dawn m. armfield
doctoral candidate in rhetoric and scientific and technical communication
musings
0When I left home, it was under 30 degrees Fahrenheit…we had a white Christmas. It had snowed all day long and well into the evening. By the time I reached the deserts, the temperature was nearer to 90 and ice chunks were falling off of all of the semi trucks, spraying the roads and the cars surrounding them. A man at the border crossing was wearing a coat. He told me it was a chilly day. I just laughed and shook my head. At that point, I had stripped off my flannel shirt and was down to a tank top, sans a bra. It was just too hot.
The desert is an amazing place. I never tire of it. I’ve lived in several parts of it, from the Phoenix area to the Colorado River area. Everytime I cross over the river, I am once again astounded by it’s beauty. There, at the crossing, it is a beautiful blue-green…not the rusty red it was up-river where it went through the red cliffs of the Canyon. Here, it flows smooth and quiet, like a gentle giant. I am always moved by it’s power…the gift it gives to the people of the west. We use it until it has nothing left to give and drains into the mudflats of Baja. That is one of the most disturbing sites I’ve ever seen in my life. Crabs, jellyfish, and sea cucumbers drying in the hot desert sun because the water drains so quickly now.
Birds were out in force today. I saw a roadrunner. If you’ve never seen one, they don’t look like the cartoon character. They are, actually, very small, but pretty dang fast. They are neat little birds to watch. I saw a red-tail hawk. It was flying into the wind gusts (up to 50 mph) and it was amazing. Those things are so powerful. It alighted on a bush just as my car passed by so I got to see it up close. And the ravens, there were so many ravens out today.
I once passed an entire afternoon sharing folklore about ravens with the RavenMaster at the Tower of London. He had been to the southwest U.S. and had spoken to many of the tribes about their folklore involving the ravens. It was, perhaps, one of my most enjoyable events in London.
I live in an area that is abundant with wildlife. It’s a rare trip that I don’t see some type of animal. I’ve been fortunate enough to see javalina, coyotes, deer, elk, rabbits, all kinds of lizards and snakes, lot’s of gophers, and, when going north, I tend to see sheep, cattle, horses, goats, and other domesticated animals wandering along the roads or even in the roads.
Some things from here stay with me for a long time. Everytime I listen to music, especially while outside, I think of Infidel. His story touched me very deeply. I can’t help but think of how the loss of hearing would impact me. My mother has nearly lost all of her hearing and she’s not even 55 yet. It’s hereditary, she inherited it from her father. Things don’t bode well so I’m going to listen to everything I can while I can.
I watch people as I drive. I will turn and look at them while they pass or while I pass them. I smile usually. I want to make some kind of human contact. On my last trip, I got caught in a 70 mile long traffic jam. There had been 3 rollovers spaced 20 miles apart. I was next to the same cars for most of those 70 miles. It was nearly impossible to get ahead so we all just stayed where we were within the rows. I had my music on. I make CDs for these trips, and play them in my 6-CD changer. I wasn’t playing it loud, don’t want to annoy others in their cars. But I saw a guy out of the corner of my eye straining to hear what was playing. I turned it up and then smiled at him. He looked away so fast. He drove ahead, about one car length, and then did a double-take. I was laughing. I couldn’t help it. Then when I pulled up to him again, I just turned my music up and didn’t look at him. It made me laugh, though. They want you to notice them and when you do, it’s a shock.
Traffic was going my way this time. Everyone was fleeing the city, or perhaps just going back home. From Barstow to Los Angeles the northbound lane was one long traffic jam. The southbound, which I was in, rarely slowed down. I was surprised to beat rush hour, too.
My family laughs. I tell them that I’m not bi-coastal, but bi-statal. I’ve gone back and forth so many times that I could practically do the trip with my eyes closed.
But I’ll spare the others on the road and drive eyes wide open.
more from the road…
0My travels always bring me inspirations to write about, whether it is the way a shadow falls across a valley or the simply driving methods of others along the way. This trip was no different. I was driving home after spending time with my brother in Southern California. I left early, missing all of the holiday traffic and making it out of the Los Angeles metropolitan area (from a beach city) in less than 1 ½ hours.
