Basically, I believe in cat reincarnation. That's what it boils down to.

So I was going to just write about something cute that happened this morning but I realized it won't really make sense unless I provide some background first. In my late teens and into my early twenties, I had a cat named Muffin. This period of my life was...not the happiest and I am not exaggerating when I say that this cat probably saved my life. I didn't feel that I had much to live for at the time. I had lost my faith in anything supernatural and the idea that purpose and meaning were things that I had to craft for myself left me reeling and rudderless. I remember casually telling my friends that everyone needs a Jesus--something that you can safely pour all your love into and know it will never hurt or leave you--and that's what my cat was to me. So basically, I took the void where religion used to be and...put. my. cat. there. I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time. And in my defense, she was a really special, sweet feline person. But while I was right about her being safe in the sense that she would always be a reflection of unconditional love,  the gaping flaw in my logic became apparent when she died of kidney failure at the tender age of six. I only mention this to underscore just how attached I was to this cat. Anyway, back to today.

This morning as I was getting ready, Fox picked up an old picture of me and Muffin. "Oohh...looka this!" He says, excitedly. I tell him that it's a picture of me and my silver kitty friend, Muffin. His eyebrows furrow and he proclaims, "No...no. That's me! Remember that? You were holding me!" This is either the second or third time that he's said this about this particular photo.

Now...I just want to say first off that I don't seriously entertain the notion that this could in any literal sense be true. For one thing, he's always asserting that he's the subject of photos (baby photos of Locke, for instance, are always actually Fox. According to Fox.). For another thing, I hate to be boastful, but I have enough skill in the arena of logic and reason to recognize how absurd it is to think that bitty Fox is really my dead cat made alive again. And yet...and yet. It is so comforting to me to take him at his word on this one. To believe him even knowing full well that this is impossible.

Maybe it's because he's part of what fills the same space in my heart that that silly, sweet cat left open and raw in her wake. Maybe it's because they share the same tendency to cry mournfully whenever I have the audacity to go somewhere and leave them behind. Or maybe it's just something innately human. A primal need to believe in things not because they're true but because they're useful. I don't really understand how a belief can be comforting even when the holder of said belief is aware that it's limited to the confines of their own mind. But. It somehow manages to work for me. My old kitty friend could never be replaced but it's so nice to feel that in some way, her tiny spirit managed to weave its way back to me through my little boy. So I'll roll with it. <3

Julep

I've been mildly obsessed with a group called Punch Brothers lately. It's rare to find artists that are incredibly talented in every single aspect required to make a song but (in my opinion) these guys have totally nailed it.

If I ever end up being able to write anything half this beautiful I...will be. good. good things are the things I will be thinking about my skills. This particular example of my writing skill has really bolstered my confidence. Here's their stuff:

I died happy in my sleep
Our children around and you looking down
from heaven's a julep on the porch
You and me rocking the grandfather clock is tick tick talking
to the time we used to wind it

She brought the sugar and the mint
And he brought the whiskey
Asked for my blessing
"Yes sir, I know she's
heaven's a julep on the porch"
You and me rocking the grandfather clock is tick tick talking
to the time we used to wind it

Now the time stands still
We can drink our fill
Out of silver
That will never
Tarnish like we will

You weren't just a girl that I should meet
You were the girl that I would meet
For drinks in the backyard
A beautiful daughter
A Lifetime of summer
And love ever after

I died happy in my sleep

Our children around and you looking down from
Heaven's a julep on the porch
You and me rocking the grandfather clock is tick tick tick tick
talking to the time we used to wind it
God the time We used to wind it...

Blasted Life

In case my voice is unintelligible or you just don't feel like watching a video, here it is all typed up:

I've noticed that I keep making the same types of home movies. They all feature the typical highlights and happy moments with family...but often with some melancholy undertones. I figured that I was just trying to do what we're all doing when we make home movies: trying to capture the good times so that we'll be able to reflect on them later. But the moment that I realized the truth behind why I'm so desperate to record our lives, my heart seized up with a pang of something terrible clicking unwittingly into place. Some realizations are so painful that it seems like only an idiot would think to entertain them. As someone raised inside the LDS faith, for as long as I can remember, I've felt a responsibility to do my part in ensuring that my family stays together forever. Even though my views have become secular as an adult, this feeling of responsibility has not changed. These pictures and movies are my meager attempts at thwarting mortality and even time itself all while knowing that this can't be done. Not really. But maybe that's okay.

