Welcome to the Flip SIde

Our language has wisely sensed the two sides of being alone. It has created the word loneliness to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word solitude to express the glory of being alone. ~ Paul Tillich

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Hello Dear Reader, 

It's been a while, hasn't it? So much has been going on. Major life changes, a full summer, back to school and work, the second anniversary of my mom's death and an even greater shift within me. 

Those of you who know me well know that I love my solitude. I crave it. It sustains me. 

The funny thing is, now I have a little bit more of it than I am used to I am having a difficult time adjusting. It has thrown me for a loop. So, as is my nature, I have been looking into this dis-content. Why, if I adore solitude so much, am I not enjoying the extra time to myself? 

Because I am lonely. And I don't want to be. I don't like being lonely. I try to fill the time, that precious, hollow, fertile time that I have historically craved so deeply...I just want it filled. 

Ah yes, welcome to the flip side. 

That's where I am. I am on the flip side. Loneliness is the flip side of solitude.  Loneliness, right now, is the flip side of companionship. I am exploring the flip side of marriage, relationship, partnership, shared household...all of it. 

And I'll be honest with you...recently there have been days when I am not sure I've done the right thing in flipping it all ass over teakettle. But it is flipped. And right now, all I can do is be with that. The loneliness. The fear. The uncertainty. 

I am sitting with it all, welcoming it in, engaging it in deep conversation, getting to know this part of me that I apparently do not know all that well. 

In discovery, 
Me

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“We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don't really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It's just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.” 

― Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart: Heartfelt Advice for Hard Times

Loneliness is proof that your innate search for connection is intact. ~ Martha Beck

Found on my phone: from june 2011

Today I lay myself down on the Earth's breast. 
I tell her Momma, you have got to breathe for me, 
I can no longer breathe for myself. 

The effort it takes 
to fill my lungs 
with air 
and force it out 
again 
to make room for more 
is just 
too much 
today. 

She rocks me gently,
shuddering from my sadness, 
breezes the hair out of my eyes
so I can see the blindingly blue sky.

She is still 
so I can hear 
the call of the hawk 
soaring 
through the trees, 
feel the push 
of the weeds as they sprout 
beneath my back.

The spiders crawl 
along my arms  
as I lay on my mother's land 

Waiting 
for a message 
from the gods
the goddess
the trees 
the clouds
anyone.

what is the sound of silence? (rough draft)

what is the sound of silence?

the gentle thumping of one's heart?

the call of the hawk
traveling through clouds and
miles of blue
to nest
in your ear?

the water dripping
off rosebushes
on to the moss
of my heart?

what is the sound of silence
other than
the slipping of your hand
into mine.

the salt
my tears left
on your skin
slowly drying.

what is the sound of silence?

the peace of no more
the promise of possibility
the trailing whisper
of you.

A little of both in a found poem. For my mom. (A rough draft.)

My mom is on the front steps.

She's been there for two hours my dad says.
She won't move and I don't care anymore.

I say Hello Mom and walk by,
not sure if she knows who I am
though she seems to recognize me
from a deeper place.

Dad's exhausted, I can tell
and angry.
I understand.
I am exhausted and angry too.

She won't get up in the morning he says
and once I get her in the shower she won't come out. 
Or get dressed. 

So goes my dad's day.
Battle after battle after battle
with a woman he still loves
but doesn't know anymore.

I listen to the laundry list of complaints
injustices
hardships.
Offer no suggestions.

I walk to my mom and try to get her up off the steps.
Come on Mom, I whisper,
One, two, three, upsie daisy. 
She rises on legs wobbling like a newborn foal's.

Holding tightly to each other
we shuffle together to her chair.
This is the new mother daughter dance
shuffle, shuffle, pull, pull.
Until we are there
Five feet in five minutes.
Zoom, zoom.


OK Mom, sitting down now, One, two...
She's down on two,
the sneaky devil!

Do you know who I am Mom?
Your daughter, Jessica. 

I imagine she smiles a little
nodding her head.
As she sits there so still
I hold her hand
she doesn't let go.