Thank You

There are moments in my life when I just want to say “thanks”

Not just for the beauty that is everywhere and for our cute little home and our wonderful country and the sun that rises every morning beginning an entirely new day in which anything is possible.  *deep breath*  I am thankful for all of that and so very much more.  But today, on this day, and for the last few months, I have been thankful for all the wonderful people in my life as well. 

For the past three months I have been talking.  I have been sharing my story and working through challenges and probably exhausting everyone with whom I have come in contact.  I have been spilling my guts in order to come to terms with the past  and the present.  It is amazing just how much talking and writing and purging I have  accomplished…

And people have been there. 

We aren’t just talking friends and family, we are talking everyone who has heard my story.  We are talking outpourings of support and understanding and genuine offers of support and advice and mostly, time and compassion. 

In the past few weeks, I have learned that my daughter and I are far from alone.  We are far from isolated in this little world of ours.  People not only care, they want to help.  They want to be there for my daughter and provide her with all the love and support she could ever need. 

When I graduated from high school, I wrote a song called “Family of Friends.”  It was actually played on the radio in the largest city in the state… but the point was that friends are family. 

It was kind of true in my little high school on the mountain but it is definitely true in this part of Northern Virginia.  By reaching out and sharing myself, others have been there to not only catch me but to meet me half way and hold my hand and give a hug or two or three. 

Friends… they really are like family. 

My daughter is learning this lesson loud and clear as well as friends in Asia and Australia and Europe, and all over the US from  the southwest to New England and all over Northern Virginia have surrounded her with their virtual and real warmth and love. 

There are times, when things are “off” that I look to isolate myself from the world in order to come to terms with my present and move on.  The challenge in that is that it is just me in that little bubble.  It is just me not working through the past but simply working on  surviving.  Isolation doesn’t provide the hugs and the warmth and the perspective hat is in the rest of the world.  Isolation, though nice and controlled, doesn’t allow one to truly talk and work through the past and learn from the choices and the  lessons because it is hard to apply them and process them when it is just… me… and mine… alone… in that wee bubble.

This time… for me and for my daughter… I talked.  I reached out and talked.  Nothing to hide… no regrets… nothing to lose and everything to gain.  I took a huge chance and risked myself… and gained an amazing amount of support.

And now… I am writing this in thanks.  This is my way of sending a great big hug of thanks back to everyone who has listened and observed and analyzed and laughed and given their time and their hearts to help.  I love you all!!  You know, I am right here for you when or if you ever need anything. 

Thank you – I have learned various things as I have processed the past and found solid ground… I have learned to trust my gut, I have learned to forgive and that this means truly letting go – which is what love is about too, and I have learned that friends are everywhere whether we recognize them or not!!

What Do You Do?

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's desire

- The Invitation as noted by Positively Present.

 

From the time we are kids, we are looking at professions and dreaming of what we want to do when we grow up.  It is a question that we are asked at an early age.  I believe my daughter was asked what she wanted to be when she was in Junior Kindergarten.  At that time, she wanted to be a firefighter.  While the other girls in the class wanted to be moms, my kid dreamed of fighting fires.

Within a year of that asking, she had changed her dream to dancing where it has remained.  She dreams of dancing.  That is what she wants to do. 

I wonder though, what kind of person she wants to be?

In late May I walked and talked with a friend while our kids ran from carnival ride to carnival ride.  We chatted about lots of things to include this idea of people identifying themselves through their profession or what they “do” over the person that they are. 

When we meet people at a party or at a dinner, the first thing that is often asked is….”What do you do?”

I always answer the question with honesty and without a second thought.  But I wonder if there is a better question to ask or a better way of responding?

The person I am is not defined by the job I hold or the work I do during the day.  I am not defined by my child, relationship status, or the clothes that I choose to wear at any given moment.  Yet these are often the characteristics that others use to define me.

Many of us define ourselves through the external.  The thought of no longer having those characteristics is frightening.  Men are, traditionally, defined by their jobs where women… are defined by or find their identity in their kids and husbands.  Loss of job or divorce become very scary ideas as each means a loss of identity.  A girlfriend recently told me that in order to divorce, one truly has to be okay with the reality of being alone, possibly for the long term.  Some women feel that they will lose their livelihood and identity if they take that leap.  We choose to allow our status, title, kids, profession, and lifestyle define who we are, when, are they true reflections of the person within?

