{view from 7th floor waiting area at Mass Eye & Ear}

i remember the morning i woke to my Papa’s choked call, almost two decades ago, like it was yesterday.  my Nana had finally lost her long fought battle with cancer. he couldn’t even get the words out, it was just the jagged sounds of a broken heart on the other end of the phone.  he didn’t need to say anything.

those are the kind of things you think about when your dad has been diagnosed with cancer for the fourth time. that time is not on your side. that the worst case scenario is chasing you down with such fervent velocity that it makes your legs turn into jello, just like in those dreams where you feel like you are running but can’t move fast enough to get away.

it’s a nightmare, but you are awake.

eleven years of remission is nothing to sneeze at, especially in addition to the intermittent years of being cancer free since his initial diagnosis during that same time my Nana was fighting and losing her final bout. fucking cancer. he is in every way a survivor, and to think that after all this time and all of the extraordinary measures he’s been through he has come out on top yet again might even make the biggest skeptic have hope. there are no words for the awe and gratitude i feel.

yesterday morning i woke up from my own loud scream.  i was having a nightmare about being crushed by a horrible monstrous thing, big, bulging eyes, dressed in red, standing over me as i sat helpless. it was a perfect subliminal rendition by my subconscious that was obviously trying to let go of pent up emotions and fear. i realized then that the nightmare, both in my head and in my life, was pretty much over.

i cried a lot yesterday, just letting the waves of emotions wash through me and settle into a quieter, softer place, not any longer the overwhelming feeling of standing under a tsunami only holding an umbrella. we had faced the harshest reality waiting through that the nine hour surgery, my dad’s only option. no chemo. no more radiation to be had, just this one shot to get the cancer out, and honestly i hadn’t really thought about what might have come if the Dr. said he could not get the whole mass. as my mom said, it would have been a death sentence.

{mom amidst hope on the 8th floor}

i can’t tell you the absolute joy it was to see my dad after the whole ordeal, a smile on his face (and in the wake of possible facial paralysis as an outcome, this was even more so a beautiful and amazing sight to behold!) and mostly good news – the most important success! – to report. my worst fear was having to tell him the surgery failed when he woke, a moment i’m not sure i could have walked through with any ounce of strength. thank God we did not have to… amen for that.

although it was all a resounding success, of course there were significant sacrifices made as well.  he will have to adjust to not having most of his left ear, but to us, a small price to pay.  there is much healing to do, both physical and emotional and the recovery will be slow but hopefully without too many bumps in the road.

suffering of any kind i think is the hardest thing to witness, especially if it’s someone you love. nothing teaches you more about your constitution and resilience than being forced to show up and stare into the face of devastation. while waiting during surgery my mom and i wandered the halls of the Yawkey Building, the cancer center at Mass General Hospital, looking for an art exhibit i knew about.  at the perfect time we stumbled upon the Wall of Hope and stopped to read the stories, the hundreds of flags made for patients by loving family and friends, many of them children (and we counted our blessings once again), and realized how many this plight really effects. there on the 8th floor, Heaven and Hell staked their claim.

{Wall of Hope}

in the hall was also a little bald-headed boy, maybe my oldest sons age or slightly younger, playing catch with a laughing nurse in front of the Pediatric Oncology unit. i didn’t know if i wanted more to crumble and weep or say “you go! you can do it! i am with you!” to both of them for their incredible fortitude and what lay ahead, as i silently walked by in awe.

something shifted while on that floor, and i felt so clearly how our lives are both so fleeting and so potent, and so tiny and so expansive all at the same time.  i think i experienced grace. it was the only time during the day i shed a tear, and it was for all of us, not only my dad.

life is a blessing. love is infinite. this much i will always know is true.

