The Courage To Stay

THE COURAGE TO STAY IN ONE PLACE

BY NIKKI HODGSON

JANUARY 14, 2014

HE TOOK ME to a brewery, to a place I will never go again. The memory of his hand brushing against my knee is connected to a piece of me that still aches to lie awake at night and listen to his breathing. When he stopped calling, I spun circles in my apartment, went for a run, drank half a bottle of wine. In the morning I emptied the contents of one drawer into a suitcase and made it halfway through the booking process before I realized I couldn’t just catch the next flight to Tel Aviv.

I tried to do all of my favorite things, distractions. But the cappuccino turned cold before I could concentrate long enough to read the first few lines of anything. A man walked into the cafe and smiled. I smiled back, but my eyes stayed sad.

I did the same hike twice and then called my dad. From my window, I can see the mountains. The snow collects on the balcony, the patio furniture, the trees, and windowsills. The heater rattles the air vents, but the quiet of the snow still permeates my apartment. Everything is in slow motion and muted colors. I have a home and a job. I can’t just run.

The heater stops. The place is so still. I roll over onto my back, stare at the ceiling. When I close my eyes, I see my heart like a bruised peach, a soggy indent where he pushed hard and walked away. I try pushing the thoughts away and then I try just letting them go. But there is still that weight on my chest and I’d rather just get on the next plane to Mexico.

When the first pangs of anxiety hit, my default is always a suitcase and a ticket to anywhere. I have gotten used to the idea that an Italian train and fields of red poppies are the cure for any sort of trouble, but then at a certain point that is no longer true. Because even in travel there are moments where you pause and it all catches up with you, where you stand on the top of Masada and the Dead Sea looks like somebody painted the sky on the desert floor and it’s so damn beautiful and you’re so damn lucky, but you just think of him and that smile and the email you wish you could send. At a certain point, every breathtaking vista just becomes another backdrop for your broken heart.

I am scared that I will never find a way to balance my love of adventure with my need for quiet reflection.

There is bravery in traveling, but there is bravery in staying home, too. There is bravery in staying still long enough for everything to catch up with you, in trusting that whatever it is, it won’t drag you down. Because it hurts like hell when there’s nowhere to run, when the only place to circle is within the confines of your own addled brain. I lie awake at night trying to figure out ways to escape the barbed wire thoughts closing in. Every memory digs a little deeper into my skin.

I don’t feel like listening to anything but Beethoven. I don’t want the sun to go down. I can’t stop reading travel books and planning trips.

I have a home and a place and responsibility. I chose this for myself; I chose this inability to flee. I have finally decided to sit quietly and let the pain seep in under the doors and through the windows. Rumi says you have to keep breaking your heart until it opens. And I’ve broken it open under every sky imaginable, rolling it across the Sinai, dragging it through the Alps, wedging it in the cracks of the Western Wall. But I have never learned to sit still, to stop shoving the fragments into a suitcase.

In the slow motion of my unpacked life, I find that I like to bake, to find that balance between desperately seeking meaning from my life and finding it unexpectedly while waiting for the dough to rise. I am scared that my expectations of love are too unrealistic, scared that I will never find a way to balance my love of adventure with my need for quiet reflection. I find that my natural state is delight, but even while marveling at the perfect hue of a mango, I crumple over the cutting board, pressing my forehead against the cupboard, struggling to swallow my tears.

Sometimes bravery is booking that ticket to Mongolia. Sometimes it’s canceling your flight. Sometimes it’s plunging into a new culture, a new language, a new place. Sometimes it’s a few hours of staring at your ceiling telling yourself you’re not going to give up on you, that you’re going to stay in your old place and learn to make it new. Sometimes your demons push you to stay, sometimes they pull you to go. Sometimes you have to sit still long enough to figure out the way your heart breaks. Sometimes you have to hit the road to remember how to put it back together.

In the slow motion stillness of a Colorado snowstorm, I am finding that there is so much bravery in both.

Create Yourself!

Go create your purpose!

Do you know what your purpose is?  Have you thought about it?  It is a trending question.  An elusive one.

For as long as I can remember, I have loved to write.  I wrote easily in high school, went to college for a year, then a business school for another, met a law student and married.  We had two children.  When I returned to college at thirty, with two small children, I wanted to write and write and write.

It didn't come easy.  When wrote in my thirties, most of my work dealt with the comings and goings of the day.  A mother who felt neglected by her husband, the business of surrogate motherhood, families destroyed by lack of knowing, wanting a healthy lifestyle for my family to continue.

Flash forward twenty years later.  The kids are grown, I've been single for a long time. The mountain house is beautiful.  Snow is more frequent now.  Asian beetles are abdundant. Everything just wants to endure.