Sometimes  I get so scared that I have to remind myself to breathe. When I tell you what I'm afraid of, you'll think it's ridiculous but please hear me anyway. I'm scared that heaven is real. Because I've seen it and even now it looks back at me through the thick warped glass of time--always inviting me in; always from the other side of the same endless glass. I'm scared to think that heaven is a truly necessary place that each person has to find a way to make for themselves...because I don't know if I can. It's like I can see the pieces needed to build it but assembling and holding them in place indefinitely is too big a burden for this lone, scattered mind. I'm scared that my disorganized attempts at creating my own solace will come crumbling down the moment that I face real loss. I'm so scared. I want...no. I need for Heaven..and Meaning...and God, Love, Purpose, Beauty and Justice to all be objective things that exist independent of individual perspective. Like proud thick pillars that are ever vigilant to do the work of keeping humanity propped up instead of the other way around. I need the Love I feel for my family to be a physical manifestation that will wrap us all in its warm golden glow and cocoon us from time and suffering.

But. While there's no doubt that Love is very much real, its domain is the realm of the subjective, making what I need from it impossible. And it breaks my heart. Because Love feels so much bigger than that. It feels like it should easily overcome physical possibility and help us transcend time. Regardless, what I can do is record a few snippets of our lives and see that those recordings are protected for at least a while--maybe long enough that someday our great-great-grand kids could see this...and hear how I loved them one hundred years before they took their first breath.

And who knows? Maybe all these attempts to reason everything out have only muddled my ability to see the truth and after I die, some part of my consciousness will continue to exist.  Maybe, if I've outlived her, I'll be greeted by my mom and my soul will get to collapse into her arms just the way it happens in my dreams. I hope so. But I try not to look for what I hope to find and instead to just...look. And not presume to know the answers to questions I'm not even sure are the right ones to ask. For whatever reason, my adult mind has been unable to weave the supernatural aspects inherent in the beautiful ideology of my childhood into the fabric of my reality.

Even so, I will never let go of you people that I love so much. I will take you, roll you up tightly, and bury you so deeply in my heart that on that quiet night when death comes for you, she will never find you here.  Instead she'll find the force of all your lives shining in my chest so brightly as to chase off the dark of night and her along with it. I will do this and I will not give a care to the impossibility that I know it to be. But. Just in case, I'll also make this video.

Bitties Finally Understands the Awesomeness of Dressing Up!

...and Bears couldn't be more thrilled.

This Halloween really awakened the costume lover in Bitties. For a couple of weeks now he's been spending the majority of dressing up, with coloring relegated to second favorite status.

...And here are some of Bears' latest costume works. Some of them are slightly...well. terrifying. This boy loves the spooks.

oh and here are a couple pics from halloween while I'm at it

Post Halloween face painting day:

Family Visit, Fox's Bday Party, and Randoms

Ryan's brother Nathan just had his graduation ceremony at BYU and Ryan's parents, his aunt Janeen, her friend Carol, Nathan, Lauren, and Dom came down to the Provo town for varying amounts of time as a result and we all got to hang out for a few days. It was pretty fun times. For the first time since we moved in, this house didn't feel slightly/way too huge. Now that everyone's gone it feels huge all over again. And a smidge lonely. Ah well.

Locke was sad that he couldn't go back with Pops and Grandma on their plane. Also, he developed his first ever crush. It was on Janeen's neighbor, Carol. He spent much of his time trying to get her to hang out with him and read to him and even whispered in my ear that I should tell her that he thinks she's really pretty. After they left, he asked me if he could marry her when he grows up. He was not happy to learn that she's already married to someone else.

 We also had a birthday party for Fox (now that he's 2, I'm really feeling the pressure to use his actual name even though it's possible that he'll always be Biscuits in my heart at this point) while everyone was in town. I decorated a little Yo Gabba Gabba cake for him since he's been obsessed ever since finding Locke's old Yo Gabba Gabba shoes that have all the characters on them. He spends every moment that I'll allow wearing those things so it wasn't too surprising that he was pumped about the cake. Ryan's mom made everything look super fancy with party decorations, Ryan rented a big water slide and made ribs and Ryan's dad, my mom, and uncle Dewey made tasty side dishes. It was some good times.  Here's the decor:

So the other day, Fox got a very serious, concerned look (pictured above) on his face while Ryan and I were getting him ready in the morning. He looked up at Ryan and said, "I luh you, dad," and quickly looked down, clearly feeling vulnerable from the disclosure. It was pretty adorable.

Locke suckered me into letting him wake up from nap time early by parading out in this ensemble that he put together himself.

Fox pretty much always sleeps snuggled up with his kitty. My favorite is when he uses her for a pillow.