I don’t remember much of the trip. It went by in a blur. I only know that I made it home in 6 hours when it usually takes me 6 ½ to 8 hours, but I don’t think I ever went over 100 mph as I’m known to do on occasion. chuckle Yes, yes, I know, I’m a speed freak. I like the adrenaline rush. Please, no lectures, I’ve heard them all before. Most of the time I don’t even realize I’m going that fast until I’m already up there and then I get busy slowing down. It usually happens when I’m trying to get out of the middle of one of those bunches that the Californians seem to like to drive in. I like the open rode, no one around me. I hate being in the middle of a bunch of cars.
I’m kind of disappointed that I didn’t notice the landscape but, on the other hand, I had time to think about things. I think best when driving, gives me time to sort things out.
I thought of Susie and how she, too, loves to travel. I thought of how much fun we would have traveling and picking out landmarks to share or stories to relate.
I thought of the look on my brother’s face as we sat at lunch the day before and he told me that he thinks I’m beautiful. I burst into tears, there in the restaurant because one of the men that I respect and cherish most in this world thinks I’m beautiful. He also told me to quit living for my mother and start living for myself because it’s my life and not a second chance for her. He is, I think, one of the best friends I could ever ask for in life.
I really feel loved right now. I’m surrounded by love. I’ve never completely felt it in this way and it’s amazing. There is peace in that kind of security. I’m overwhelmed by it, sometimes.
I have amazing friends. I know that they would traverse the world for me if I needed them. I know that they will be there when I’m happy and sad. I don’t speak to them everyday. We don’t need to speak every day to know that we love one another. When we do, though, we are always sure to say, “I love you.” It’s important. I hope that the ones who read this know how much they are treasured, how much they are loved.
I thought of the cork, here, and how people are ridiculed when they come online and express their newfound loves to the rest of us. I wonder whom we are to judge them. Perhaps they love easily. I know I do. Perhaps they love with a carefree that we wish we had. Maybe we have become jaded. Maybe we don’t believe in love that way anymore. And if we don’t, doesn’t that say more about us than them?
I thought of past relationships. I can finally listen to the Dixie Chicks sing “Cowboy Take Me Away” without bursting into tears. Instead, I smile and I remember some really fun times. I also think that song still relates to the person I am, wanting something wild and free growing in a space without tall buildings blocking my view. I can finally go to the Pacific Ocean, drink her in, and not feel like screaming. I can drive past the exit to Lake Havasu City and not feel weak and stupid. I can go to Tempe and not be petrified to enter a certain part of town.
I’ve learned that it’s ok to forgive those who hurt us. And it’s ok to recognize the pain that we may have bestowed upon others and to learn to change that part of us so that we don’t hurt others again. I can forgive and agree to be a friend to an ex. But that doesn’t mean that I have to be his best friend.
I was thinking about the people who’ve said “I love you” to me this week. Wow. I’m so fortunate. It is given without it being expected in return and that’s when it feels the best.
There are things that make me feel giddy, girl-like, and ready to shout from the rooftops. Is that love? Is that being in love? Maybe. Why do I hold back, then? Mostly because I’m afraid of unintentionally hurting others, by being blinded by my own good fortune and joy.
cathelin, wonderful lady that she is, told me to love freely, to let go and let love happen. She even backed it up with a quote from a favorite author:
You know, what are hearts for? Hearts are there to be broken, and I say that because that seems to be just part of what happens with hearts. I mean mine has been broken so many times that I have lost count. But it just seems to be broken open more and more and more, and it just gets bigger. I remember saying to my therapist, “You know, my heart by now feels open like a suitcase. It feels like it has just sort of dropped open…It feels like that.” Instead of that feeling of having a thorn through your heart…you have a sense of openness, as if the wind could blow through it. And that’s the way I’m used to my heart feeling. The feeling of the heart being so open that the wind blows through it. I think that’s the way it’s supposed to feel when you’re in balance…”
–Alice Walker
I’d like to think that’s what my journey is about opening my heart wider and wider, loving more and more as each heartache fades into a memory, leaving me only with the joy of having loved.
