growing pains

many years ago now, my best friend in all the world and i decided to start a writers' group. we based it on everything we knew and liked (and didn't like) about other writers' organizations, such as RWA. we started as a group of five writers in lorraine's living room, and quickly outgrew her space.

that little writers' group is still going strong, but if you read anything about their history, there will be no mention of either lorraine or myself. (lorraine was expunged, expelled and expurgated by the membership, and i walked out in disgust over the way she was treated by a certain faction within the organization.)

but that's the way it is with groups, i've learned. groups are like people in that they're born, they grow, they change and sometimes, they die.

despite my lack of affiliation with that little writers' group, i'm still proud of what lorraine and i did. a dynamic group, in my opinion, will frequently outgrow and overtake its founders, just like children have a way of taking off in directions their parents never dream possible. a good founder, like a good parent, has to know when to let go. i still read their website every once in awhile, and i always feel a little tickle of pride when i do.

the writers' circles i belong to here are much smaller than the monster that one turned into, but they still suffer from growing pains from time to time. my little passiflora group is hiccuping along from month-to-month, and the wethersfield circle was feeling a few pangs as well.

today our wethersfield circle met, and discussed ways to address our concerns, and i think we've come up with some solutions that will work. it helped tremendously, of course, that i had all that experience from that other little writers' group back in allentown.

and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.

catching up and filling in

the suitcases are empty, the laundry is clean, the puppies are calm. all the projects and then some that i put on the back-burner until i "got home" are starting to rear their heads metaphorically and literally. the last few days i've resisted putting things on my calendar, but that's going to stop today.

my energy felt remarkably aligned with the season's this year - i spent a very quiet imbolc meditating on where i would like to put my energies next both long and short term, thinking about what sort of garden i would like to grow, what harvests i would like to reap.

i started back to work on the Eating the Angel Way book, and started a new series on the blog on how to start the spring time feeling rested, renewed and restored - even if you haven't spent two weeks in hawaii.

today is my grandmother's 97 birthday. her energy feels easy and at peace. me, not so much. this morning, once the house clears out - which thankfully, it will - i plan to spend some time creating a mandala for myself, and a more perfect vision of the directions in which i want my energy to flow.

and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.

there, and back again

it feels ... at once strange and familiar to be home. my feet, having quickly become accustomed to barefeet and flipflops, protested at being confined in my adorable black moccasin-boots the whole way home. my nose hairs freeze every time i go outside and my lips are already feeling a touch chapped.

but i slept well last night, and for the first morning in nearly three weeks, i woke up without a kink in my neck, feeling remarkably refreshed and invigorated.

the puppies, of course, are beside themselves. i felt the worst about leaving them - my kids are old enough to (sort of) understand but sam and buddy have no ability to comprehend where i want or why i went there. nor could they understand i was coming back.

today i plan to settle in, unpack and catch up on blogging and phone calls. i have a mountain of laundry but the house is clean, thanks to a kind friend's cleaning person. imbolc begins at sunset, and i have some visions to create.

and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.

another slice of paradise

we left kona this morning as a veritable horde descended on the place we've been staying. but it was so peaceful our first few days, remarked Beloved, as we trundled our suitcases around and down to the parking area.

that's how we know its time to leave, i said.

we made our way to maui with no problems and the pilot was kind enough to fly directly over the dead volcano, haleakala (sp?). he looked pleased when i thanked him. saved you a trip, he said.

sure did, i answered. i consider that a gift from mama pele, who seems to understand and approve my peculiar approach to vacationing.

to those Gentle Readers who may be wondering, no, i didn't see the volcano. no, i didn't snorkel, i swam all of six strokes diagonally across the pool the first day there. (don't faint, i told Beloved.) we didn't see the Place of Refuge or King Kamamehamahe's ancient residence. we made it into kona three times in ten days and our busiest day consisted of going to the post office and having a massage.

i need to sink into a place, feel the place, Be in the place before i have any desire or wish to starting Seeing the place. for me, my first trip to kona was perfect.

mama pele, i prayed last night, if im meant to come back here, could you please send a whale tomorrow morning?

sure enough, a mama and her baby showed up to say goodbye.

and furthermore the war will end. blessed be.

kona gold

in kona, you can tell the morning's coming when the stars begin to fade behind the mist that rises off the ocean. for the first couple hours, the sky and the water turn an opalescent pearl. and then, as the mist begins to burn, and the sun rises over the black crest of the mountain in the background, the light turns to gold and the world bursts into color.

this morning, another couple of whales showed up. these two arrived without fanfare, very early, just as i was finishing my breakfast, breaching and blowing far enough out that no one else noticed. for a few minutes it felt like my own private visit.

yesterday turned into the perfect souvenir shopping day, and today looks like its going to be absolutely wonderful for doing more nothing. the only thing we need to do - other than my massage and Beloved's facial at one - is get to the post office before 3 PM in order to ship the stuff we bought yesterday.

two long-tailed mongooses are playing tag among the tide pools and the jetty in front of me as i type this. a bird with a bright red head is pecking in the grass around my feet. the noisy opthamologists from slovakia have been escorted off, and the old people who are wearing red lanyards seemed to have been bused somewhere, too. the only other noise beside the thrumming of the wind through the palm trees is the wash of the waves over the reef.

no wonder i don't want to leave.

and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.

sedimentary, my dear watson

this morning, we decided to try a new schedule since what we've been doing for the last week has only served to encourage any sedimentary tendencies Beloved and i might both share.

i wanted a place i could roll from the beach to the bar to the bed (and back) without a lot of effort, and that's exactly what Beloved gave me. add in a laptop, great views of the water and ancient hawaiian ruins, visits from dolphins and whales, unlimited coffee, unlimited booze when the coffee runs out, and neither of us has much of a reason to leave.

im feeling sedimentary, said Beloved a few days ago, and i know exactly what he means.

so today, instead of breakfast, writing or brokering, sunning, and drinking, we're going to try breakfast, writing or brokering, trip to kona, and then sunning and drinking. i think it's the only way we're going anywhere.

and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.

watching for the whale

yesterday morning, while Beloved and i were drinking our coffee, a mama whale and her baby showed up, too. they splashed and rolled and cavorted, mostly swimming in circles, alternately diving and blowing. they put on quite a show. this was the third time we've seen whales. i've noticed they come when the tide is high.

this afternoon, when the tide is low, i plan to walk out to the most cauldron-like of all the tide pools, and leave the offerings i've brought for mama pele - a shell from the beach at tenth street in ocean city where i grew up, a piece of peat from ireland (not just the homeland of my ancestors, peat, too, combines aspects of fire and earth) and a tigers' eye that i've worn. i also found two feathers here, one brown and speckled, and one black and white.

this morning, a school of big red fish are leaping up and out of the tranquil water, while several ominious black fins circle back and forth. Island Broker - Beloved's new alter-ego - has been hard at work since 530, when he noticed the market plunging. as for me, im just watching for the whales.

and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.