Pascal’s Gift

And Other Beautiful Things

Hi Y’all,

Don’t let two episodes two weeks in a row fool you. I’m not reviving my weekly writing schedule. But I do have a few things to declare, hence another installment on the heels of last week’s tribute to Monte’s Magic. I’m happy to report the magic has continued—I’m seeing it everywhere.

Yesterday—Sunday June 7th—was the one-year anniversary of Sweet Pascal’s death. She’s never far from my mind but her presence was extra present yesterday. I jumped in Barton Springs in the spot that always makes me think of her. Later, back at the ranch, I Iooked out my kitchen window/altar and saw at last that THE PASSIONFLOWERS were in full bloom.

I mentioned last week that the passionflowers I planted in Pascal’s memorial garden had yielded one gorgeous garnet bloom the other day. Yesterday’s passionflowers were part of another vine I put in last year out back. I thought it had died entirely after a freeze, but I was wrong. One lone strand survived and climbed and expanded. It grew up a fence post and gained purchase on the back of my tin peacock, a sculpture I have in memory of Jason. That peacock’s big tin fan had fallen off. No worries. Because now the bird has a majestic, thick fan of passionflowers. I’d had an eye on the vine for weeks, waiting for the purple explosion. Of course it came on Pascal’s anniversary. Jack the Cat and I spent a good bit of time meditating upon it.

In fact the entire ranch is a technicolor masterpiece right now—Thank you Mother Nature. Wildflowers are abundant, it is a verdant wonderland thanks to the endless rain. The only downside to all this growth is that my beloved rider mower shit the bed last week. This prompted great anxiety for a couple of reasons.

First of all, anytime anything breaks my central nervous system twists in tight knots. A residual childhood trauma response. When I was little, anytime anything broke—even the most innocent of accidents—it was like the world was ending. Whoever did the breaking was BAD and GOING TO HELL and IN SO MUCH TROUBLE. I’ve done enough therapy to recognize these feelings when they arrive and to remind myself that’s an old tape playing, that I’m not in trouble and there is no hell. Still, the visceral stress rears its head and I cannot rest until I fix whatever is broken.

The problem with such reactivity is that life in general is full of things breaking. Life at a ranch is exponentially so. Thus I have endless opportunities to fret because something—a goat, a machine, a toilet, a heart—is forever breaking. On the bright side is that, eleven years into this adventure, I have learned to comfort myself, remind myself that whatever feels shitty will, eventually, pass. For the record (yours and mine) this has proved to be true 100% of the time, though admittedly it can take a very, very long time for some bouts of anxiety to subside.

One thing I did to soothe myself regarding the lawn mower—which is now at a shop in Buda and please Baby Jesus let the warranty cover the repairs—is that I reminded myself that I now know how to ask for help. Not always. Not consistently. But often enough. Toward that end, recently a close friend came to me, noted that mowing is extremely helpful as an antidote to his anxiety, and offered to help with the lawn, which is growing like a cross between a 70s time-lapse filmstrip of bursting flowers and a Fuzzy Pumper Barbershop client. I said YES. And I told myself that his dedication is such that he will, if necessary, make the lawn nice with scissors. (Shortly after I had this thought he sent a text saying those very words.)

So everything’s going to be as okay as it can be. I’m going to keep missing Pascal and also I’m going to keep my heart open to her messages. One way or another the lawn will get done before an upcoming wedding (one of two I had booked prior to deciding no more weddings out here).

And I keep thinking about Monte’s reminder to reframe things. That really came in handy last week when, first thing Monday morning, I got stung by a wasp for the second time in a week. The Monday morning sting was right in the face, just above my eye, and just as I knew it would, my whole face swelled up like a pig’s ass and my eye slammed shut. A great photo op! Also a reminder of how incredible the human body is. Sure I might look like shit, but this is the face of a person with a working immune system. (Aside: This past Saturday I had a third wasp sting. I am really over the wasps.)

That’s the report for this week—another reminder to look for the beauty please. It really is out there. Here are some excellent examples.

JOY & BEAUTY DEPARTMENT

Mercy turns TWO on June 12th! A novelist and a poet from Nepal visited the museum. And my buddies at the Starbucks in the Hilton next to the museum hooked me up with a free shot of something with a lot of chocolate and sugar and whipped cream and OMG!!

_{I made my AC guy a cake because I really like him and also it’s a good idea to keep your AC guy happy. And I treated myself to a Sandy’s dip cone and cheap sunglasses when my eye was swollen shut.}

THE LAWN MOWER REPORT

INVITES

_{IGNORE THE INCORRECT DATE. THAT QR Code will get you where you need to go}

A door closes, a window opens. My writing workshops at San Marcos Public Library and Hyde Park Theatre are going away at the end of June. HOWEVER! I am now adding a second Ranch Writing Day every month. These events are so powerful. We write for an hour or so and then we share our stories. Also I bake delicious pastries. It’s donation based. I do need you to register (it’s free to register). USE THIS LINK. All levels welcome including total beginners!

I am leading a workshop for women on August 22 at Loom Creative Studio in Cedar Creek. A GORGEOUS location! Space is very limited. Details are here: Spike’s Loom Creative Workshop.

Hampton Branch Library Writing Meetups will continue. First and third Tuesday of every month. 5:30-7:30. Free. Just show up.

Here is Little Baby Mercy as a puppy. She now weighs 90 pounds.

Wishing y’all a beauty-filled week.

Love,

Spike