Have heart, my dear
We’re bound to be afraid
Even if it’s just for a few days
Making up for all this mess

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I’ll be right beside you dear

my life is floating on music these days saying the words that are stuck in my throat i suppose, holding me and saying what i can not speak. after hearing this song on Smash the tune and lyrics keep popping into my head.  i know years from now every time i hear ear it i’ll think of this time in my life, these days on deeply uncertain ground. Run and Yellow. music does that. it blazes the trail in your subconscious and sears it into your memory, then with only a few notes (boom!) you are right back to a certain time and place.

not sure if i really want to revisit “here” though, a time fraught with a lot of tender emotions and where i feel a bit off beat and searching for my rhythm.  even the lilacs have come and gone, having bloomed out of sync with their usual late may appearance confused by the lack of winter and weather that is mercurial and unseasonable.  my dads surgery is tomorrow and that is really where my head is at, where my head has been, running through a strange thick fog as the pace of things are hurdling us forward and completely out of our control. and then there is the waiting as well, speed and the unknown, a terrifying mix. tomorrow will be a very long day and in all the in-betweens i am praying for the best possible outcome for my dad. even in my sleep i feel my heart weeping, pleading.

in the meantime, i moved Wishstudio out of 21 Middle Street without too much pomp and circumstance.  in some ways an emotional affair, but also a kind of relief my soul was crying out for. i don’t think i will miss that space too much. it was lovely, a necessary step, a bridge to cross to get me to this next place with my work. work that is still beckoning me forward.

i went to Somerville Open Studios this past weekend hoping to spark inspiration so i could listen deeply to my creative voice. no denying it, art inspires me and even more so the artist.  i am deeply connected to the souls of other artists and to wander among them i felt really in awe.  i was inspired by their brave heart-full work and for their ability to be out in the world with such passion and presence.

it also was a but intimidating walking into another world trying to picture myself inhabiting such a space, seeing the range of talent and mediums. but what i kept coming back to was the great people i met and their incredible narratives in paper, paint, fiber etc. story and connection is at the core of who i am and right now there is a huge piece of me that wants to show up in this three dimensional way too. i have a story to tell and the compelling need to spill open is right at the surface.

my internal dialogue these days is like the scattered shards of light pouring through branches blowing against the blue sky.  there’s nothing i can really hold or grasp onto, though i so desperately want to wrest it all to stillness so i can see what’s really there and make some kind of sense of the beauty and the chaos of it all.  it’s an odd mix of inspiration bubbling up, heartfelt personal narrative leaving me raw and open, emotional waves that hit me without fair warning, and a white-knuckled gratitude for everything good in my life maybe because it somehow feels like it might all slip away.

i’ve been really wanting (needing) to paint.  to write. to sketch. to sew. to photograph… in the forefront a sweet and simple project, ATC’s on my mind, a series of inspiration cards made from art and instagrams.  i have Written On My Heart #2 sketched out, the next painting that’s come to the surface as a sister of one i did many year back, a series in the making perhaps. i’ve been doing more creating these days than i have for a very long time. of course i see the connection of the abundance of emotions and inspiration, a shared avenue to process all of what is moving through my life. i understand it, but at the moment it is a wild tangled beast.

thus i have also been pouring over words, words to write, words in thought, words to commemorate, words to stitch, words to share, words to hold onto… A Sea of Words, just like the painting i’m working on, yes.  and i have been reading blogs again, feeling the deep pull to story, and that sacred practice of connecting through these portals of image and words.  it’s been far too long since i’ve really made the rounds.  i miss the simplicity of that shared exchange.

maybe this is why books have been calling me too, in a very visceral and tactile way.  i want to smell them, see them stacked up all around me, have them there for perusing and snuggling up with and getting lost in.  so i have been spending more time in the library and i love it there.  it seems such a gift to walk into a building and have zillions of books right at your fingertips, yours for the taking right then and there! a pleasure so simple and so often taken for granted.  and, they can get almost any book for you!  note to self: make a list of library books to borrow and read. i love the idea of borrowing.

and so i’ve been wandering.  wandering and wading through all these thoughts and feelings trying to move and do in accordance, trying to capture little beams of light in my journal, on the canvas, in bits of color and paper while tears are tumbling in tandem because it all feels so fleeting and fragile.