I do love…deeply, passionately, and hard. I love to the bottom of my being and all points along the road.
And maybe soon, I’ll share a newfound love, marking yet another milestone as I continue my journey.
I climbed the hills and descended into a valley, and across the way, I saw my snow-covered mountain peaks welcoming me home from 150 miles away. I waved hello and smiled as they slowly slid behind another, closer mountain.
I knew I was home.
musings…snow, mountains, ocean, and spirit…
0I can’t wait to go home for Thanksgiving. While Southern California is beautiful in so many ways, it’s just not Thanksgiving to me if the temperature isn’t in the 40s or below. This 70 degree thing is just to much. Isn’t that summer weather?
I want to make snow angels with my precious pumpkin girl niece. I want to see her cheeks grow rosy and her big blue eyes open wide as we make a snowman. I want to hear her giggle as she delves into cranberry sauce.
A friend and I were talking about earthly things. We both have a love of the ocean. It really speaks to us and we tend to share it here on the cork. It is something that is just deep within and we don’t even live near the ocean. But, when we do have the chance, we visit it.
The mountains, though, are incredibly special. I live at 7000 feet at the base of the highest mountains in Arizona. These are spectacular mountains. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful as when they are covered with snow. They don’t turn that classic blue of the Rockies. They don’t actually even look cold. They glow. They are like a beacon. I dream of my sacred mountains when I’m away too long. The ski resort on my mountains is opening today. For me, that is a mixed message. Is it ok to tear up sacred mountains for commerce? Probably not. But I love to ski. I really do. I feel the Kachina spirits when I’m up there, snow beneath me, blue skies above. I’m caught in-between.
We always hear that “It’s the season of giving.” Why is this the only season that we choose to give? Shouldn’t we do it all of the time? I’m not talking about gifts or money, but about ourselves. A little can go a long way, as the cliche goes.
I am so impressed with Construction Guy, Goddess KALI, and Connie. Their work is the epitome of giving. They are giving a lot of themselves with the CWL project. I read that in their words. And they aren’t asking for anything back. This is the one time that I can say that I see everyone pull together. It amazes me to see such diversity come together for the good of our own community.
It’s funny how a certain person crops up during the “giving season” and turns the cork into a hotbed of turmoil. We don’t hear from him all year and then, when everything is going smoothly and people want to contribute, he pops up. Same time, same place, same bat channel.
Adam Sandler is singing his Turkey song. I know that the Hanukkah song is just around the corner.
I’d like to think that we are inherently good and lose our way occasionally. I’d really like to think that. Maybe I’m a dreamer…
Peace to you all. And to those who celebrate Thanksgiving, have a safe and happy one.
one final entry
0I spoke, last time, of K. in the hospital. She’s out. She’s had surgery. She begins chemo again next week. She had me feel her bald head the other day. She was proud because she had soft stubble growing. Not much, mind you…but enough to make her proud.
She has a smile that will light up a room. It’s infectious. I’ve never been so relieved to see a person in my life. What a gift she is to us…and each one of us knows it. We went running to her desk to see her when she came for a visit. Hugs, hands touching, reaching out to feel her…smiles and laughter filling the room.
I told her I was going to shave my head one more time, this weekend. I want to make sure it’s even before I let it grow out. It’s cold. I can’t stay warm. The cold invades my body even when I’m covered with blankets, wearing shirts, sweatshirts, and when the heater is on. I can’t get warm. Is this what it’s like?
I start the growth process.
I know I said I’d stick with her. But I don’t feel bad about this. This is the right thing to do. She’s ready to put it behind her.
Her cancer has spread. It’s now in her lymph nodes. We mourn this.
But she smiles. She laughs. She is living life and refusing to let this disease take her over. And because of this, our mourning turns to celebration. We rejoice in the moments we have with her. We cherish every second.
