There’s a Bird in Here!

We’re 26 days into this whole marriage thing, and I’d say (from my perspective anyway) so far so good.

A bird flew into our home two evenings ago– right through our wide-open front door. We were in our kitchen, making dinner in the midst of a conversation that at the time seemed important but since has escaped me. (that’s not to say that it wasn’t important– just to say that things often escape me.) Both our front and back doors were open, as the evening was beautiful. I said to my husband “there’s a bird in here!” as it landed onto some bird-friendly surface high in our kitchen. He had missed the bird’s entrance and thought I was speaking metaphorically– he looked at me perplexed until the bird flew across the kitchen fluttering close to his head. (As he recounted it later, he used sound effects, rolling his tongue to mimick the sound of the flapping wings in close proximity to his ears).

Immediately he flew into crisis management mode– directing me to keep the cat out of the kitchen as he began trying to “catch” the bird (who flew to a new space each time he neared it). I went with the cat to have a conversation with her and let her know that birds are OUTSIDE toys while my husband continued to chase the bird. I’m just gonna say this for those of you who may not know– birds are HARD to catch. I closed the cat in another part of the house and went back into the kitchen to lend assistance and was immediately shooed away. I went back to keep the cat company behind a closed door.

I stood behind the door listening to my husband in the other room following the bird around and seemingly just missing each time he came near it. I imagined his big, strong hands, and the tiny bird one one hundredth of his size. I felt the terror of the tiny feathered creature, and I called out to him: “baby? can I help?” Instinctively he answered “no! stay where you are!” and then after a beat replied more thoughtfully, “well, sure.”

I opened the door and went into the living room where the bird had most recently landed– it was in a tiny little nook desperately trying to escape and hide. I started talking to the sweet winged creature. My husband stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room watching us. I let the bird know that it was okay to be scared– and agreed with it that our house was a really strange place to land. As I talked to it I cleared a little space around it and reached down and stroked its tiny body. It flew up and careened over to another part of our living room. I followed it again continuing to talk to it. I let it know it was safe and gently cupped my hands around it and picked it up. It’s tiny little head poked out between my thumbs. I felt its relief at being held and captive. I brought it to our rhododendron bush just outside our front door and opened my hands. It quickly fluttered away and out into the Portland evening.

I came back into the house and my husband smiled at me and gave me a high five. We reflected on our awesome teamwork. There was an assumed default of roles that we moved into when the bird flew into our house– and we quickly realized without conflict or chaos that we were ill-suited for those assumed roles. He began making fun of himself chasing after the bird and we both had a good laugh at our own expense.

I don’t know why that tiny winged creature flew into our home on Tuesday evening. Birds are considered by some to be a symbol of freedom and perspective. They are said to be a “messenger of the Gods” because they have the ability to move between the earth and the heavens. Science has proven that birds can see and feel magnetic fields, maybe our house has a particularly strong one. I don’t know the reason for our unexpected visitor, but I appreciate the perspective the tiny creature allowed us.

Our winged visitor was incredibly affirming of our partnership and our ability to be fluid with our roles in any situation. My husband’s immediate impulse to “defend” our home was perfect– as was mine– upon reflection to re-direct and help the tiny creature. He didn’t get mad at me for “stealing his thunder” and helping the bird, nor did I take it personally that his immediate reaction was to shoo me away and “handle the situation.” Had the bird been vicious and attacking (and you just never know) he would have been the man for the job. As it was, it was confused and scared and happy for a calming, friendly voice.

A bird in the house is not some huge test of our relationship but rather a lovely analogy for who we are and how we exist in our space together. As we move forward in our life as a married couple we are beginning to flesh out what our home is in this new paradigm. There is no doubt that we are greater than the sum of our parts. As we sift through the chaos of the wedding and build our space anew we allow an order and structure to unfold that did not exist before. Our partnership is in and of itself an entity more powerful than we are capable of imagining– with a magnetic force so strong it draws in tiny flying creatures.

Only Counting Up from Here

3/24/18 was a beautiful day for a wedding.

