Transformations On This Path

[Wifflesnook]

I introduced a friend to the I Ching tonight Fae. Pete and I have used it carefully as thoughtfully since the 70s. I regard it as a great way to concentrate one's mind, to find out what one really thinks, so even when the coins don't seem to show the path we are helped to find the right way.

[feralfae]

Dear Jan,

I have found the I Ching a great way to focus for a long, long time. I am glad you find it helpful as well.

And I hope you are enjoying lovely weather and each day of resting and taking very good care of your precious self, dear friend.

Much Love and

*<twinkles>*

fae

[Wifflesnook]

The weather is variable Fae. As usual in England. It's 9am and I am still in bed. Had a late night last night as a friend (male) came round. It's nice to have a man in the house now and again and he is a real friend, though I have to confess to always making comparisons with Pete (how unfair is that and I don't do it with women). Anyway he was company.

[kayc]

fae,

so glad to hear this is a time of healing for you!

[feralfae]

Healing, and then again, healing.

I woke up this morning in tears from a dream that Doug and I were in a birch forest and I could not find him, although I could hear his voice. I felt so completely and utterly abandoned and lost. Then I sat up and decided that I needed to go on with my day.

But I am lost and I do feel abandoned. We held each other's dreams and wishes. We shared a life and all its ups and downs, the final one being the cancer. We moved, thought and often talked as one identity rather than two. And as much as I miss that shared life, I know it is over and that now there is a new life of me, alone, one, a new configuration of being that I am only beginning to comprehend. This is the biggest shift of my life: bigger than having children, changing jobs, moving to a new place, or even major surgery for a life-threatening condition.

This is my whole being in the middle of this shift. And this shift seems to reach out as far as the entire Earth, the moon and sun, and even the Universe. Everything is shifting. It is terribly frightening to have let go of so much that I feel adrift in an existence that has so few markers on the trails. I don't know which way to turn, which way to go, how to feel, what to think, or how to make decisions -- based on what central concept??? What is the right thing, what is the not so great decision? Apparently, I am not ready for decisions. Today, I will drive out to visit some property up here, and sit there, where Doug and I used to go for picnics, and just let myself think among the huge, old growth trees that were missed by early loggers. That is why Doug brought the property, to preserve the old growth.

But I am cocooned enough, having turtle days enough, to see that I am not whole, that I am not able to make some of these decisions about what to do with property, much less my life. My trustee said to take as many years as I need to make decisions about things, and that is fine. But how do I begin to build a new life from the remnants left of the life that was torn from me? I don't know today. Maybe tomorrow, more understanding will come and things will not look so jumbled.

I am sitting here with a stack of papers in front of me: my homework for the next few days. I know that these are not major issues. But for me, who has always been good at making decisions, at having Doug here to concur or to point out other options, trying to make sense of it all seems entirely overwhelming. And because I have no direction, no goals, no vision, no dreams right now, it all seems unnecessary and irrelevant. Frivolous, even. Not stuff that matters. I just want to not be so alone and lonely, feeling so torn from my moorings and so completely adrift.

Yet, I know I must stay and stand here, on this Earth, and learn how to go on, to make decisions, to do what is good and honorable and right, and to find ways to begin to smile more and open myself to the joy that can fill my life with the song and beauty that are all around me, once I can feel more again.

Today, I miss my Dad and his wisdom, I miss Doug and his wisdom and remarkable brilliance, and I miss my Gram and so many people. Maybe it is the soft light through the birch canopy, or the soft song of a distant robin. I feel disconnected, and that my life and love with Doug are finding a new place in my being; one which is in my past; a part of the history of my life; that there is a new present emerging around a new life, and I am not sure I am ready to give up so much to history, even though I know I cannot stay stuck in the place of living in the past, in our history, in our life as we knew it before Doug left.

I know that there are no maps or guideposts: we each make this journey in our own way, with big and small loops taking us on detours, side trips, backwards, retrograde, all around. I zig-zag through the hours and days.

