Many Scars make a Falcon

On Music and Singing, and Singing and Music

A circle within a circle, a fantastically tangled web, or a magical tapestry “of rich and royal hue?”

All of these. And more.

Today has been a day of music and gratitude. I am struck by the threads of music that keep going and going through my life. So many different threads from so many different times, but they all keep going. The threads are different types of music and musical experiences, and I wonder how it is they all appeared and ultimately coexist - apparently (so far) for as long as I do.

Music in my life started early, hearing my parents sing, singing with them, and yes - playing a wicked mean kazoo solo on San Francisco Bay Blues while my dad played. I was drawn to every opportunity to make music in school. My very first “own” record albums were inherited from a grandma - one twangy country western album and one very groovy mid-70s disco album. My very first album purchased with my own money? Rick Springfield - Success Hasn’t Spoiled Me Yet! This was followed by J Geils, Cory Hart, Zeppelin, Violent Femmes, Ramones, Howard Jones, etc... I started singing in choir at school when the 5th grade instrumental teacher at my school crushed my hopes and dreams of playing a delicate silver flute. I refused any other instrument and never looked back. Singing, for me, please!

Who in the world would have guessed back then that I would study voice? Classical song literature? Opera?!? And who from my intensive study years would have guessed I’d eventually land in management - at a world renowned non-profit acoustic folk music venue? And who from my “tween” music years (side note: “tween” wasn’t even a thing back then!) might possibly have guessed that when I was a boring middle-aged adult I would be meeting the likes of Peter Wolf from the J. Geils Band, and The Proclaimers, and John Oates at work? For that matter, who from my childhood would have guessed that I’d be working around performances by the likes of Arlo Guthrie, Ramblin’ Jack Elliot, and Joan Baez? Who from any moment in any life thinks they’ll end up with a diagnosis of multiple sclerosis? And who ever imagines that a life of singing, a love of baseball that seems very removed from singing, and a diagnosis of MS will converge to lead to singing the national anthem at a major league ballpark? There is only one possible explanation. This can only be magic.

Through every last bit of all of this - and through all the rest of life - I have become and remain a choral singer through and through. A quick tally just now indicates I’ve spent a solid 37 years singing in choral groups. I did not have the voice (or any inkling of such) in 5th grade that I had through college and after, and I certainly do not have the voice now that I had 20ish years ago. But I have gratitude for every musical bit I have ever had access to. I have deep love for Lyle Miller, Dr. Lynda Hasseler, Jane Ring Frank, and Donna Tozer Wipfli for the choral experience with all of their groups - and now also for Benjamin Cohen, whose group I sang with today. There is no experience I know quite like making music with other voices. It is possible to sing beauty - and pain, and joy, and humor, and love, and hate, and life, and death, and history, and fantasy, and simplicity, and complexity, and everything. And it’s simply magic to get to have these experiences.

Today we sang a performance at the regional American Choral Directors Association conference. Within minutes of arriving at the conference site (WMU in Kalamazoo) this afternoon, I had met a vendor who worked with an accompanist I sang with decades ago - and who still works with singers I sang with 10-15 years ago, and who was selling sheet music including a large collection of pieces with connections to my undergrad school Capital University. Moments later, I bumped into Dr. Lynda Hasseler - our choral conductor now and then at Capital. Before performing? Backstage I spotted someone I felt certain I knew, and I even felt strongly that I knew his first name. But I wasn’t sure. When the choir (from Alma College) performing after ours took the stage? The man I thought might be named Tony took the stage as their accompanist. Yes, indeed - Anthony Patterson. Who accompanied The Capital University Chapel Choir when I sang there. And the threads keep going, and it seems none of them ever break or wear out or fray. I am sometimes worn out and frayed, and feeling close to breaking. But those threads pop out and remind me of the magic that is music and singing. And singing and music.

I will raise my voice for as long as I possibly am able.

My life does, indeed, “flow on in endless song.”

Thirteen Years of Becoming Love

A lot can happen in 13 years.

