2016: Black stone, white stone

I'm not the only one who's had the worst year on record. It's nice not to be alone, but of course I'd rather have a more pleasant quality in common with so many people.

My beloved husband—my biggest fan, who never let me down, who is my definition of what it takes to be a good human being—died in late July 2016. Having to say or write that still stops me in my tracks. But it's been five months, and the best way to honor my husband is with a life that's about more than sadness. Slowly, painfully, I'm making plans and dreaming dreams again.

This year had some highs, as well, which deserve celebration.

December 2015: My husband and I moved back to Arizona with purpose and joyfulness.

March 2016: Awash in Talent was picked up by Kindle Press.

May: My husband and I had the best two weeks in Spain anyone has ever had. (We met Manolo García!) I'll have to blog about that trip in order to spread the joy even more.

June: Awash in Talent was published by Kindle Press.

July: I learned a lot about my friends and family and the power of these bonds.

December: Seven Noble Knights was published.
I earned a modest placement as Publicity Assistant at Hawthorne Books, to start in January.

My husband (can you believe my luck!) illustrates the useful skill of
finding beauty among the thorns. April 2016 

I started this second part of the post in the middle of July, when I still believed my husband would recover and spend another 20 years with me. It's a partial translation of a 1990 song by Manolo García, "Canta por mí" (meaning "sing for my sake," "sing in my place").

S/he met the past along the way,
and looked at it and could not cry.
Between dusk and dawn,
s/he did nothing but let him/herself go.

On a peach-colored day,
when we're all free,

when we can eat rocks,

and no one is better than anyone else,

sing for me

if I'm not here.

The day is coming when we will be as pure
as a summer sky on the sea.

I'll sing for you

if you're not here.

This is the most idealistic song I've ever heard. It's about spiritual awakening and hope for humanity. Note that the ideal day is far enough off that either the singer or the listener will no longer be with us, but not so far off that they'll both be dead.

Now that my true love is gone, we must be close to that peach-colored day. I know who I'll be singing for. In the meantime, I plan to do things that make him proud: show kindness, promote humanity, and express what inspiration comes to me through writing.

Happy 2017 to us all.

Non-Judgment Day

We were all affected by September 11, 2001 in some way. I was living and working in the most beautiful place there is to work, a library in Boston. As the official Hub of the Universe, we felt vulnerable that day, and as the news became clear that the planes that took down the World Trade Center flew from Logan Airport, I felt somehow guilty by association. Beyond all the images from TV and the internet, what I remember with the most sorrow is how deadly quiet the morning bus was on September 12. The silent, downturned mouths and searching, chastised eyes looked to me like a broken America.

On the eleventh, our boss sent us non-essential workers home. I went to my studio apartment, all alone, and started filling out applications for my PhD, even though it seemed like none of my chosen universities would even exist by the autumn of the following year. When it seemed as though the world were truly ending, my applications were a defiant gesture of optimism.

Those of us who are old enough to remember it, know that the world of September tenth is gone forever. But we've made it through September twelfth, and now I live in the world of September thirteenth, which is, for me and my husband, a day to symbolize boundless love.

We were all affected differently, and so on this tenth anniversary, it is right that we should all commemorate differently. The most appropriate group activity I've found that applies to the country at large is Non-Judgment Day. There's a Facebook event for it, but we can all participate simply by considering what we as humans have in common.

Probably the best thing we all share is hope.

Arizona in Spring

Consider the wonder of the delicate beauty of flowers emerging all over southern Arizona, such an unforgiving environment, in Spring.

All photos are mine. Please cite jessicaknauss.blogspot.com if you plan to reuse them.

This is where prickly pear jelly comes from. 

This tree smells for all the world like honeysuckle.

"The first recognition of beauty was one of the most significant events in the evolution of human consciousness."

I think the ocotillo blooms were the inspiration for International Caution Orange. 

The mighty Saguaro.

"Flowers, more fleeting, more ethereal, and more delicate than the plants out of which they emerged, would become like messengers from another realm, like a bridge between the word of physical forms and the formless." Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth

The palo verde is beautifully green all year, but in spring it blooms brilliant yellow.

Joshua trees.

Even the severe organ pipe cactus makes dainty little blossoms. 

Different species of barrel cactus.

Don't let the fuzzy appearance fool you!