[Fandfs] January 7, how things are here

The photo below was taken by Ian Helfer. Christmas Eve, Cynthia singing carols with 2 daughters.

Scroll down for to find a letter underneath the photo.

Dear Family and Friends

So here we are. It is January 7 and Cynthia has made it beyond Christmas, as she promised. Visits by friends are most welcome. Please let us know when you are planning on coming, and give a phone call just before you come to make sure Cynthia is awake.

And how is Cynthia doing, you ask? Well, what do I know? She told Sally Kempton and Karen Osborne when they visited earlier this week that she figured she was good for another two years. She is up in the living now most days, reclining on a hospital bed that makes it easier for her to be up or down or somewhere in between. Lying on the living room couch she would sort of disappear into the cushions and never seemed quite comfortable. Cynthia is reading again, her usual wide variety of newspapers and books are stacked on the coffee table. When Sarah arrived this evening Cynthia was reading The Tempest. Also she is exercising those tired old legs of hers. Use them or loose them holds true for legs, and having not used them she must now work every day to regain some stability.

Having friends visiting is truly the best medicine. Something quite magical has happened here, and I don't know exactly how to articulate just what that is. And it has not just happened, but has been happening. There has been a distinct and radical change going on here, that of Cynthia into a Cynthia who is a fragile little old lady, an invalid even, one could say. What is happening here is a shift about the way Cynthia is being Cynthia.. In years past I would often house sit when Cynthia went away, be that to Japan or just for a few days off to LA. And when she was gone the place felt, well, soulless. I would do all the same things that Cynthia did, but there was something missing, something very large. Karen, Sally and I talked about the phenomenon of "holding the space", Cynthia somehow, through her magical Cynthia power's, her strong spirit, has been for years holding the space for people to enter into, and when entered, some magic happened. It is about being, not so much about "doing". (She did "do"; I remember my mother in her 40's, what a lot of energy she had and how many adventures she embarked on, be it folk dancing, salmon fishing, or (best of all), camping at Rocky Creek).

During the 10 to 15 days when she was in another dimension, in and out of her dream state, she seemed much like the oracle at Delphi. She slept often, and when awake she had visitors, if she was up for it. And people came to see her, as we feared she would not be with us by Christmas time, and people wanted a last audience with the Mother of All Mothers. Like the oracle, the words Cynthia spoke were seen as metaphors, and analyzed or just enjoyed for their "deeper meaning". Things seemed simple and straightforward. What was not important fell away.

What followed was a time of confusion for Cynthia while her mind tried to make sense of what was happening. Her surrendering to being cared for by others, bathed by others. And slowly, with each day, she is, little by little, coming back. However, her mind will never really return to where it was, it is in a different place now. Just takes some getting used to. She will not leave us this month, and she may even make it to Easter or perhaps into next year and beyond. But there is no way to see into the future. But I would say to all of you, it you want to come to visit with Cynthia, don't delay. (April is coming to spend a week with us for Molly's upcoming birthday, and Susan will be coming from England at Eastertime. Gregson is arriving on Sunday).

I digress.

Memories of my mother come quickly and often to me these days. She was always reading, and she was actually really very interested to know who you were, no matter who you were. She listened. She was interested. She was empathetic and sympathetic. But you know, I can't think of her teaching me things in a formal way. It was more learning by watching. The kitchen, when I think on it, that was where we had the most "directed" teaching. First she would make me read the entire recipe and check we had all of the ingredients, how I used to bridle at these rules.

I have never mastered Cynthia's mellow kitchen vibe. I can't make a meal without at least once sort of freaking out about something. She just pealed those green beans while you talked and likely drank tea in the garden. Later she would have a glass of wine and go into the kitchen and cook while being engaged with what ever was going on. And when you came into the living room, there was usually something going on. (Alan Marcus called it Cynthia's Ashram in the writings for Cynthia on her 90th birthday). Every evening long about 7PM dinner would appear on the tea-wagon (what a great thing, that tea-wagon!). Dinner would appear with no apparent muss or fuss, and with such good timing all of the dishes would be done at the same time and would be served hot. (Aye!, how I took this all so for granted, and Aye!, how useless I was as a teenager in regard to kitchen chores. Being a forth child I always figured that my mother was tired of giving direction to unresponsive teen agers and knew it was wasting her breath. I think she thought we were our own persons and that we were basically sound in our reason and that we would be motivated when we were so. She found nagging not to her liking and unproductive in terms of results. The kitchen, and a sweep of the living room floor, this was her late night ritual.

And TIME, she always had the time to stop and be with you, you who had dropped by, (and people did drop by, people used to drop by each other's houses. Now who has the time, or who makes the time?) She may have been folding the laundry while she visited with you, but she was present. And only rarely rarely did she speak ill of another person. And rudely, I think I can recall these incidents, each of them, I was so taken aback at hearing her say something rude or mean.