I have left a job and organization I loved, taken and left a job that turned out not to be the best fit, and landed in a unique professional role with an organization I adore. I have moved from a “nice little town” (after leaving my hometown) to a small city where I am likely now settled forever. I have left a choral singing group where I was settled for 16 years, explored other performing groups, and finally found “my” group 2 years ago.We have purchased Prune Ridge (our home). I have inexplicably become a gardener! We lost our sweet cat Tori, welcomed our perfect silly dog Olive, and have watched my cat Maggie B navigate growing old with every transition one can imagine in the life of a cat. I have been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, 5 years after the possibility of MS first was suggested by a doctor. I have had great fun taking banjo lessons, while learning nearly nothing. I have single-handedly built a deck and am about to begin renovation of a bathroom. We have become campers and enjoy trips to a cabin or tent in the woods enormously.

Through these 13 years I have had a single perfect companion.

Thirteen years ago, under the gazebo at Wildwood Metropark in Toledo, John and I were married. We had the last perfectly beautiful fall day that year for a perfectly beautiful wedding. I would not trade a single detail of that day - nor of the 13 years since. John was known to my friends initially as “the quiet man from Ann Arbor.” He remains my perfect husband, and the quiet man from Ann Arbor. We are the Reeds of Prune Ridge, and we look forward to the next 13 years.

 

(Granted, this is my blog and my post, but I trust that he’s looking forward to the years ahead as well!)

Shining Star of Sharon

Our world has lost an amazing strong, funny, feisty, lovely woman. I also lost a very dear friend when Sharon Hoeker died on September 24. I’ve been sitting with this news for some time (clearly), trying to feel my way to the right words to honor Sharon and my friendship with her.

Sharon was about 3 years into her battle with stage 4 breast cancer when I met her in early 2015. We became fast friends when she began volunteering with the crew I manage at The Ark. As a volunteer administrator, I am hyper conscious of maintaining a professional relationship with my volunteers – while being friendly and welcoming to everyone. Sharon felt to me like a soul I should have already known for my entire life. It felt almost comical as an adult to happen on this person who surely would be a BFF, and to say “I feel like we need to be friends. Outside of The Ark. Like we should have coffee and stuff!”

And so we had coffee and stuff (I think we both had tea though, I’m not actually a coffee drinker)! Sharon and I had different backgrounds, but endless overlap of the things we loved and the things that were important to us and the things in this world that worried us most. We shared experience with addiction – Sharon’s own, and my family background. As I live with multiple sclerosis and Sharon was living with breast cancer, we shared common experiences in our medical adventures and frightening diseases. We did not share a terminal diagnosis. Except that everything alive ultimately shares a terminal diagnosis, right? It was difficult for me to imagine that my should-have-been lifelong friend would leave this world “so soon,” but it also feels miraculous to me that Sharon and I crossed paths at all.

I did not have the opportunity to connect with many others in Sharon’s outstanding circle of love and support. I got to know her sister Elyssa a bit as they attended shows together at The Ark. I have not yet met Sharon’s young adult twin sons. I was not a part of Sharon’s entire journey with cancer. But I will miss her presence and friendship forever. I will miss having Sharon as a “new” friend, found when I was in my mid 40s! I will miss her sense of humor and her tenacity. I will miss just conversing with her. I will miss following the same animal rescue organizations that she did and dreaming about all the animals we will save. I will be a lifelong supporter of organizations working to provide hospice care for animals nearing the ends of their lives. (Sharon rescued many pets over her years, and for the past many years she focused on aged, medically fragile, and ill animals who required end of life care.) Compassionate Care Animal Hospital and Last Day Dog Rescue were two of the organizations Sharon loved.

Making friends as a child never felt like a task or an assignment, but being an adult doesn’t necessarily have meeting new fantastic friends built into it. Adulting is hard enough as it is, and it would likely be unbearable without friends. Make new friends, no matter your age. It might feel funny to say to someone “I just really think we should be friends,” but do it anyway. When you feel a connection to a brand new person, they probably feel a connection to you too. Invite them to be a part of your circle.