It is harder now.  Each breath seems to bring on more physical losses, more pain.  Sometimes I just don't want to move my body. I have neaver dreaded snow until the last five years.  It is too much, too hard, too painful.  The road near my home is rarely plowed.  I am over this.

Rethinking where to be.  With each tapping of the keys, I create a new awareness.  Maybe this is just too hard anymore.

Crimes!

I am ashamed of our government.  Of people. On so many levels.  It is rare for me to recommend a film, but every human being should see this.  Touching.  Infuriating.

Damn unevolved government. How did you people ever become so cruel?!

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Spring!

Okay.  It isn't quite there, at least by my outside thermometer.  So I will have spring inside.

These have been busy weeks.  Lots of time with friends, sprucing up my home for spring, cooking favorite meals, baking and time to enjoy the bounties of primavera.

Could this color be any more exhilarating?  Just wait until you see my garden in the months to come.  It is always an array of color against a backdrop of dark brown freshly dressed mulch. 

Spring is a time of renewal.  And I am doing just that.  Renewing technology.  I recently purchased a MacBook Pro with Retinal Display. Let's talk about the joy.  I was up at 3:30 a.m. thinking about how helpful this will be with filmmaking.

Then I am going to finally get a trail camera so I can see the animals that pass through at night.  It's a buffet of activity and I don't want to miss it anymore.

Spring.  It's in the air.  If not on the snow covered ground.  It is in my mind.

Soon.

Care About Safety

In the past year, I have eaten at two cafes that have troubled customers. The first one had a schizophrenic man hanging outside the cafe.  He smoked, played music and then went inside.  Sans the cigarette, he played and played and played.   Louder and louder. Finally, the young owner asked him to leave.  The fellow continued to play on Main Street annoying folks as they walked around town.

The cafe changed hands and an older owner took over.  Feeling sorry for the man, they allowed him to come and go.  He continued to play loud music splaying out on the bench where customers dine outside.  He covered the bench with his filthy clothes and merriment of assorted items.  I had cautioned the owner about him and it felt on silent ears.  I even spoke to the police.  It took many calls and visits before they took the situation seriously.  Then one day inside the cafe, the man went off on me.  I had had it!

I went back to the Chief of Police and told him where this was going.  He finally took it seriously and removed the man to another city an hour away.

Yesterday, I went into another cafe.  I placed an order at the bar and a man spoke quietly to me.  At first, I believed he was just being friendly.  I noted he was drinking beer at noon which seemed rather odd.  He kept staring at me making me most uncomfortable. Then the sentence began with "F this" and "F" that and I became concerned.  His voice remained quiet.  My heart was pounding and my intuition told me to get out of there and to call the police. I told a waitstaff member of my concern.  She relayed it to the owners. They explained this away as him being drunk. 

I suspect one of the partners asked the man to leave as he passed me out the door.  I stayed behind explaining they need to take these things seriously. This man was not just drunk, he had serious emotional problems.  He needs help.

I made a call to the police explaining the situation.  Then I waited ten minutes and saw no police car.  Finally, my order was ready.  I paid and told the owner about this again on my way out. Again, I called the police.  I left without knowing any resolution.

There are several issues here.  First, some people are angry and violent.  Second, the police need to take these things seriously.  Clearly, the owners do not want to make a scene. Clearly, the police are either too busy or disinterested.

I am the customer.  Could it be these business owners are more concerned about business than the customer?

I already know the answer.

Thank You, Rachel Field

Something told the wild geese
It was time to go,
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered, "snow."

Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned, "frost."

All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spice,
But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered ice.

Something told the wild geese
It was time to fly,
Summer sun was on their wings,
Winter in their cry.

Rachel Field 

Ready For Love?

 We live in a dream world.  A dating dream world.  People have absolutely no idea what they want much less who they want.  Frankly, they just don't know themselves.

I admit to finding Patty, the matchmaker extraordinaire, on Millionaire Matchmaker a bit Judge Judy. She is blunt and plays for the camera.  I sure hope she isn't that abrasive in public. Patty is said to be a third generation matchmaker.  She apprenticed which is rare in many professions today.  She is also spot on when she accesses potential mates.  I think she is a bit harder on the men, though. She wants them to 'man up.'

My limited dating experience has taught me one thing.  People date when they are not ready for a mate.  They play date.  Go through the motions.  Then disappear.  They disappear mostly because they don't want to commit.  They got their warm and fuzzies and they move on to their next victim.  These types of people always find a victim.  Until the victims grow up and want more.

Everyone wants love.  But not everyone is ready.  Are you?