“I believe in pink.
I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong.
I believe that tomorrow is another day
and I believe in miracles.”

~ Audrey Hepburn

Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah they were all yellow

I came along
I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do
And it was called yellow

So then I took my turn
Oh what a thing to have done
And it was all yellow

Your skin
Oh yeah your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful
You know you know I love you so
You know I love you so

I swam across
I jumped across for you
Oh what a thing to do
Cause you were all yellow

I drew a line
I drew a line for you
Oh what a thing to do
And it was all yellow

Your skin
Oh yeah your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful
And you know
For you I’d bleed myself dry
For you I’d bleed myself dry

It’s true
Look how they shine for you
Look how they shine for you
Look how they shine for
Look how they shine for you
Look how they shine for you
Look how they shine

Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And all the things that you do

~ coldplay

*{for my dad, love, light and yellow}

{sometimes the path is clear}

{at times feeling so expansive and wide}

{with moments to capture and remember}

{ and always treasure to discover}

{unexpected beauty revealed}

{and signs of life all around}

i know enough now to take every bit of generosity, graciousness, and kindness that is offered my way.  sometimes it’s hard though… feels a bit greedy and (ugh!) needy even, but it is simply where i am at these days.  i am in need.

why is it so hard to give ourselves permission to need?

everyone has needs (reminder to self), and at certain times we need more than others.  the hard part is identifying and voicing those needs, trying to not be too judgey about them (even the one that wants to eat potato chips), figuring how to best meet them in a real and nurturing way (okay, so the chips probably aren’t the best modus operandi) , and especially in practicing self-kindness in asking for help and support.

ah, this lesson is unending.

while i’m wading through what i need in my life right now and taking it day by day, there has already been a serious abundance of loving kindness poured into my world… offers to help with my boys, the studio, and hands reaching out to hold my heart and that of my entire family, special prayers are being sent, and sacred space is being held for me all in light and love allowing me to release a little of my white knuckle grip heading into the deep dark unknown.

simply, the kindness of others is staggering.

what would i do without all of you?  i shudder to think.

gratitude. gratitude. gratitude.

when life gives you lemons, add beets and make love juice to feed to one’s ailing father. at least that’s what i did this morning.  thinking of making parsnips and new potatoes too. my soul must need the roots. i feel a little adrift. cancer can do that to you, even if it’s not happening directly to you. still feels a bit like a bullet to the chest.

the urge to abandon all things, to bring my world to a grinding halt in order to deal with a crisis is tempting, seems necessary almost, something i can do… stop the presses, clear the calendar, lay in wait weapons at the ready – fight. on the other hand, it is equally as tempting to simply succumb to the weight of the unknown, become a puddle of snot and tears in a heap on the floor and just stay there for a good long while – flight.

if  i’ve learned anything from being a bystander of this shitfuckingsuckass disease (more than our fair share i might vehemently add), is that it doesn’t wait for you for you to catch your breath.  it  just plows straight through your life and ironically leaves you with nothing but waiting. waiting for test results, waiting for answers, waiting for options, waiting for a sign of hope and the healing to begin.  and Waiting also happens to be bff’s with Fear and Worst-Case-Scenario. assholes.

weighing the alternatives, decidedly i need to simply stay anchored in my life… my family and friends, my work, my loves. that is what gives me strength. the waiting i can’t avoid, but i have a few tricks up my sleeve including a resilience i didn’t always know i had. so i am leaning into the light.

while i can’t help wearing my messy and emotional heart on my sleeve, i also know how to inhabit my life and fill it with joy.  it is a skill i’ve learned over the last decade for sure. and i am good at it.  i know how to wrap light around even the darkest of notions, paint out my feelings in great big strokes, pour my soul into words, capture beautiful moments in photographs, and reach unabashedly into a deep well of kindred and caring souls.  these are my weapons of choice.

beauty, creativity, and love.

don’t get me wrong.  i’ll fight dirty if i have too, but for now the plan is to drown the fuckers in fairy lights.