Dark Rainbow Bliss

I told you in my last post that I had the incredible experience last week of seeing a pod of orcas. I stood up in our small boat and took bunches of photos, but most don't do any justice to these incredible mammals.

I think whales are near-erotic, to tell you the truth. The words strong, glistening, muscular, sinuous, fluke. 

Here's a poem by D.H. Lawrence that a friend sent me:


Whales Weep Not!

They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains
the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent.

All the whales in the wider deeps, hot are they, as they urge
on and on, and dive beneath the icebergs.
The right whales, the sperm-whales, the hammer-heads, the killers
there they blow, there they blow, hot wild white breath out of the sea!

And they rock, and they rock, through the sensual ageless ages
on the depths of the seven seas,
and through the salt they reel with drunk delight
and in the tropics tremble they with love
and roll with massive, strong desire, like gods.
Then the great bull lies up against his bride
in the blue deep bed of the sea,
as mountain pressing on mountain, in the zest of life:
and out of the inward roaring of the inner red ocean of whale-blood
the long tip reaches strong, intense, like the maelstrom-tip, and comes to rest
in the clasp and the soft, wild clutch of a she-whale's fathomless body.

And over the bridge of the whale's strong phallus, linking the wonder of whales
the burning archangels under the sea keep passing, back and forth,
keep passing, archangels of bliss
from him to her, from her to him, great Cherubim
that wait on whales in mid-ocean, suspended in the waves of the sea
great heaven of whales in the waters, old hierarchies.

And enormous mother whales lie dreaming suckling their whale-tender young
and dreaming with strange whale eyes wide open in the waters of the beginning and the end.
And bull-whales gather their women and whale-calves in a ring
when danger threatens, on the surface of the ceaseless flood
and range themselves like great fierce Seraphim facing the threat
encircling their huddled monsters of love.
And all this happens in the sea, in the salt
where God is also love, but without words:
and Aphrodite is the wife of whales
most happy, happy she!

and Venus among the fishes skips and is a she-dolphin
she is the gay, delighted porpoise sporting with love and the sea
she is the female tunny-fish, round and happy among the males
and dense with happy blood, dark rainbow bliss in the sea.





Perhaps a tad overwrought, but whew!

A Reverie For Where I've Been

The Mermaid Pool where I swam laps
Victoria, British Columbia

The Poet and Me
photographer: Carl Jackson

My dear friend, the poet Heather McHugh, arranged for Carl and me to stay in Port Angeles, Washington and for a week in Victoria, British Columbia. I don't even know where to begin to describe the fun we had, the sights we saw, and the relaxation I felt over the past eight days. I was here four years ago for a respite week through Heather's Caregifted foundation, and I will say that it was, indeed, that week that literally propelled me toward Hedgebrook the following year, and then the enormous changes in my personal life over the last two and now, this.

This.

There is just NO WAY I could have imagined re-visiting Victoria four years later in such happiness. There is NO WAY any of us know where our lives will lead us. I am convinced, again, that it's as important not to despair when things are shitty as it is to feel grateful when they're good. Nothing is permanent, ever.

I took a lot of photos on my iPhone as well as on the regular camera, and I can't wait to share the fancy ones with you because we went out whale watching one afternoon for more than 3 hours and saw/encountered a big pod of killer whales. That's a religious experience, to tell you the truth. Then again, riding ferries could also count for a religious experience, especially in the Pacific Northwest. We rode merry on the ferry from Bremerton to Victoria, from Sydney to San Juan Island and then back. It was windy and rainy sometimes and about a thousand shades of gray and blue otherwise sun-split skies and the air is filled with melancholy and peace and salt tang and sweetness. Being with The Bird Photographer for so many days was divine.

Jigsaw puzzles on the ferry to San Juan Island!

