Busha Full Of Grace

Fresh Air

This morning as I turned the key in several locks to enter my Mom's condo and pick up some things to bring to her at the hospital, I was met by the smell and the closeness of my parent's home. It has always had this close, warm air.

When my dad was alive it spoke of the bacon he fried most mornings, as well as something beefy simmering on the stove for dinner. Now that he has passed on and Mom lives alone it is more like moth balls and Chanel #5. And sadly now, sometimes, diapers that have taken too long to get to the outside garbage can.  But whatever memories the years conjure up as the door swings open, there is always a whiff of warmth that greets me.

My home has never had that. That physical warmth that fills your throat. I've always been one that, no matter the weather (even in Chicago!) the windows are swung open wide for fresh air. I love that smell. It is an essence that sneaks subtly in through a breeze in the curtains, or with the laundry or in someone's hair when they return from a walk or a day's work. It is crisp and a little bit cold, but alive and fresh and new! It is a pure language that bespeaks its carrier in a whisper so pure you have to really pay attention.

That said, I must say that I focus more at allowing others to feel the warmth in a different way than my parents did. I try to keep alive the warmth of the heart and the soul, so that they may be felt by those who enter my door.  I offer healthy food.  My beds are cozy and soft with luxurious linens.  I've been called a bed snob. I'm kinda proud of that.  Warm cozy beds say thank you to a body that's done a good, honest, hard day of living. 

So this is my way.  Not that its anything better. Just different. And today I noticed this while holding my Mom's key in my hand...

The Year of the Dragon

 Looking on the Internet for some fun thing to do with/for my nanny family on Monday, I came across this! :)

Here is a roundup of the superstitions surrounding the Chinese New Year:

1. No Cleaning - The household has to be thoroughly cleaned before the New Year's day because it is believed that cleaning sweeps away bad luck from the last year. However, all cleaning equipment should be put away before the New Year's Eve so that good luck is not swept away. Even though sweeping is allowed after the first day of a New Year, the garbage and dust shouldn't be carried through the front door, as it may result in death or estrangement of a family member.

2. No Ghost Stories - According to Chinese beliefs, what happens on the New Year's Eve sets a precedent for the rest of the year. Foul language and unlucky words are a taboo on the first day of the New Year. Since ghost stories essentially involve mentions of death, children as well as elders are not allowed to tell stories related to spirits, zombies or the undead.

3. No Washing Hair - Though you are encouraged to get a hair-cut on the first day, you're not supposed to wash your hair to ensure that good luck is not washed away.

4. No Books - Book stores remain closed on the New Year's Eve as buying books is not allowed. The reason stems from the fact that "book" is a homonym for "lose" in Cantonese. However, apparently, there is no restriction on reading.

5. No Shoes - Shoe shopping is restricted on the first day because "shoes" is a homonym for "rough" in Cantonese.

6. No Crying - Crying is also a strict no-no on New Year's Eve which is why children are spared from spanking or punishments on the first day.

7. No Sitting in Bedroom - It is unlucky to meet anyone in their bedroom on the New Year's Eve, which is the reason why everyone, including infants, elderly and even those who are sick, are made to dress up and sit in the living room.

8. No Sharp Objects - Handling sharp objects is considered bad omen on the first day of the New Year, as they may "cut off" good fortune. It is recommended to put away knives and scissors the previous day.

9. Red is Good - Bright red clothes, decorations and ornaments are highly recommended for the Chinese New Year. Children receive money in red paper envelopes from parents who wish them a healthy and happy New Year. Red paper-cuts and couplets with popular themes of "good fortune" or "happiness," are used to decorate the household.

10. Songbirds are Good - The first person you meet on the New Year's eve holds great significance on how lucky you would be throughout the year. It is considered lucky to see or hear songbirds, red-colored birds or swallows on New Year's Eve.

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SooooooOOOOoooooo Much To Do

When you read that at first, it sounds like a complaint. I felt the eye rolls and the muscle tensing out there.  But it's not a complaint at all.   It's a longing for enough time to do it all today. It rises up and out on this beautiful Sunday from a place that loves life so much, with all of its possibilities that I cannot fit them all into this Sunday:

 

                                                              Go out to beakfast.

Hike with Charlene.

Read.

Clean.

Head into The City.

Head up to Nevada City.

Cook a big Sunday meal.

Go to the ocean.

Wash my car.

Shave my legs.

Finish an embroidery project.

Go to the movies.

What did I do?

Had a long conversation with Alex about life while drinking my coffee.

Took Zak to get his car.

Swept up Christmas Tree needles.

Laundry.

Grocery shopped.

Chatted with Charlene.

Swept up Christmas Tree needles.

Made Potato Brocolli Soup.

Packed Fiona's birthday box to send to Chicago.

Listened to music.

Took a bubble bath.

Swept up Christmas Tree needles.

And tomorrow?  Back to my work week.  In hindsight, it's all good.  I'm healthy and happy and loved. And the simplicity of today is cherished. My joy is low maintenance.  

 

 

 

 

this moment

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Jack

Mom is downstairs in the hospital now, on the Skilled Nursing Unit while she regains her strength and heals a spinal compression fracture.  I usually visit her before work in the morning, and at that time she is up in the activity room doing, yep, some sort of activity that I join into with her. Tuesday it was Bingo. Yesterday they were coloring Mandalas with colored pencils.

Sitting across the table from her yesterday was Jack.  I have no idea how old Jack is, but he seems to be nudging centenarian-ism. No speech, no teeth, dry skin that's flaking off, skinny, knobby hands loosely grasping colored pencils, and bushy eyebrows.  But under those bushy eyebrows you are met with these intensely blue eyes that just stare at you when you talk to him. Just stare and stare.  