It is easier to stay in a marriage that lacks than it is to take the risk – one fears that loss even though one may not really lose anything but often gain much.  Identity is about status, title, lifestyle, profession, rather than being about the person we are or that which we are striving to be. 

What, therefore, is a better question to ask at parties or at a dinner?  How can we ask about the person that lives within the body that performs this or that job?  What can we ask kids, and adults alike, that allows them to explore the ideas and thoughts surrounding the person that they want to be?

I ask myself – who is the person I am?  Who is the person I want to be?  Are they different?

I know that I have a lot to learn.  I know that I have a lot to teach and a lot to experience.  All of these things will contribute to the person I am and that which I become.  At one point in my past, I learned to love unconditionally and without expectation.  In the past few months, I have learned to forgive as completely.  Neither lesson is easy to learn – especially the latter!  And yet… they are each part of the person I am and that which I strive to be.  Now I want to learn to be a person who can give the same unconditional love and forgiveness to myself – I need to figure out how to give myself the grace and compassion that I so easily give others.

 

On the Street Where I live

“Did you see that woman on the street corner singing and dancing with her daughter?”

One of these days I am going to be asked this question and have to confess, “Um, that was me.”

Yes, I do sing and dance on street corners while waiting for lights.  My daughter and I have been known to belt out verses of various songs or join together for a duet accompanied by twists and amazing dance moves. 

And this usually happens… well, you might be shaking your head and hoping that I am about to say first thing in the morning when there are few cars out and about. 

Um, well, you would be wrong.  We usually do this sort of thing… during rush hour when the street is the most congested and crowded and drivers are most likely to see and hear our antics. 

When one feels the urge to sing and dance… it is great to just go with it.  There is nothing like giving voice to the song that is running through you. 

One could always dismiss my behavior as playing with my daughter.  I mean, the child is just 9 and can get away with such behavior. 

Um, wrong again… I have been known, in the last week or two in fact, to sing, out loud, by myself, while walking down the sidewalk as well. 

But letting the spirit move us is not something that is reserved for sidewalks and street corners.  Not by a long shot.  Bathrooms make great places to sing – a song while you wash your hands… classic. 

Malls, another great place to sing along with whatever music you happen to hear as you walk by… hey, any store that plays music… why not lend a voice and shake your booty a little.  Isn’t that partially what the music is for?

Oh, and let’s not forget while walking in the rain… Singing in the rain is wonderfully fun.

There are times, especially in the last few months, when I have found myself thinking too much or taking life just a tad too seriously.  Yet, regardless of how serious and gloomy things looked, I would find myself moved to sing and to dance.  I would find myself twisting my daughter about on street corners.  Despite the upheaval in our lives, we kept singing and dancing and playing wherever the urge hit. 

Life is short and precious.  Twists and turns happen at the blink of an eye.  Adversity is everywhere, character is in how we work with the changes and approach the challenges that derive from that adversity. 

For my daughter and me, the approach is with music.  It is with a song on our lips and a few spins and twist and hip shakes and booty  pops.  It is with a giggle and a laugh and… an “I did it my way!” 

And the dancing and singing isn’t only reserved for the streets and sidewalks and malls and such of Northern Virginia and DC – we recommend dancing naked in the living room as well!

Come rain or come shine, if you ever see a woman on the corner dancing with her daughter or singing some song, smile and wave.  It is probably me.  It is probably my daughter.  Know that we are two people enjoying life, regardless of the beat of the song or the bumps of the path.  We are two that dance to the beat of a different drummer.

Summer Delights

One of my favorite things to do during a warm DC summer is make my way down to Eastern Market to spend time with the fresh produce and the people.  The Market is there year round, but there is something that draws me there during the summer.  I am not sure if it is the promise of the produce or the smiles that people wear with their favorite summer colors and attire.

Given my love for Eastern Market and that I am not a Foodie,  I found myself surprised to learn that a friend had never visited despite having lived in Northern Virginia for years.

Seriously?  Someone serious about food never going to Eastern Market?  I decided that this had to change post haste and so, on a hot July weekend morning we traveled to Eastern Market – which is where my slice of life begins!