Winter Mountain

It is colder now.  February has lashed its wrath above the equator.  They call it the Snow Moon month because of the snows that follow.

The haze over the mountain isn't my camera.  It is also what my eye observes.  It is clearing now.  Peaks and valleys.  Gray, taupe and evergreen.  Cold.

The winter quiet soothes my soul. Flora and fauna are resting.  More solitude from last year's busyness.  Abundance.  It is where I find my inner resolve, too.

I love being at home.  In the beauty of simplicity.  Light streams in from every direction now.  Strong, angled rays.  The sun sets lower in the southern sky. We know snow can reflect 85-90% of the sun's ultraviolet rays.  It is a time to be observant of all that happens.  Thoughtful.

Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost

Scapegoat - Blah!

Bill Maher, albeit a bit foul for my taste, nailed it about the Brian Williams of the world. About what the media has become.

  http://deadline.com/2015/02/brian-williams-bill-maher-nbc-news-suspended-video-1201373648/

Growing up during Watergate where journalists worked hard to tell the real story, I thought would set the standard for reporting.  It has gone down hill mostly since then. Williams is doing what so many in his position do.  So do the actors peddling products they would never use, or former senators selling reverse mortgages, the list goes on.  They sell out!  Lie!  I think it should be a criminal offense to knowingly distort news.  It is not.

It is an endless blah, blah, blah for the most part.  If it bleeds, it leads.  It covers the trivia, the trite, the not important quagmire that clogs the average dull brain. It picks and chooses what is important not what happens.  It doesn't tell the whole story.

I want journalists to ask all the questions. Don't do a superficial job.  Learn the trade and do it well. Don't leave me hanging or I will leave your newspaper, or television station if I haven't already. And, no, I don't want sensationalism.  Let's leave that to the people who read with their lips moving.

This writer loves a good human interest story.  Some of my favorite ones could be found in the Wall Street Journal.  I want to read a story that tugs at my heartstrings.  Not some saccharine-laced one, but one with all the elements.  A situation we know or don't know because we've been too blocked following the nonsense media to care.  I want it to take me to another level, much like a good book or film does. Something that makes me a better person.

I am tired of scapegoat journalism. Tired of the senior management media types that ignore or control what is happening at the news desk.  I am tired of corporate ownership. And,  I want you to take a stand about wrongdoings.

Better yet, I'll take a walk where everything I experience is real and truly matters.

No Half Hugs!

Happy Valentine's Day!

There is nothing worse than a half hug.  It says you aren't committed to THE HUG.  That you are unsure.  Seinfeld would have a field day discussing this.  I can already hear the banter.

I love to hug!  I like the connection with people I care about.  Hugging lowers blood pressure, says the mind and body is in good shape, that there is no reason to activate T lymphocytes, that all is most well. 

Leo Buscaglia, the love guru, "preached love with such single-minded fervor that he seemed unable to stop until he had hugged everyone in sight." He always gave full and warm hugs.

 http://www.nytimes.com/1998/06/13/arts/leo-buscaglia-tv-advocate-of-love-s-power-dies-at-74.html

Full hug the people you hold dear.  Hug the unhuggable.  Chances are they weren't hug enough.

And love, and hug yourself enough.



  

Push Off!

UFO sightings are everywhere!

/ National UFO Alert: January reports up 44.5 percent

National UFO Alert: January reports up 44.5 percent

Posted by: Roger Marsh February 9, 2015 0 1,699 Views

 

Domestic UFO sighting reports for the U.S. were up 44.5 percent in January 2015 over December reports filed.

Wyoming was the high reporting state by population with 3.47 sightings per million population and registering as a UFO Alert 2, according to witness reporting statistics released February 1, 2015, from the Mutual UFO Network (MUFON).
New Mexico was the next highest reporting level by population – also earning a UFO Alert 2 with 3.36 sightings per million population.

Alaska was the only state rated a UFO Alert 3 with 2.73 reports per million population.
Four states were rated a UFO Alert 4 with the following statistics based on per million population: Oregon, 2.56; Utah, 2.45; Arizona, 2.44; and Missouri, 2.16. All other states received less than 2 sightings per million population and were ranked a UFO Alert 5.
As the highest reporting state per million residents, Wyoming received two reports.
There were a total of 575 U.S. reports filed in January 2015 compared with 398 in December 2014. Total worldwide sightings were 721 for January 2015 and 498 for December 2014.

