Mystic Writer

Peeking out to see if there is a real world out there...

Tuesday, May 31, 2005

First night

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Pushing through

I watched a porcupine climb a pine tree last night. A porcupine isn't graceful, isn't fast, and isn't inspiring in any traditional sense of the word. He simply grunts and tugs his way up the tree. It gets the job done.

Most times when I write I put pen to paper and simply let my thoughts flow. In general I believe in flowing through life, positioning myself in the current so that I find the things I desire.

I haven't been flowing this last week, or if I have it's been through a patch of whitewater. Trying to blog about it has been a chore, but like a porcupine putting quill to tree and forcing his way upward, I'm going to put quill to paper and force this post outward.

One would think a pending divorce would be trial enough - oddly, that is going pretty smoothly. I chose an apartment last Wednesday and it did strange things to my head. I entered a fragmented and somewhat black state of mind which persisted till Thursday night.

Thursday night I parked my car in a parking lot which screamed danger to me, a perverse attraction in my frame of mind. I walked 11 miles in a freezing rain which blackened me further and when I got to my car it was with a sense of dark satisfaction that I found my tire was knifed.

The satisfaction lifted my spirits because it gave me something tangible to deal with, and I impulsively called TB on the drive back into town. Our connection and friendship shown through on that conversation and I've been lofted by it ever since.

I've got a poison ivy rash that now covers over 75% of my body. It takes all of my hard won thought control not to rake myself with my fingernails till there is nothing left of me. Sometimes I can divorce myself enough from my body to be amazed by the potency of the plant.

It just rains and rains and rains.

I've only two weeks left to live in a house I've expended vast amounts of money and effort on. It's never been my home, but it's an odd feeling nonetheless. I can't characterize it very well.

The further I get from my relationship with my wife the more certain I am that a divorce is the right course. I already feel completely disconnected from her and it doesn't feel bad. I'm looking forward to living alone in the apartment.

The apartment is on the third floor and there are tree tops outside the big windows. The light coming through the apartment was lovely when I looked it over, although the carpet and walls were an awful neutral color.

I saved my hand made furniture when I moved in with my wife and I'll take it with me to the apartment. I'll decorate with framed photography, some old knick knacks, and plants in front of the windows. My goal is to color the light with green, gold, and sandstone hues - these colors mean peace and joy to me and that is how I want to live from now on.

I'm excited and looking forward to the next phase of my life.

I think I've clawed my way to the end of this post. It's a pretty nice view from here...

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Wind Water Rock Rain

Wind Water Rock Rain Wind Water Rock Rain Wind Water Rock Rain.

I subtly shifted my intonation, tried to match the resonance in the back of my throat with the slight echoes from the rock cradling the waterfall.

Wind Water Rock Rain Wind Water Rock Rain

I straightened my back, balanced my crossed legs and settled into the ancient stone.

Wind Water Rock Rain Wind Water Rock Rain

I found it - found the swelling of sound I needed and held the chant.

Wind Water Rock Rain Wind Water Rock Rain

I shifted my attention to my palms, upturned to catch the thundering rain. I narrowed my focus, only the palms, only the rain.

The drops fell rapidly, each with it's own character, heavy soft warm, sharp small hard, little snaps, huge smacks.

I held my focus, pushed all else aside.

Wind Water Rock Rain

Little thoughts tapped, trying to get back in, and the R's in my chant morphed to W's. I lost it, lost my focus, and the moments of my week came rushing back in.

There has been joy. My wife and I have had moments where we see a vision of the two of us happy and strong, complete people, able to relate to each other in positive ways. She understands that she needs to become strong by herself, and that I can't help her. I find that exciting and wish with all my heart for her success.

I can envision her that way, facing the future boldly and with faith, and I realize that even if she is strong and healthy we still have no common vision of how to live our lives. I've separated myself emotionally from her and the distance gives me the perspective to see how wrong we are together.

We've verbally agreed on custodial, financial, and social issues in the last week. We have both been civil and have occasionally come up with brilliant solutions to some of our concerns. I'm proud of the two of us.

I've had to take a crash course in apartment renting - I've never done that before and I'm constrained to trying to find a place within my budget, within walking distance, and with an opening in the next month. I've had help from TB who is an expert and in theory I am well prepared. Today I'll set up appointments and possibly start bargaining to see if I can cut a deal. I need something relatively nice since my son will be living there with me half of the time.

My mind is frequently fractured with the enormity of the emotions of this time. It's odd to try to handle the myriad of details that crop up in this separation when my mind is always drifting off in strange directions. Life goes on and I think I'm doing OK with things.

Wind Water Rock


Tuesday, May 03, 2005


The weeks long blanket of clouds blew away last night and I followed my feelings to hike in a flood plain between limestone cliffs.

The light filtered through the tiny new leaves on the awakening trees and gently lit the blossoms covering the valley floor.
Spring has sprung
At this time of year there is a short period, a couple days at most, where the ground isn't frozen and the leaves are not yet out. In heavily wooded areas a class of flowers bloom in this period - appropriately enough they are called ephemerals. The blossoms and the light on the forest floor combine to make a transcendent beauty, made all the more poignant by the rarity of the time.

The long winter of my marriage is over.

On Saturday night I told my wife I thought we should begin the process of separating our lives. Her first reaction was arguing and telling me all the things wrong about my request. Later, spent, we comforted each other and I found myself crying, great shuddering barks of pain racking my body and she held me and tried to tell me it would be all right.

We've started working out the details, talking about financial issues and most importantly how to continue loving and supporting our children as parents who just can't live together.

I feel really close to her - this blossoming of emotion is beautiful and rewarding, and yet I know it is as ephemeral as the flowers I so gently walked through last night. It is a time to be treasured and then let go.

We've stated our goals: I want us to be friends and mutually supporting champions of our children, living separately and probably with new partners. She wants to take this time to figure out what has gone wrong and try to remake our relationship into something more equal and viable. We both agree that a new start is desperately needed for both of us.

I'm happy with either outcome, although I have no hope for the latter and I've told her that often enough in the last days that she knows I'm not playing games.

I'm breathing easier than I have for a long time, even though sadness lurks in every remembrance.

I let the sadness flow through me, let it touch me but not hold me. It is as ephemeral as everything else.

Spring blossoms