English Camp, the dreamiest of the dreamy places we visited
San Juan Island, Washington

No words necessary

Lying on my bed and gazing out to the ocean
English Camp
San Juan Island, Washington

The most astonishing color peonies I've ever seen
Butchart Gardens
Victoria, British Columbia

Butchart Gardens
Victoria

English Camp
San Juan Island

A very windy whale watching trip/Religious Experience

My future home
Victoria, British Columbia

The Bird Photographer, doing his thing

I have oodles of pictures on my fancy camera, especially of killer whales, so as soon as I upload them to the computer, I will share them. Right now, I'm sitting in a tiny airport getting ready to board a seaplane which will take us back to the Seattle airport. I've never flown on a seaplane, but I'm about as relaxed as I've been in many years, so I think it'll be good, and if I crash into the Canadian ocean -- well -- there'd be worse ways to go.

About Canada: I'm sorry to leave. Every person we met was so kind and thoughtful. If politics came up, every person we spoke to was deeply sorry for the bullshit we face in these Disunited States. Every person expressed sympathy and agreed that 45 is horrible, that the changes wrought by him and the Republican congress are abysmal and not a little depressing. It was comforting to have these conversations, sort of the reverse of the gaslighting we've been subject to over the last few months.

Sigh.

How are ya'll? I've missed reading your blogs and getting your comments and will be back soon more regularly.

I miss you.

Your Very Flesh is a Great Poem

Sunset
Victoria, British Columbia

This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown, or to any man or number of men -- go freely with powerful uneducated persons, and with the young and with the mothers of families -- reexamine all you have been  told in school or church or in any book, and dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem, and have the richest fluency, not only in its words, but in the silent lines of its lips and face, and between the lashes of our eyes, and in every motion and joint of your body.

Walt Whitman, preface to Leaves of Grass

The new family slideshow (lots of photos of places that you might not care about)

I stood at the top of these stairs to nowhere, aptly marked in case people thought otherwise (the Canadians are polite) and tried not to make metaphor.

These huge pieces of timber float everywhere along the coast. I was told that they are from nearby forestry -- boats filled with felled logs sometimes lose their cargo, and the wood floats and bobs along the shore.

This sign warned passers-by from what looked to be a small fabulous junk-yard.

I have more photos and will post them later. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening with The Poet. She charming and funny and wise, and I feel as if I've known her forever. We talked about poetry and art and music and family and men. Her drive and commitment to caregivers is truly awe-inspiring, and my gratitude overflows. I really can't believe that this is my third day of respite and that I still have three more to go! I imagine you'll have to steel yourself for another slideshow or two, more rhapsodizing about Victoria, and the possibility of an Elizabeth filled with contentment.

Are you still there? I guess you need a reward.

Come back later and maybe I'll post about me and Javier Bardem on the beach.

My Good Fortune

That's the view from my little tree-top apartment in Victoria, British Columbia and where I arrived last night and was escorted by the wonderful poet Heather McHugh. It would seem that my good fortune knows no bounds, as they say. The weather here is cloudy and I woke last night to the pitter patter of rain, but I slept naked (can I say that, here?) and woke to Canadian birdsong and green treetops. I've made myself coffee and two slices of toast. I've unpacked my suitcase and piled my books on the table beside the bed where I think I'll climb soon. Maybe later I will go for a walk, either to the right and see the town or to the left and see the ocean. Good fortune can come and go, has come and gone and come again.

Respite: The Greatest News Ever

via travelwalls.net

If you cup your ear and lean toward the west, you will hear a big ruckus coming from California. If you lean a little further, you will hear some squeals of surprise and pleasure coming from the Southland. If you lean even further and perhaps nearly tip over your chair, you will hear my tiny yet inexhaustible voice nearly shouting with happiness.

You see, I just received word from Caregifted that I am going to Victoria, British Columbia for a seven-day all-expenses paid trip of rest and relaxation.

!!!!!

What more can I say? Heather McHugh, the esteemed poet who also received a MacArthur genius grant, founded Caregifted as a non-profit organization that aims to bring respite in the form of all-expense paid getaways to full-time life-long caregivers of severely disabled family members.

When I applied for the respite week and wrote about my life and history caring for Sophie, I told them that after nearly eighteen years,  a week-long respite specifically awarded for long-time caregivers seemed more like a dream than a reality.

Good grief. I'm near speechless.