, to those who adopt and stepmother, to those who are childless but give their love and nurturing to all around them, to the dog moms and cat moms and stewards of Mother earth… And to all of the amazing women that we do these things for, thank you - you are appreciated and loved.

 MOM IN FLORIDA

 DAD, MOM AND MY SURROGATE MOM BERNIE (WITH COFFEE CUP)

MOM AND DAD

STORIES

Artist retreat - Maine

All of these lines across my face

Tell you the story of who I am

So many stories of where I’ve been

And how I got to where I am

But these stories don’t mean anything

When you’ve got no one to tell them to…

~ Brandi Carlile 

Today, on my birthday, I crossed the threshold… I have now lived longer than my mom. She was always my point of reference… My guide in life and living, my go to for questions or understanding, my lesson teacher. So, my mother point of reference is officially gone and I’ll now be blazing the ultimate trail and journey without her. On my birthday, while driving through Florida back to Tybee Island, Georgia after visiting a friend, I listened to Brandi Carlile’s song The Story. It’s always been a favorite but this time the lyrics struck a different chord. 

We are all woven of the many stories of our lives... and most people don’t know the stories that often lie quietly within us. These stories, when told and shared, take on a richer deeper meaning for the teller and the receiver. I found myself wondering about my mother’s untold stories. She was very private and kept most of them close to her heart. And I now wish that I knew more of them.

Sunrise... in Maine.

At the beginning of my artist retreat in Maine this past November, I begin living and creating what would become one of my life stories. While traveling, I’ve been meditating for over a year and using an online program / app to track my daily progress. This past November I began to communicate with “B” from Florida, who also used the app. B was a fellow photographer. We immediately began daily communication off the site. We started the day with each other by sending photos of our sunrises and would also send the sunsets in our very different worlds. I found myself looking forward to these photographs, voice messages and written messages sprinkled throughout each day that became bright spots in the short days & long dark nights of Maine winter. One day at the beginning of December, I asked him to tell me a story… Anything he felt like telling me about himself or his life. That simple request became a wonderful sharing of written stories of who we are and how we got to be where we are… These were stories he and I had not shared with many or any people before. They were part of the fabric and history that was each of us. They were the kind of things that you don’t normally tell people because they are often so every day and ordinary.. but they reflect so much of who we are. They are the memories and feelings and emotions that speak so loudly about who we are more than if we would try to tell someone who we are. There was something special and magical in the actual sharing of these private pieces of ourselves, and it became a discovery of each other and a sort of self discovery as well. We would randomly ask each other for a story. It was wonderful to reflect on bits of my life and what to share, when asked. And it was equally special to read what story he shared. It was safe intimacy from afar... like sharing with someone sitting next to you on a plane or in a coffee house. It was simple and flirtatious and uncomplicated and beautiful.

 Morning walk to the sea at the Maine art retreat.

We would write messages in the sand and send them to each other.

Recently, communication just began to fade away and then stopped between us. Maybe the interaction had served its purpose and had its time. All I know is it was wonderful & I enjoyed it immensely! I’m so very thankful for him and for the adventure of our story telling. I think we both learned how to communicate this past winter... both in stories and personally. I learned how to open my heart and my world and to stay present to something instead of running or walking away from it. Vulnerability can be scary, but it is also so full of riches and the best way to live. Because of this experience with B, it caused me to grow and to reflect on so much in life and to learn to communicate better than I did before... And to accept someone just as they are and to be thankful for them. I’m pretty sure I won’t think of Maine without thinking of him.

The funny thing is, I recently began communicating with someone else through a meditation program / app. He is ironically also from Florida and he wanted us to meet in person to tell each other our stories... I love the synchronicity and beauty of that. And once again I said yes to life and what it offered.

So this week, he and I ended up meeting in Savannah, Georgia for coffee and we laughed and talked and rode bikes and walked in nature at Skidaway Island State Park and the activities flowed from one thing to another into the afternoon to evening to nightfall and we told each other our stories for almost 11 hours! Amazing things happen when we get out of our comfort zones, away from expectations and out of our own way and let life just happen and evolve into a new story.

