For a new project due out next fall, I just reviewed some 25,000 digital photographs taken over the last fifteen years.
I skipped the gym.
Tomorrow, in the company of John and Andra Bell (and my husband), I will watch slender young things dance their hearts out in Bethlehem, as part of the "So You Think You Can Dance" tour.
I will wish, watching them, that I'd gone to the gym.
As anyone who might have read my second memoir,
Into the Tangle of Friendship, knows, I don't have the best relationship with my mouth. Just about anything that could be wrong with it is (I'm talking about structure and soft tissue now, and not verbal emanations; there's much wrong with that as well). And so, through the years, I've had small surgeries and big ones, I've had jaw bones bolted to jaw bones, I've had the mouth wired shut for weeks on end, I've had a root canal gone desperately wrong (a shattered tooth, a pain killer to which I had a nightmarish reaction), I've had gum grafts that have made me feel and look like a flying UFO.
It's just my mouth. It is not life-threatening. People face far far worse things every single day—many people. But still. I woke up this morning and didn't feel like going to the periodontist who is perfectly nice and tres talented (his nephew is also high up on Obama's team, so he tells good stories). I didn't feel like it.
Here's what happened to make the day sweet anyway. My son woke up and said the kindest thing. My husband offered to make me a late-night brown cow (something to savor while watching
So You Think You Can Dance). Matthew Quick sent along
these generous words about The Heart is not a Size. I heard from friends (I love my friends). And.... the yellow finch that banged on my office window for months following the passing of my mother, the finch that launched
Nothing but Ghosts (or its near cousin),
started banging again the very instant I arrived following this morning of surgery and stitches. It had not banged for months and months and months. But here it was again—another message, I suspect, from my mother.
Life is good.
It was not a good day; it was not. It was a day in which I was reminded of just how difficult this writing journey can be—of how hoped-for support from a publisher does, indeed, fail to materialize, even if that support is as simple as putting a book forward for an award. Even if it is as simple as simple faith and advocacy.
But there was, in this day, a foxtrot-waltz with Jim. There was my son reading from his newest work, and oh, my son is a writer, a real one—funny (he's always been), plot smart (reliably so), dialogue rich (better than me), and now (wholly, fully) compassionate. And there was So You Think You Can Dance, which is not some mere TV show. It is a place where artists go to work and where people like me, who need artistry, who cry when it materializes, who are fierce and complicated and sometimes broken by the way they choose to live, go for communion, community.
Tonight Melissa and Ade danced a Tyce Diorio routine that portrayed a woman imperiled by breast cancer. Melissa, in this dance, fought to survive and to hope. Ade fought to believe in her journey, to lift her up. The whole was, in a word, unforgettable. It was strength and power and release and it was, damn it, don't take this life away from me. I cried, I couldn't stop crying, for the beauty of the dance and for the reality of one of my very best friends, one of my oldest, dearest friends, who has been fighting this cancer battle for an entire year now. She has fought, she has not complained, she has believed, and she is out there, raising her two sons, cheering them on at baseball games, and asking, when I call, How are you, Beth?.
How am I?
My friend's journey has broken my heart, and tonight she was danced for. Tonight all of those in the fight were danced for, and we were reminded of what matters.
I was.
Today's Ypulse Guest Post is from Gynae Davalos. Gynae works with The Cypher Project in Austin and is involved in Better Hip Hop Bureau Austin. If you work in youth media or marketing and have an idea for a Ypulse Guest Post, just email me.... Read the rest of this post
I'm so glad there was comfort for you. It may not be life threatening, but misery isn't always a matter of life and death. It's still misery. So it's wonderful that you can focus on all those good things.
Glad you were able to get some comfort, too.
Teeth woes seems to be another thing we have in common, my friend. I'm off to a new dentist tomorrow and will think of this post.
What Lillian said. I admire your ability to keep the good things in view, despite everything, and hope that your discomfort eases soon.
I'm glad you found some good things in the midst of what sounds like a miserable experience.
Feel better :)
I have shivers ... (from your finch). Heal quickly.
feel better - that is so cool about the bird :)
Oh, ouch! You would never know you've gone through so much on your poor mouth ... I just shivered at the thought of all the surgeries and how they must feel. I hope you are healing well, once again. And what wonderful family and friends you have ... and, that finch is special too! :-)