Blessed Be, Sharon. You were a strong wonderful gem of a person, and I am so lucky to have shared a friendship with you. You were a superhero for sure, and I will watch for your beautiful light among the stars.

Jörmungandr - Full Technicolor!

Oh, My Heart

Miss Olive has the Reeds of Prune Ridge a bit worried these last several days. She’s unsteady, falling sometimes, and has a head tilt moreso than “cocking her head adorably when you talk to her.” Our good Dr. Sweet returns from a vacation next week, and we’ll be there to see him Tuesday morning. I am holding our girl in the love and light of my heart.

Miracle of Miracles

Is it still a miracle if it only lasts for approximately three minutes? And if it doesn’t meet the time requirement, is it still a miracle if nobody was injured?

This happened and lasted until Maggie B stood up, glared at Olive, and walked away. 😳

Gardening = Magic

Jörmungandr

Jörmungandr (meaning “huge monster”) is known as the Midgard or World Serpent. He surrounds the Midgard level (earth, where man resides) of Yggdrasil. He holds the end of his own tail in his mouth, effectively holding all of Midgard together.

My Midgard Serpent is brand new - still healing and a bit peel-y looking in these pics! He surrounds my right arm, above my elbow and beneath the feet of Nordri the dwarf. Color will be added in 2 weeks, with better pictures to come when he’s all finished.

My wish for our world? That Jörmungandr holds his tail as long as he possibly can!

Holding Up The Sky

In some tellings, the sky was the first component of the Norse mythology world tree myths to be “created.” Yggdrasil is the tree, but above the tree is the sky (or the heavens). Both the earth and the heavens were created from the giant Ymir’s body. 

Ymir’s skull contains the heavens, and of course the sun and the moon. In the depiction of Yggdrasil, there are 4 dwarves around the edges of Midgard (the earth level of the world, where humans reside). These dwarves represent the four points on the compass, and they are tasked with holding up the sky, a.k.a. Ymir’s skull. This seems like a very important detail to me, so I logically needed to add one of the dwarves to my collection. Nordri is the dwarf representing north on the compass, and he graces one of my arms. Again, rather than 4 smallish figures, I have chosen rather large and brightly colored artwork over “literal” representation of the myths.

My Nordri resembles closely Gimli from the Lord of the Rings films, but he’s not quite the same. I am however, pleased to have a dwarf that resembles Gimli as I love the LOTR stories too! My dwarf is decidedly Norse in his depiction, sporting fiery red locks. He also has a candle on top of his helmet. This is one of my favorite details! We sometimes seem to be a little short on light in this world, so the flame seems warm and welcoming to me. I am also a Unitarian Universalist - the candle is a conscious nod to the flaming chalice UUs incorporate in our symbolism and worship. This little light of my dwarf? I’m gonna let it shine!

Here’s hoping Nordri and his fellow sky supports keep that sky up there for many more eons!

Opera for Five Year Olds

A conversation earlier today brought this memory to mind.

Some of you will know that I studied opera and classical voice. For quite some time I believed I
was headed for a professional career in opera. (I wasn’t, it’s not a sad story, it’s just what it is.) I love opera, and when I was studying I especially loved sharing opera with young people. Children can be some of the best audiences a performer will ever know.

This particular memory is not exactly about children, but sort of. And it is one of my most favorite opera experiences - as an audience member. A couple of years ago, we had the opportunity to take in Michigan Opera Theater’s production of Elektra. Elektra is a Richard Strauss 1 act (one behemoth act!) opera that was premiered in the early 1900s. It is a telling of the Greek mythology story of Elektra, but is typically quite modernized in its production. Spoiler alert: I’m about to share the most insufficient and shortest synopsis ever of Elektra’s plot, and it will include the ending!

