Thoughts from the Heart

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I know many people are stunned by Robin Williams' death. His suicide.

I have no new words to add.

Only a deep feeling. Many deep feelings.

I know he talked about depression and his struggles. I didn't realize his struggles were - this. I didn't realize this was a possibility.

He had it made! Right? He was loved by many - not just the public, but family and friends. He had money. He had talent, oh so much talent. He could make us laugh. I know, sometimes made us laugh at times with pain behind the laughter. He was at the top of everything. It seemed.

I was wrong.

But isn't fame and money and adoration of fans and a following and so much talent enough to keep us safe?

No.

I want to write something profound but I have nothing profound to say. Stunned. Sad. Feeling that my anxiety episodes and complaints and periods of mild or situational depression are nothing. I know they're not, but this. Today. Losing Robin Williams to depression. I'm talking about the collective loss - I know his family's loss is even greater and. And. I have experienced two losses due to suicide - but neither of them were that close. It is always a loss.

But somehow I wouldn't think that we would lose Robin Williams this way.

I want to write a poem for him. But it didn't come, yet, so I'm writing this to add to the thoughts of others.

Here is one piece I've read which I really relate to and like. It's worth the click. Depression is a Duplicitous Asshole by Angela Giles Patel.

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Anna's Poetry Garden

For Anna Ingre

Today a mutual friend reminded me that
tomorrow
is your birthday. But do I say "is" your birthday
for someone who has died or is it proper to say
"was" your birthday because. Well. You died.
But the day is still the day you were born.
Tomorrow is the day which would
have been cause for a celebration. A variety of
friends
some of whom know each other only
through you.
Your small and cozy home filled with people in every room,
spilling from the enclosed front porch with plants
and starts and vines lined along the house's railing,
into the front room entry way where one wall was covered
from floor to ceiling and end to end
with bookcases full of poetry and travel and spirituality
and pleasure books; the other wall covered with your own
artistic creations.
People meandering into the kitchen with dining area separated
by a peninsula which attached
to the wall, so it was not an island standing alone.

And the friends in clumps and covens and snaking through
the house and people would spill out the back door to your
amazing
incredible
lush and productive
garden.
Some people wandering the rows of plants, touching
gently, sniffing deeply, feeling the rich earth
beneath their feet.
Still others under the large overhanging tree.
Sitting or standing as they could or as they desired.

Laughter
Memories
Nodding heads and topics tossed about from the political
to the heart songs to writing and art and
poetry. Therapy, mental health, pets, relationships.

I can still smell the cooking beans and rice, the sauteed onions,
an herbal tea made from your own garden.
I can see the fresh baked goods brought by friends, the basket
of tortilla chips and bowl of salsa, skewers of veggies and
plates of fruit.

Food and friends gathered.
To celebrate you.

I miss the gatherings. I miss your calm and firm manner.
I miss your determination and independence and strength.
I miss talking about writing and gardening and I wish
I would have spent more time with you, writing, listening,
learning.

The passion flower plant you gave us as a raggedy start root
still blooms. Still screens our front porch, giving shade and
cooling our front room.
Every year the plant returns, no matter the winter weather nor
summer heat.
Every year the flowers bloom, a few at a time, until the first
frost. Scattered wild passion flowers, purple, spikey, and white;
surprising.

Today a mutual friend reminded me that tomorrow is your birth day.
Now four years past your death.
May your journey in the other world be kind 
and gentle
and full of passionate poetry
and dancing plants.

by Dot Hearn 5/16/12

photo from eHow

Maurice Sendak Died Today

We've lost another amazing author today. I looked around online, gathering videos and stories and anecdotes. I planned to write something original.

But isn't part of what he did is bring out our universal connections? The things we share - laughter, fears, humor, the dark places?

There is so much available online, so many tributes and stories and so much information, that I have decided to post one video and provide you with a few links. Just as he took us on journeys, I offer these as a starting place for you to take your own journey to discovering more about Maurice Sendak, his writing, his thoughts on writing, and maybe discover a few things about the author, about yourself.