His Vows: (the ones that were beautiful and inspiring from the moment he wrote them)

I vow to listen carefully to what you say and honor your silence,

to keep your dreams alive and our love aflame,

to keep your treasures safe and time appreciated.

I vow to hold you through nightmares and tragic days,

to rub your feet and pull your hair.

I vow to remember that being kind is more important than being right,

to clean when you cook and fold when you wash,

to take you to concerts and movies I don’t necessarily like.

I vow to play scrabble and binge Netflix.

I vow resilience and fortitude even when no one is watching.

I vow sincerity, hope and humor.

I vow to guide our children by example,

to strengthen and defend their hearts and minds

to offer freedom to make their lives an adventure.

My Vows: (the ones that took some time and a few drafts and ultimately were finished the night before the big day in the wee hours.)

I vow to listen with patience and respond with kindness,

to care for you when you’re sick and impossible,

to have the conversation even when it’s hard.

I vow to make fires to warm us when it’s cold,

to cook for you as long as you dance with me in the kitchen.

I vow to drive to destinations near and far as long as you sing along with me,

to save our money and invest in adventure.

I vow to laugh at your jokes even when no one else does,

to be your big spoon when you’re little and little spoon when you’re big.

I vow to lead in times of need and follow when your heart is sure.

Do you, Jay, come here today of your own free will, to promise to support Mandy in all that she does? Through happy and sad, good diets and bad, dislocated shoulders and daughterly disputes? And to consider her as part of yourself in all that you think and all that you do?

Do you, Mandy, come here to day of your own free will, promise to have Jay’s back where ever life leads him? Through sickness and health, sunlit beaches and darkened alleys, dive bars and dragon-cons? And to consider him as part of yourself in all that you think and all that you do?

And do all of us promise to welcome the marriage of Mandy and Jay into our own lives, individually and as a community, through bliss and sorrow, turmoil and calm, backyard barbecues and late night dance parties for as long as they both so wish?

BOOM!!!! And then we walked into the forest together– and eventually wound up here!

It’s official. There’s no turning back now. This man married me, and I married him. No more days left to count down– only counting up from here.

Here’s to day number one.

Next time you’re thinking about coming home at 4 am, DON’T.

Yesterday was bachelor party #1. (Yes, that’s right, he’s having 2– I’m sure at some point in the next 13 days we’ll get to that). And I’m going to be totally upfront about this: I was jealous. I am and really always have been “one of the boys.” Usually when there’s boy fun to be had, I’m front and center– often the one lady in the mix. I don’t know why that is exactly… I mean, I could surmise. I would say from a very young age I identified with the guys because that felt like the place of power. I was always wanting to compete with my brother, and father and therefore assumed a more masculine role. It has only been very recently, as a fully grown woman that I have realized and become more comfortable with power of my femininity and have begun embracing the watery feminine. But I’m still one of the boys.

I do of course understand that the idea of a bachelor party is that the dude who’s getting married is taking one last night and getting away from the ball and chain. My partner and I are just so far from that ball and chain dynamic… but I intellectually completely understood why I was not included in the bachelor party process. This did not keep me from feeling jealous about the whole thing, however.

It was fine, I was having a girly day of cupcake making with my favorite little lady. I dropped my partner off at his friend’s house around noon. The party was an all day affair. I told him to let me know if he needed me to pick him up. Then I went off to my baking adventures. I didn’t hear anything from my partner for the rest of the day.

Around 10 pm I was sitting on the couch writing about adventures in cupcakes with a rather foggy brain courtesy of those cupcakes, and I found myself wishing my sweet man were sitting next to me– or at least somewhere in close proximity. I texted a friend of ours who had been at the party earlier in the day and tagged out around 7:30 to do parenting duty. I asked him if he knew the evening’s itinerary, trying to gauge when I might expect my man home. He did not. I let it go and continued writing. Around midnight I realized that because of the wonder of daylight savings time, it was actually 1 am and I should probably hang it up and go to bed. I needed to wake up at 8 am the next morning to teach a class at 9 am. I considered texting him goodnight and then thought better of it. This was HIS night to be a bachelor and not have to be bothered by his lady. I figured that he would probably be staying over at his friend’s house at this point, his keys were hanging by the front door, and it was 1 am.