But I needed to write this out, to give words and presence to these feelings that at times overwhelm me. I want my Beloved to walk out of the birch forest and tell me that he is well, that everything is all right, and that there is nothing to fear from future minutes, hours, or days. That joy is there for the taking, and all I need to do is to learn to open my heart again to life. But my heart does not feel ready to open today, so I will let it rest, let it be still and closed, curled up in itself, and let it have peace today, because in writing all of this, I realize that

I am still healing, and that takes as much time as it takes. My entire life right now is centered, as it must be, on tending to my healing heart. The days of logistics, finance, decisions on property, and being social are all necessary, but I also need to sit, rest, and let myself be at peace and at oneness with my self. I am going to have a very quiet and routine day, I hope. One of dear Anne's turtle days.

Much Love and

*<twinkles>*

fae

[enna]

This grief of ours takes many different twists and turns. Another holiday and people seem to go into their own memories and pain. I am sorry for the abandonment you feel after the dream you had about your Doug, dear fae. However, it is quite ‘normal’ for whatever dreams we might have – our oneness with our spouse demands that we resist pushing ourselves forward when all we want to do is hold back and be in the place we were in before their death. We know in the mind that that cannot be but our hearts tell us something so different. Oh, when will we get our mind and heart to be closer!

About shifting – let those feelings flow and don’t resist them. They will take you where you are to be – this I believe. Decisions will come from your heart, I believe.

I for one am glad that you are taking those ‘turtle days’ I find such comfort in – knowing that I can take as long as it takes. It is very hard to be where we are but that is what we have to do to be able to move forward when the time comes. Oh dear, I hope I am not preaching – the words are just coming out – more for me than for anyone else.

Going about the business that needs to be attended to was/is no doubt one of the most difficult things we have to do. I don’t remember how I did it – one hour at a time I guess. I was more prepared for the ‘paperwork’ because I had to take it over four/five years earlier since my Jim was not able to. I did it quietly never letting him know that it was tearing me apart seeing the reality of his decline day after day.

The ‘new life’ you speak of will come to you as you allow yourself to be where you are now and not try to push yourself. Not easy – listen to me talk like I know about it. I am only beginning to understand as you and others are during this journey.

I believe that we will all be ‘healing’ for the rest of our lives. No matter what the loss it leaves us with that urge to reach out and have life be the way it was before.

Anne

[feralfae]

Dearest Anne,

Thank you, and you are not preaching-- you are sharing.

I think part of it is that having sorted out things in Montana, I am now up here going through so much of the same set of 'letting go' issues again. It is not easy, so I am taking it very slow. This was Doug's favorite place, and the beauty here was a part of our lives, as were the wilds of the Arctic Circle, the frozen rivers, the stunning flows of wild roses blooming on the forest floor in the spring. All around me is beauty.

And yet, I am faced with my own physical limitations that are putting limits on my adventures, as I recover from the cauda equina, and I am faced with the prospect of this solo life, and no partner to join me to play, explore, adventure, climb, write, share, or love, even as I slowly mend from the spine surgery and continue on this long, slow recovery.

Yes, you know, you understand this shifting and letting go: you went through such a long and slow goodbye, watching Jim's decline, accepting yet hoping, seeing him slip away, yet, I would imagine, always hoping for a miracle to arrive. I know that is what I was doing the last two years as we fought the cancer in the final stages.

I believe that you are right about the shifting. It will take us where we need to go. It will lead us beside still waters, and lift us up. I do believe that it is all a part of some larger plan that I cannot see. We flow with the shifts, and we learn to observe the flow, the changes, and we find a way to keep our heads above water. I pray for patience and faith. That is enough for today.

Thank you so very much for the Little Prince, one of our most favorite books and films. I imagine I will appreciate all the sunsets of the day, however they may arrive. Thank you for speaking to me from your own healing heart, dear friend.

Much Love and

*<twinkles>* to you dear Anne,

fae

[kayc]

fae, many (((hugs))). I am surviving yet another Father's Day...eight years ago my George passed on Father's Day, now to survive Wednesday too because it was on the 19th that year.

I've kept busy with church and music practices and making pies for fathers...time to go walk Arlie now.

