Yesterday, after work, I went out for a beer with one of my best friends. She has recently moved to Wisconsin, so we're not going to be seeing much of each other any more. We sat out on a sunny patio, drank, solved the world's problems, and ate some bread sticks and French fries. It was lovely and put me in a wonderful mood.
Last night, I led a poetry workshop at the Joy Center in my home town. It's a little artists' retreat in the middle of the woods, and it is a place that fills me with peace even at the most chaotic times of my life. The focus of the workshop was Woody Guthrie and his music. We listened to various singers covering Woody's songs, and then I gave the writers prompts based on the songs. I was again with people I love--writer friends I've known for many years. It was heart-opening, honest, and inspiring. It filled my cup to the brim.
When I got home, my wife was out with friends. As many of the devoted disciples of this blog know, my wife struggles with bipolar disorder. Recently, she has been teetering on the brink of a manic episode. She hasn't been sleeping well and has been impulsive and irritable. At around midnight, when my wife got home, I knew it was going to be a long night. Midnight rolled into one o'clock, and she was still up, unable to quiet her mind. Around 1:30 a.m., she hopped into my car and went for a drive. She came back a little after 2 a.m.
She told me that she'd been sitting by a lake close to our house, praying and talking to her mother, who died of ovarian cancer when my wife was in her first years of college. As she was relating the story, I could sense that she was calmer, ready to come to bed, and I sent up a little thank you to God and Saint Anthony (who is my saint of choice--he's worked some miracles in my life).
It was a long and exhausting night. Yet, through it all, I kept on coming back to Woody Guthrie, and his most famous song. "This Land is Your Land." I kept singing one lyric over and over: "As I was walking that ribbon of highway, / I saw above me that endless skyway; / I saw below me that golden valley; / This land was made for you and me."
I don't know why that was stuck in my head, but it made me feel a little hopeful. Like I was going to make it through. That someone was watching over my wife.
She isn't out of the woods yet. There still has to be medication adjustments and sleep. Lots of sleep. She's still spinning (a little less stridently), and I don't know what tonight is going to bring for us.
But, because of Woody Guthrie's song, which is still playing on repeat in my head, I think I may be able to fall asleep tonight as the moon crosses the endless skyway.
Taken by Saint Marty a little while ago . . .
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