I gathered up the six pillows on our bed and made them into a nest just for ME and settled right into the middle of the bed. I read one page of the book I had just purchased for myself earlier in the day– and then settled to sleep quickly and easily. I slept soundly until I was awoken at 4:15 by the sound of the back door, which is right outside one of our bedroom windows. I bounded up out of bed instinctively, opened our bedroom door and saw the face of my love plastered up against the square window of our back door. I was in the middle of a deep sleep and bewildered at his 4:15 arrival. I opened the door, not really looking at him and immediately fell back into bed.

He didn’t come into our bedroom right away. I heard him moving through the house and then the sound of the shower turning on. I was no longer in a deep sleep. I was AWAKE. VERY AWAKE. He finished showering and came into our room, plopping into the bed next to me asking if I was awake. I grunted at him. I was not feeling conversational and was rather annoyed that he had risen me out of my 4:15 am slumber. He slung an arm across me and thirty seconds later was snoring like a buzz saw– louder than usual, and probably magnified by my annoyance. Several minutes into the saw symphony I attempted to roll over at which point he whined at me and tightened the grip with his arm. I was not feeling the warm and generous love that is so often in my heart for him. Rather, I was feeling annoyed and put out– and neither of those things was helping me fall back to sleep, not to mention the symphony of snores. I lay there for several more minutes and then said, “baby, you’re snoring really loud.”

He awoke for about fifteen seconds, shifted his position slightly and settled back into his symphony. I was done. I wriggled out from under his arm, grabbed two pillows, a big rose quartz stone, and my phone (alarm clock) then headed out to the couch in the living room, the one right underneath our constantly ticking, rings-every-30-minutes clock. I thought for a moment about stopping it and then decided against it. I arranged my two pillows, got two blankets and placed the rose quartz inside my shirt on top of my heart. I looked at my clock– it read 4:48 am. I rolled my eyes in annoyance and snuggled up and fell asleep immediately. I slept soundly, the chimes of the clock never waking me.

My alarm went off at 8 am and I awoke aware that I had dreams of conflict with my man, but unable to recall the details. I got up and gathered my pillows, knowing that he had no idea I had slept on the couch. I opened the door to our room and he opened his eyes. I looked at him and plopped the two pillows on the bed. I sat down on the bed and said (luckily he recalled my words perfectly and recounted them to me this evening) “Next time you’re thinking about coming home at 4 am, DON’T.” He said he wasn’t sure whether to giggle or look sheepish. He did the latter. I then told him he was snoring really loudly so I slept on the couch. I snuggled up to him, asked him if he had fun and if he wanted me to set an alarm for him to get up. I gathered my clothes and got myself ready for the day. I found his phone in his coat pocket, set the alarm for 10 am and set it next to his side of the bed before leaving. He was back to sleep, or at least pretending to be. I headed off to work.

I sent him a text when I finished working telling him I loved him. He responded “thank goodness” and then we proceeded with more silliness from there. When he got home in the evening we laughed about the events of the morning– he quoted my 4 am statement and then reenacted me opening the door for him, which was hilarious. He recounted the events of the night to me and told me that the one thing it was missing was Mandy Lou (that’s me). And I guess while that’s not something I needed to hear, it was really nice to hear it anyway.

My partner and I have a rare and special bond. He’s my very best friend. I relish the time I spend with him and most of the time we spend together is full of smiles and laughter. We are two fully formed, healthy adults who happen to enjoy each other’s company immensely, and are lucky enough to have figured that out.

In 13 days I’m gonna marry the crap out of him.

My international man of mystery

My partner and I just completed a meeting with our friend who is marrying us, discussing details of our rapidly approaching wedding ceremony. When I began having visions of our wedding back in the Fall, there were a couple of things that were crystal clear about it. The first was that it would take place on 3/24/18– five years after our first date. The second was that our dear friend who introduced us would be the one who married us, because in my partner’s words: “this is all his fault.”

