Ahem

oh goodie

what is it about finding something in my pocket, usually of a coat I haven't worn in a while.  I have this moment of thrill and then a burst of "woohoo" (ala Homer Simpson) when I pull out a bit of green (even if its a dollar bill, its exciting).  Or a hmmm, when it is a napkin or a scribbled number/note... like,  sara 503-222-3114, and I think,  "who is this???"  (fyi, this is not a real number, and if sara does live here, it is unintentional) ;-) By the way, if you are still waiting for a call and I scribbled your number on a piece of paper and stuffed it in my coat pocket, I fall on your grace and mercy. 

My most precious coat pocket surprise was a few years ago.  My Grandma Lathen had recently died and  I had inherited a gorgeous dress coat from her.  That year as I dressed to go out and pulled on the coat I instinctively put my hands in the pockets.  My hand reached something soft and familiar.  It was this strange and wonderful reconnection with her. I held something she had held in her own hand, perhaps years ago, perhaps just before she had died.  I think what I love about finding things in pockets is it is a physical marker of life being lived.  The ordinary, usually unglamorous discoveries of hurriedly written notes, or kleenex, or dollar bills, or napkins.  Like an archaeological dig of your own past days, just the usual suspects of discarded daily stops and encounters that add up to the sum total of a lifespan. 

tick tock

Time is a straightjacket commodity.  The more “time” that we demand of our day the tighter the confines we find ourselves in.  There are seasons of my life that seem to bear this out in more stark contrasts than others, and being a Grad Student seems to push me to the edge of these realities.   Perhaps it also has something to do with my birthday coming in a matter of days.  Hmmm, let’s think on that one… Its not that I am feeling particularly old, it’s simply the awareness that time is progressing at seemingly breakneck speed. It’s the kind of speed that guarantees to toss you out of or off of your ride because you have woefully overshot your turn. Case in point, dear friends just celebrated their first child turning one (I have managed to see my “niece” once in the last year). When my friends report that, “Auntie M is coming over to see you, Mira.”    I’m sure, even at that age, my name evokes an imaginary friend in her mind, some puffy, soft and furry creature from her children’s books.  Let’s hope I am none of those things for my 31^st.  ;-) 

Earlier this week I nearly had a meltdown when I learned my newest practicum may begin as early as the 6^th of September.  Before my eyes the month I had anticipated, the precious and coveted allotment of extra time, evaporated before my eyes.  My month of only working 25 hours a week, organizing class notes, beginning research for my thesis and catching up on sleep and time with people seemed to be snatched from my hands.  I could feel myself start to unravel.  After pushing through an intensity of schedule, stress and lack of sleep that I did not know I had it in me to whether this previous year, I relished this island of time.  It was like an extravagant gift from God of restoration and space to balance and recover from all that had occurred the previous year. I went through an entire day of scenarios to try and figure out how I would cram a months worth of work, research and downtime into a week and a half.  Just as the reality of a sleepless night was beginning to drive itself home, my cell phone rang.    Hurrah for Rachel Ray, my newest practicum advisor.  She was calm and collected and informed me she had no intention of asking me to start any sooner than the beginning of my school term, September 25^th.  I assured her how relieved I was, that I was starting to have a panic attack when I realized how unprepared I was for a Labor Day start date.  She said I sounded stressed and not to be, “Internships are supposed to be fun, not stressful”.  Check, got it, right-o, I concur, did I mention I am relieved??   

… currently up for consideration, a weekend at a monastery and a long soak at a local hot springs, after all, I have the time.