This opera focuses on the aftermath of the murder of Elektra’s father Agamemnon by her mother Klytaemnestra, and mom’s lover Aegisth. Elektra is driven into  madness, consumed with the need for revenge. There is a brother who’s been banished, a sister who is happy & princess-like and servants and others who gossip about Elektra. The opera is quite dark and bloody, and somewhat dissonant and chromatic. Revenge happens in the form of the murder of mother & lover at the hands of banished brother. In the end, Elektra is freed from her madness. She dances and sings. And then she dies. The End.

Soooo... Not an opera I would recommend as a child’s introduction to the art.

When we sat in the audience a group of 4 friends, perhaps in their 70s, were seated next to us. The woman next to me told me excitedly that she and her friends were seeing their first ever opera! She started asking questions immediately and we chatted happily until showtime. There was a scrim hung in front of the curtain with a giant maniacal sketched-out family tree from the Greek mythology Elektra’s story comes from. I explained what parts I could. A young couple (he was quite tall) was seated in front of my new friend. And then it was showtime!

My new friend did not seem to enjoy her experience. When the lights went out, I was suddenly sitting next to a petulant five year old. She sighed and fussed with whatever things she could get her hands on. She spoke audibly about her disappointment with the tall gentleman in front of her. She seemed not to be following the story.

Then Elektra died. The stage went black. The audience leapt up in applause. And my new friend said “Did she just die?! Why did she die?! Why did she die?!?” I tried to explain that in the myth, Elektra came to live only for revenge. Revenge happened, her father’s murder was avenged, and she no longer had anything to live for - so she died. “Why did she die?! But why did she just die?!?”

I’m not a pro, but my suggestion? Start your five year old on some nice melodical Mozart. The Magic Flute, maybe?

Roots and Fruits

And suddenly? The growing gets much more real! The first tomatoes start to ripen and another plant suddenly needs much more support. Haul out a taller stake, tie things up a bit more, prune a little bit - and (if you’re in “magical” Ann Arbor where it manages to never rain even when the next town in any direction gets soaked) water things good. Talk to the plants (yes, I think they listen). Cook up some zucchini and a little chicken for supper. And then settle in for baseball. 

Sometimes summertime is perfect.

Blink Twice if You Need Us

I simply do not know how I feel about our First Lady.

I know pretty well how I feel about her husband. He lacks empathy and compassion, and stacks up very short on intelligence. I do not doubt that he is an abusive spouse - by default due to his lack of emotional intelligence, if nothing else.

But why is she married to him, and how is she even pretending to believe that he is a good person? She must be trapped in some way. This particular set of thoughts is cooking in my brain this evening after reporting that our First Lady’s husband was angered when her TV was tuned to CNN. A statement from her spokesperson read “The First Lady will watch any channel she wants.” 

On the one hand? I wonder if she is trapped in the sense that her husband is rich and powerful. Perhaps she feels stuck where she is with no other viable options? Her husband’s very public display of his complete lack of empathy makes it difficult to believe that many women would chose to be with him.

On the other hand? If she is in a marriage that is oppressive and/or abusive, or even just unsatisfying - isn’t she in the best position possible to walk out & walk away? 

On the other-other hand? What if she and her husband are well matched, or she is complacent, or she believes the state of our nation is fine the way it is, or she somehow actually loves that man? Then things are even worse than they seem.

I will choose to believe that there is sincerity and intelligence behind the rather stoic permanent non-smile. But I’ll be at the ready to help if she signals the need for support so she can escape.

Starring M.S. as the Insult Squirrel

Ratatosk (Ratatoskr in Old Norse, believed to mean “drill tooth”) is the Insult Squirrel in the stories of Yggdrasil. Ratatosk’s sole purpose in the myths is to spend his days running up and down the Ash tree between the Eagle (unnamed in the myths, but female and named Hank in my tattooed pallete of the stories) at the tree top and Níðhöggr in the roots. He spreads rumors & hearsay between/about the two. He is, at his core, and insult squirrel.