I first met my soon-to-be husband six years ago on a random day in February. I was at my studio around midday. I wasn’t in a session, but sitting at the front desk, when the studio door opened and in walked my friend with a handsome and mysterious stranger. The stranger had a blue bandana on his head and a scruffy face. The second he stepped into my space my eyes were riveted to him– and alarm bells in my head began sounding loudly. My friend sauntered in casually, stranger in tow, as if midday stop-ins were something he did all the time. (In actuality he had never before stopped by my studio unannounced). He introduced the stranger, giving absolutely no context for who he was or what he was doing there.

We stood in the entrance to my studio talking for several minutes. To be honest I have absolutely no idea how much time passed– it could have been five minutes, it could have been forty five. All I know is that I was singularly focused on this human being who had just walked into my sphere from out of nowhere with absolutely no warning. And he was having a profound affect on my entire nervous system. I found myself talking to my friend about I-have-no-idea-what while Mr. Mysterious talked to my friend and colleague who was also in the the studio at the time. I was aware of the tenor of his voice as it rose and fell in conversation and I felt literally drawn magnetically towards him. It was all I could do to resist the force of the attraction, and I’m still unclear on how I was able to maintain a conversation. The details are blurry, the gestalt is what is crystal clear.

At some point conversations wrapped up and my friend and Mystery man left the building. I IMMEDIATELY texted my friend: “Who IS he?” (As in, give me some context for this handsome stranger, please.) His response was “He’s an international man of mystery.” EYE ROLL. Really??

That evening I decided that we needed to take some of my daughter’s dresses over to my friend’s new baby– Mr. Mystery’s god-daughter and the reason for his visit. I was determined that I would see this beautiful, magnetic man as much as possible in the indeterminate amount of time that he was in our fair city. I packed up a bunch of baby clothes and my two children, who were 5 and 9 at the time and headed over to our friend’s house for a “casual drop in” just like the one my friend had staged earlier. (Again, this “drop in” was unprecedented.) I soaked up as much as I could of Mr. handsome while my children ran wild around my friends’ living room– a joyful representation of what these new parents had to look forward to.

I managed to see Mr. International again the next night at a party. (I completely arranged this– it was not random.) This was probably more social interaction than I had had in months– I was a single mom and a complete introvert. It was during the party that I casually arranged for us to do a bodywork trade while he was in Portland. BOOM.

I worked on him first. Putting my hands on his body was intense. He was completely stalwart throughout the session– saying next to nothing and maintaining complete external composure. But I felt his internal energetic monologue and it was far from composed. There was a storm brewing just beneath the surface of this mysterious man which despite his best efforts he could not hide from me. I made him a flower essence at the end of the session, sitting right next to the table and again I felt his gravitational pull tugging on me. I wanted to settle into him. (I realized this was inappropriate and resisted). He worked on me the next day. His hands were firm and strong and somehow familiar. I fell into an ease with him that was unlike anything I had experienced before.

We talked a bit about his plans and where he was headed next– ultimately back to Thailand. And then he was gone. We exchanged emails a couple of times over the next year and chatted over the computer. I read his blog and was immediately turned off by the grammatical and spelling errors. (curse of an English major). And then a year later I received an e-mail that he had moved into town and he wondered if I wanted to start up a bodywork trade.

ALARM BELLS!!!!!!!!!!!!

When he first reached out to me I was in the midst of a long-distance whirlwind romance with an old flame from high school. I remember thinking– what? now? Mr. Mystery? “WHY ARE YOU TOYING WITH ME UNIVERSE??” And then my old flame abruptly ended our long distance affair. I saw Mr. Handsome for a couple of trades and then decided what the hell and asked him out on a date. My kids were away for Spring break in California with their dad– and I realized I had nothing to lose.

On 3/24/13 Mr. Mystery and I hit the town and painted it red. The days and weeks and years to follow have been a consistent process of building and strengthening a massive foundation of trust, friendship and love. He did not walk easily down this path in the beginning– for years he fought me– but some things are worth fighting for. “Consistency over a period of time” is how he first defined love for me– and that’s how we have ultimately defined this relationship. It is consistent and it continues to stand the test of time. Whatever comes our way I know he’s got my back as no one else ever has or will.

15 days from now I’m marrying an International Man of Mystery…

And I can hardly wait.