Ms. B

"As her husband, K, considered how to describe his wife, he paused.

'She was the one with the words,' he said. 'She was such a powerhouse - she could walk into a room and people were drawn to her.'"

Steph was definitely the one with the words, the crazy creative writing teacher we all called "our resident hippie." Since the first day I met her she has always been the kind of woman who would hug you so tight that you'd lose your breath. It wasn't uncommon to hear bongos coming from her classroom and students shouting "yes" to the universe from their desk tops. I'll never forget her rendition of Othello (a one woman act, costumes and all). I literally hyperventilated with laughter watching her from the hallway between our classrooms. At four months pregnant, she convinced me to perform with her in our school talent show, a modern dance of all things. I didn't think I had it in me but she was always egging me on like that pushing me to live la vida Steph style.

When I was with her I felt on fire. I felt the charge of lightning.

When I called her in early November she greeted me with that same gusto, "Hey Girl."

I asked her about the Leukemia but it wasn't her style to talk about it.

"You know I'm going to beat this shit Ms. D. I'm not going out without a fight, so tell me about the G what's that smartie up to?"

This was the last time I spoke to her. I'm scrambling now to remember her every last word.

I got an email from her husband just yesterday linking me to this news article.

I'm heartbroken.

I'm sad to know that her energy is not knocking around out there, that she's not climbing some mountain or dancing down those hallways in her crazy striped socks and mismatched scarves.

I love you Ms. B. I love you my beautiful sister. You lived a thousand lives in your 39 years.

Join me this week in celebrating her life, do something crazy.

Do something you'd never expect of yourself, even if that means wearing clashing colors or sticking your head out the car window and screaming "yes" to the universe.

++++++++++++++++++

Steph was the one with the words so I'm going to end with the very last post she wrote on the caringbridge site that was created to support her in her battle.

Monday, June 25, 2007-
Well. This is it for me. I'm officially and celebratorily signing off the caring bridge. All of my friends, supporters, family, loves, teachers, students, doctors, nurses, and freaks... THANK YOU.It is an amazing trip that here I sit- about 1 year later and so much healthier. Unbeknownest to me last year this time I was visiting home in Seattle when the leukemia peaked its rude and ugly head again. We have all covered so much ground, truly, and managed various stresses, struggles, and heartache during the last year. A war still rages in Iraq, gas is over $3 a gallon, the ozone is dissipating, fires are raging... need I go on? However, amidst all of the hurt and suffering, I still maintain hope.Why?Why do any of us choose to invite love and healing into our lives? Because it IS the natural order of things. It is the way. Buddha was reborn 549 times before he knew it was time to stay in his own form and body. As a descendent of a wandering ascetic I understand the philosophy that speaks no language- but is communal language for us all to hear. It is within ourselves, our light and our truth. It is the wind, a flower, the river, a wave, the birdcall, a cat's meow, our mother nature in her silent beauty reaching for all of us. I hear babies cry in my dreams- and I also hear children laugh. I encompass all of these deities. As do you- together, us.I sit here today facing new struggles and wondering if I have what it takes to write a paper. We are simply met with what we doubt within ourselves. Why? In order to achieve success and continue moving. This is what I love most. Moving energy. Coming into my own light source and the symbiotic energy of the moving world around me.Kevin and I have been blessed. We spent 2 months traveling- Costa Rica among other stellar places. The home is where the heart is as our external environments also reflect internal landscapes. I loved my Costa Rican brothers and sisters- gracious and daring and funny and small in stature. Compared to my long, big body. At times, I felt out of sorts and insecure. Struggling with Spanish, self-conscious. And then, I would simply relinquish this identity and breathe into myself and simply feel Stephanie.I love her. I love you.Eventually, in the 2nd century, Buddha was given a face. An identity in the way of man. Before that Buddha image was simply a composite of similes and metaphors. Buddha was the image of the water, the parrot, the banana tree, the fish, the universal truth. As we all continue along our path it is my desire that we are able to continue to relinquish and surrender. I obsess when I lose something- an almost daily event. I am working on letting go of my desire to attach my identity to material objects. I still have a long way to go...I hope that as you meet yourself and others on your path that you can create an image of absence with your own breath of presence. That you, too, may entertain and respect the paradox of which we are all a part. That you continue to reflect on your own blessed life and walk through fear and negativity into your own sacred space.Namaste.Pura vida.Peace out.Love Love Love stephanie