Multiple Sclerosis is a bizarre disease - that’s all there is to it. A person’s immune system begins attacking the myelin coating on their nervous system, causing problems for the nervous system. The nervous system is a messaging system. It is the tool your brain and body use to tell each other what to do, how things feel, how to react to stimuli,etc. M.S. has the effect of “stripping the wires,” making it difficult for accurate messages to make their way through a person’s “messaging system” so that a body will behave the way it should.

A wise friend pointed out that my plan to add the insult squirrel to my collection of ink might possibly mean that M.S. is my Insult Squirrel.

I laughed heartily. I laughed not because it was silly, but because Of Course! Of course M.S. is my Insult Squirrel! He spends his days running up and down, spreading mixed messages through my nervous system. And because he’s a sort of silly adorable animal character in my mythical stories, I can appreciate that he’s only just doing his job.

My Ratatosk is based loosely on a real species of Nordic squirrel who has rather large pointed & puffy ears.

Bonus with Purchase: Always Crap?

So, I bought a 2-pack of some shave gel the other day. It was cheaper than buying 2 singles so it was an easy decision. PLUS, guess what?!? I got a free gift!

Granted, shaving can seem like a racket in general, but I still choose to shave sometimes. Our commercialized first-world economy is nothing if not a marketing playground. For women (of course), there are specialized girly razors, girly shave creams/gels/etc, and girly moisturizers. All things the marketers have decided we must have if we are “girling” properly. 

I have a razor. It is cheap and simple and sufficient. So I do not need the free gift razor that came as my super valuable bonus gift. That said, I certainly wouldn’t frown on a free razor.

Until someone tries to give me this:

Ok, I can hear you thinking all the thoughts. “But it was free...” “How bad could it be?” “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Lady.” “Don’t look a gift razor in the marketing, Pink Falcon.”

But I don’t think you can grasp the idiocy of this product without further scrutiny. First of all, it’s called the Intuition Fab. You are supposed to believe that your very own intuition made the suggestion that you have this razor above all other options. You are also supposed to know deep down in your heart (or somewhere similar) that this razor is Fabulous. Fab, even. Very, very Fab. Above all else, you are not supposed to worry your pretty little head over the special features of this razor.

The super special “like no other” feature of this razor? You can shave both up & down with it. There are two sets of blades facing in opposite directions! Phew, because if I ever want to turn the razor upside down, I just don’t know how I’d do it. Just imagine! Now instead of only pulling the sharp metal blades gently across your skin, you can conveniently change directions and push the other sharp metal blades into your skin. Because pulling gently and pushing against resistance are totally the same, right?

I have a pristine unused razor to pass on if anyone likes a challenge that may or may not draw blood. No purchase necessary, just some free crap!

Níðhöggr

Níðhöggr is a dragon/serpent who exists in the roots of Yggdrasil, the Norse Mythology depiction of the world. Nidhogg (the most common anglicized spelling variation) gnaws on the roots of the tree, trying in effect to bring it down.

Norse depictions of dragons are often quite serpent-like, and less like dragons resembling dinosaurs or creatures in the Harry Potter films.

I knew I wanted a beautiful Nidhogg as part of my mythology images. I love the idea of this rather distasteful character being an important part in the telling of various tales. I also wondered if perhaps my MS was my serpent in the roots, trying to bring me down? Nobody wants a dragon gnawing on their roots, but nobody wants to have MS either!

I have since decided that Nidhogg is definitely not my MS. He’s definitely a part of my tale, but he’s not going to be my downfall.

For Better Shape or More Fruitful Growth

Prune

verb

pruned; pruning

transitive verb

1a : to reduce especially by eliminating superfluous matter

• pruned the text

• prune the budget

b : to remove as superfluous

• prune away all ornamentation

2: to cut off or cut back parts of for better shape or more fruitful growth

• prune the branches

intransitive verb

: to cut away what is unwanted or superfluous

 

 

Gardeners know that some plants need to be pruned or cropped periodically for best results. Tomatoes are likely the reason I became a gardener in the first place, and they definitely benefit from pruning the “sucker” branches. The suckers are the smaller shoots that grow out of secondary joints on the plant - ones that don’t produce blooms. Eliminating the sucker shoots allows the plant to spend more of its energy producing, growing, and ripening fruits. Stronger healthier plants can be the result.