Thank you, Maurice Sendak.

I wasn't able to embed the video, but click this title, NOW with Bill Moyers: Maurice Sendak to go to the interview, which includes a transcript. (I couldn't find a captioned video, but you can scroll through the transcript simultaneously as you watch the discussion).

From The New York Times: Maurice Sendak, Author of Splendid Nightmares, Dies at 83

From ABC News: Maurice Sendak: The Pointed Psychology Behind ‘Wild Things’

From The Guardian: Maurice Sendak obituary

From Huffington Post Maurice Sendak Dead: Stephen Colbert Remembers Author On 'Live With Kelly' (VIDEO)

NaNoWriMo Day Eight: Increasing My Wordhood

Note for those who received the early version of this: This post is for Day Eight. Day Eight. I don't know why I keep doing this - this is the third time in this NaNovember that I've made a day count error. No biggie. I'll blame it on NaNoBrain. *grin*

So, have you noticed that I'm writing out my numbers? I mean, we could argue that it is appropriate - don't the rules of grammar state that we are supposed to write out the numbers up to a certain number, then we can switch to digital representation. But I'm leaving myself an opening here for padded word count if needed.

See, for the unNaNoInitiates, there are ways to increase your word count similar to those spam mails we all get. You know, the ones that say you can "increase your manhood"? Only these are tricks and hints to "increase your wordhood." And one trick is to spell out your numbers and don't use hyphens when you get to numbers of that size. It's legal. And it is grammatical.

So, I'm praciticing. Number = word version, not numerical version.

One trick I'm not using is contraction elimination. See, I've been doing a lot of writing. And I've found a pretty solid and consistent writing voice for a lot of my stories - be they memoir, creative fiction, or pure fiction. And I use contractions a lot of the time - especially in dialogue. Unless, of course, my characters are the type who would never let themselves fall into such a nasty habit as using contractions in their speech. (I do actually know a couple of people who rarely use them; one of them speaks very eloquently and it is natural fit for him - not some bit of snobbery adorned to impress others. Okay, back to what I was saying.)

I am using contractions. But, if it gets down to the wire and I'm behind, I can always go back and do 'find and replace" and expand the contractions out. But I doubt I will. I'm moving along fine in my word count so far. Some stops and starts and I'm not always on track - but - tada - again tonight I got caught back up on my word count after a -0- day on Sunday and a ~500 word day yesterday. So, yes, that means I wrote a lot of words tonight.

And made progress in my story.

Since I doubt I'll "increase my wordhood" any more tonight, I'll call it at an ending word count on day eight of :

13,446

In tonight's writing - we finally got to see some of the promised "Samantha Says Funny Shit" antics. There have been a few little jokes, but nothing to earn her that moniker. Tonight she showed her true colors. And we got to see a little of her sensitive side, too; although, as I'm sure you could guess, that part didn't last long.

Oh - and there is a second death. It was the character I expected to die earlier. Remember when I said someone was drinking coffee on a ladder and I didn't think she'd make it? Well, she did. She was fine and playful and then there was a breakup. And then one of the boys found her dead. Right now, you know as much as I do about her mysterious death. Except that I think it was a suicide - but I'm not sure, yet. It's just a hunch and I've been wrong with this character before.

#SheWriMo

NaNoWriMo day 14

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26,199

26,199

I am trotting along. Little by little I will get this novel written.

I'm not sure why this particular section I'm on is taking so long to develop. Interesting. It was supposed to be a short little side trip down some back story. Instead it has developed into a long running segment that is dramatic. Or should be dramatic, but, personally, I think it's dragging itself out. If I were reading this, I think I'd say "get to the point!" But it's a chase scene which is going to end, I think, with a character dying. But I can't be sure. This is the same character who was supposed to die in the plane crash. But he didn't. And what's more? The plane didn't crash - it made an emergency landing and no one died.

Then a new character showed up at the airport. It's the relative of another character - but he hadn't been in the story before. So now I either have another character to weave in somehow, or I will have two deaths for the price of one.