[feralfae]

Dearest Kay,

I did know that, and I forgot it. I know this is a very rough day for you. I am glad you have Arlie to keep you company and be a distraction. I am so sorry for your loss, and know that while you are carrying on, today and the 19th will be rough days for you, dear heart.

I am sending prayers and love to you, as you move through this time of memories, sadness, loss, and celebration of love and life. {{{Hugs}}}

I've been helping SSK and company pack for the mountains, playing with Sasha, and coming back to center from being out at the place of the wise trees, were I found everything intact but overgrown from years of neglect. Floods of memories, floods of tears.

Blessings and Much Love,

*<twinkles>*, too

fae

[enna]

Dear Kay,

The number of years seem many but to you I'm so sure that it seems like only a few hours ago that you lost your George only on the 19th back eight years ago. I am sorry that this is a painful time for you. I keep going back to the idea of how very strong you are and what a beautiful atttiude you have on life - I know it is your faith because it reaches out to everyone. Thank you for that. Those of us who come to know you through your posts and e-mails and calls are most fortunate because we have been touched by a very special person. Thank you for your generous heart, Kay. I only hope that as i continue on my own grief journey I will be as sensitive and giving as you have been. Anne

Fae, I will answer your post later. Benji wants attention and I think he wants to go for a late walk!!

[kayc]

Actually, it seems like a million years ago that I lost him and that our life together was but a dream.

[feralfae]

Letting Go Has Been Easier This Time

Part of my fear in driving up here was the anticipated pain of cleaning out another house, of going through so many of our things with huge memories attached, and being in spaces were Doug is simply present and often the maker of those spaces. Offices, our home, our forest, the yard, his climbing wall, our storage shed, so much.

It has been a lot easier this time than has been even approaching the idea of cleaning things out in Montana. Here, I have a lot more emotional support. There are so many people around to help me that I am almost overwhelmed with loving assistance. Whenever I begin to feel that the process of sorting and clearing is too much, some loving person has stepped up to help me over the emotional load, and often to help with the process and items as well.

I am saving very little: I have the two books Doug wrote about our romance, courtship and marriage. I have all our letters and notes that he saved. I have two pieces of art, and a few of his things that were not stolen. And it is enough.

I was telling our Nat Geo friend that I have never, ever been treated so terribly in my life as I have been by the ruffians. But I think it is over now, and I want to let it all go. I want to find more time for joy and peace, and not give time to defensiveness and fear. I want to celebrate Doug and our life together, and not feel that I must defend my care of him or our life together.

Here, at Marty's fire, I have found a place where the fire is always burning, the door is always open, there are those who will listen no mater how emotional or carried away with grief or memories I become. Here, I have found solace and others who speak the same language of cherished memories and longing for the presence in our hearts of our Beloved. I am so very blessed to have this place, no matter where I am, that I can come here, day or night, whether in Fairbanks or Montana, London or Alexandria, and I know that there will be loving tribe here, ready to hold me in their hearts and help me to heal.

The magnificence of this place and its healing powers is beyond words. I appreciate each of you who come here to share more than I can say. This fire has become one of the constants in my life through this time of profound shifts and changes, of letting go and holding on to the pieces of me to being to build a new life. Through the sorting of stuff, emotions, fears, smiles, hope, faith, and longing, you have been here for me, and my gratitude is great.

I know that I must find a way to engage in life again more fully. I know that my being cannot and will not survive slumped down in grief all the time, and that I need more joy, anticipation, happiness, and play. I am starting to be able to have enough awareness of myself to figure that out. It is about time to throw myself into something again, whether it is a campaign at church or a new adventure in Africa. I have no idea, just that I am about ready.

The days here have been painful and healing. Saying goodbye to our fairy forest with all its special places we made was hard, and of course I can still go there when ever I want to, but at least now, I have been there without Doug, and I am all right with his going, probably for the first time. There is a new peace. Because it has not been as painful as I thought it might be, I am willing and ready to go on, knowing that I can acknowledge, live with, feel, and release the painful moments, and carry on.

This tribe has given me the vocabulary, the insights, and the vision to let this healing happen. The healing continues, and I am open to it now in ways that I would not have recognized even two weeks ago.