 

I am currently wanting to lose a fair amount of weight. It occurred to me as I was pruning tomatoes yesterday that losing weight works a bit like pruning. A stronger healthier body can be got in part by maintaining a better body weight than I currently possess.

 

I suspect a stronger healthier mind can also be got in part by “pruning” of the body. And what if pruning of the mind can happen? I suppose this could look like unloading pieces of life that stress or weigh down the mind. Maybe there can be a purposeful pruning of the mind if a person decides exactly what thoughts they are and are not willing to give time to?

 

While we’re at it... maybe pruning a home is just as important? Our small family of just two adults has accumulated a lot of stuff with a combined lifetime of over 90 years! It is high time for us to do some pruning here at Prune Ridge.

 

 

The photos here are my 4 tomato plants before and after yesterday’s pruning adventure. Bring on the tomatoes, please!

Roots: Grounded in Flight

The eagle is one of the only unnamed characters in the telling of Norse Mythology. The eagle sits at the top of Yggdrasil, the world tree. The hawk flying above the eagle is Vedrfolnir (“wind bleached”). Strangely, the eagle never flies - but Vedrfolnir flies every day and returns to perch between the eagle’s eyes. Interpretations suggest that the eagle is an overseer, observing to affirm & confirm that all things are in balance. Vedrfolnir is tasked with reporting back to the eagle with daily observations and information.

If you’re reading my blog, you probably already know I have a bit of a “thing” for birds - birds of prey or raptors. My fascination and love of these animals is not so much connected to their capture of prey. I’m in awe of flight - the mechanics of it all and the slight variations from species to species. I’m also simply enamored with their vision. I can only imagine the awesomeness of flying at incredible heights with an amazing “big picture” of all the world laid out below me, but also the ability to see the most minute of details with clarity.

The eagle atop Yggdrasil seems strangely grounded to me. How odd, but how powerful to possess the gift of flight while never actually flying. Through the partnership with Vedrfolnir, the eagle has the ability to see from above in detail large and small - while remaining physically “rooted” in some way to the world (tree).

My eagle, I’ve decided, is female. And her name is Hank. This ties into a non-Yggdrasil related dream I had involving an eagle I was supposed to receive, but who at the last moment was “switched out” for a honey badger named Hank. That, of course is a radically different story for another day, but there you have it. This photo was taken within a few days of being tattooed and both characters are fully healed and beautiful after a few years now.

I present for your consideration, Hank and Vedrfolnir from my version of the world tree!

Benign Neglect

I find “normal” illness or injury sometimes harder to cope with since my personal evolution with Multiple Sclerosis. By normal, I mean just ordinary (simple, perhaps?) maladies not related to or caused by  my MS. It can be easy to think “Really? This too? MS wasn’t enough for me to deal with?” Also “Whatever. I have MS! This is nothing!” While the latter response might sound a little like “she’s a rockstar and nothing gets her down,” it could also be that she’s wearing blinders. “If I don’t deal with this problem, it will just go away or I’ll forget about it.”

I try hard not to take this approach and to take care of myself as best I can. But some days (weeks, months...) are more difficult than others.

Currently, I’m coping with a wrist/hand injury that was a fun byproduct of my rather dramatic and frightening fall this past December. At this point, the likelihood that I have a TFCC tear (“the meniscus of the wrist”) is very high. The likelihood that I will need surgery to repair it since it’s my dominant hand is also quite high. For the time being, my specific instruction from the hand surgeon is to practice “benign neglect.” Do nothing. Proceed with life (writing, typing, cooking, working, lifting things, walking the dog) for a few months and do nothing. The hope is that it’s not a cartilage tear and it just needs more time to feel better. Admittedly, this sounds far fetched to me.