The car pulled up outside the house ready for the adventure in store.  My daughter and I dashed down the stairs, excited to introduce this Foodie to the world of Eastern Market.  The reward for this adventure, a fresh dinner prepared in my own kitchen.  Seriously, how could I refuse the opportunity to play tour guide with that as my incentive?

After much frustration and driving, we finally arrived at Eastern Market.  The thought of fresh pastas and the cheese counter beckoned, but first things first.  We settled into chairs next to a large window to have a wonderful breakfast and conversation.

Then it was market time.  The colors of the different outfits brightened the already vivid day as we began to stroll through the goods.  Dogs on leashes, people chatting, different languages over heard, the three of us considered the different items on the tables.

Ah, the berries and the peaches.  These are always my favorite stops.  I can’t resist grabbing a taste of every peach stand in the area.  It is hard to select just a few as there is nothing, and I mean nothing, like a tree ripened peach.  (my mouth waters just writing this)

Our Foodie was on a mission.  We made our way into the hall to find the freshest shrimp, select some homemade pasta, and finally a few cookies for the road.

Shopping complete, we returned home where later we would enjoy a wonderful meal; a meal that completed a wonderful day spent together.

Eastern Market, my daughter and our Foodie friend – a slice of summer for this slice of life.

Three Little Words - Memoir Monday

"Don't tell me.  I don't want to know."  I sat, phone pressed to my ear knowing the words sitting on the tip of his tongue.  The words he didn't need to say as he actions and thoughts and time shared stated his feelings ever so clearly.  I didn't need to hear the words.

Amazingly enough, I didn't want to hear the words.  The stating of those words, those three little words, would change the situation.  They would make "real" what seemed very easy to down play at that moment.  Over the preceding months our friendship had blossomed into something else - into a relationship that would last years and overcome so very much through respect and honesty; through a commitment to give love through our actions and our choices.

earlier I had voiced my feelings - I had given him my love.  It was, looking back on that day, unfair for me to deny him that chance to voice his feelings for me.  I remember wanting to hear the words voiced; and yet, knowing that a relationship would begin where the friendship  would be strengthened.  They would be words that I would come to hear and say and cherish.  

"I love you," he said... I never looked back - I simply smiled and let my heart fly.  

 

 

Torn

“You don’t honestly believe that?” comes the voice over the phone.  I have just explained to her a disconnect between the way I am feeling and the line I am being asked to believe. 

“I don’t know what to believe,”  I explain.  The words echoing through my head.  “I wish I did know what to believe as that would set my mind at ease.”

My words reflect my current state of feeling torn; torn between two realities.  I am simply not sure which is real some of the time. 

Ah, this sounds more confusing than it is.  More than 23 hours a day, I am sure that I live in the real world.  I know where the ground is and feel my feet squarely planted.  There is a bounce in my step as I consider the various options and opportunities that are presenting themselves.  I love life and everything in it!

However, there are those moments when I feel a bit off kilter – when I feel torn.  These moments often happen after a meeting or a conversation when I find myself questioning… me. 

Perhaps it is the difference between the desire to believe and the hope that my intuition is incorrect and the realization, deep in side, that it is not. 

In other words, I want so desprately to believe something I don’t believe to be true.  Others want me to believe something that I believe not to be true. 

Thankfully this sensation happens less and less frequently.  I go with my gut; I trust my intuition; and I know reality when I feel it in my heart. 

So why is it then that I want so badly to believe in something and a world and a story and a hope that just is not ringing true in my gut?  Why is it that I truly want to be off base in this case?    

 

What About Love?

“What do you do if you love two people?  Who do you choose?”  

This is a question that some of us have probably asked ourselves.  We find ourselves drawn to two people; loving them and being loved; and enjoying spending time with each; yet, unable to be with both.  We have to make a choice; a choice that isn’t necessarily about love.  

Perhaps a better way to state that is that the choice is made beyond the love felt for this or that individual.  

As I contemplated the questions posed above and the various reasons people make choices or the reasoning behind so many interpersonal decisions, I started wondering just how many of those decisions are based solely on love between adults?