Skidaway Island State Park - Georgia

To purchase fine art photography prints from my travel adventures stop by my Society6 shop or Etsy Shop. For home Decor and furniture pieces stop by my Deny Designs shop!

ENCOURAGING DREAMS

Knowing that someone believes in you is one of the most wonderful gifts to receive, and one of the most loving gifts to be able to give. In a world full of naysayers and those who discourage, that person who believes in you is like a light shining bright and true. A person who believes in you, who instills confidence and courage and says yes, it can be done... someone who fans the flames of your dreams,  and lights a match to give your dreams light and life, is a rare gift and wonderful mentor. That gift and mentor was my cousin Jack, my Mom's favorite cousin. This morning I learned he had passed away. I was going to do a blog post about my visit to the Annapolis Royal Historic Gardens and their amazing rose garden, but it seems more appropriate to use these photos and talk about Jack, who loved gardens and gardening and roses and being outdoors. He loved working among beautiful things whether they were people or plants. He was one of those rare people in life that your noticed because of his quiet presence that was compelling. He loved life, he loved living, he loved encouraging others, he was the father that my father never was.

While I was going through my divorce, Jack was always checking in on me to make sure I was OK. He would send me articles in the mail he thought would be helpful. One of them was about Flickr. He knew my love of photography and encouraged me to join, telling me it would be a good way to learn and improve my photography in a  community, and was free!  I put that article away for a few months, then found it and opened a Flickr account.  That one little thing Jack did, completely changed my life. We never know when these little things we do for people might be something extraordinary in their life. I told him it was because of him that my life changed - from that one little thing, from joining Flickr and making new friends and learning so many new things, it put me and my art and photography where I am right now. I'm forever grateful to him for caring enough to take the time to do that, and to encourage and to believe. How wonderful are people who care enough to do these little things that are such big things. He was a big believer in paying it forward and helping others. 

These wonderful encouragers of dreams, the mentors who say yes you can, I believe in you... they are such bright lights in this world. And now one of them is gone. RIP Jack Kasper, you were loved. You were one in a million. 

Encourage dreams. Take time to listen. Be a light. Look someone in the eye and tell them you believe in them. Each time I do these things I'll think of Jack.

FATHER FIGURE

I'm seeing all the annual dad posts & it's hard because my father was mostly absent. I guess this is why I had to develop resilience & self sufficiency, although at times I wish I wasn't so much that way. I know my dad did the best he could under his difficult growing up circumstances. He fought many demons. When he was about 6, his mother took him & his twin brother to a boys school in Philadelphia. My grandma was raising them alone after their dad died prior to their birth. The school offered a scholarship for their education. But they didn't tell the boys what was going on, & my dad remembered being in a fenced yard & then seeing his mother & grandmother walking away outside just leaving them there. It was not a happy place for him. He did the best he could as a father who didn't know how or wasn't able to father.  But I did have a wonderful male mentor growing up who showed such love & patience to me & to his own daughter who had Down's Syndrome. Homer nurtured my art, took me for my first plane ride in his little plane & was at my wedding. Happy Father's Day to all the amazing men who fill these roles & shoes... they are truly extraordinary.

MOM

My mom passed away 23 years ago. She had just turned 58. When I laugh, I hear her. My laugh has become her laugh. I've become my mother in wonderful ways... I laugh a lot, I remain naive in a beautiful way where I still believe in miracles & good things & beautiful souls. She was like that. She was unwavering in her loyalty to friends & enjoyed the simple things in life - a good laugh & a good book, time spent with family & friends, working in the garden, singing at the top of her lungs, a good sale! We can allwax poetic about Moms on Mother's Day & do the pedestal thing. My mom was human & ordinary, but that made her extraordinary. She loved with the best ability of her heart & parented as a single mom, the best she knew how & even when she might falter, it was always made better with a hug & an "I love you." She taught me to be human & she tried to understand me even though we were different in many ways. But when I laugh, I hear her still... somehow over the years, my laugh has become her laugh - & it's music to my ears.

Happy Mother's Day in Heaven Mom. 