Peace and Much Love,

*<twinkles>*

fae

[enna]

The vocabulary and vision is your own, dear Fae. I believe that your ‘healing’ takes place from your own openness to what you are hearing from inside you. I believe that we will know when it is time to release our pain and accept the joy and happiness that we each are entitled to on this journey. I for one am glad that people do not look at my grief as a sickness or something I should 'get over with' in a specific period of time! I do not believe that healing and sickness are synonymous and that is one thing I have learned being on this forum.

Yes, I think that we all are blessed to have a place that we feel ‘safe.’ A place that we are able to voice our different journeys without judgment – we say this so often because it is true.

I am so glad for you that “letting go is easier this time.”

Going back to Alaska seems to be a wonderful ‘healing’ experience for you. I am so glad. Anne

[kayc]

My dear fae, you are so brave! I should be so brave in my own life. You have books Doug wrote about your courtship? How precious is that! As well as letters, etc. I let go of George's letters as I did not want someone after me reading them, they were private and between us...I had two huge 5" binders full of them and I burned them. My little sister said she could not have done that, but they are in my heart, I remember the contents so well, and he had already let go of my letters to him, to preserve our privacy. We have kept our cards to each other, though and there is still so much of our courtship held there. Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing, but it is done and no time for regrets.

And fae, we are blessed to have YOU here in OUR tribe!

And yes to what Anne said as well!

To me, this journey only began in pain, but it is not the pain that it is about, it is the learning and healing that goes along with it.

[KATPILOT]

fae

The way you describe your grief journey is so moving and even inspirational. I am learning so much from your words. As KayC says, you are so brave. I remember going up to close out a home Kathy and I had built in Alberta but for me it was agonizing and so painful that I know now I will never return. I can live here in our home but everywhere I would go up there it would effect me so much. I am not sure if it was because that was where she was born and spent her younger life before I knew her or perhaps something else. With both of her parents now gone as well, it seems so empty. I feel I don't belong there. Just saying.

You are right about this tribe. A safe place indeed. A warm place, filled with caring souls When you come in and close the door, all those that would harm you cannot get in.

Stephen

[feralfae]

Thank you Stephen.

I found our fairy forest to be a most healing place. I could feel so much of our happy energy there, and it reminded me of my joy to play with Doug there, to gather berries there, watch a moose calf, sit under wise old birches and sing songs to the forest, while we loved and smiled and toasted each other with champagne among the falling golden leaves of autumn from our neat wooden thrones Doug had built for us to have there, along with our forest fairy desk on an escarpment. And Doug would light a cigar, lean back and smile at me. That whole forest is so filled with our joy yesterday that all I could do was sing to the trees. And cry with longing. The Love and Delight and Gratitude are all still there. It is our place. Our private place. No one else except the trustees know where it is. And they do not go there. When Doug bought it, he did not yet know me, but he built a throne for his wife, whom he said he knew was on her way. Then he found me a few years later. We had dozens of colleagues in common, but had not met each other. Then he wrote to correct my logic on a philosophical point, and the rest, as we say, is history.

Dear Mary, Jan, Kay, Anne, Queenie Mary, Harry, Marty, and all our tribe.

Greetings!

My heart was so overflowing with gratitude for the magnificence and divine light of my Beloved, who seems to still be leading me to places of healing with the directions he dictated prior to his escape. I am so very held and protected, loved and cherished, that I am constantly amazed at the blessings which shower on me. I will probably visit the fairy forest every year, and maybe continue to add art things now and then among the old wise trees, protected and in a lovely location.

Doug and I had planned to build a raised cabin there, or maybe just a tent platform, as a summer home when we wanted to hear the trees whisper secrets above our heads. Or for chilly Aurora nights when we would fall up into the night sky. We could snuggle in our bags, entranced, keeping each other warm, loving the cold, and feeling all that loving beauty of light pulling us upward. We would laugh out loud in joy, so in love with life. Same feeling as from peaks. Or flying, I imagine.