Marriage is one such example.  How many marriages exist due to love alone?  Sociologists suggest that unless there is abuse or open conflict, a marriage needs to remain in existence for the kids.  It is believed that kids have fewer risks if raised in a two parent house even if there is little love or intimacy or trust between the parents.  It is the stability of the house and the security of the family that kids need.  

I know marriages like this; I would guess that we all know marriages like this.  The adult relationship is over and yet, the marriage remains in tact.  The choice to stay is not one of adult love – but perhaps love of children, lifestyle, and so many other variables.  

Relationships are ripe with circumstances in which love is not a factor.  There are people who, despite strong feelings of love, simply can not be together.  Perhaps it is that their dreams take them in different directions, or they have personality  characteristics that don’t mesh, or the desire to commit simply is not there.  The love is there – the timing is not.  

It is a wonderful notion that love lies behind our decisions and choices.  That “love is enough” to overcome obstacles regardless of how big or how small.  I believe that love, the emotion, is able to do all of these things.  Love, the emotion, is given freely – no expectations and no conditions.  

The actions, decisions, and choices that we make – how often are they about what lies in our heart or the love that we feel for one another?  How often are they based on giving over a sense of obligation, commitment, responsibility, societal expectation, or a fear of what lies beyond the choice?

I return to the original two questions as posed by my daughter.  “What do you do?”  You love them.  You give them love – accept them and expect nothing in return.  And, “Who do you choose?”  This answer is far more subjective as I don’t believe that love asks us to choose between people or to compare people.  I would never ask someone to stop loving just as I would hope that no one would ask that of me.  

Who would I choose?  Who would you choose?

Is it all about love – and if it is not, then what about love?  Where does it fit?

Is It Learned?

The pursuit of happiness…

I look around me at friends and family and know that, for each, I want happiness.  I celebrate their accomplishments, recognize the challenges, and support the risks that they are taking in their pursuit of happiness. 

It is easy and fun!  It is just about listening and cheering and supporting.  I have nothing to lose in supporting loved ones 100%.  When they win – my heart soars… and they win each time they search their soul and actively make a choice from love. 

It all sounds so very easy until the friend comes along with a fear of happiness or a fear of reaching for the heights because, well, what if he or she can’t reach that high?  What if he or she… falls?  Or it is the friend that is simply and totally sure that the life lived is actually as good as it gets regardless of experiences and loved ones or their heart indicating otherwise.

It is challenging for me when I believe in someone and all that they are inside – all the love that they have and the dreams they desire… more than they do themselves.

I find myself wondering how I can see the amazing love and fabulousness of these friends when they can not?  How is it that these friends are more  willing to stay in a situation in which they admit they are not happy rather than moving, changing, and dreaming… taking a risk to enrich their lives and, perhaps, be happy?

Detach.  I continually remind myself to detach.  Each person lives their own life; each travels their own path.  So what if they choose to not take the risks or to attempt to fulfill their dreams?  It is, after all, a choice that each makes. 

Eventually, with thought and time, I am able to detach.  I am able to love and be a friend in the only way I know how to be.  

I wonder though, as I look at my own daughter and her dreams and ability to take risks… I wonder, at some point, if her desire to live fully and with complete personal integrity will change?   I wonder if she will, at some point, believe it more important to be stable and in a known and comfortable environment than to make choices that involve risks?  The choices that are about her heart and her love of life over her fear of the unknown or the potential loss?

Is this fear learned?  Is it something that comes with adulthood and challenging experiences?  Is it just part of our individual personalities?

Difficult Questions

“How did you and Daddy meet?”

My daughter is full of questions this late Sunday evening.  She holds my hand as I tell her about her Dad – the man that I met and came to love very quickly and completely. 

“You sound like you are about to cry,”  she says as she hugs me tightly. 

I am not close to tears, more considering the man with the amazing voice with whom I share compatibility and chemistry.  The man that charmed me with his dreams and desires and delighted me with his laughter and individuality.  The man that came to be her father, who came to be my best friend, that man enriched my life while allowing me the opportunity to explore love.  Love of the unconditional variety.  Love that gives and gives without expectation of anything returned and without conditions to be met. 

I held her as I told her of this man that I love and that she loves. 

