"In the midst of winter I found in me an Invincible Summer." - Camus ...On exploring strength in its many forms:
strong people, strong writing, strong curiosity, obsessions, stances, and loves.
Strength as a concept wide enough to encompass fear, truth, vulnerability, and joy.
Subscribe to this blog
Follow by Email
Search This Blog
Evelyn Marie Rice, 15 years later
Today marks the 15 year anniversary of my mother’s death.After struggling for 7 ½ years with chronic progressive Multiple Sclerosis, she passed away.Being that it is now 15 years hence, that’s actually twice as long as the length of her illness.But illnesses are the kind of sprawling reality that takes up more time and space than actual time and space.And it really doesn’t seem to matter how much time passes, there is still a void of mom.She was far from perfect, and actually really resented when people tried to portray her as a suffering saint when she felt more suffering than sainthood.But she was wonderful.
She was creative and funny and embarrassing in the way mothers should be.She cared so much, I am still trying to learn the courage it takes to show how much you care about things.She made goofy dinners like chili boats, which consisted of Fritos floating atop chili.They were awesome, and I will be making that for lunch.She handmade the Christmas presents, each year more challenging than the last.Birdhouses, jeweled ornaments, crocheted snowflakes.When I was seven, she gave me a dollhouse she made from a two-shelf bookshelf, and had filled it with handmade items like miniature rugs and a master bedroom complete with checkbook box bed.
She gifted me with a love and respect for imagination.And books, a relationship with books that could carry me forever.
Living with her pain, and the inevitable ways illness changes a family (changing children to caretakers, living with being unable to help as much as you want to be able to, knowing that the end of it is a terrible way out) shaped me irrevocably as a person.Losing her shaped me too.I remember one of the many complicated feelings I had after her death was a great sense of unemployment.There was grief and relief that her suffering was over, but also an enormous unmooring of my sense of purpose.It seemed utterly frivolous to have to finally just focus on myself.There is a beauty to experiencing time in crisis so that you can only live each moment and can’t see past the next one.Having lost the crisis, suddenly I was faced with having to think about time in a longer fashion.Now that I could grow up, what did I want to do, who would I be?I’m still learning that one.
These changes are the most formative I’ve ever experienced.And every year I learn something more from them, unlock more of the power of growing and becoming.
Today I am going to honor her by writing.She would have liked that.She’d be glad that I’m a little better than she is about letting myself enjoy it.
The exciting (or at least the inevitable) conclusion of Part One and Part Two of Icelandic awesomeness....
Day Six: Ekra Cottage/ Lagarfljótsvirkjun to Höfn
This day was all about epic scenery. Kilometer after kilometer of stunning beauty. The ever-shifting sweeping views afforded us herds of wild reindeer, giant snowy fjords, a mossy valley, snow blowing across the road like dry ice, lava rock, waterfalls. It was a total feast.
Our halfway point was Djúpivogur which houses a collection of giant roadside marble eggs, each one fashioned after a particular type of bird's egg.
We arrived in Höfn and checked out the harbor and the free museum (a welcome respite from the windy harbor) before checking into our guesthouse. Which we had all to ourselves. We made one last meal of fusilli and bell pepper (fusilli meal #4 for the trip for those keeping track - I'll be taking a good long break from fusilli now) and read. I found a left-behind copy of The Silence of the Sea by Yrsa Sigurðar…
The end of the second quarter snuck up on me: it feels like only three weeks have passed since my last quarterly report. Part of the speedy passing of time was from all the good books I've been reading lately. I've already told you how much I loved re-reading The Magic Summer. Here are my other favorites from this season:
Gulp: Adventures on the Alimentary Canal, by Mary Roach. This gem is from one of my favorite local authors. Mary Roach's sense of humor should really get it's own zip code, it's so wonderful. I learned a great deal, sometimes about things I wasn't sure I wanted to know (like how to properly use flatus in a sentence), and I can't tell you the amount of times per week I find myself thinking about the nutritional content of my dinner compared to my cats' on account of this book.
As a delighted listener once said at a reading she did: "You keep writing books about exactly the thing I'm most interested in, except I didn't know I…
Five years ago I traveled to Iceland for the first time. I arrived already smitten with it, having fostered a curiosity about the place through various books I'd read. It did not disappoint. I used my emerging obsession as an excuse to research and write and my travels in 2013 fueled the novel I just finally finished revising last month. I loved living in the world of that novel while working on it as a way to stay connected to such a magical place. I had hoped to go back someday but didn't quite believe it would happen (there are so many other countries on my to-visit list, re-visiting a place seems a radical luxury and...inefficient?). But a plan was hatched: the hubs and I were long overdue for a real vacation, had yet to travel out of the country together despite being together for eight-plus years (I know, scandalous), and were craving some quiet and darkness. Again, Iceland did not disappoint. Early to mid-January in Iceland boasts a grand total of 4 1/2 to 5 hours of da…