We are blessed.
relationships with women
012 years ago
I have never had really healthy relationships with men. I fear them a lot. I fight their need to have power over me. I crave to be loved by them and it never seems to be enough for my neediness. I pull them to me and push them away at the same time. I have a wonderful father but he is one who has a hard time saying he loves people. I have amazing brothers who set the standard for attributes I look for in other men.
My relationships with women are short-lived and tumultuous, at best. I have a very strong mother who loves me but sees me as competition (for whatever reason) and keeps me as a little girl. I have a sister I adore who doesn’t often want a big sister. I have a best friend who has known me since I was a teenager and, amazingly to me, still loves me.
I don’t always recognize the extent of the giving that comes my way from people who don’t have to give to me…thinking, Maenad, chalyss, formerly Captain, and many others…
I have recognized, however, the power of friendship in some people I’ve met here. For me, this is so wondrous and overwhelming that I sometimes am overcome with the emotions these people bring to my life. They are the earth, wind, fire, and water of my life. They are the four seasons and every piece of me. And I wanted to thank them for being in my life, RT (more soon, I hope!!!) and VT.
In no particular order:
tawny~ I have known you longer than anyone else in the VT world. I can remember 8 hour long phone calls when we just really needed to be there for one another. You are a part of my soul…that part that wants to be wild…to stand under full moons, to sing at the top of my lungs, to be daring and challenging. We don’t have those long phone calls anymore (jeez, who could afford it???). We don’t spend every day messaging each other. But we know, if we needed one another, we would be there. Definitely. And even though I can’t say it in French, you are my soul sister.
dannan ~ How do I say what you are to me? How can I put it into words? It is so difficult. I’m consumed by my love for you. There are days when you make me laugh so hard that I can barely breath. And there are days when I cry so much that I feel every bit of your pain. I want to take care of you, love you, be with you. I can’t wait to be able to curl up with you on the bed and watch some sappy movie that we both cry during or to hug you or to go toy shopping with and being embarrassed in only the way we can understand. You bring out the best in me. I could wish for no better friend. You are as close to me as my blood sister. I like to call you my bit of sunshine, my earth sister.
kethry ~ Has there actually been a time in my life when you haven’t been there? I can’t remember it, if there was. You and I…learning, growing, teaching together. We’ve come a long way and we’ve shared so much of that with one another. I run to you when I need someone to tell me I’m ok and I’m not as bad as I believe I am. I run to you when I need a hug. I run to you when I just need to cry and let things out. And you’re always there for me. You’ve never let me down. Not once. Not even when I think I was horrible to you. You understood. You are the epitome of what I call friend. You are always in my heart and never far from my thoughts. I can’t wait to finally meet you in RT. I hope this works out. You are my heartsister. Always.
Lark ~ Last…but never, not ever least. Where would I be without you? You make me stronger. You make me richer. You make my life so full of life that it is worth every moment. You make me feel wanted and loved and cherished. I couldn’t ask for someone better in my life. The more I know you, the more I love you. You fill in the little chunks of my life that have been taken away by pain. You meticulously fill them with love and kindness. You are there when I am frightened and have no where to turn. You are there when it is my darkest hour. And you make sure I know I have somewhere, someone to run to. And I can’t wait to hug you in person. You are the water that buoys me.
I needed you all to know how much I treasure your presence in my life. I know I would have been lost many times without you. Thank you for being here for so many steps. I’ve known you all for years now. And I want it to continue for years. I want to be able to be there for you as you’ve been there for me. I love you all.
the littlest things…
012 years ago
Glendronach made me think of something today. He had lunch with a friend who has had severe cancer and the treatments to go along with it. He had trouble talking to her about it.
I haven’t share the ongoing trials of our department lately because I wasn’t sure how much it mattered. I find, though, that it does.
Is my head still bald? smiling softly Yeah…it is. And it will remain so for a while.
K. and I’ve been talking about her treatment. We share quiet moments in the server room, the workroom, or at my desk and we talk about the cancer and her treatment. These are special moments for me.
She stopped me one day in the workroom and told me that I’d never know how much shaving my head meant to her. That it helped her get through days that were hard. She knew she had friends who cared every time she walked by my office. And that helped her get through each chemo session.