“You sound like you are going to cry, “ she said again.  I suppose my voice was filled with emotion.  Her questions ask me to travel back into the past while also considering the present.  Her questions ask me to reconcile the man that I love and am detached from today and the man that I have enjoyed an intimate friendship with for years. 

“You are a nice person Mamma.  You love Daddy like you love me.  You love him and he loves you no matter what.  You gave him so much.”

I hold this child close and want to cry, but I don’t.  This child believes in love more than I do at this moment.  She believes; she trusts; and she wants so much for her Dad and I to be friends again.  I hold her and know that the rules  are in place; a friendship is most likely not possible; and that love is far more complex in the hearts of man than it is in the hearts of children.

Man Plans...

Man Plans; God laughs

I love this saying. 

I want a color poster of this saying hanging in my office and another hanging in my living room. 

Bright vivid colors underlining and highlighting that regardless as to how much we plan and how much control we feel we have in a situation, the reality is quite different.  Man plans; God laughs!

Take a wedding, for example.  Ever notice all the work and attention to detail involved in a wedding?  Everything is expected to be “just right.”  There is little room for life or imperfection or anything else to happen.  The focus is often on the perfection of the day and its orchestration over anything and everything else.  The most simple looking wedding might be the one that is most carefully and meticulously planned.  One little “oops” and everything goes haywire.  Is the day ruined or… did life just “happen!”

I have a certain degree of experience with this concept of planning and orchestrating –

This is what will happen then

He will say this

She will respond thusly

Then this will happen

  I am not sure I was ever that detailed, but there are times in my life when I have looked to a plan with details in order to find comfort or to control a situation.

At some point along the way, and I wish I could remember exactly when it happened, I had to realize that all this planning and controlling and orchestrating didn’t really work for me.  I would find myself focused solely on the plan and the details that I probably missed a lot of the life around me.  Focusing on the control I had and how each party would respond and why they might respond in that manner kept me from living, but it also kept me from realizing that life happens. 

I might have this great plan.  Every last detail is orchestrated.  Complete control is mine, all mine!!

But guess what, I don’t live in a bubble (oh, because if I did I could really, I mean really, control everything).  I am not isolated from the world around me.  No matter how much I might control the little world in which I live (house and family) I yield no control over external sources.  I mean no control at all. 

SO I plan, and plan, and take care of all the tiny details and then… life happens!!  Reality strikes.  The tiniest thing takes place and, wow, I am left wondering how to put everything back together again!  My focus then is on the loss of the plan over anything and everything else. 

Man plans; God laughs!

There are times when I think God must have a terrific sense of humor as the things that have happened to me when I get caught up in a “plan” or a set schedule or “control over my world”… even I have to find myself laughing when life happens and I am reminded that I am just one tiny (but amazing) part of a huge world. 

I have learned to let go, if just a tad.  Having a kid helps because wow, if you have ever been around a child you know that anything can happen… and it usually does.  Children and other people have their own emotions and reactions and perceptions that, no matter how hard one might try, can not be controlled.  That is just life. 

I also learned that if we are focused so much on controlling everything we aren’t ready for the actuality that  something can change.    Control allows us very little to no flexibility.  Control is rigid and strict – and the curve balls that life throws don’t fit well in that ball park!

Over the past few years or decades, I have learned simply to accept people as I can’t control them or their reactions or anything  that they do or say.  I am not sure why I would want to either as that denies them their voice. 

I have learned, largely, not to plan emotional conversations or events as they are often more about timing (and there is never really a right time) and even then, the variables are extensive.  I now go for genuine honesty and trust in the moment over attempting to control the details and orchestrating the situation. 

I try not to plan anymore – at least not a detailed and orchestrated plan that denies life a role.  I work with objectives in that this is what I would like to accomplish.  Then I sit back and enjoy, understanding that the experience of living is often more about the life that we discover when there isn’t a plan in place.   

American Dream

“If you build it, they will come” is one of the lines from A Field of Dreams.  I wonder if this is an idea that, in some form, ran through the minds of the Founding Fathers as they set forth to build a new country based on a different form of government?  Those men and women built a foundation – and people came.  People came from all over the world.  Some came by choice while others did not, but each of those that arrived had a dream.

The American Dream.

