The painful crash of a pane of breaking glass smashed into our dreamworld; woke we to see scattered shards and another pane awaiting breaking unless dealt with. Woe and wowie, winds are howling with frightful force enough to blow thick panels of heavy duty outdoor type glass right off the roof, awakening fearful visions of falling trees on our primary home way t’other side of the island. Please, dear trees, stay rooted in your favourite places; a decision to uproot is not reversible in this day and age. Sages say, everything changes, yet change needn’t be destructive when approached sagely.

Fear of amplification blasted me from the past to a day when old style tube amps fed back in terrifying blaring waves of white noise. Run away! Run away! So I did, cowering into the space between past and future, whilst reality was rearranged to better suit me here and now and simplicity restored itself. Ah, sweet world in which fears can be proved wrong, let me sing you a song, plug in my guitar and make melodious tones for goodness and glory. The dogs still cower fearfully while the cats yowl in discordant harmony as is their willful wont.

It’s after midnight, nearly too late to say it’s today, but before I sleep is soon enough. A day of near-disaster as viruses (foolish downloads carrying toxic freight) played havoc with my computer. Fortunately I was able to turn back time to yesterday evening; all is now well. I am again most graciously grateful for such good luck, verging on divine intervention. Others tell tragic tales of loss caused by such carelessness, but I escape with the help of time travel. Just call me blessed, baby. Now I’ll translate this luck into larger arenas, like blank cheques and bank balances.

Pearly grey light makes the world brighter than it is, what with dark clouds and rain. Even a little sun between the cracks makes magic. Strange yet fulfilling dreams made my night full; if my days were as rich I’d be in a better place. I feel empty, between lives, waiting for the next thing to begin, to actually live instead of floating in this grey pearl existence. It’s a nice place to hang out but anywhere becomes oppressive if you have no choice but to be there. I must have choices, but I forget what they are. Live? Die?

The day is cold and grey, a temporary end to sunshine and sunsets. In January on the West Coast cold and grey has its place, though visions of Hawaii dance in my brain and even the North appeals, being cold and bright, a feast for the eyes if not a comfort to the heart. Something about this damp cold cuts through all heat sources to the bones of my soul and stirs my desire to be just about anywhere else that involves sunshine and heat. Endurance has its limits; I’d like a different reality please and thank you very much.

I’m not as myopic as my mother, but my memories of things past are not much clearer. Memory has always seemed a slippery serpent in my mind, one to wrestle unsuccessfully with, and unfortunately many of the people who have meant the most to me have slid down that slope and out of my purview.

I know that I have been deeply touched and influenced by more people than I can easily remember; teachers, lovers, friends, family, but it’s very difficult to pluck three names from that past morass of mixed-up events, things and human interactions. I often feel sad about that; I feel I’ve lost something precious. I look forward to the day (often spoken of) when people get older and past memories become clearer. Does that actually happen? I want to remember everything and everybody!

Most of my past is a kaleidoscope, a moving collage of faces, feelings and snippets of conversation and action all swirling about and it becomes clear that the number of people who have touched me deeply and influenced my choices is great indeed. I’ve moved around a lot and experienced much in nearly fifty years of life and I haven’t lived under glass. I’ve been touched and I’ve touched others and everyone I’ve met has influenced me in one way or other.

There is, however, a certain class of people whose faces will forever remain in sharp relief; whose emergence into existence changed me more deeply than anything ever could have up to that point, and who continue to affect me profoundly, changing my life over and over. I speak of my children, conveniently (for the purposes of this exercise) numbered three.

My first child came when I was very young, younger than my years. Then, I wanted a child the way a child wants a toy: babies are so cute and all my friends had one, even my younger sister had a baby. A baby would give me something fun to do, I felt, I’d always have someone to play with and I’d be guaranteed someone who would want me around.

When that little person opened her eyes to the light, she opened my eyes and heart as well. Like the Grinch, my heart grew three sizes that day. She was beautiful and precious beyond what I could have imagined, and I fell madly in love with her. She, not her father, taught me what real love was. Even now, I feel a thrill at the memory of those early days with my sweet new baby.

When I became pregnant a second time, I feared for the new baby who I believed was bound to be less beloved than his beautiful older sister, queen of my heart.  I couldn’t imagine loving anybody in the world the way I did her, but Nature (a Mother herself) provided, and when that little boy’s eyes met mine, my heart again swelled to accommodate all the new love that I had given birth to that day. I felt an entirely new space in my heart open up, one that had never existed before. A miracle!

It was unimaginable that it would happen again because my third child was an accidental conception. I did not want to have another baby. My oldest was not yet two and the second only nine months old when I conceived. It was unfair! Baby, go away, I cried! I planned an abortion, feeling strong and justified in my decision. However, once again Mother Nature intervened with the help of the strong-hearted being in my womb.

Between the time I made an appointment to have the inconvenient pregnancy removed and when I actually saw the doctor (who ended up delivering the child), I had an experience which changed my life and perspective forever. A rippling sensation flowed through my body like cool water trickling pleasurably down from my head through my heart and into my womb.  For the first time, I recognized the person inside me. He was forced to assert his presence and identity to me sooner than the other two. I invited them in; this baby had to tug at my sleeve, introduce himself and request admittance.

“Hi, this is me,” he whispered, and I immediately knew who he was, a warm, familiar and beloved presence. All thought of abortion vanished, and I gained an understanding of what I can only call magic—the truth of the spirit—that what was growing inside me was more than simply tissue. This was not something I would impose on other women, for I was, and remain firmly pro-choice, but my own choice was made then and there.

These three people each grew  in their own ways to become loving, responsible and impressive adults who continue to profoundly affect all those who know them. I am proud to have been able to introduce them to life, and I am grateful for my own mother who did the same for me. So thanks, Mom.

I would adopt a lifestyle of affirming myself, speaking and thinking of what I already have with gratitude and excitement except… except… well except what? What have I to lose but my cool? Cool is fine but warm is better. When you’re on the bottom already, there’s noplace farther down to go, so may as well try something new, like enthusiasm, being thrilled and childlike and full of wonder about how wonder-ful life is, because hey, guess what, surprise, life is wonderful and full of fun if you know how to look at it, and that’s not denial. Is it?

My belly is less happy with me than other parts. Oogy queasies tilt my basement odd angles, turning everything a strange shade of green. I like green—I do—just not this particular hue which reminds me of what I don’t want to think about right now, namely the insides of my body and not the good parts.

Moving right along, let’s direct attention outward to where it’s already dark, so no view to comment on; still, the faux fire in the fake fireplace emits real heat and glows golden without having to be tended, which I like a lot.

Breakthroughs happen, often followed by great sex, though not necessarily with a cause and effect relationship. You will be relieved to know (as am I) that clouds have lifted and I am ready to move beyond the dark hole of the soul in which I had been loitering. Huzzahs and noisemakers are in order as my life gears up to become wonderful again! The pendulum swings, the gears grind into overdrive and I’m alive to some awesomely meaningful purpose. And it’s maybe even all true, that’s the beauty. Cynicism and foreboding are just habits, like smoking or too much television.

Another day of deathwishing heaviness, but let’s not devolve into self-pity when it’s so easy to slog through time waiting for things to change. Shift happens eventually; what’s a little time when I’ve already survived so much? This is my fiftieth winter and fifty is a lot in the scale of one human life these days, though once was a time, they say (and may be again) when lifetimes were longer than a song or two. Best not think about how long and will it ever end and can I take much more, because those thoughts lead nowhere but down.