Astonish me!

Me, myself.
Me, anyone else I admire. Or must please or satisfy.

Why not?
Just another boring old reach-for-the-stars-you're-more-likely-to-get-to-the-moon trick.

So what? I love to feel energised, light, gifted, springy.

Extreme

Now I am a woman of a certain age and single, which can be good.
It feels vulnerable, and is as lonely as one allows it to be. Perhaps not at all.

Only - to get here, I had to watch Gerald, who I loved and knew, suffer, shrivel and die.
My children could hardly bear it.
And have the remembrance of a dad, but no actual live father.

That seems a little harsh.
For all four of us.

Alex 2011

Stunning, strong, capable and seriously amusing.
Scared, callous, aggressive and volatile.
Courageous and resilient, with a bitter-sweet intensity that will be the saving of and is a danger to others and, especially, himself.

May these be months, weeks, days, and years of recognising and welcoming the bigness, sadness and goodness for Alex, with exhilarating rewards for himself, his loved ones, and those in his slipstream.

Unbearably, Lightly, Being

Dancing - the skill and art of energy arbitrage.

Physically awkward, yet flexible, unexpected and delightful in his soul, Gerald was a dancer.
Where most of us plod, one measured, exhausted or excited step at a time - Gerald at his best spun and leapt, gathering others into the gusts and eddies of his energy.

"Plan when you can, dance if there's a chance."

The planning didn't get much of a look-in.
But there has rarely been such a dancer.

There and Back and Starting Again

Sophie and me to Sydney - an uneventful leaving on her UK passport and a visa for Australia (her NZ one had expired).
Sophie and me back to Auckland - an extremely eventful afternoon getting an emergency NZ passport (back into Sydney from the airport to the consulate, interview there, off to get passport photos, phone Qantas for docs to be faxed, back, for more talk at the Consulate, the promise of a passport, drawing breath -
- and the magical appearance of an actual emergency passport.

So's Sophie could come back into NZ, a privelege which, apparently, she would otherwise be refused.
Back to the airport, and a ne'er-so-well deserved sit down with the rather pleasant, fresh, delicious Qantas lounge food.

The showing of Sophie to be the real thing - calm and cheerful after a brief explosion of emotion, almost running around, no complaining, stamina, everything required to manage an unexpected rather big woopsie.

Fantastic.

Experiences of Coogee, Manly * 2, swimming, walking along the clifftops, shopping, the ferry, the movies in the heat of the afternoon, finishing Harry Potter for the 35th time, the Sydney classic snack/meal (lemon/lime/bitters or beer + wedges, sour cream, sweet chili sauce), a meal at the pub Gerald had particularly enjoyed (outside in the garden), lovely thick starchy hotel sheets, Darling Harbour, The Rocks, a new dress, vegemite toast, hot, hot weather.

And home to Alex's results.
He was relieved, perhaps, apart from a disappointment in maths.
Passes in everything, an A for IT.
What I would like? For Alex to enjoy the learning for its own sake, and to relax into a year without undue emotional stress.

A huge,, huge tree branch broken in the storm, fallen onto the roof of our porch. Insurers coming - but not till next week in this torrid claims environment. Andrew had done me another favour and part cleaned it up - enough that it was a manageable disaster. More nice things done by caring people.

Alex is back at school.
Sophie starts next Wednesday.

Loving the challenges.

Phases

And as the pain recedes, the loneliness moves in.
Not the lack of people, rather the sadness of not sharing.

And I wouldn't feel this, had I not had the gift of being able to share, already.
Not everyone gets the chance.

So much good luck / blessing / fabulous life / incredible experiences.

3 days in January

3 days without specific responsibility.
Very good. Important.
At least 2 days, once a month.
See if it is possible.

I like this

"Living the focused life is not about trying to feel happy all the time ... rather, it's about treating your mind as you would a private garden and being as careful as possible what you introduce and allow to grow there."

- from Rapt by Winifred Gallagher (2009)

Gallagher's book begins with a cancer diagnosis ("not just cancer, but a particularly nasty, fairly advanced kind").
She realises that this disease wants to claim her attention, and that this would be no way to live what could be the last moments of her life.

So she launches an experiment to reclaim her attention, relentlessly redirecting it toward the things that matter most: "big ones like family and friends, spiritual life and work, and smaller ones like movies, walks, and a 6:30 pm martini".

I agree with the aspiration - and anyway, how you habitually think and what about shows on peoples' faces (have you noticed?). Vanity alone is enough of an incentive to concentrate on what seems, feels, is good.

However, 6:30 is too early, 8 pm a better time.
Am I serious?

Becoming real

"Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced - even a proverb is no proverb to you till your life has illustrated it. "

- John Keats

I think I don't write stuff till either I've illustrated it or am implementing it.
Or have tried and failed.

From which good learning always comes, at the cost of emotional pain and sore vanity.

Kind of like,

"Experience is a good teacher, but she sends in terrific bills."

- Minna Antrim

Fearlessless

Fearlessness would probably be just too dangerous.

Courage despite fear, though - there's a winner, I think.
Pick a path, make decisions, follow them through, appreciate the consequences.
Be observant, keep looking while you're crossing the road, focus on the destination when you're leaping - be aware of those you touch, and take great care of those you nurture.

It is 2 months.
It is 2 months since Gerald died.
Has Gerald died? Still, now, it does not seem possible. Gerald could only imagine being alive. And, perhaps like all bon vivants, could only imagine life with himself in it.

Yet here we three are, astonishingly quiet in comparison to having Gerald here, with an occasional particular sweetness as new connections are made, or new dynamics tested, in this new configuration.

Omokoroa, Sydney, Coromandel, Waipu, Auckland - our holiday locations.
Preparation for Sophie's Kahunui outdoor education experience.
Early morning walks, welcoming the day, appreciating the unusual warmth.
Personal summer school, only for nerds or keen interested folk.
Multiple dips in the pool each day.
Ever grateful for the discovery of this home.

And I'm getting used to what was our room, then was Gerald's room, and now is my room - reborn in pale-ish but definite watery blue - with the slightest hint of aquamarine.
An odd bedroom-office combination that suits the way I live for now.
Cool as an extension of the pool itself, with a little sofa to wedge myself in the corner of, my books!, enough floor space for my exercises, clean, crisp, colorful and relaxed.

Bold? Foolish? Mad? Sad?

Ok, so by 2041 I'll be 78, Sophie will be 43, Alex 45 - if none of us have died over the next 30 years.

I'd like to have had at least one more strategic leadership job.

I'd like to have worked in roles where business, technology, arts and law come together usefully, interesting, creatively, fascinatingly in varying configurations.

I'd like to have travelled at least a fair amount as a part of doing that. Lots of external and internal discovery happen that way.

I'd like to have become more wise, innovate, courageous and influential and fun (I believe god is well-known for those qualities, amongst others).

And I'd like to have contributed inspiration, support, love and energy to the fabulous adults the two ultra-individuals in my care will have become.

I want every one of those days.
I want every one of those hours.
I want every one of those moments.
I want every one of those years.