TWO CHEMICAL SUBSTANCES

So we did it, dear Reader, we married. This past Sunday we spent several hours debating about whether we should or should not go through with an actual wedding ceremony, since neither of us wish, for several very good reasons, to not have a civil wedding. If not a ceremony, though, filled with family and friends, then, what? Very few of Alan's friends would be able to make their way to such a ceremony....it would be filled with my side of the family and my friends; and, although he has come to love my friends and my family as I have come to love his daughter Star, his sister Fran, her husband Leo and his cousin George, Fran and Leo can not attend, and George is not ambulatory.

We awoke Monday, ate a light breakfast, dressed for the day. I threw on a dress, something I rarely do (wear a dress on a "day off", I mean; usually I wear jeans) We stopped at a thrift shop, where I found Alan the most gorgeously made Japanese (or are they all Japanese?) kimono and where he found (and wore out of the store) a kind of hippie-ish traditional "wedding" shirt. Then we took off for Poulsbo.

In Poulsbo, at the restaurant Mor Mor's, which we love because it serves our favorite red wine, called Abacela, a kind of Tempranillo, I asked him what he needed to feel married to me. He said, "Nothing. I already feel married to you." In turn, he asked me the same thing. I felt the same way. "Me too," I said. "I need nothing at all. I have felt for some time as if I am your wife."

The day went on. The day was a strand of ribbon, a length of rope like life itself, a new measure of time where mystery leads to what suddenly appears to be inevitable. That's how feels now. Inevitable.

We said our vows. Past the afternoon of our lives, but still open to meaning and wonder as we were in the morning of our lives, only the meaning and the wonder and the purpose are now different.

What did we say? What did we vow? Our vows were spontaneous. I remember words like "love" and "commitment" and "care for" and .....oh, why bother trying to remember? As one who has lived in a long term marriage I know one thing; a couple lives it's vows as a poet writes her poems...in step with whatever reality sets inside the couple's path. We vowed to keep the channels open. Perhaps that is the most important vow of all.

I am afraid I may have disappointed my children by behaving so spontaneously. On the other hand, the money I have saved means that Alan and I can more easily fly to pay visits to see my children.....and I pray they realize how much they know I loved their father and how much I love them and how much Life and Love must go on, if one is willing to resist living mechanically. I hope I have not disappointed my friends (actually, I don't think they give one fig, so long as I am happy).


I will end with a quote, from which I have taken the title for this blog - - and a poem.


"For two personalities to meet is like mixing two chemical substances: if there is any combination at all, both are transformed."
Carl Jung


And the poem, which I read aloud more than a month ago to Alan:


YOUR BLINDED HAND

Suppose that
everything that greens and grows
should blacken in one moment, flower and branch.
I think that I would find your blinded hand.
Suppose that your cry and mine were lost among numberless cries
in a city of fire when the earth is afire,
I must still believe that somehow I would find your blinded hand.
Through flames everywhere
consuming earth and air
I must believe that somehow, if only one moment were offered,
I would
find your hand.
I know as, of course, you know
the immeasurable wilderness that would exist
in the moment of fire.
But I would hear your cry and you'd hear mine and each of us
would find
the other's hand.
We know
that it might not be so.
But for this quiet moment, if only for this
moment,
and against all reason,
let us believe, and believe in our hearts,
that somehow it would be so.
I'd hear your cry, you mine -----
And each of us would find a blinded hand.
- Tennessee Williams

Try A Little Gratitude

In writing a eulogy for Lucretia Eddy, my best friend, Christine Dosa's mother, I ran across this quote from the philosopher Abraham Joshua Heschel: "The truth of being human is gratitude. The secret of existence is appreciation, it's significance is revealed in reciprocity. Humankind will not die for lack of information; it may perish for lack of appreciation."

Today I am thinking about gratitude.

The above picture features Aleister in a rare moment of allowing a camera to catch him in a big smile, his Mom Angela, and me; photo taken by Alan. The camera clicked just after Aleister just informed us that "Sometimes I just like to go with the flow of other people....as long as their flow feels like a proper flow." I am grateful for Aleister. Grateful for Angela. Grateful for Alan. Grateful for this reality which I live, day after day, my house in Bainbridge, my patients, my books, the few friends I have been able to make despite my crazy schedule, the many friends I love but do not see nearly often enough and the plans I make to see them, grateful for my daughters Kelly and Erin, grateful for the Dietz's and my deep love for them as well as for Steve and Katy, grateful for Christine and my Cousin Linda and my friends Magge and Robin, grateful for my dear Dr. Buskirk, my psychiatric supervisor, whom I have been with for eight years, now.

I am even (sometimes) grateful for my chronic pain, which has informed me of human frailty and how much compassion is needed in the health field, mental or physical, it doesn't matter.

I am grateful for my shampoo. I am grateful for my bar of soap. I am grateful for cold water. I am grateful for hot water. I am grateful to have toothpaste and my new electric toothbrush which Alan bought me. I am grateful to be able to read my self-imposed number of two books a week. I am grateful for my wardrobe of (mostly) black clothes. I am grateful for my engagement ring, which surrounds my finger like a demanding lover.

I am grateful for my friend and fiance and lover, Alan.
Here he is.



It has been said that realism is "the belief that things are in reality as they appear to be in the mind". Well, perhaps that's true. If true, then Alan is one big smart fun kind hottie, both in and outside my mind. He's....authentic, which is one of the decade's overu sed words to be sure, but there you go and here he is. He IS authentic. And I am grateful for knowing him. I can not, can not, can not imagine not having met him. How could it be, not to have met him? How could that have even been possible? I suppose all lovers spend plenty of time questioning each other on this one.....if only I hadn't showed up at the.....if only you hadn't sent that.....if only I hadn't answered the....if only you hadn't made that call....if only...if only.....But yes, my God! It's true! We all cook the facts in our favor, but, Wow! If only!

"For there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."
- Shakespeare, Hamlet

Forget Yoga. Forget Yogurt. Forget flat stomachs. Forget Botox. Forget ipods. Just sit there and consider what you live with every day that you are grateful for. And WHO you are grateful for. Cereal. Soap. Milk. Your garden. Dirt. That hummingbird. Old Ray Charle's songs. Your bath tub. Your shower. Your hair. Your bald head. Your legs. Your teeth. Your false teeth. Your telephone. Your nail clippers. Your robe. Your windows. Your electric lights. Your candles. Your radio. NPR.

Go ahead. This could go on for years. Try a little gratitude.