The comedy of this to me is: I was already practicing benign neglect for some other unrelated pain! I have a foot that’s been pretty consistently sore for a few months. I’m not a healthcare professional and we all know we shouldn’t self-diagnose based on google searches... but it seems plausible that I might have a stress fracture in my foot. Because I’ve been more impacted by pain and difficulty functioning with my wrist, I have made a conscious decision to ignore the foot for the time being. (FYI, it hurts a bit at some point with every kind of shoe I own - it’s not simply “bad shoes”) Its fairly easy to convince myself “I have MS and this wrist injury. I just can’t cope with another injury at the same time.”

Jumping forward from my prescription for benign neglect, I spent some time gardening last weekend. My lower back was a little cranky, but that’s not unusual. Then on Tuesday I received deliveries (as always) at work. Lifting things into the elevator as they were handed to me? Well. My lower back/hip protested quickly and loudly. <audible eye roll>

And so, tomorrow I have a Doctor’s appointment to follow up on my still very painful hip/back.

How about you? Are there challenges you address quickly, and others you choose to overlook? I’m proud of myself in that as I’ve gotten acquainted with MS, I have made adjustments and concessions in my self care accordingly. I thoroughly embrace napping. I’m very careful about myself and heat, working to not get overheated. I pay attention to my fatigue level and stop what I’m working when my brain won’t focus quite the way I wish.

I will address my health questions all in time. But I will also allow myself to gauge when benign neglect seems to be an acceptable course. At least until I feel I can cope with it all accordingly!

The Paradoxical Deck

The Pink Falcon (she is me and I am she) and Mr. PF have lived at Prune Ridge now for a bit over 10 years. In time I will share the Legend of Prune Ridge in this forum, but today I’m thinking on the 9 year anniversary of the establishment of Prune Ridge.

For 9 full years the residents of Prune Ridge settled into the dwelling, but a lovely useable outdoor space eluded them. Prune Ridge is a condominium type place, so outdoor space is minimal but the backyard was still undesireable and unuseable as a small simple outdoor space. The challenges were many including a weed tree, many critters with their own angles on how an outdoor oasis could meet their needs, a layer of plastic over a layer of sand over another layer of plastic, and a thin layer of dirt on top of it all where no grass would grow.

Inexplicably, The Pink Falcon became a gardener somewhere along the way. Slowly, garden components were constructed and instituted around the periphery of the “no grass grows here” center of the yard. Just over a year ago, The Pink Falcon lost her patience and demanded that a lovely useable space exist amongst the garden bits at Prune Ridge.

And so? She built a deck.

In retrospect, The Pink Falcon can sometimes not believe that she pulled it off. Contrarily, she can’t believe she waited 9 years to address the challenge.

This Saturday morning, The Pink Falcon plans to re-stain (aka “finish staining”) the deck. The deck furniture is dying to come out of its basement seclusion so temperate afternoons and evenings at Prune Ridge will find The Pink Falcon & Co enjoying the outdoor space and the grill and the gardens.

The paradox of this all is that The Pink Falcon has MS. For this reason, she doesn’t handle very high temperatures very well. Because the southeast Michigan summer seems to be suddenly turning towards super hot summer temps it’s possible that she won’t be able to spend ample time on said deck. But she is willing to be ready for every single lovely cooler moment this upper Midwest summer might bring!

The remaining question regarding the 2018 deck at Prune Ridge is: How many of nature’s adorable critters will attempt to leave their marks in the new stain on the this deck year?

A Body of Myths

Mythology: 

noun, plural my·thol·o·gies.

1. a body of myths, as that of a particular people or that relating to a particular person: Greek mythology.
2. myths collectively.
3. the science or study of myths.

I love mythology in general, and I have been especially drawn to Norse mythology. In particular, I love that mythology often includes both “good” and “bad” characters, and that both are required to maintain balance in the stories/cultures/traditions. In Norse mythology, I love the presence of so many animal characters whose “animalness” is especially important in their roles. Nature is also integral in much mythology - with the entire world in Norse mythology depicted as a tree (an Ash tree). I have always felt at home with trees, so the world tree feels perfect to me.