My great, great grandfather came from Croatia via Canada.  I wonder about his dreams as he sailed from home, by himself, and lived aboard ship for years.  What did he think as he entered Canada, made his way to LA, and finally set roots in the great southwest to build a life and make his mark on this country?  He left his family and everything he knew in Europe.  For him, building a new life involved swat and hard work; good times and bad.  He didn’t have the “networks” that we rely upon so heavily now.  The government did not offer him support of any kind.  Success or failure rested upon his shoulders.  I wonder if he ever felt like giving up or whether it occurred to him to move back to Europe?  I will never know.  I do know that he built a life, a business, and helped to build a city.  Hard work, sweat, and a dream… perhaps the American dream?

Things have changed since my family arrived in this country, but has the American dream changed?

Listening to kids I would say that yes, the Dream has changed.  Kids now dream of marriage and houses and jobs and cars.  Their dreams largely appear to be lifestyle based.  I don’t hear kids talk about dropping everything they know to move to another country and start again on their own.  Here, in my little part of Northern Virginia, I don’t hear kids talk about wanting a better life, obtaining an education, or having any different than their parents.  Then again, I am not sure that I have heard many adults dream differently than the kids.

So, is the American dream the house with the yard and the 2.5 kids and the white picket fence and the happy hours and soccer games and the comfort that comes with security and stability?  Is it knowing that there is no need to risk anything or take a chance because there is a safety net?  Is the American dream something now defined by society over the individual American?  Is it now about having the “same” as the guy next door and the person down the street?

The American dream, as I understand it, involved taking risks to make a better life; taking chances to build something different.  The risks a century ago were far higher than they are today, and yet many ventured forth in the hopes that they would find success. 

I sit in my comfortable chair in my cozy and colorful office fully acknowledging that I changed my own dreams.  Where I am now is not where I thought I would be as I neared 40.  I consider my own version of the American dream.  I never dreamed of houses with white picket fences and cars and dogs and the 2.5 kids.  I wanted something different from the beginning – a life that reflected my passions and interests.  The profession has not materialized (but it still could or be something very different) but the dream has blossomed.

My American dream spins on her toes and tucks curls behind her ears.  She lets the waves carry her back to shore before she takes off, running down the beach as if she was born on the sands of Coronado. 

My American dream is one that I created and one that I continue to choose and define.  It is not the dream held by society or many Americans or even my friends and family.  It is mine – and now it involves supporting my daughter to see that she too can dream her own American dream and dance to her music. 

Like my forefathers, I am standing on my own, making choices and working to live my dream based on my own hard work  and sweat.  I might live more comfortably than they did.  I might have an easier life than they enjoyed.  I also know that I have those safety nets waiting for me if I fall. 

Like those that landed on American soil before me, I am defining my own dreams and creating my own way – and I am teaching my daughter to do the same.  Perhaps the American dream has changed and is changing as we enter the 21^st century, but in my house and in my life the dream remains… hard work, taking chances, believing in ideas, actively making choices, and realizing that risk and hope are two amazingly beautiful 4 letter words.    

Yawning and Smiling

Talking on the phone has always been something I enjoyed.  There is something about the connection, the laughter, reaching out to people and catching up on the big and small events that make up a life. 

I remember spending hours on the phone throughout my younger years and into graduate school.  I simply spent time talking. 

Then I had a child, and phone conversations became more complicated.  I stopped talking on the phone as much as home time was family time; hoe time was about relaxing and spending time with my daughter. 

However, this isn’t to say that there weren’t conversations!  I remember talking on the phone quite often while she was doing something else or, primarily, late at night.  I have enjoyed many late night conversations, conversations filled with fun and laughter and catching up on the big and small events of a life.  Conversations about emotions and thoughts and ideas and dreams. 

I did enjoy those conversations though I have also noted that they have been less frequent of late.  It wasn’t that I stopped enjoying the conversation but more that life came into play.  The kid stayed up later, events started lasting longer, and I am simply not the spring chicken I once was with the ability to talk until the wee hours of the morning and then wake a few hours later to be mom and professional woman. 

