Tuesday, March 10

Met the children at McCallum. 1st graders, Coral Mountain Academy, Cochella.

They were ALL so in love with being at the theater, knowing what's going to happen, not knowing...!

Walking amongst the students, I observed then commented on their awesome seats... first row! center stage! up close!

One of the students said:
I'm so excited I want to SCREAM!

I said:
I do too! But, can we? Should we?

She said:
I don't know! I just want to scream!!!!!!!! (and held her hand over her mouth as to silent a scream)

I said:
In class.... we have locomotor and one of the ways is to 'run'. Right?

She said:
YES!

I said:
What do we did we do for 'run'?

She said:
We put a line through it. (as in striking it out)

I asked:
What does that do?

She said:
Put a line through it?

BLISS:
Answering with the correct question.

Feb 26

3 weeks with this stupid asthma.  Inhaler.  Tessalon Perles. Ayr. Just now,  it's beginning to subside. :)

Love this desert! But, seasonally, it sucks.

In the spring all the palm trees are blooming; blooming fruit trees which smell like imagined breath lifting to euphoria!; the sharp, clear scent of fresh cut grass, seeded, looking like plush velvet carpets; hummingbirds' choreography against the mountains' sunsets, tipping to nurse on eager petunias or geraniums; snow crested San Jancinto Mountain tops; spectacular Quincey morning walks welcomed by dusty rose, pale purple mountain ranges; popsicle sky blue skies; sweet, soft, steady breezes; quiet; calm; open.  Home.

The work propels.  Being with the children always makes a difference... for them, for me. Even though there are beginning reservations about the management and demands of the 'work', passion takes the front seat and the heart still beats.

ALL the students present love and appreciation.  Some are more profound than others and the rigors of 'management' melt away.

Simple. Complex. Full. Lonely.

Itty bitty steps.

Yesterday's 'office' at Coral Mountain Elementary School in Cochella, CA during a freaky break while all students were in class and I had a break.  I am teaching to Backhaus Dance "Incandescent":

Tomorrow is a BIG storm with temps dropping 25 degrees.  ouch!  I can only say, finally, a GOOD choice to move to SoCal from NYC and beat that bitchin' cold!

Grateful.

Just hope these potted pretties survive!

xxxxxxoooooo

New thought.

3 children, born.

Yet, the most memorable was holding my grandmother's hand as she passed.

Someone is always there when you are born.

Who is there when you pass?

Then, the fabric of the battlefield. Holding the hand, head, body of a 'stranger' who's passing.

Is this an abstract of life? ...  Is life a battlefield, a place, a war?

New next novel news...

Landlord called. They want/need to sell.

I can buy or move.

C.R.A.P.

Seriously?  Ecuador's looking pretty ripe.

bleh

February 5, 2015

LORD!  How is this life so intense and busy???? GAWD.

Christmas was about as miserable as it could be.  I only thank GOD or GODDESS or MARGE or THE GREAT UNKNOWN... (whatever) that I have friends who actually live near me and are in similar life situations. If not, surely, this holiday would've undone all that has ever been and to never see again.  Next year, my pledge is to NOT do holidays.  After my birthday in November, I (if it is even possible) will go somewhere and be with the earth.  Travel to some-where, where the fragrance of nature inspires and revitalizes.  All the over the top non spiritual bloated religious materialistic spew of xmas is so repugnant to me, that it's driven even a deeper wedge between me and ALL organized religion.  I'm with the Umbrians, Italy... NO tax on salt!  Go build your church, cathedral, seminaries, etc... but DON'T TAX SALT!   That is one thing GOD or GODDESS or MARGE or THE GREAT UNKNOWN gave us because we live here on this place that is a shared planet.  You, Mr. Church, cannot tax us on using salt.  jeeez.

Whew. Feel a little better.

Nice work with the kids in the Cochella Valley.  I love going to the schools, seeing their faces, giving them inspiration, opening their minds!  But, I SUCK, apparently, at AE. Kajsa, the director of education, has panic attacks when she sees me teach.  Literally.... I think she hates me.  Not what I do,  how I communicate with the children and teachers, what joy is brought into the class.... but, she just can't stand me and my teaching method.  In faculty meetings, she never looks at me in conversation and when I'm speaking refuses to acknowledge anything I have to offer.  Her comments are tampered with elitism and disregard.  When she does acknowledge my efforts it's with her foresight that begins the reason.  The circular, perpetual stream of curriculum PDFs are beyond my tolerance.  Now, is this the time I look and ask GOD or GODDESS or MARGE or THE GREAT UNKNOWN? Or, is it time for Steph to just get a fucking grip??? Stop letting people bully you? Stop not believing in YOURSELF?

Hummm. Good question.

Evan came to visit.  We did have a great and relaxed time. Only once, Mommy, went sad, which is a miracle!  However, Ev didn't appreciate it and I totally understand. But, I get sad and wish I could just cry with someone who might understand and not go coo coo. So,  perhaps, it's best to continue to hold it in, unless it's in a l'l blog!

The schools have kept the fire alive. :)

Las Palmitas, Mecca, Ca.  Each card has a word from lyrics of Rhythmic Circus's performance. The challenge was to create different rhythms using punctuation.

Full class of 6th graders putting the lyric rhythm onto their feet via tap dancing!

This could be my favorite moment with a student, not able to contain herself, with crutches, got up and DANCED!

Charting out and creating pathways in dance for 4 people.  Their pathways, their decisions.