NO APOLOGIES

I don't know about you, but I seem to find myself apologizing for emotions or tears. Lately, I've been apologizing when I shed tears of grief that my Maggie May is gone. It's been a year after all. Why am I still crying and why does my heart still break? But, she was my 1 in a million (I think dog owners always have that extra special one) .... my travel buddy and hiking buddy and confidant and copilot in life - she was my angel with fur... and my model/muse. It is hard having this road adventure without her - my best fur friend. It was such a blessing to be able to open my heart & life up so grandly and largely to this furry soul. To be able to love so deeply is a gift and a blessing. The downside is that the heart break is also so deep.

Somehow I thought one day the missing her would ease, or the tears would stop and the apologies would come when this wasn't the case. What I now realize is that I won't ever stop missing her. And that is OK. When we lose someone (or a furry someone) it's okay to keep missing them, and to keep feeling that empty spot and to be authentic about it all. And it's okay to let someone else in (or another pet) and a new space will be filled, but that other empty spot will always be there. And just letting myself know I will always miss her and will probably always shed tears of joy but also sadness that she is gone, somehow makes me feel better. And I'm going to stop apologizing for all that. And that feels very good, too.

BALANCE

Half of me is filled with bursting words and half of me is painfully shy. I crave solitude yet also crave people. I want to pour life and love into everything yet also nurture my self-care and go gently. I want to live within the rush of primal, intuitive decision, yet also wish to sit and contemplate. This is the messiness of life - that we all carry multitudes, so must sit with the shifts. We are complicated creatures, and ultimately, the balance comes from this understanding. Be water. Flowing, flexible and soft. Subtly powerful and open. Wild and serene. Able to accept all changes, yet still led by the pull of steady tides. It is enough. ~ Victoria Erickson
~ All of these words... yes. . .

LUCID DREAM

My copilot and constant companion Maggie May has been gone 4 months.The amazing times we shared and adventures flew by so quickly. Now, looking back, I wish I had blogged about those adventures for the days when the memories are not as sharp & easy to recall. I read an article several weeks ago that was about regrets. It said the biggest regrets people had in their lives were not things they had done, but rather things they didn't do. That is resonating with me now. Thankfully I have many photographs and videos of Maggie May. But I regret not having written about the amazing lifetimes we lived and lessons learned in our 14 years together. They are all in my heart bound up & tied up in the bond we shared. So now, I have decided that it is better late than never. It is appropriate that I begin a new blog for this new chapter in life I'm learning to navigate without my sweet Maggie May.

I had a dream about her the other night. Have you ever had a dream that was almost not a dream but a form of crossing over or connecting in some surreal way? A dream that was happening exactly in the present time - almost as if you were awake? It was 4 AM and in my dream I awoke and there was a dog next to my bed just staring at me. She was similar in appearance to Maggie, but was a dark chocolate with brindle markings and ears that were more greyhound than Maggie's flying nun ears. I got up and took her downstairs by the collar not sure how she had gotten in or why she was there. As I came to the bottom of the steps and neared the front door, my sweet Maggie came around the corner, looked at me and began wagging her tail. Quickly I opened the door and let the other dog out. I looked at Maggie and said "You can't really be here. This must be a dream because you can't really be here." She came up to me and I wrapped her in my arms, and could actually feel her fur and warmth. I held on wanting to remember it all, but she pulled away to go to the back door. The dream was in color because I remember I got the green leash from the closet to slip over her neck as she did not have a collar. All this was happening at 4 AM in the dream so it was pitch black outside when I opened the door to take her out. When we stepped outside, I saw the other dog there. I went to tell it to leave and then the leash slipped from my hand and Maggie disappeared into the night.

I woke up sitting on the side of the bed.

That "dream" stayed with me all the next day and still now today. A bit unsettling, but also wonderful. So, I have decided to begin blogging again - about Maggie, about adventure, about life and about new beginnings.

Maggie taught me the art of living in the moment and being happy to just be. She taught me about love and trust, about adventures and that the best adventures are shared, that you are never too old for new adventures and that old dogs can indeed learn new tricks. So  it is good to end this first post with a video from our Grand Adventure 1 when Maggie was 13.