I am thinking of getting an ultralight to hop the land and am going to begin some research on that after I get up here, and call on a couple of amazing engineer friends of ours. I have already proposed it to SSK and she thinks it is a good idea. I am not sure it has been done yet up here, and it will take a lot of planning and learning of the thermals of late summer, and how to use them to spiral up and then skip off like the sandhill cranes do at the end of their spiral (there is a word for this and I am not recalling it, maybe a gyre) above the Tanana. They get whisked away going very fast. It is worth checking out, I think. I need to talk with some people about it. Just a thought, on something to do for a new adventure. I have a few ideas. *<twinkles>*

Anyway ...

Our *<twinkles>* forest magic was still there, and I could feel it making my brain make my muscles smile and laugh. It is a magic place for us, as it was our own private world, far from everything, protected and frequented by moose and bear, with lots of berries and old, old trees, missed by the sawyers because of some bogs and a steep creek bank. It is where we installed things, some made possible because of Doug's remarkable climbing skills and engineering background. Some there because of my studio and kiln. There are little remembrances of our days there, little and big installations scattered all over the forest, which, right now, is a riot of wild roses, and the entire forest floor is fragrant with wild rose. We truly had entirely too much fun all the time, but this was our special, private place where no one else could go, because no one knew where it was. It was our kingdom, for the King and Queen of the Fairy Forest. Hence my nik, feralfae.

I am not sure how soon, or in what way, but I intend to carry on. I intend to play again. I can feel the energy building in my body and spirit, and today, given what I have been through these last almost 17months, I am once again known as a "hard-core" climber, who intends to be back up soon, but apparently not yet, as my body does not seem to be quite ready yet. I am patient. I cannot stand on my head in a three-point stand, because I tried three times Friday. I must get stronger.

But I am getting there, and I can carry a light pack. I can enlist some buddies to help carry gear. I did not get the helium balloons for my Montgolfier kit, because the planned party sort of broke up with the arrival of Guy for SSK. Two Angels have met, and it is beautiful to see. We can organize a gathering for next year, on Solstice, in the mountains. (I may go set up my tent in an easy spot in a couple of days from now, though, just to be out.) I can maybe talk a girlfriend into going with me. Next year, I hope we can gather the Tribe up here. This year, we must get SSK and Guy married and settled.

Then I can have SSK's house to hang out up here, and have the best neighbors in the world, all around me. Angels, every one. Truly a remarkable Tribe up here. And I will be living in the Goddess Temple of Fairbanks. SSK is a healer, specializing in floral, especially orchid, essences for healing. Quite remarkable work and research all over the world, actually. And I am having a gf/df lunch at Take 5 bistro with my dear friend Julie on Wednesday. Thursday, Carol, another artist, whose husband climbed with Doug on a couple of first ascents, and I will take watercolours and paper and brushes and head up to Chena Hot Springs to join her watercolour group for the day, so Mary, I will bring back a report for you and photos if I can, but for some reason, I seem to be more comfortable wasting lots of words rather than taking pix. 1,000 words, I guess.

Yes, I think we all appreciate that we can come in and close the door, and all those who would harm us cannot enter. I appreciate it more than I can express. And we can keep our anonymity as well, which I know is precious to many of us here. This is our sanctuary, our fire of story-tellers, and our place of healing. Here, we keep the fires burning with our stories, and those fires warm and open our hearts, I believe.

Someday, I will figure out how to archive more of what I write here, because some of it is really saying what I want to say, which was a most highly irregular occurrence this past year. I think I am learning to communicate from a new identity, which is slowly coming together. Apparently, the new identity is becoming coherent. That is nice to know.

This is a long nattering. Thank you as usual. It is 10:30 PM. here, and still the sun is shining on the tall birches. I am on slow ISP, or I'd go check sunrise and sunset for FAI this week. I think the sun sets here a while even on Solstice, but not enough to matter. It still stays light all night, even now, although there is a bit of twilight/dawn for a bit. Fierce sunlight, sunscreen required, it's like being at 9K or above.

I am getting my boots out tomorrow and starting to wear them. These are my light boots, not the high clunkers. I am not climbing. But I want to try them out, and I have PT permission to walk in them starting today. Very Neat!

