Firebearer was the name she gave herself. And she surely was — the carrier of a fiery spirit. She was also a daughter, a mother, a writer and editor, a priestess, and a seeker.
When we met she was just 21, and already she had been in the Army (very briefly) and had two young children. Recently back from living in Germany with her husband Peter, she joined the staff of the Vanguard Press, the area’s young alternative weekly. She began as our receptionist, but her goal was to write. It didn’t take long before she was doing that, producing insightful reports and features.
We began our long, sometimes tumultuous relationship in 1981. She once told me that I was one of three staff members she considered as a lover. In the fall of that year, she chose me. Very soon we were living together.
Here’s a little of how she saw herself, in her own words — from an autobiography written when she was about 25. It was the final project for her B.A. at Burlington College. She called it “Diary of a Psychological Skier: The Slalom between genius and insanity.” In the introduction she described herself this way:
“…a singular young woman whom you might think is eccentric, crazy, idealistic, or naive at certain points. Or you might well decide instead that she had the courage to reflect deeply and honestly on the turbulent changes in her life…”
“Beth Caroline (the name she gave herself in this manuscript; also the name of two personalities she felt were battling within her) looks at the issues of her world with unusual straight-forwardness, peering into the depths of intimate relations, single motherhood, and insanity, then with equal vigor explores philosophical puzzles and her emerging spirituality. Although her ethics are drastically different from the average Jane, she has a clear sense of wanting to do right and keep in line with her principles.”
Dian saw her life dramatically, and often magically. She had strong opinions about people, politics, religion. And she wasn’t afraid to act on her judgements— which were sometimes pretty blunt. But she was also very curious. And when she decided to focus on something, her approach was systematic, thorough, comprehensive…and relentless.
I was thinking about all the changes we went through, sometimes together, sometimes not, over those 40 years. From our intense start, living together for about two years — in the Old North End and South End, then on Maple Street, in a barely heated converted garage. With Audrey and Karen, and my son Jesse just across the driveway.
After that initial time together, we followed separate paths for a number of years, but we always stayed in touch. And we both remarried — to different people. Then, in 1995, we resumed our journey together, first in a New Mexican pueblo, then in Albuquerque, then on Park Street in Burlington, and eventually in Winooski. In 1999, she had convinced me it was time to buy a house. We renovated it together. It was a wonderful period. We lived together for seven years. We also traveled together, to Greece and Mexico, and across the country, including to mardi gras. I remember pushing her down Bourbon Street… in a wheelchair.
We often also worked together, at the Vanguard Press, Vermont Times, Toward Freedom, Planet Vermont Quarterly, and Vermont Guardian. She was a great proofreader, incredibly focused. She also had personal pursuits, many of them spiritual and religious. A voracious reader, she was eventually attracted to the Wiccan religion, and launched groups in both Florida and Burlington. Her leadership abilities really came through during those times. Later she became interested in Judaism and brought the same intensity to that.
Dian loved to sing and dance, often pushing herself physically. But she also lived with chronic pain — both physical and psychological. When we reconnected in the mid 1990s and she was in her 30s, she was suffering from serious asthma and fibro-myalgia. Later, she was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder and PTSD. During one of her episodes, she also broke her back; that added another layer to her physical struggle.
A smoker from her teenage years, Dian eventually overcame that habit, an amazing act of willpower. Although she was open about her illnesses and pain, I think she may have minimized the toll they were taking in her last years.
By then our relationship had evolved again, into a warm friendship, with occasional dramatic pauses. We often spent lovely afternoons and evenings together, talking about everything under the sun, sharing meals, watching films. It could be difficult to find the right one, however, since she hated almost anything with violence and had very specific taste.
One of her favorite films was Dangerous Beauty. It’s about a courtesan in medieval Venice who becomes an accomplished poetess. She survives both the plague and the inquisition, and finally ends up with the love of her life. It’s based on a true story, and I think Dian saw a bit of herself in that character — someone who defied conventions, sexual and highly intelligent, determined to live her own life whatever the cost. She was very much a romantic.
Over the decades, Dian was my lover, partner, best editor and proofreader, confidante, and one of my closest friends. Being with her was often like being on a roller coaster — exciting, sometimes scary, and full of ups and downs. But definitely worth the ride.
In a world so often dark and unforgiving, she was a magical spirit, full of light and fire and love. In short, she was unforgettable. I loved her and miss her every day.
Here is her obituary, written by her daughters: Dian Mueller . And here’s a short video of her leading a maypole celebration: At Wing Farm.
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