With this in mind, I find myself bone tired this morning after spending a few hours on the phone last night talking and laughing and listening and flirting with a man who has the voice that grabs a woman in the center of her being and says “listen!”  I haven’t heard a voice like this since… um, yeah, him!  It was wonderful.  I enjoyed myself 100%.    I would do it all over again in without question.  And I say that with heavy eye lids and a foggy brain.  Even though I am craving a nap already this morning, I can honestly say that it was a fun night. 

Last night I remembered the conversations of the past… the laughter, the thoughts exchanged, the simple connection of one person to another through the tones and inflections of voices.  Sure, I missed a few hours of sleep, and sure I am in need of a very strong coffee… but it was worth it!   

Too Much To Ask?

He walked into my office and took a seat.   This man, whom I have known for several years now, is an amazing dad.  He reminds me much of Crazy Computer Dad in all that he has done and is doing for his son.  He is also quite the ladies man… style, humor, education.  I have yet to know him when he is not involved with a woman. 

And he knows what he wants… a friend and a lover.  “Is that too much to expect?” he asked.

We all want different things from relationships; have different ideas of what a relationship includes and how to express love or what love means.  I suppose that the trick is to not only find the chemistry and the spark with someone, but also to find that person with whom our ideas coincide. 

He wants a friend and a partner.  He needs the emotional intimacy as well as the conversation, the friendship, and the companionship.  That is what he seeks. 

It isn’t too much to expect because it is what he wants to find.  He knows that it is what he wants in a relationship.  He is not saying that she has to look this way or be this type or that type… just that they need to be friends and emotionally intimate.  He is willing to take that risk – to give of himself – and wants that in return.  This is where he is – willing to love someone who doesn’t want to share that deepest and darkest part of herself… and she doesn’t understand why she needs to or why he would want her to.

It is the risk – the risk of giving yourself to another or of sharing your self with another that is too much for some to do. 

I know women who will share their deepest and darkest secrets near the beginning of a relationship in an attempt to see just how serious the guy is:  If he can handle” this” then it has a chance.  If I can share “this” and he still loves me… then it might work.  Self sabotage?  A means of getting rid of the guy before we are in too deep?  A desire to be loved for all of who we are rather than just the stuff that we love about ourselves?

Then there are those who choose not to share – those who keep even those they love at a distance because… there is no way someone can love me if they know…

The risk is too great to share ourselves – to take that chance that the part of ourselves that we don’t love could be loved by another or to believe that someone might love us even if we are different than the “norm” or the expectations of our lover or society.  It is difficult to put such things in light and maybe learn to love ourselves fully… even the darkest and deepest secrets.  Yet, without opening ourselves and trusting another, we risk not knowing love or intimacy or joy.  

Those things, I believe, are worth the risk!

 

 

An Honest House

“I just want things to be normal.”

This is a popular phrase in our lives these days.

“I want them to be normal like they were before [she] found out.”

*sigh*  “This is normal now sweetie.  I snuggle next to her and hold her hand.  “And things will change and change and each time that change will be a different normal.  It will never be normal like it was.”

“You keep telling me that.  I know it will never be like that!”

She doesn’t want me to reassure her.  She doesn’t want me to make it better or turn back the clock.  I believe that she wants nothing more than to express her feelings, and she might even want to know that she isn’t alone in missing the way it was – the normal that we all enjoyed for over a year.

She is not alone.  I miss that normal too. 

Our conversation continued about love and honesty.  We talk together as we haven’t chatted for weeks due to schedules and vacations and guests.  We talk about truths – the truths that are our family; the truths that aren’t black and white but are full of gray and texture and individuality.  Someone recently told me that love is difficult for kids as they are very black and white.  I see that in my child.  I also see depth.  I see an understanding and an acceptance of the gray that is love and life that is most likely based upon her own experiences as much as it is the home we share and her age.  How often do I underestimate this child?  How often do we assume that our children are going to view life as we expect or assume only to find that they are effected quite differently  and with much greater depth?

We are silent, together, sharing the moments of this conversation.  I anticipate returning to our morning walks and training for her 5K.  I tell her that I have missed our walks, our talks, and sharing time with her. 

 “I am glad that we have an honest house.” She tells me as we begin our good-nights. 

“me too…”

 

Super Mom Has Returned

The Diva bounced out of bed this morning.  Bright eyed and bushy tailed, my morning monster had been replaced by a ballet angel.  She was dressed and ready to go before I had my bags packed.  