We'll see. I'm done with my words for tonight. But tomorrow, the fabulous Jenny and I will be meeting at Kettleman's for a couple of hours of furious fingergabbing, er, writing.

Maybe tomorrow he'll die and I can get back to the other story! (It's all related, I promise. Except for the two Nora chapters I'm not sure about, yet.)
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NaNoWriMo day 13

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my current word count is 24,111.

squeezing out bits of the story here and there. in little spurts. disjointed.

the plane is still smoldering but everyone is alive and only two minor injuries. Bill has made it to the parking lot and sees his ride. well, not the ride he thought was picking him up - but someone he knows has come to get him. whew. or is it? is this his death time? since the beginning of the novel the characters told me he would die. i thought it was going to be yesterday - but it wasn't.

i still don't know what's up with Nora. she has a couple chapters but i don't quite know where she fits. other than Bill bought a milagro from her before the plane trip.

and what about the kidnapping?

yes, there is more to discover in this novel. i'm trusting the characters are taking the story somewhere and all of the pieces will come together. or at least, most of them. 
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update on the death of acquaintances

It is still disturbing, though somewhat also relieving, that the death of the people I wrote about a couple days ago may not have been a murder-suicide. That has been a puzzle and a difficult to believe scenario since it first was announced on Monday. Unless the husband snapped and became very mentally unstable, anyone who knows them or knew them could see no way he would ever do that. 

Today there were more details released on where the bodies were located in the house and some other information about the case. There are several things that don't quite add up - and the possibility of a double murder exists, though there are some complications to that theory, too. As well as some facts that make it a possibility.

It does not make their deaths any less of a loss if it was an ex-client of one or random murders or another type of revenge/anger - but it would eliminate the shock that one of a very devoted and loving couple, both passivists, both strongly anti-gun, would turn on the other and then on himself.

The authorities still have it tagged as murder-suicide, but they are still investigating and are open to other options, with some evidence that it may have been something else.

Tragedy, still. Yes.

Sometimes You Don't Get an Answer

This last weekend we learned that the bodies of two people we know were found in their home on the coast (they had a home in Portland, as well). The story progressed from the first discovery and information release that there were two unidentified bodies found in a house belonging to .... insert the names of the people. These are not people that have been active in our lives for many years - but one of them was very significant for a few years, and our professional lives have overlapped or crossed periodically.

So it was a shock and everyone was certain it was the two of them even though they remained unidentified for a couple of days. Then the ID of the bodies were confirmed as them.

Then yesterday afternoon it was announced that it was apparently a murder-suicide. No note. No known reason. Hints that the wife had cancer and had been ill; but it couldn't be confirmed due to the decomposition of the bodies. The reports say that the husband murdered his wife and then killed himself.

There have been several of this same type of incident around the area for the past few weeks (husband shoots wife, sometimes others, then kills himself). But, having known the husband and the wife in this case, this seems odd. It's a shock. He was not the type of person to have done something like this - especially not with a gun.

But we will never know, most likely.

So, for now, we grieve. We process our shock. And we feel our anger. We let the feelings pass through. These are strong feelings and they bring up other experiences.

For me, it brings back some of the surprise and confusion and, yes, anger, from when my massage therapist - who was also a friend - killed herself several years ago. She had been going through a tough time, took some time off from her practice, got better and went back to work for a number of months. Then, something snapped, and she committed suicide. I had known her for many years and I took it very hard. With her, I knew she was having some mental health issues - but she seemed to be doing well and presented as stabilized.

With this recent situation, neither my partner nor I were any longer close with either of them - but my partner has a good friend who was friends with the wife. Both of the couple worked at the same university where my partner works (which is where my work sometimes took me in peripheral contact with him in the last couple years). But it is still a surprise - there are several factors that just don't add up with the people as we knew them, and according to the people we know who have been friends with them more recently.

What happened? We don't know and may never know. What we do know is that it is a loss to the communities in which they lived and worked and the people who know them. It is a ripple in our energy "field" of existence and our community of the people who have been significant throughout our lives - a loss.

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