Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Where The Wild Things Are

Every ordinary day begins with the extraordinary fact of life, my own strange and intense and wild conciousness, physical body, the fluxing and working of my heartbeat on the soft of my arm as I fall asleep; the life of this world, it's trees bending in stillness and dance, the bacteria rich soil underneath, the flowers and weeds and plants and large mountains around town, the birds that caw and scrape through the streets, the racoons and coyotes and rabbits, trying to find space for their lives amidst dense suburbia; the lives of my children, the miracle that remains a miracle no matter how many times it is duplicated and experienced, that one body and another body come together and by three months along, an entirely new person with fingernails and legs and eyes and ears and legs that bend and stretch exists deep in the abdomen of the woman: the last miracle, my unborn baby, 12 weeks along, as vigorous and lively and beautiful as the sluice of bird wing through the Spring air, the tremble of wind on leaf, the stamp of my daughter's foot in
puddle.

The First Trimester Screening went easily, 20 minutes of movie viewing for Mr. Curry and I, watching our Biggie Pea kick, bring arms above the head, roll over, push the tiny feet against my uterus in a perfect picture of every bone in the foot. My thyroid is underperforming again, so I'll be upping my dose tonight. All other indicators are good.

The normal for me has always been excrutiating, a fact that absolutely works against a functioning mature adult life. I can guess at my calamatious childhood and it's constant tremulous swingings- the dramatic fights with my parents where my father threw fruit baskets and pots against the wall, screaming, my mother locking herself in her room, also screaming, crying. The constant moving, the evictions, the marriage on the edge of divorce but never falling through until the girls were 17 and 15, already a childhood lived. The poverty, the lonliness, the isolation, the lying, the cruelty. The stories of my parents great love, in the beginning. Thier passion. As a child these things are taken in and received as Communion and forever after you can tell yourself it is not what it was, while your blood boils and believes you not. As an person, I have always craved the elevated, the shaft of light on my face, the eruption of laughter, the timeless love, the absolute convictions, the bright intelligence, the painful struggles.

Every move toward stability- being on time, working the same job, having children, sticking in a marriage, eating the same healthy foods, taking the same healthy vitamins, brush teeth, spit, shower, rinse, repeat- it has taken me my entire adult life to find joy in this. Looking as hard as I possibly could until my eyes teared, to see the possibilities of joy. Reading has been, as always, a great help and equalizer. Lives unseen by me but still experienced and understood, inner workings explained.

I work, I come home, I rest, I clean, I parent, I love, I do as we all do, and this Biggie Pea rides on those calmer seas. I can find wild things, I can make wild things, in bed, with my children, on weekends, in mud puddles and sunshine and beaches and showers and midnight hours and novels and art and singing and whispering and even the fighting and worrying and frustration.
Steph(anie) said...

Yes and yes again.

Claire Beynon said...

Bless you, Maggie May - there can be no doubting you; you are living fully, are fully alive.
Warm greetings to you - Claire

Elisabeth said...

A roller coaster riding with the wild things but surviving nevertheless. I wish you well, Maggie, you and your new life within.

Julia Christie said...

beautifully expressed and written.
So glad to hear baby is thriving!

Warm smiles

Lindsey said...

Wow, Maggie, this is simply incandescently gorgeous. I can so relate to the challenge of finding both peace and excitement in what might feel mundane ... but also the suspicion that somehow this is where the real joy is. My childhood was also tumultuous and has left me craving upheaval in ways I'm just beginning to understand.
Thanks so much for this.

Ms. Moon said...

As my wise counselor once said, "We go to relationship school in our parents' house." And she might well have added, "And every other sort of school as well."
The luckiest of us unlucky ones unlearn the lessons we were unwittingly and unwisely taught before we get too old for it to matter.
You are one of the wisest.

Cheryl said...

Beautiful!

I'm on the same road myself. Don't know if you ever fully get there but I'm determined to enjoy the journey.

svasti said...

Congrats. I'm so glad Biggie Pea is doing so well!!! :)

And yes, you should feel triumphant that despite everything that's been, you are hanging in there, holding it all together. I'm so very pleased for you!

Elizabeth said...

It's good to hear such calm elation in your writing voice. So good.

Therese said...

Maggie May, I love thee!

starrlife said...

How exciting for you guys- it is magical to see isn't it? I love this post- I'll have to go read it again...

Jeanne said...

Maggie, my love, I just now learned that you're pregnant and I'm so joyous-tears-welling-in-my-eyes-happy-for-you!

(Sorry I've been AWOL, but Ellen's story passed the 36,000 word boundary this morning -- kind of like being 12-weeks-pregnant!)

Caroline of Salsa Pie said...

my favorite post ever written by you...

Ruth said...

"As a child these things are taken in and received as Communion and forever after you can tell yourself it is not what it was, while your blood boils and believes you not."

Amen.

Salut! chou chou said...

Poignant and gorgeous...

Just...wow.

Thank you for sharing these thoughts. I do believe that this is where joy lies - the simple things we take for granted that often become mundane.

I love this post.

Phoenix said...

I love this. I think people often mistake routine for not living, but this is not true - there is beauty in order and consistency sometimes, that outshines even the prettiest piece of chaos. And we can create amidst order just as well too - don't let anyone tell you differently.

Annie said...

I love the way you write, as you know, because I've said it before- your honesty and bravery and sensitivity. You feel so much, and your ability to express yourself is exquisite and rare.

I love your description of your baby: "...as vigorous and lively and beautiful as the sluice of bird wing through the Spring air, the tremble of wind on leaf, the stamp of my daughter's foot in puddle."

You capture the richness of experience. It is difficult, at times, to find peace in stability, in "normalcy." Creative people thrive on variety, and respond emotionally. Your writing helps us all, I think, to appreciate the little things, which are not insignificant, but everything. You remind me of my duties, to myself and my family; and why, maybe, sometimes, I have difficulty fulfilling them. You are not alone in your struggles.

Evangeline said...

Beautifully said. Beautifully, beautifully said! I too, struggle with the normal being "excruciating", and sometimes it is so hard to explain why just living this quiet life...getting up every day, no matter how I am feeling on the inside, mothering my children, working at my marriage, keeping the house, running the errands, cooking the meals, rinse & repeat...is a triumph for me. It doesn't look like much from the outside, but inside it is Everest and I am climbing.
My love to the Biggie pea. -xo

Angie Muresan said...

So happy to read contentment in your words.

Miss Grace said...

Yes.

Still Life With Coffee said...

lovely, honest, insightful
just like your posts always are

anymommy said...

You are magical and wild. I am so glad that biggie pea is drifting along just fine.

Lydia said...

the racoons and coyotes and rabbits, trying to find space for their lives amidst dense suburbia is most poignant and thought-provoking in this post...

Petit fleur said...

Congrats for you and the fam! So happy that Biggie Bean is kickin away!

Hang in Maggie, you have lots of invisible support in your bloggie friends.
xoxo pf

just making my way said...

Ah, so beautiful. Lovely you.

deb said...

brilliant.

I felt I could have written it for myself ,
but not like you can... not at all.

Collin Kelley said...

Love this post. So happy for you and Mr. Curry. :) Sending you and the Biggie Pea lots of light and positive energy.

Allegra Smith said...

The sky is clear, the sea is calm, the breeze is welcome, the water is fine and so is sweetpea. Hoping this is the prelude of a wonderful time that you so much deserve. Thinking of you with much affection and thank you for the thoughtful comments while I was ill. You are a dear and I hold you up to my Light.

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