So just what has Cynthia brought to life? What goes on here in the living room? I would be interested to hear how each or any of you would describe what it was that had you coming back time and time again. It was more than a bed or a meal, (almost always available). We all just fell in with each other, whoever it was that was around at the time (and we could name the many generations of scenes that took place, something that came to mind when we were making photo boards for the 90th birthday party)

There is something for sure about the ease in the presence of unconditional love.

And I jump back to January 7.

I want to sing a song now in celebration of Molly, who has been so caring and so on-it these past months. And Tom. He has been a rock of support for Molly, for all of us. It is good to see Molly getting some rest now that we have 24/7 in-home health care. It has been a hard time. Having her visiting grandchildren here with us delights her, delights all of us, and the circle is made complete.

The wonderful Myrna, who has been here 24/7 since December 18 (she came to be here for 5 days and stayed) is taking a well earned break, and Gilette has arrived to be the new Myrna. Myrna has become part of the family. We took a little getting used to, but before long Myrna was totally in the swing of things, mastering all the various routines (of which there are many) and machines. But most importantly, Myrna and Cynthia became good friends. My guess is that Gilette will fit right in, and we can look forward to Myrna's next turn.

On New Years Eve I spent a magical and memorable night out of doors at a camp out at Point 16, Sam Farrs place on the Big Sur South Coast. The night was mysteriously warm and the blue full moon bathed us in a radiance of pure love. It was an extraordinary experience for all who were there. Back in the Highlands there was another extraordinary event, a New Years Eve party at Greg Minshall's house where his lovely new lady friend Nasreen served a Persian meal that had been three days in the making. Greg kept going back and forth between houses carrying bowls etc. looking to find the dishes that were just right. There was so much sensational food (as well as melons, apples and other vegies carved into swans, baskets, palm trees and other fanciful shapes) that we enjoyed the luxury of the Persian feast for several days.

Tom's daughter Jess and husband Tony went off to the snow, leaving Grandsons Ollie and Sam in Molly and Tom's care. Everyone held up very well. Jess was rather taken-a-back on her return when Ollie woke up and demanded to know where Molly was. But this morning the boys were outside happily playing and making their little boy noises. We will miss them terribly when they leave in a few days time. Having them here for Christmas was the best Christmas gift of all. Molly and Tom and the boys celebrated the 12th day of Christmas yesterday around my Christmas tree, where they said good-by to the tree and sang The Twelve Days of Christmas. Also Ollie's favorite, Jingle Bell, at which he has become quite proficient. Rather than a whole lot of gifts on Christmas day, gifts have been parceled out over the 12 days. And now, sniff, Christmas is behind us, that is, for everyone but myself who faces the task of taking the tree down. But I am hopeful that daughter Sarah will come home this weekend and we can have some mother/daughter bonding time as we dismantle the tree. (Just a quick word about the tree. People keep saying to me, "So whats the big deal about the tree?" Then they come into the house and they say, "oh, I see now why the tree was a big deal". It is huge and touches the two story ceiling. And it is very beautiful, if I do say so myself).

Today's newspaper, in the weekend GO section, had a long article about the Skyedecker Brothers, with brother Keigan producing a show in Big Sur on Saturday night where brother Harte's band, Forrest Day, wiill be playing. Cynthia won't make the show, but it gave her great happiness to read the article.

And on Sunday we are expecting a visit from Gregson Davis. Need less to say, we are all thrilled that Gregson is coming, as we have seen so very little of Gregson and his wife Daphne over these past 10 years. Gregson was just in Antigua, and he writes:

" Daphne and I spent a poignant, but by no means gloomy, week in Antigua after Thanksgiving. We attended the funeral services for Aunt Hilda and managed to have a festive reunion with old friends and former pupils of the Foundation Mixed School. Mum seems to be holding out okay for now, though we are very mindful of the fact she and Auntie shared the same household for 75 years!"

Aunt Hilda was 99 when she died, and Gregson's mother is now 104. Both Julian and Oliver Davis visited before Christmas, Julian several times, where he played a particularly sweet version of "three little birds.... every little thing is gonna be all right.....etc" . There was not a dry eye among us. And Oliver, handsome Oliver, we tried to tempt him to coming to law school here in Monterey at the Monterey College of Law, a small law school started by local lawyers and taught at night. The school has one of the very highest percentages of students who pass the bar exam. Oliver has a bit of a farmer inside, and he promised to come help me with an orchard I am soon to plant. But in the meantime, he is off to Rome where he has a house sitting job for a few months. Oliver and Greg Minshall exchanged e-mail addresses, as Greg will also be in Rome at that time, studying Italian. It was talking with Oliver that Cynthia said, I'm sure in competition with Oliver's 104 year old grandmother, that she would expect to be around for another 10 years. You know, you just never know these day whats really going on.

So here we are moving into 2010, and I am feeling optimistic that it will be a good year.

I shall this e-mail here. There are other descriptive writings of how things were around here at Christmas time, but enough is enough. I will send then on their own.

Much love to all of you.