What's in there, Jack?  What do you want to say?  It's a guessing game at best.  Do you want a new color?  A new position?  Lunch? To get the hell out of here?

Light scratchy scribbles, little tiny lightening bolt scribbles from the center of his paper out to the right and off the paper.  In the middle of it all the stretched out word "J.A.C.K" written all caddywhompus like the secret code letters you need to  enter at the end of a blog post.  

And then, so slowly he lays his pencil down and reaches for a tissue from the box....then so slowly lays it down adjacent to the right edge of the paper and continues to allow his drawing/scribbling to extend onto the tissue.

I talk to him about this, help him straighten the paper in front of him, and put the tissue in his other hand.  He stares at me.  I explain:  "That's for your nose Jack."  I touch his mandala printed sheet and hand him a new, bright purple color. I meet his gaze and smile broadly and as warmly as I can.  He outstares me yet again.

I go back to coloring Mandalas with Mom.  A few minutes pass and I forget about the tissue.  

When I look back I am astonished that not only is the tissue on the right side of his paper again, but the purple pencil is down and he is scribbling on the tissue with the same brown pencil I had put away. I laugh lightly, "Hmmmm," I say, "I think you're wanting to make that plain old tissue into a beautiful hankie, Jack."

Again he stares.  Again I smile my warmest smile.  He stares.  I smile. 

And then I have to look away again.  

But this time I think I get it Jack.  MYOFB?

I smile.

Mom holds her paper up for Jack to see.  He slowly nods yes.

North, South, East, West...

...this is the person I like best." Anyone else remember that little rhyme from childhood? Where you stand in the center of a circle with one hand over yours eyes and the opposite hand extended in front of you pointing out? And then you spin around in a circle chanting that rhyme and whomever you stop in front of is the person you choose to be next in the game?  Well, that's how my life is going these days.

Trying to take care of my health, my job with its 2 hour commute, my mom.  Throw in a day with my grandchildren which come few and far between, and my friends (which also come few and far between) and there is no time to rest.  There is barely time to shoot an email much less a phone call.  Packages sent off from the post office without any kind of written enclosure - just boom, lick, close, send.  And that's on a good day.  And retirement is not anywhere to be seen yet.

I haven't written much about my health here because it all felt like too much drama.  I needed to have the drama under control inside my-own-self before I put it out there, and now I do.  Actually, now things are looking really good. I had a highly questionable endometrial biopsy right before Thanksgiving that had me very frightened.  I've seen numerous doctors in San Francisco and gotten several opinions.  Finally, last Friday, the second biopsy results came back from Stanford, and while there is definitely an overgrowth of cells which can be precancerous, there are no abnormal cells present.  No cancer.  I still need to have a hysterectomy, but I was able to postpone my surgery one month so that I can get my mom out of the hospital and settled.

Mom has been really tough lately.  So contrary to all that we are trying to do for her.  And the stress around it is causing the solid rock of my family to crack and crumble.  It's heartbreaking for me.  And I never in my wildest dreams expected this would be the response and outcome from my family so I don't really know what to do about it.  I'm stumped.  I've read/heard/seen it happen in other families but I never thought in mine.  Thus, I could never recuperate wholly from a big surgery while things with Mom were left undone.  Everyone is overwhelmed or checked out, and the burden of daily care has fallen on a few.  I've worked too hard at forming a loving and compassionate family to throw the baby out with the bathwater.  Or the granny out with the bathwater.  The sitz bath water.  

It's my job.  My Mom is my job. And my brother's, but he's checked out too.  Long gone.   Me, I want to do a good job so that I may rest when she rests in peace.  She will finally find that peace one day.  I'm sure of it. But I don't think it is going to be on the eathly side of the precious veil.   And then, we here,  will rebuild.

 

For now I meditate and pray to keep my sanity.  Zip my lip when I am pissed off.  Try to act the compassion I long to feel.  Wonder at the picture of aging in our society and the art of caring that has become what it is.  For now I reminisce and try to model myself after those in my family who have gone before me with kindness true grace.  That's who I wanted to be when I grew up.  And now I'm grown up.  Can I fit into their shoes?  I'm tying them on everyday. I'll let you know.

 

Happy New Year!

 

New Leaf

 

I've been watching the trees a lot lately, the family of leaves spoken. I've been thinking about the way some still shine with a translucent light on color, well through Autumn and dancing at tonight's New Year's Eve gala event in their crimson gowns.

And then there are the others who have let go of their chi and are quite withered as they still cling to the branches. Those crispier brown varieties still hold on with a strength that astounds me. And the wind teases and tests them all with many moods of blowing. Playful breezes. Symphony music.  Polkas,  And intense gusts.

And finally there are those that have fearless adventure written all over them as they let go and gather in intimate groups or crowds awaiting the next Vibram sole or the curb splash.

 

The nature of leaves.  Funny, I almost typed the human nature of leaves.  There you have it.  I'm taken by the nature of leaves today.  A year ago today I was hiking through Morton's Arboretum with my Chicago family.  Watching mid-western leaves say good-bye to a calendar page.  Today I anticipate a walk through the vineyards of Northern California.  Reading leaves.  Today, the eve of another year of wide-open possibilities.

 

Dear Santa,

 

I wanna live here.  

Or another view here.

I think it's the perfect Busha house.

I'll tell stories.

And I'll knit cozy things. Oh, and

All the children could come.  

I been really good.

Love, Busha