Wednesday, July 30, 2014

life + art

buy me here



I'm sitting here in a pile of post vacation rubble and instead of starting laundry I'm reading through your emails, because I miss you and want to know what's going on in your lives.  Soon I will just leave these piles and hope the night time trolls, Bon Qui-Qui and Billy TuTu decide to take pity on me, snap their fingers and taadaa!  The laundry will be done.  

But, in the meantime, I thought I'd share something.

Be Brave has become something of a life philosophy here in the Scabs world.  And, I love that about a million of ya'll tagged this print for me on Pinterest!! So, I shared it on Instagram and I'm sharing it here too.  I bought one for me and one for a friend who's struggling, because, ya know, #theundergroundreliefsociety

And of course, I couldn't leave my pile of post vacation rubble without giving a shout out to the artist.  Inspiring artwork Alena Hennessy!  Thank you.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

$66.42

Louie


Girl-cat is eating blueberries out of my bowl.  Is that weird?  Should I google it?  Girl-cat is old and grumpy and eccentric. Seven years ago my cat lady friend rescued a mean-fur-and-bones-pregnant-cat-slut from a burger joint parking lot somewhere in Phoenix.  And, of course, we took her in.

Mr. Scabs found an old hand crank snow cone machine at the goodwill which our daughter has turned into her childhood fortune this summer.  This fortune turned into a bunny, that was carefully selected from the handful of discarded Easter bunnies found on Craigslist.  Originally, the ad was $100 for the bunny and an enclosure, carrier, hay, chew sticks, food, combs, litter and a whole slew of other bunny care items.  Heartbroken because she only had $66.42 to spend, I suggested haggling.  It's Craigslist, right?  And so, $66.42 later, Louie, the sweetest bun was part of our family!

I've never been face to whiskers with a bunny before.  She was beautiful.  We became fascinated with her little nose, her paws, her grooming, the fact that she was litter trained, her endless eating of hay and devouring of broccoli, her sweet little hops and excited hop kicks, her smart awareness.  We all fell in love with Louie but our daughter fell especially hard.

This is my oldest child.  The one who has seen and felt the havoc threatening her family but also has been privy to gentle repairing and forgiveness.  Her heart is gold.

The morning before Louie died, my daughter said, "Mom, I love her so much!"

Some terrible circumstances lead to the loss of Louie.  She'd been in our home for 3 days.  It was a Tuesday night and when I realized what had happened I lost it!  I screamed and cried and yelled and begged God to take us back in time, to change what my eyes were telling me was true.  Mr. Scabs held Louie in his arms as she left us.  I begged like I've never begged before (yes, more than or at least equal to d-day).

And, what do you do when you hand your daughter, who has been through so much in her little life, a small box?

There was nothing to do but grieve.  To hold her as she shook and cried.  To squeeze her tighter as the snivels and tears leaked through my shirt.  To let my tears drop and soak into her hair.  To keep myself from telling her that everything was going to be alright and that we can get a new bunny and from blaming anyone and anything.  To leave her question unanswered when she whimpered, "why?", after all, it wasn't me she wasn't asking.  To sit with her while she tried to walk through her pain.

Under the moonlight, Mr. Scabs dug a hole near the ash tree.  We gave a tear-filled eulogy, dropped flowers, love notes and a carrot for Louie's passing to the other side.  Death is never fair.

A few days ago we went to the mountains for a getaway.  Louie was fresh on my daughters mind as she walked into the woods with her journal, pen and paints to face her hard things.  And when she returned something in her had been nurtured.  I don't know what she's learning from all these hard experiences and this isn't the way I imagined her life.  When she was born, I imagined being able to protect her from things but now I see that all I can do is hold her hand.

I love her forever and am so proud of her.

RIP Louie.






Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Mr Scabs Mountain

todays view

The work of life is strange.  The work of waking up to your life and your people is strange and unique.  You sit there and look at your life in this sudden technicolor clarity and think, 'what the hell.  not what i imagined.'   But it becomes your like and you work and care and nurture all the people and things in front of you.  To see that work in myself seems natural.  It seems natural because I'm in it every day.  I can see the process.  It just seems normal.

To see that work in someone else, someone close to you, is miraculous.

Watching from the outside the work is slow and frustrating and nothing short of inspiring dramatic divorce plans including sawing the house in half or packing on bag for the cheese making hills of Kentucky.  This whole work of becoming real as a married couple doesn't seem to happen on my timetable.  And sometimes, nothing at all seems to be happening.  nothing.  But at that very same moment, the moment where I'm bursting with frustration and the appearance of nothingness, there is also something very deep and sincere happening.

Here's a glimpse inside Mr Scabs work.

It's a brutal accent: boulders, cactus, lizards, killer bees, sheer drops, blistering 108 degree temps and a deceiving steep one-mile hike to the top of Camelback Mountain.   Each year, hikers get helicopter rescued because of heat stroke, dehydration, getting attacked by bees or injured.  Some even lose their lives on this red rock pushing up from the dusty desert Phoenix floor.  It's especially brutal with the 3 o'clock sun.

I used to think that he was punishing himself, maybe for a long while, he was.  The work of living with such infamously terrible mistakes wasn't working for Mr. Scabs, so he ran up the mountain.  In the name of self-care, he takes this run 2-3 times a week.  

The other evening I asked, "How was you climb?"

"It was great.  I got to the top and just took some time to stop and think."

Screeech!  say what?  stop and think?

{For any of you who know Mr. Scabs, he doesn't stop and think.  Go Go Go Go Go Go and Go is his normal speed.}

It's small.  Almost imperceptible and terribly frustrating with the appearance of nothingness.  But at the same time it's real.




Monday, July 14, 2014

E=Sy2


Jill Candland Photography

All life's quirky phases have brought me many different yoga teachers and it's always been exactly what I've needed.   Sometimes I need an hour of peace.  Other times I need to learn how to balance. Or times I need to learn how to surrender and be solid in the same movement.   And there are times I need to nurture my courage, my bravery.

I've had more math tutors than I have fingers and I'm still not a great mathematician but I love science and the idea of a formula.  Mathematicians do your worst, here's my Einsteinian formula.


E(energy) = S(scabs) y(yoga)^2

E=Sy2

I'll interpret: I do yoga.
I do it as much as I can.
I do it to tap into energy for whatever life throws my way.

ADDO has been offering free yoga at their office in Utah for awhile now.  They've just launched their yoga website with a weekly schedule.  Click the link below, register and take a class or two.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

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