Strategies with crayons and boys.

Hard to read, but one of MANY 'love' letters written by students and implemented by teachers... this one was relating to one of my stories (BAD me!!!!!! Not a Kajsa AE component!).  I brought in my personal Broadway tap shoes and Evan's from when he was 8 years old..  His was from 2nd grade when he wanted to dance to (I think to challenge Hailley... another story). But, I told the kids he wanted to be a soccer player and I put him in tap class to weight and unweight evenly (which I demonstrated) as well as have both feet play equally, so there would be no 'heavy' foot.  These kids, who were mostly hispanic, LOVED the thought of all the story!  To dance? Play soccer? And, they were hooked. :)  This note and drawing is in reflection of that moment.  Love.

So fabulous.

All seems stabilized.

Sunday, December 28

After CHRISTMAS

Next year I SWEAR I will be as far away from all traditional holidays as possible.  WHERE?  TO? GO?

It seems that fight or flight is rearing its ever so ugly head.

How is it that, the ones who you want to give most too....  Spit in your eye? Snarl at you heart? Shun

your love?

At the point of collapse.

Today,  I was, gratefully driving from visiting my brother and his wife.  While driving home, I  thought: I'm tired. I give. I have no fight.  No where to want for flight.  This is a first.

I was very surprised to acknowledge that fact. It seems the only thing that ever kept me going was the fight; never the love, never the sweetness, never understanding, compassion, listening, caring... but that fucking fight to just want to keep going.

I've never known to say or feel that I'm tired of the fight.  I've always seemed to 'find' a drive or a reason or a need or a passion or ... something. I just don't feel 'it' anymore. This is breaking my heart.

As a child, I remember the feeling of flight.  Wondering, while playing in that Tulsa backyard, sticky, summer, humid, haze, watching ALL the cars, about 1/4 mile away on Route 66, wondering; how long is their drive? where could they take me!?  While lying on my back in the grass after playing as a child, would wonder, where are those jets GOING?  Where ever they're going, I WANT TO GO.

Now, looking at all this crappy-ness that life has presented, I just wonder why? Why was I born? Why did I live? Why didn't anyone care? Or IF they did, why didn't I know? Why am I still searching after 62 years? Why haven't I gotten some relief after this marvelous, soul opening summer of exploring, finding, holding letters, photos, death certificates, blah, blah, blah.

Then: wake up! Fight!  No one cares about this stupid drivel, pathetic corn-pone intelligence.
I'm SO bored with this story, I want to shoot the author!

Fact: left
Fact: dreamt
Fact: achieved
Fact: mothered
Fact: healthy

Get over your po po po pity play. No one cares, because they're all living their own! Tell a story that can shed grace, light, connections.

So, with that, the end becomes the beginning: Next year I SWEAR I will be as far away from all traditional holidays as possible.  WHERE?  TO? GO?

Wise men candles.  A fundraiser from Whittier Elementary School, Teaneck, NJ circa 1986.  This will be the token Xmas directions for next year.... Just enough and safe.  :)

December 23

This last week has been a rough one.

Realizing that none of my kids will be here.  Realizing that none of them chose to be here.

Trey, I can understand, as he's still in recovery mode and finances definitely play a part.  Question is will he at least call?

Hailley's excusable, as Marnie's going through super rough time with this being 1st Christmas without Tara, going through a divorce, custody battle, home battle... and they are very close.  OK.  I give.  Questions are why were none of them there for me?  Will she call?

Then there's Evan.  This is the 2nd year he's said he'll come then is completely SILENT.  I see photos of him on FB partying in the Bahamas, shit king making 'bro' comments, putting it so squarely in my face I cannot even begin to know HOW to react.

Jeanne says to see a therapist and work this out for ME.

I try to understand, but clearly do not have a grip on understanding.  I try to be patient, however, find being grilled, talked down to by my kids for bothering them, for that horrible ordeal of having to repeat themselves, that they're too busy to call, text or email, just works my patience into depression.

FUCK.  Do I really wish I just had DOGS????  haha

So, Quincey and I are holding tight and enjoying our friendship!  My neighbor, Judy, is being such a doll.  She said, "I just don't want to see you cry anymore!"  That, of course, made me cry.  She's been such an loving shoulder, just listening, then saying, hang onto your daughter!  Boys can be like that...

That, in itself, gave me some strength. Then, the heartfelt invitation from Susan Saxe, my new best cousin... come to Houston!  Then, Jeanne asking... come to Dayton!  Just the thought of being welcome makes me cry.  shit.

Sooooo, now, Tuesday, a new day and new mission.  Dear friends from San Francisco are here.  Such a splendid example of true family love.  They adopted their son, Adam, at birth.  He knows his birth mother and they visited her on their drive down here to Palm Springs.  Christmas they'll be spreading Ron's dad's ashes in the Pacific with Ernest and Adam holding hands. These two dads and their adopted son inspire me beyond belief.  Last night I made spaghetti squash and turkey bolognese.  They came over and so did Judy.  This certainly filled that hole!  Laughter, stories, dreams shared by all.  Yep, filling up the hole with love.

Tuesday's a fine little day.  It's warm, sunny and I don't have cancer!  Holla!

Sunset on December 21

Little presents for Judy and Penny.

Pretty gardenias starting to bloom from Neal and Cindi.

I am grateful for what I have, who my friends are, that I'm still healthy and able to work!