From one visiting the Far North Tribe for a while longer, I send lots of *<fairy dust>* to the Tribe that is scattered around Earth, but gathers at this loving fire.

I am tossing far north fairy dust to al of you. And I saw a Hoary Redpoll in breeding plumage today. I am visiting Creamer's Field Wednesday morning, I hope. It is where the cranes dance.

*<twinkles>*

fae

[KATPILOT]

nice, really nice!

[feralfae]

For June 21/22, FAI

Sunset is 12:48 AM.

Sunrise is 2:48 AM.

You are all asleep.

It is late even here, where I have had a late shower and head scrubbing, slathered clove oil on 'skeeter bites and am now drying my hair with curlers in it, so I can put on a linen jumper tomorrow, look respectable, and go to the museum for a couple of hours and sit in the universal music room, which plays sub-atomic particle bombardments set to sound, based on the frequency of the particles. The sun is casting some interesting energy these days. And the music is live, so it is very cool to sit there and listen to the signals and the range of frequencies. I find it enchanting. And there is also a very good exhibit of "We Share to Survive" of the circumpolar peoples. How to skin a salmon on ice. How to make waterproof mukluks. Lots of great information, and beautiful creations of the culture. One I hope to explore more, and visit more, and have already been invited, which is good. And I want to get a few books at the museum as well. I have studying to do.

I know I am not out of the valley, but I am certainly seeing more light on my path now.

fae

[feralfae]

My hair is still drying. I have had two cups of cocoa made with my own chocolate sauce. A little voice said, "Type in "Song from the Universe" and see what you get, since you are looking for something inspiring to read this night."

I typed it in to Google, that wily research assistant, and up came this beautiful message from one who spells G*d as G-d, which is not nearly as pretty, I think.

"...

I believe that when you listen to the music in your soul, when you walk in tune to the melody of your spirit, it is then that your life becomes like a dance; one single flow of energy, rising and falling to the rhythm of your destiny.

..."

Enjoy.

http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/926310/jewish/The-Song-of-the-Universe.htm

*<twinkles>*

fae

[enna]

The story of your journey captivates me as I read through your adventures once again. Thank you, Fae. Truly 'fun' to read.

The link that you gave us above was excellent writing. I will read it again just for the message it conveys to me. I feel like we are really sitting near a fire listening to the 'wisdom' of all of us here. In my opinion this is a part of our grief journeys. We all move in the same direction only at different times and in different ways. How nice to be able to do that without judgement. If we need to move away from the fire for a time to listen to our own hearts that is ok - if we need to be more vocal in expressing what is in our hearts - that is ok. This place we have is our own 'sanctuary.' Gratitude is the one word that comes to my mind. Anne

[kayc]

It all sounds rather magical...fae should have been a writer, I think!

[feralfae]

Thank you Kay, Anne, and Stephen.

Today is a day of extreme swings, from tears to hope, and maybe I will write more about it later. Suffice it to say that as I pack boxes to ship to Montana, I am feeling myself flinching from admitting the finality of leaving Alaska, even if i decide to move up here later. My home is gone, and here I am, packing up a few remnants representing years of loving, living and dreams. Whew! I am in no shape to make decisions now: I am doing well to steer the car and make it to the shipping place today. And I may put that off until tomorrow, when I am less upset.

Sasha had a session of vomiting, and I called a friend to get advice, since Susan has her cell phone turned off. I think I may ask the dog dad to take her for a couple of days to observe her and make sure she is all right. I guess some dogs will vomit after slurping down a lot of water, which is what Sasha had done. It is 90F here right now, and Sasha does not want to go outside at all. I think we are both stressed out.

Maybe things will be better after she naps for a couple of hours while I pack boxes and cry. Not an easy day for either of us, really.

Much Love and

*<twinkles>*

fae

[enna]

I am so sorry, Fae. Our journeys are filled with ups and downs, smiles and frowns (opps - that rhymes), joys and sorrows.

Benji looks out at the patio as if to say to me "Are you kidding - you want me to go out there!" We take our walks very early in the am and later at night time. I do worry about his paws in this 104 degree weather.

