Gone

He left at 3:09 a.m. on July 21, 2010. I suppose 84 years is a good, long life for someone, but none of us wanted to let him go. My mother kept saying, "I didn't think this was going to happen so soon." I remember thinking that it was the end of an era. As a person, he simply was no more. The person I called Dad and sometimes even Daddy had "left the building." But the worst part, the very saddest, was the words that were left unsaid.

Big Words

Draevin is now two years and four months old. His vocabulary is considerably larger and often surprises us.
"Oh, that's beautiful!"
"Look at those decorations!"
"This is delicious!"
And then there are the funny words and the vowel sounds he can't pronounce:
"Let's pway (play) Pway Dough (Play Dough)."
"I wanna see the cwown (clown)."
"I wanna watch Mickey Mouse Cwubhouse."

How can anything be more delightful?

Yikes!

I abandoned my blog. I heard it crying in the next room, calling out to me. It said, "I'm lonely, I need more words. Why aren't you writing in me?" What could I say? "I'm busy. I'm tired. I don't have time." But all these usual excuses don't fit. Besides, they aren't really honest excuses when it comes to writing. When you're a writer, you make time to write. And every time I apply for another writing job, they ask, "What's your blog address?" "Uhhh...there's not much there."

Being a professional writer has its ups and downs. I end up writing what the client wants, but not putting enough time into what I want to write. I guess this brings me to my next set of words: commitment, creativity, and intention.

First Words

Draevin, is now 14 months old. I love hearing him develop his language skills and it fills me with wonder and delight to hear the words he picks up and says. The current list is:
BA (ball)
Ba-Ba (bottle)
Ckee (cheese)
Joo (juice)
Mama (not always to his mommy, but he's getting there)
Dada (same as above)
I (hi)
Ot (hot)
Bye
He knows the sign for "more" and uses that often when he's eating. He knows the sign for milk and has used that occasionally, as well. He also has a distinct language of some sort with repeated syllables and melodic phrases. What's even more remarkable to me is that, although he has a seemingly small vocabulary, he understands exactly what we say to him and mostly does what we ask.
"Bring that to Grammy."
"Go get the ball."
"Put that back in the drawer."
Simple things mean so much. First speech is a miracle.

Communication

The words we use to communicate have power. My goal is to communicate with loving kindness. Yet, being human, I lose my patience, I get grumpy or moody, and I have times when I lash out. I'm not proud of this, but I've learned to accept myself and to keep working toward more conscious communication. Going slow enough to respond rather than react is key. Grownups also need "time-outs." And how powerful would it be if, when I feel short-tempered with my husband, I simply said, "I need a time out." I could take my angry inner child away to settle down before opening my mouth and saying something I will feel sorry for. A few deep breaths or a short walk would probably do it. This feels so much better than a regretful apology to the one I love.

Howdah

I delight in learning new words, and I remember the first time I heard this one. It was in a poem that Jane Hirshfield read when I saw her at Tassajara Zen Mountain Center in Carmel Valley, CA. I was mesmerized by this word and looked it up as soon as I returned home.

From Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, 11th Edition:
how-dah n. [Hindi & Urdu hauda fr. Ar hawdaj) (1774): a seat or covered pavillion on the back of an elephant or camel.

What the Heart Wants
by Jane Hirshfield

See then what the heart wants,
that pliable iron
sprung to the poppy's redness,
the honey's gold, winged
as the heron-lit water is:
by reflecting.
As an aged elephant answers
the slightest, first gesture of hand,
it puts itself at the mercy--
utterly docile, the forces
that brought it there vanished,
fold into fold.
And the old-ice ivory, the unstartlable
black of the eye
that has travelled so far
with the fringed, peripheral howdah
swaying behind, look mildly back
as it swings the whole bulk of the body
close to the ground. Over and over
it does this, bends to what asks.
Whatever asks, heart kneels and offers to bear.

Typewriters

Typewriters are the bomb. I don't own an old one like this, but it's on my wish list. I'd put it on a shelf next to my computer and look at it every day. What was written on it? Who were the people who used it? Novelists? Science writers? Reporters? Poets? Pondering this fills the head of many a writer.

I used an image of an old typewriter for my logo and people said it looked too old fashioned. They thought I "should" be using a computer to make me look more current and up-to-date. I think typewriters are more interesting and they certainly got the job done.

Linus used to say there was nothing more sincere than a pumpkin patch. My version is there is nothing more sincere than an old typewriter or a batch of round typewriter keys. To each their own.