A TREE GROWS IN HER

A medium sized Bonsai tree was growing off the side of my right low back region. I broke it off, but it left behind a woody stump and I couldn’t stop running my fingers over the transition between my skin and the rough bark of the stump. I was fascinated and disturbed by the feel of my skin shifting from smooth to rough and hard. I didn’t know what to do about this stump and in my indecisiveness, the tree started to grow back. I woke up before I could decide on whether to rip the tree off my body again or to just tend to the tree.

Tend to the tree.

If I’d stayed in the dream just a few more seconds, I would have chosen to tend the tree. My body had created this beautifully perfect little tree. That in itself is extraordinary. The fact that I tried to remove it makes me irritated with myself. But also not surprised. I think most people’s first instinct is to remove the thing that suddenly shows up on their bodies that doesn’t seem normal. Moles. Fat. Warts. Bugs. I could make a decent list of things I don’t want attached or growing from my body. Ticks! Almost forgot about those. Sprouting any kind of plant from the deep base layers of one’s skin would seem alarming. Instead of approaching this in a literal sense which is my go-to analytical approach, I need to be looking at the abstractness of this dream.

I spent Sunday wandering the Nelson with Todd. He had spent his week visiting family in Oklahoma and made Kansas City his last stop before flying back to Portland (and all the terrorists). We haven’t seen each other in years, not since the last time I was in Portland which was in 2018. In that time, we also fell out of the habit of just checking in with each other. A few months ago, it hit me that I had not spoken to Todd in quite a while, so I sent him a postcard. Then he sent me a postcard from Ireland and we were back on track. Except we both agreed it had been a ridiculously too long of time since we’d seen each other’s faces. When I met him at arrivals, we grinned at each other like idiots. Then I dragged him off to do some touristy things because the last time he was here, it was to see Chris, who died four days after Todd’s visit.

As we wandered through the photography section of the Nelson, Todd first said some nice things about my photography practice. Then he asked me how that practice was going and I winced. Other than occasionally printing out new postcards, my photography practice is barely treading water. I carry my big camera with me every day, yet I can’t tell you the last time I took the camera out of my bag. The few times I’ve had it out, I felt like the pictures were not worth processing. I did manage to take some good photos at the OKC zoo in August but I have not been actively pursuing my practice this year. I have not been actively pursuing much of anything this year. I told Todd that there’s nothing in my photo collection that I would want to hang for a showing. This is the truth.

We eventually made our way back to my house and on the way the Bridge started playing my favorite Belly song. I paused our conversation so I could turn it up and we both sang along.

Big red tree grew up and out, Throws up its leaves, Spins round and round.

So take your hat off when you’re talking to me and be there when I feed the tree.

- Tanya Donelly

Someone asked me once what I thought those lyrics meant. My interpretation has always been that this song is about caring for someone or something. Sometimes I think the tree is a gravestone Tanya Donelly is tasked with keeping clean and cared for. We take our hats off out of respect and she’s saying “Show me some respect and be there in support while I care for this thing.” I think in this instance, I’m the one that needs to show a little respect to myself by allowing space on my calendar to tend and care for not just this metaphorical bonsai tree, but for all the little blooms of creativity that sprout from this body. I typed this last part while 10,000 Maniacs crooned into my ears.

To be part of the miracles you see in every hour
You'll know it's true that you are blessed and lucky
It's true that you
Are touched by something
That will grow and bloom in you

These are days - 10,000 Maniacs

My music has been nostalgic of late and it’s sending me signals and notes.

ALWAYS SOMETHING THERE

7/52 Project Zen

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It’s happened twice now. Michael and I will be in bed, either starting or in the middle of sex and a song will start playing that reminds me of Chris. It was that Mumford and Son’s song that hit first, the one that Chris used to sing like a muppet. I closed my eyes and willed the memory of his ridiculous muppet impression to go away. Not forever. Just for that moment. The next one was the Flaming Lips’ Do You Realize, which is one of the songs we played at Chris’s service. It was a little more difficult to will those memories away. In both instances, I feel like I deserve a God Damn Oscar for my performance. Also, crying while having sex is never a reassuring thing for your partner. I don’t tell any of this to Michael or talk about it or mention it. The man already refers to himself as second Darin, even though he’s nothing like the first Darin. Besides, Michael has his own demons to fight with. I try to be respectful of this and not add to his discomfort. I am not so much bothered by Chris’s presence in the bedroom as Michael would be. Michael is just more conservative when it comes to sex. I figure Chris is enjoying the peep show.

Sometimes it feels like I am in two relationships. One with Michael and one with a dead guy.

I made it through the first ten days of February without having a complete meltdown. I told Dr. Mary on Tuesday that I feel like I am working really hard at tuning out the memories of the bad part of Chris’s final days. I’m choosing to send that focus to the good memories. I told her about teaching my yoga class to one student last week, on what would have been Chris’s 48th birthday. It would have been so easy for me to cancel my class that evening and spend my night sulking on the couch. Instead, I pulled myself together and went to teach one of the best classes and I continued to keep myself busy and moving. I subbed a yoga class on Saturday. I went grocery shopping and managed to get those groceries into the house. Our front yard has been a literal ice rink since Thursday. On a slope. Every morning, getting to our vehicles looks like every YouTube video you have seen of people slipping and sliding on ice. I parked my car last night at the top of the drive, put it in park and set the emergency brake. My car slid backwards down the drive six inches. Michael was in the process of parking his truck behind me. I did not hit him. This time.

These nudges or hauntings from Chris sometimes make me wonder if he thinks I’m forgetting him. As if he’s still a conscious being or trapped in a closet somewhere. It would kind of be great, but also super complicated, if he ended up just being trapped in a closet somewhere. Chris and I were married for fourteen years. He has now been gone for seven years. Half the amount of time we were married. I am not forgetting him. I still talk to the jerk every single day and he still says nothing in return. I am just finding better, healthier ways of coping with the fact that he’s never going to say anything in return. Last night, I got in my car to head home. I started the engine and the first sound to greet me was the opening theme to Star Wars blaring from the radio. Starting right from the beginning note. The Bridge let the song play for a good two minutes before the DJ broke in to announce their Oscars Episode. I almost muttered “leave me alone” but then I shook my head.

At least I was in my car and not naked in bed with another man.