Her lump has decreased in size. They may be able to go with a lumpectomy instead of a mastectomy. That is the best news we could hope for. She will find out more within the next week.
Today we talked again. She begins treatment 4 in about 30 minutes and after this one, they will gauge if the surgery will be done or if they will go on with chemo. We’re all hoping for chemo.
When will we let our hair grow out? When K. is done with chemo…which could be October or November. We told her we were in it with her for the long-haul. The more support she has, the better spirits. And she deserves it. She’s a beautiful woman.
I’m proud to know her.
a piece of my week
0I’m so weird these days. I know part of it is because I’m tired. I know that part of it is because I’m not used to dealing with such illnesses and sometimes I don’t know what to say or what to do. I don’t want to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing to hurt someone I care about. I want to do it right. There’s too much pain going on in this world as it is. I wanted to share something with you.
On Wednesday morning, I walked down to the ground floor before leaving for a meeting. I was talking to the building receptionist (a lovely lady that I really like) and someone turned to look at me. I couldn’t remember her name but she looked familiar.
She said that she recognized my voice. She said, “branwyn?”
I, luckily, remembered her name right then. “Skye!”
She looks at me more closely. She said, “It is you, right?”
I laughed and nodded. And she asked, “Are you sick?”
Tears lept to my eyes. It hurt. I’m not sick but I know, because of my long weekend, that I looked sick. I had sucken eyes, pale face, bald head.
“No, no…I’m not sick.” I explained why my head was shaved…why I looked like the walking dead.
This all affected me deeply. And the next day, I found out K. was in the hospital and that I would be going to see her. All I could think was that I hope she gets better soon so neither of us has to look sick anymore. So that we can both grow back our hair and live life to its fullest. I can. But I won’t until she can with me.
I went to her partner today. I told her that if my shaved head became a constant reminder to them, I would grow my hair back. I didn’t want to do anything to hurt them further. I also told her that we, as a department, were really glad that K. has her. We were glad that she had someone to love her and care for her. And then I started to tear up…and she, H., said…”Please don’t. I’ll cry if you do.” I didn’t. She hugged me…this woman who is like a rock. And she told me that she appreciated everything and thanked me for coming to her.
Why am I telling you this? So you’ll understand what frame of mind I’m in. I’m just sad. Just sad.
Life is good for me right now. I have nothing to complain about. I wish K. had the same.
reflections
0I can’t help but touch it. It calls out to me, beckoning me to just stroke it and feel it. The soft fur only millimeters long is like the felt we used in arts & crafts as kids…or like a soft velvet…or like the suede skirt I have hanging in my closet. And like those, it is something I want to touch. I want to feel the sensation beneath my fingertips.
Everything is different. I feel different. I am looked at differently. All because of this. I was stopped twice yesterday and asked if I was the woman in the newspaper…was I the one who supported her co-worker or was I that co-worker who was supported? And how wonderful that was. I was the woman in the newspaper…taking the picture of her friend with cancer. I was embarrassed that people noticed me. They had never noticed me before. What was the difference? Had I changed?
I’m overwhelmed by this. People want to touch me. They want to feel a part of this thing. And they are. Every word, every touch, every thought…they become a part of it. And it moves me…like nothing else ever has. I’ve become a part of something so absolutely beautiful and touching that I don’t even have the right words for it.
This is day 2 of my baldness. I would have never thought it would have had such an impact on me. But it has. I think of K. minutely. How is she doing? How is this affecting her?
I can’t wait to get back to work tomorrow to ask…to hear everyone’s experiences…to understand that this is what life is about…this sharing…this comraderie.
shaving!?! EEK!
0laughing softly This is not what you think…I’m sure. Tomorrow I’m shaving my head. Those guineverian locks, as Maenad used to call them. The strawberry blonde hair will be a memory.
A woman in my department was recently diagnosed with a very severe form of breast cancer. She is having radical chemo and was told that her hair would definitely fall out. To be graceful, she decided to shave her head.
