I've been gone long enough.

It was July, 2000, and I was sitting by the side of the pool, watching my Summer school students laugh the way through their swimming lessons. I was struck mid-splash with the proverbial bolt of lightning inspiration to return to college. Two weeks later I was enrolled full-time in the the Art program at Southern Oregon University.

I never would have fathomed that it would be eleven years later and I would not be back in a classroom.

Yet.

I'm ready and excited for now.

I miss my work with the classroom-challenged warriors of academia. I have always been inspired by the perseverance these students employ, showing up day after day to a place that is frustrating at best, confounding and defeating at worst.

I am a proud advocate for the brilliance in all of us - it isn't always found on paper or in the results of a pop quiz. It is the teachers I worked with in Oregon who taught me how to be flexible and responsive to the needs of students around me. They showed me that being present, being truly with each student was the key to success. Teachers are true heroes and I miss my work with them, learning from them and laughing with them at the end of a well-earned good day, as much as I miss the work with students.

I am so looking forward to getting back into it all, ready for all the new lessons awaiting us...

Leaving on a Jet Plane

My son is leaving home, flying away in that way that we all do - if we're fortunate enough to have the wings and means and way
and curds.
I am proud and sad for him, that I don't have more to send him with... more money, more inspiration, more of an example. I sleep a lot. I eat a lot. I read a lot. I watch a lot of movies. I sit and think a lot. I smoke a lot. I want a lot. These are the things he has learned from me... I wanted to say I laugh a lot and write a lot and swim a lot and meditate a lot and bake a lot.
I don't.
My lots pretty much has my day covered.
I'm happy a lot.
this is true. without really understanding how it can be true, without being able to give examples of a happy life that other humans would recognize and agree with, I am a happy person. I am loved and I love. a lot.
well, there you go.
Fly, Garrison Cleveland Bennett Burrell. I love you a lot.
+8

I am a fat fuck

As my husband reminded me this afternoon, I am a fat fuck.
When Rose asked me, with her wise and teeth less mouth, what is a fat fuck?
I told her she should ask her dad, wanting him to be feel ashamed of his words.
She suggested that it probably means fat mama, and I agreed, feeling sad that she had heard him abuse me.
Really, though, he's telling it straight up. no chaser.
I am a fat fuck.
a round romp.
a large lay. a voluminous vagina.
a cavalcade of cunt and a tidal wave of tits.
huge heart and loud laugh. strong spirit and wise ways.
I am big and beautiful and he is blessed.

I will remember to tell her in the morning, first thing.
Him, I don't have to say a word.

43 and one half today

Ah, that esteemed 1/2 year day today... I like to look back on this half of my 43rd year here and say,
I laughed more and peed my pants less.
amen.

Something Good this way Comes

Really, with all of the strange and sadly balanced acts of that weekend, falling back into the Klamath River is the only thing I remember without trying... not the walking away from the crowd in the 110 plus heat to splash into the water, nor the playing with Gary in the shallows before I walked out to the middle.
It's just the leaning back, the surrender that revisits me. that resonates.
I am still amazed by the feeling of awe and confusion that reigns... I am amazed that I can retain the feeling of wonder and pure wondering at where those words could have come from - they so literally came to me,
Something good this way Comes
as I was falling out of that blazingly hot blue sky into the startling cold of the river,
and I still don't know why.
I hadn't seen any reference to
Something Wicked this way Comes recently, and I certainly hadn't been thinking it... I was making the best of the saddest of times - Marley was not newly dead by then, but this camping party of sobbing song and celebration scrubbed the loss all fresh and spanking new again... add to that Steve's lazily wicked bad mood and heavy drinking to sleep with at night and I guess
really
there wasn't anywhere else to land on that crazy heat-stroking mirage of a day but with the hope of something good coming on the wings of spreading my arms out wide in escape from the fire and
grief
underwater.
To let go, fall back with such a conscious intention
without intending to,
was such an act of sanity,
I think I am still waiting to feel the weight lifted off of me by the clarity of the moment.

Why does that still make me so sad? WAS there something more I was supposed to get from that moment? I feel
yes
I am still to fulfill, to find, to feel the
something good
and I still don't know the way.
or the this.
or even the good.