I am thinking of you as you pack. Anne

[feralfae]

Dearest Anne,

Sasha is fine, just not enjoying being out in this 90F day with her thick coat and no pool. She said to tell Benji to splash some water up this way.

Let me tell you one thing I now about me: when I am in the middle of a muddle, especially a muddle needing courage and grit, I can push on, no matter what. And I am so very good at bravado. It has pulled me out of some tight places and off some high escarpments and across some wild chasms in my life, and I have been able to buck myself up and get through whatever it is. And I speak both literally and metaphorically of these obstacles, some of them degrees, awards, projects, some mountains. They are all just obstacles.

But when I sit here and am so filled with longing that my heart aches inside me with a knot of great tightness, there is nothing to do but cry. Right after I am safe on the other side of the chasm. The cartons are shipped, at least the ones for today. Now I have done my duty and I can relax, and not have it on my list for tomorrow, so I can enjoy the day with friends.

Four big boxes were shipped off to Montana, and it was the shipping away, out of here, away from our home here, that finally got to me.

I just sat in the car and cried. I held together through the sorting, packing, taping, labeling, and putting in and the taking out of the car. I drove brilliantly, with no tears, very aware, and driving with alertness, not sadness. But once I was safe in the car with the receipts, and the boxes were on their way, I sat there, in that lot where we often went to ship fish, moose, gear, or to pick up packages, as we lived between Montana and Alaska, with a bit of Wyoming for a few more mountains.

Off in the clear distance today, I could pick out Denali, Hunter, Debra, Hess, Hayes, other tall spots, standing beautiful and proud against the blue sky, bringing back more memories. And my heart jumped up in celebration, for the amazing, magnificent life we had together, and the miraculous, magnificent love we shared. I know each of you know what I mean, when I say my spirit soared, and for a moment, I was remembering my joy again. It is coming back in tiny bits up here, stronger even than the day I saw the clouds over the valley in Helena, and felt my spirit soar. I am remembering the joy. Not the years of cancer, but the joy. It feels really, really good to my heart.

Those were memorable days we shared our love. For all of us here, nodding, I know that for each of you, those days you shared with your Beloved were remarkably memorable days. It is one year and a few days since we had Doug's SRO Celebration, people from all over Earth, tough old climbers and brilliant artists, gathered to pay tribute to one they called the most honorable man they had ever known, the most moral man, the most honest man, the man of greatest integrity. The brilliant lead climber on many first ascents. One friend climber said that Doug had found his center and stayed there. True. The most magnificent spirit I have every known, and the most impeccable spirit and heart as well. There are not enough words, not nearly adequate words, to praise him.

And almost every day, I drive past Musher's Hall, the largest hall I could find to hold his Celebration, the gathering of our tribe, that also had a place people could pitch their tents and hang out. There was a field of tents, all colors, scuffed and dirty, some of them. Some really old and ratty, but still good enough to use for those of us with favorite, old, patched, scratched, mended, fabric shells we've known as home for many days.

But for all the memories, and the heartache of today, shipping things away and watching the light on the mountains, I must tell you this ... I move more quickly into celebration and gratitude these days, and spend less time in sadness and sorrow. I feel more lifting, and less lowering. I can sing sometimes. I have more energy these days. I am able to smile more as I remember. The flash floods of tears are not as long, although still very deep. I think I am healing more each day. My boots feel fine, laced all the way up with my orthocast on my left foot, and tomorrow, Sasha and I are walking down through the forest toward the river. Off of the level places, on to the trails. The forest trails of Alaska are filled with wildflowers, ripening berries, mushrooms, and life. Oh, and moose, of course. We often had moose in our yard. The paths and trails of the forests are beautiful to travel, and shared. I have plans for some trips to secret places Doug found years and years ago, mostly up in the Circle.

Enough. I am going to go write in my journal, and I know you are surprised I have any more words left.

Yep.

*<twinkles>*

fae

[kayc]

This is good to hear!

I move more quickly into celebration and gratitude these days, and spend less time in sadness and sorrow.