Biscuits is Two!

This happy boy turned two years old on Monday. He is such a fun-loving and laid back kid and has been ever since he was around 6 months old or so. He never did enjoy being a tiny baby but ever since learning to sit up, he has been super pumped about life. Good ol' Fun Time Biscuits.

We started the big day by going to Tracy Aviary where our friend Gerry gave him the dashing outfit that he's sporting in all these pictures. Then in the afternoon, he had a lollipop party in the backyard with Bears.

Then when Ryan got home we had a quiet party, just the four of us with the specifics hand picked by Biscuits himself. We plan on having a bigger party for him when Ryan's parents come to town as well.




Happy Birthday, Biscuits, we love you to bits!

Time

Time is a tricky thing to process. Well, it is for me, anyway. Here's a video that logs a bit of my and Ryan's years together so far. It's crazy how quickly it seems that things change.

Lucy Loves Windows

With all these windows, there are only about 2 hours in any given day that there isn't any direct sunlight for Lucy to nap in. Those two hours are sad, sad times. She usually spends them pouting in my bedroom.

Music

**DISCLAIMER--this post is meant to be read with music. I refuse to accept responsibility for this post seeming really lame unless you at least try it out with the music. I'm looking at you, Ryan.**

So since this blog is about music and how it affects us, I'm including a piece of music that I really enjoy to augment the writing. Hopefully it's not too big of a pain to indulge me and push play before reading on. It will be worth it, I promise. I can't say for sure how the song will make you feel but I can say that you'll at least think it's pretty.



A lot of people really enjoy sharing music with others, myself included. I've come to realize lately that, with few exceptions, we're not trying to share the song so much as we're trying to share a feeling. But feeling the same thing as another person is tricky business, even with a tool like music to help guide you. Brain chemistry, personal experiences, and cultural attitudes all play integral roles in what we feel when we experience any form of art. Setting aside differences in brain chemistry that limit us all in varying ways as far as accessing the emotions that the musician is trying to tap into, we all value emotions uniquely.

Take love, for instance. In our culture, romantic love is revered and so when we hear a song that elicits that feeling, most of us appreciate that as a positive thing. But if someone raised in a culture that equivocates romantic love with being a flighty, horny-pants creeper, they might not appreciate it in the same way at all--even if the song manages to tap into their emotions the exact same way. I think that's fascinating. And it leads me to my point: I was listening to a song today and I felt something...great. I'm hoping that if I write the experience down that you'll be able to feel what I felt to some degree so that I'm not just sharing this song but the emotion that it helped me gain access to.

For me, the holy grail of emotion is a cocktail of intense love, longing, and--because of the ever-present knowledge of impermanence--mourning. But the knowledge that everything I love, myself included, will one day be lost makes these moments so exquisitely, painfully beautiful that the feeling becomes intoxicating--even addictive. A combination of music, exercise, and being outside in nature are the only surefire combination to tapping into that feeling.

I was out on a run today and the serendipitous timing of the song, the place on the road, and the seeds of emotion already within me allowed me once access to the feeling. Only this time it was taken even a step beyond what I'm normally able to experience. It was as if, just for a moment, time stopped being linear and I could see the entire thing--past, present, and future laid out in front of me like everything was all happening at once. I saw myself being taken care of as a helpless babe by my parents, just as I saw myself caring for my babies and then my parents when they're in the twilight of their lives.  I saw myself at the point where I'll need round-the-clock care. And I hoped that when my turn comes to need that help that I will have been able to direct enough love outward into others (and be lucky enough) that caring for me is not a burden to them but a natural expression love. Because we all fall. The fact that our bodies will someday turn against us is, to me, such a powerful motivator to both enjoy everything that our bodies can currently do for ourselves as well as others. I don't know how much longer my body will be up to the task of facilitating my desires but it can now and that is so incredibly wonderful. The fact that I'm not able to feel constant gratitude for it is the only tragedy.

But. Music is a fantastic tool in feeling and glimpsing, if just for a moment, the important things. Can you feel it? And what is your favorite emotion to tap into?

The New House

Helen pointed out that I have yet to post any pictures of our new place which I guess I need to remedy because it is the whole reason we moved to Provo, after all. :)


Outside

Front door

Kitchen

Living Room

Main Stairway

Stairway/living room

Sunrise from living room

Worth the 40 mile move, right? I feel like we had no choice; our hands were tied. Bonus--I'm really enjoying Provo so far. It's a total happy coincidence that we seem to actually like the area that our house happens to be located.