It feels like lazy and wicked is all I can seem to muster. all I know.
wicked. No, that's not quite right.
not wicked evil. wicked frustrated, wicked fed the fuck up with suffering. wicked cornered.
I feel like I need to be helicoptered to a safe place, like a moose or bear that has been foraging too closely to a village. I've gotten a taste for food I don't have to chase and now I'm dangerous.
Just strap that pulley around my belly, drug me up enough so I won't struggle during the trip, and drop me off in a valley of my own.
I promise I'll leave your garbage alone.

plans of action

I know I'm onto something,
now that the words are not enough... I have been distracted
and compelled
and depressed
and inspired
by so many words these recent days that it has come as stark relief to feel myself feeling way beyond words - stopped and started in my tracks by the cavalcade of understanding that has arrived on the Santa Ana winds - fires raging, sun blazing, cool floor beneath my feet. The truth of these and all the other wordless things of my day
after day
speak for themselves nicely
thank you very much
and all I have to know is that
I am ready to use the words required to tell the story of me, just the truth
maam
mama
without needing to know that anyone else hears me... as long as the right action I employ gets me where I need to go, validation from anyone else is finally
quietly
not required.

Which makes me laugh, of course, as Rose dances around me to the Pepto Bismol commercial blare-selling from the tv... if I'd only known that I'd find the confidence and fortitude to tell my truth once I was living without a need for words to explain it all.

I have crab cakes to make now.

a letter to Rosie O'Donnell

11/22/07
Dear Ro,
I tried to say all of this in 200 characters or less. Over and over. It just made me cry harder. So... I’m going to try and send it in bursts - Of light and gratitude. I know we can connect and be better for the time shared. this much is true. I am a woman with a girl’s bursting heart, too... I just finished ‘Find Me’ - they shatter and heal me at the same time, your truth. I grew up in Ashland, Oregon, and I was stunned to know my beloved hometown is part of your journey... have you ever been? Take a walk in the furthest reaches of Lithia Park... past the dammed swimming hole, off to the right & around the corner. Up there, past that clearing, there’s a faerie pond up at the very end that is what it is. Fall back into it is my invitation. Just stretch your arms out & lay back into it all. Somehow I can’t stop crying tonight at the raw & thrumming kindness you shared with Melissa, & clearly possess in super-hero depth, your mortal flagellation to the contrary. Please honor yourself for the courage you have. It’s so much more than narcissism you are playing out ... Sharing the light in each of us is the closest thing to religious communion I believe in... the energy of our true heart is worth letting go of fear for, isn’t it? The only way out, & in, uh-huh. With every bit of willingness to share your truth, you help me. Savor your empowerment. Wield it as the sword of right action that it is! I have been forced for so many single-mom years to focus my energy toward keeping the lights on and the rent paid, it is so sad to know that you struggle to find lasting comfort in the Nelson Mandela shine of succeeding that you have cascading all around you. You have been an inspiration from the first grainy late night stand up routine I had the privilege of watching through the last episode of the View that I stood staring a gape at in the living room with my broom in one hand and dust-bunnied crayons in the other - well into the commercial break I was standing there shaking my head at the blaring-selling tv and saying the same thing over and over, a bit louder each time with my building energy at the realization of what had transpired. "You fucking ROCK, Ro!", until my own Ro, Rose Olivia Nicotiana Burrell-Lambo, got a tad worried at my vehemence and calmed me down with a quiet, "Mama, help cereal me." I did indeed cereal her, and as she ate, I cried. I knew it was the end of our time together at the table with a view. Much like I have cried tonight, after finishing ‘Find Me’. I feel like we should be friends, decoupaging and embarrassing our children with our insistent humor and songs. Instead I feel the displacement and distance of reality, the truth that you are a world away from me... much like when I watch my brother on screen. I know that nostril flare he has, and that twitch in his face but he is utterly and absolutely out of my reach at that moment. Somehow, tonight I am much sadder at knowing I am missing the chance to connect with a friend I don't know. I feel foolish, is the truth, and intensely determined to bridge the distance, make a reality out of what I have that helps me - and helps you. Isn't that wild? My perseverant feelings are really rooted in the belief that I can help YOU... I tried to go to sleep telling myself maybe I could get a letter to you through my brother - but the tears just kept leaking out. Incontinence of the eyes. Of the heart, I have. Uncontrollable feeling I am moved by... thank you so much for trying. I will work hard, and sweetly soft too, to keep trying - My brother (Ty Burrell) has shown that our deepest dreams of sharing our hearts can come true. You may have seen his work...small parts in ‘Friends with Money’, ‘In Good Company’, ‘The Darwin Awards’ and he plays Gary Kreshevski on ‘Back to You’ this Fall (Fox, Wednesdays) He is the best person I know, and I hope you get to meet him someday. He has been an inspiration for me to keep writing, to keep trying. To believe that what I have endured & have been fortunate enough to experience are in equal measure pure right action. To tell my story will benefit the universe, even if it’s my small world of friends and children and brothers. I know I have a sister in my universe, too, doing her best to have fun & turn to the light whenever she forgets. Truly the deepest of gratitude for your time and energy, Reagan