Today at 12:30 Steve and I saw Neal Stephenson interviewed by Kevin Kelly at The Interval at Fort Mason. We then looked out at the Golden Gate Bridge and watched two sea lions frolic as we enjoyed Meyer lemon fettuccini and spring rolls at Greens restaurant.
This evening I started reading some of Neal Stephenson. The book starts out in Iowa which makes sense since he grew up in Ames, Iowa. My mother, father, and I moved to Ames from Chicago when I was six weeks old. Later we moved to Des Moines, and then to a house on the Mississippi River near LeClaire, Iowa, home of the Buffalo Bill Museum.
Something of my brother’s passing has memories percolating through, dropping like the ladybugs that are currently swarming and migrating to drop down and eat aphids and lay eggs.
What’s the connection, you might ask. Well, for the last few years I’ve been working on my book Airing Out the Fairy Tale: Trekking through Nepal & Midlife, which required a great deal of memory retrieval since the focus was on my trek in Nepal twenty-five years ago. Though the book has been out for over a month, today there was a shift and I recognized it’s done. My brother has passed and the book is complete, and my head is shaking to clear all its been holding, to let it go, and open to spaciousness and what will come.
I’m letting go, and in that letting go, I pause to even more clearly and rapturously notice the vibrancy of the nature I am and of which I’m part. Memories float down like blossoms, ladybugs, and ash. The pause gives me strength. I birth.