We are a close knit family in this department. We have to be…we’re the computer/phone department of the whole county (largest land wise in the US) and put in many hours every week together. We have to like one another…we spend more time with each other than with family and friends.
So, we (the other members of the department) decided to shave our heads with her, in support of her. When we told her, the look in her eyes told us all we needed to know. It was a moving moment…one that I will never forget. Then she quickly covered and said that we didn’t need to shave our heads. But our minds were made up.
The tv station has been called. The newspaper has been alerted. Tomorrow at 5 p.m. in the parking lot outside this building, we will all be shaving our heads in support of our friend. Our treasured friend.
Am I nervous? You betcha. Am I worried about sunburn. I’m a redhead…what do you think? Am I worried about the looks, the stares, the comments. Not in a million years. This is something so special to me.
So, please, tomorrow at 5 p.m. PDT, please think of my friend. She is a wonderful and beautiful person.
…and so it goes…
013 years ago
Three+ months away from the place I’ve always known as “home” has taught me a lot about myself and the ways that I interact with others. Sometimes, more often than not, this is more painful than I would have hoped. And sometimes, it’s like a door is opening up for me to step through into a different way of life. But it has all given me new insights into who I am and where I would like to be.
I haven’t ever known these things. I grew up as the oldest, type-A personality in a large family. I was the one who was going to go far. Well, things fell apart when I got to college. There are many reasons for this but most of it was that I realized there is an entire world out there for me to explore and I didn’t want to limit myself any longer. There used to be a time when I wanted to “grow up” to be a lawyer, a judge…even the President. Then I wanted to just get my degree in English and move on. Then it was the sciences…and English again. Now…I realize that what I need to do…the things that touch my soul and make me proud…are things like working with disadvantaged people, writing about them, working with them, helping them help themselves. My chosen field tends to be working with women in a somewhat controversial subject that I won’t go into here. But now that I’ve realized what it is that moves me, I want to pursue that role.
I’ve learned that it’s damned lonely being so far away from everything I’ve ever known in life…family, friends, my beloved dogs, and just the land and wide open skies of the American West. I miss these things. I miss them because I haven’t learned how to adjust or find a way of substituting for it all here. Great Britain is lovely…it’s spectacular. But it’s so lonely for me.
I’ve learned that shyness is difficult for other people to cope with…that no one ever really understands the depths that it can go to. For me, I am afraid of people. My shyness tends to manifest itself in many different ways and it’s so hard for people to understand. I actually hyperventilate in large crowds. I start to shake and cry and can’t even think of anything to say. It’s even more pronounced when I’m in the company of a group that has one thing in common and I haven’t a clue about that subject. I don’t even know what to say. I don’t know how to start conversations and it’s by luck at all that I even go out of the house to meetings. All of this comes from having been a gregarious person in my past life and having that turned against me when I tried to trust those people with the fact that I was being beaten. When they ran to my “partner”, laughing at me and calling me hysterical, I forgot how to trust and how to feel safe around others. I’ve forgotten how to be a friend.
I’ve learned that when someone says “I love you” it’s not necessarily the same way that you mean it. Everyone loves in different ways and you can’t go around expecting to be loved the way you need to be loved or the way you love because it just may not be out there.
I’ve learned that because I felt like I lost control of my life many years ago, I now seek out and hold on to little things that give me a sense of control. I need things to go my way with certain things in my life because it’s the only way that I can hold on to my sanity. Stupid things…things like having the dishes done when I want them done or having the house quiet when I need it quiet. Just little things. I’ve let go of many of them but some still haunt me.
Mostly, though, I’ve learned when to say it’s time to move on. I’ve learned that when I start to feel small or insignificant, it’s time for me to move on to a place that gives me more of what I need in my life. When I feel disconnected or don’t feel like I can give anymore to a place, I know it’s time for me to go.
It is that time now.
You have all been wonderful for me. I have enjoyed every second that I have spent with all of you. I just don’t feel like I’m a part of what is going on anymore. In many ways, I never did feel like a part of it all. This is all because of me and has no reflection on all of you. You are wonderful.