Sorrow & Joy
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being the more joy you can contain. Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
— Kahlil Gibran
Farmhouse
I dreamt last night of a farmhouse, my farmhouse. Somehow I knew it was mine, and there was a lot of work to be done. I was very aware of just how much work it would be for me as a single person to do the work of rehabbing the house and work the land to make it once again a working farm. Jenny was there, too, but as a child, and was, for one reason or another, in my care.
Plea bargain accepted
I just heard today that Eric Parr and his attorneys accepted the plea bargain. I think I know the details, but I’m not 100% sure. What I do know is that 5 years jail time is part of the bargain. Part of me is relieved, another still in shock, and yet another feeling like this is all very anti-climactic, as it won’t bring Jenny back. But it is a milestone, and another opportunity to heal.
Dream within a dream
Last night, I had a dream of Jenny that was quite different from any I’ve had before. She was there, and she was with Gus. They were just there, and rather than feeling sad, I was content and enjoying their presence. Jenny started to walk away, and I said, “Please don’t leave.” And for the first time I can remember in my dreams of Jenny, she spoke to me. She said, “You can come stay with us.” I can’t remember if I said it or just thought it, but my response was “I can’t.” And then I left the dream. I didn’t wake up, but in my dream, I closed my eyes, and the dream of Jenny was no more.
In the Garden
It’s finally warmer and drier here in Seattle, and we’ve had at least a bit of sun, so I’ve spent most of my waking, non-work/non-commuting hours this week in the garden. What a wonderful time it has been.
I’ve rediscovered the meditative space of the garden, which has been so close all this time, but seemed so far in the midst of rain and gray and cold. Losing myself in digging and planting and transplanting, and feeling the physical effects of digging sod for the first time ever. But I see my garden transforming, small square by small square, and a vision forming of the space that I want to create, one that is being nurtured by me, but is nature itself.
The thoughts and the emotions come and go as I position the spade, force it into the dirt, and bring up not just grass, nor only bulbs or tubers, but also worms and beetles and larvae of things to come, and I realize those things that I see in the freshly dug soil are also inside of me, the multiplicity of organic, living things that is the universe of the body, the galaxy of the mind, the larvae of things to come.
It’s going to be a slow transformation, but there is a vision, and to watch it evolve, take form, take shape, is such a satisfying feeling. And I find myself thinking of the wonderful stories of magical gardens, secret gardens, gardens of the self and of the soul, and I know that we’ve always known — the human race has always known — the magic of gardens, that mystical place where nature and nurture meet.
Musings & Meditations 
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