My predilection for Norse mythology is certainly rooted in the fact that a good portion of my heritage is Norwegian - with a fair amount of Swedish and German ancestry in the mix. My interest in Norwegian things, life, and mythology is strong in part because my paternal grandfather came to the United States when he was young - the most recent of my relatives to immigrate, and the immigrant from our family that I actually knew. We have relatives in Norway, still living on the family farm where my grandpa was born.

When my MS diagnosis came along, I found myself reading and learning everything I could about this disease. MS is a strange and frightening monster. Learning about it meant learning about all of the horrific sounding outcomes it could present in a body. It also meant learning how unlikely it is that all of the things could/would happen to me, and that there’s no way to predict what course the disease will take. At some point I started to wonder if perhaps MS could be a little like mythology? What if having the good and the bad was required to have the proverbial “balance” in life?

Before you ask yourself the whole question - No! I don’t have a romanticized view of this crappy chronic neurological disease. No, I don’t believe “everything happens for a reason.” No, I do not think a being of any sort chose me to have this disease because I am strong or special. No, I don’t think someone “never gives us more than we can handle.”

I do think that attitude counts for a whole heck of a lot in this thing we call life. For me, considering the possibility that this bizarro disease can be a part of my life without taking over my life has been key. Considering the possibility that I can give MS space to be part of my balance is a powerful thought. Considering the possibility that I can decide my MS is a super power? Awesome!

In the sky above the Norse mythology world tree (Yggdrasil) are the sun and the moon. Each is pulled across the sky by a horse-drawn carriage. Each also has an additional carriage and horses in front of the one containing each celestial body. Each is being chased by a wolf. They all appear to travel rapidly across the sky day after day and night after night, as the horses run and run to keep the wolves from catching the sun and the moon. In the mythology tales, the wolves will catch the sun and moon at the end of the world (Ragnarok). While I hope the sun and moon continue their courses for centuries, I know they might not. But I hope the horses are up to the task of giving us as much time in “this world” as “humanly” “possible!”

This all feels important and wonderful to me!

And so my second tattoo is based on the sky above the world tree. When I confidently responded “Nope, I think I’m a 1-tattoo kind of woman” to my artist at the end of my Pink Falcon tattoo session? Clearly I didn’t yet know exactly who I am.

This sky-above ink is sometimes visible, depending on what I wear. I would like for friends to know that my tattoo decisions have never been about showing off my skin (“meh”) or my body (sometimes “EEK!”), even though I love this artwork and I have great fun meeting people who are interested or curious about my depicted stories. I also don’t expect other people to have the same kinds of connections to their ink that I do. Tattoos are personal. Following this tattoo I have added a few more pieces, all from the Yggdrasil myths. I’ll share stories and pictures over the coming weeks or months.

A note about this specific piece of artwork: The sun and moon are depicted as half-and-half or a hybrid body. There is one horse instead of a total of 6. There is one wolf instead of 2. There are no people, even though there are 2-3 beings (depending on the telling) with each celestial orb in the myth. The evolution of my ink has involved (perfectly) learning a bit about the craft of tattooing. My ink is artwork, through and through. My interpretations of the myths I’m carrying on myself are adjusted somewhat to allow for the best artwork and imaging that tattooing allows. I have not shied away from large tattoos and brilliant gorgeous colors in favor of “literal” interpretations of (“non-literal”) century-old myths.

And one or two last bits: I love and am very proud of my tattooed one-of-a-kind artwork. And my artist, Woody who works in Toledo OH at Infinite Art Tattoo Studio is wonderful and has become a friend. In the world of tattoos, there are some whose ink is a representation of many different artists, and there are lots of great artists out there. Representing many artists is a great thing, but for me consistency in design elements is important - and Woody is an artist who works perfectly and creatively with my ideas. 

Friends, I wish for you the joy of knowing exactly who you are. And the knowledge that you can always be becoming yourself. What if we are never finished products?