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The UFO Alert Rating System is based on five levels – 1 through 5 – where states with 4.01 or higher reports per million residents are rated an Alert 1; 3.01 – 4.0 reports are an Alert 2; 2.51 – 3.0 are an Alert 3; 2.01 – 2.5 are an Alert 4; and those states with 2.0 or lower are rated an Alert 5.
Disregarding populations, the top reporting states for January 2015 with 16 or more reports were: California, 90; Florida, 51; Texas, 37; Pennsylvania, 29; Arizona, 28; New York, 22; Oregon, 20; Illinois, 20; and Missouri, 18.

The sphere remains the most-reported UFO shape with 133 January cases. Other shape reports include: Triangle, 87; Star-like, 71; Circle, 66; Disc, 59; Unknown, 53; Other, 48; Fireball, 34; Oval, 31; Cylinder, 21; Boomerang, 17; N/A, 16; Square-Rectangular, 15; Cigar, 13; Blimp, 11; Diamond, 9; Chevron, 8; Flash, 8; Egg, 7; Saturn-like, 4; Teardrop, 4; Cone, 3; and Bullet-Missile, 1.
The object’s distance from the witness includes: Less than 100 feet, 102 cases; 101 to 500 feet, 101 cases; 501 feet to one mile, 152 cases; over one mile, 168 cases; unknown, 237; and no value stated, 25.

In addition, there were “26 landings, hoverings or takeoffs reported and 0 entity observed.”
The most interesting UFO reports do not necessarily come from high reporting states – but those states with higher numbers do account for some of the most interesting evidence to study. While UFO sightings seem to pop up randomly around the country, this list is meant to offer a small insight into where Americans are filing reports.

Infographics for this reporting period were created by Outerplaces.com and include: Most Witnessed Shapes by State, Sightings By Country, Sightings By State, and Sightings Per Million People.

http://www.openminds.tv/national-ufo-alert-january-reports-44-5-percent/32150

“The elders have sent me to tell you that now is like a rushing river, and this will be experienced in many different ways. There are those who would hold onto the shore… there is no shore. The shore is crumbling. Push off into the middle of the river. Keep your head above the water, look around to see who else is in the river with you, and celebrate.”
~Choquash (A Native American Storyteller)

Ominous Skies

The signs were obvious.  A snow moon.  Jupiter closer than ever.  A halo around the moon.  Weeks before people were talking about it.  Disclosure.  Sealing of documents.  Supposed unsealing.  Veils dropping. More lies.

Protests continued and the people were angrier than I had ever known. They were outraged by the film, American Sniper.  Designed allegedly to tell about how awful war, it glorified a soldier.  There is no glory in murder.  Ever. There are no heroes.  Only victims on both sides.  

What appeared to be a global movement of people who had had enough of lies and war and more lies essentially were silent, except in print.  It was the quetzalcoatl; the coming together of polar opposites.  Gender, race, beauty.  None of it mattered anymore.  The media was hyping 'supposed' violence everywhere.  The New York City Police Anti-Terror Unit even purchased machine guns.

They knew it was time.  Time to go off the public grid.  Time to become fully self-sufficient.  No one could be trusted.  The energy was palpable.  Evening couldn't come fast enough.  The children's clothes and necessaries were bundled in bags and stuffed anywhere in the car.  Memorabilia of a suburban life and heartfelt family photographs. Their new home was well stocked.  Three years of preparation ensured that. A lot would have to be left behind.  The past and present were merging. 

We saw them in droves in the evening sky.  More apparent, hovering, colorful.  There was no longer a reason to cloak.  NASA astronauts were aging and finally telling their collective truths. They were here because of the chaos.  The military and the police were disappearing people everywhere. 

Like the von Trapp family, they had run out of time.  Into the car and up the holler they went.  It would be few years before, if ever, before they would resurface.  The cave would hold them tight.  Camouflage netting would hide the crops.  Never again would they venture outside without their anti-thermal detecting clothing.  The masses had called it in.  They didn't speak up, disclose or protest. 

Whatever life remained for this family would rest on outside help.  They are coming!

Pillow Cairns

For those who know me, my studio is one of the best rooms in my house.  A favorite!  For some time now I have investigated stores for the right fabric for valances.  After much searching, I bought ten panels of Battenburg-style curtains and trimmed them down by more than a foot. I only used nine.

The wall color is Moonbeam - a light powder blue with a tinge of gray.  The molding is white and the accent color is coral. 

In time, I shall find coral flowers for the corner dresser.  Until then, the pillow cairns will offer color as I find my way to complete this.

To give you a greater sense of this space, to the left of the single window is a table holding the Elizabeth - Baby Lock sewing machine I recently purchased.  And, an ironing board near it.  It is a working room.  Who says it can't be pretty?

It's a great place to spend the day.  The views of the mountains are magnificent!