*sigh*

It is once again that week when I try and do it all with the flip of my magic wand and a twitch of the wonder pony tail.  Super mom is about to make her summer appearance for 2009!

It is once again time for... Ballet Camp!

I would like to say that I am ready to attack this week with the humor and energy I have shown in past summers.

I would like to say that I have a wonderful super wardrobe picked out that will provide the feminine fortitude to meet any super challenge that faces this super mom this week.

Unfortunately, this year, unlike years past, neither of these seems to be true.  The past 2.5 months have been trying.  The past 2.5 months have proven exhausting and draining.  Although I am bouncing back and am in top spirits more often than not... and I have a few dates lined up to help me keep the fires burning... well, I am not at the top of my game.  (Now after those dates... I might be singing a different song)

Today I will bring my Diva into work.  She will, hopefully, play quietly while I try to get some work done (read - read blogs).

We will then gather her stuff and head to the local grocery store of the Incredibles to purchase a fabulous lunch - one that will maintain her energy while keeping her light on her feet and high on her toes.

Then. it is back to ballet for her and back to work for me before I will leave just 3 hours later to reverse the trip - ballet  then store then home.

By Friday, I will be exhausted!

By Friday I will be ready for the weekend!

By Friday I will be amazingly thrilled that the week is over and some as semblance of order can return to my house and life.  

By Friday, my Diva and I will start counting down the days until the ballet season starts again!  

Regardless as to how difficult this week will be, it is a week that the Diva enjoys from beginning to end.  It is a week that she anticipates from the day ballet ends in June.  

With that in mind, this morning I pulled the skimpy outfits out of the closet.  I put my hair back in a pony tail and found the power bands to hold it in place.  I flipped my cape a few times in order to remove the dust from its folds… and I carefully ignored that little moth hole along the right edge.  

Super Mom has returned!

Just for a Moment

For a moment I forgot the rules. I forgot that love is something that is no longer to be felt or exist between us.

I forgot that should we feel love for one another, it is not to be admitted.

We no longer love one another publicly or privately.

The love once felt, still felt, is no longer allowed to exist. Like smoke in the wind, that love is supposed to dissipate into… nothing.

For a moment, for just a moment, I believed in love – timeless love.

For that moment, I relaxed and allowed myself to feel the love.

I smiled and laughed and felt the warmth of the love shared and within.

Then I remembered the rules.

Then I remembered that such moments aren’t to exist for you or for me as we are no longer allowed to love.

My heart wept; my smile faded; my spirit trembled.

The rules ask love to disappear.

The rules ask that it not be felt, acknowledged, or recognized.

What happens to love under such rules?

What happens to a spirit when love is repressed or denied or hidden? What happens to a spirit when we are asked to repress love by another? When we choose to deny our love for the sake of another?

Does love ever recognize the rules?

How can I live with rules that ask love to be hidden or denied?

Love is light. It is warm and inviting. It is something I have been working hard to repress in order to live under rules established by another.

My spirit aches to express itself. Isn’t life too short and love to precious to keep hidden behind walls.

The belief is that love unrecognized, unexpressed, and unacknowledged will cease, at some point, to exist. The rules are in place to make that happen – to deny love its place; to make it disappear.

I wonder if love works like that?

I wonder if denying love and hiding it is similar to denying a plant water and sunlight? Without the water and the light, the plant will die. Without recognition or acknowledgement, will love die as well?

For a moment, as the fireworks lit the night sky and my daughter laughed and thrilled in the moment, I forgot the rules. I forgot that the love I feel is being denied. Rather, for a moment, I let myself feel the love in every inch of my being.

For a moment, love lit the night sky and burst into dramatic, shimmering, vivid color. My spirit soared with the delight of the moment and the light burning strong within me.

Just for a moment…

Through the window

I returned from my meeting to find my message light blinking.  Not unusual given it is during the week during the work day…

But the message was unusual.  The message was uncomfortable and unsettling for the simple fact that it wasn’t a message at all but a phone gone a rye. 

The message – a normal conversation between two people.  There was nothing off the wall or out of the norm contained in the two minutes of voices chatting, casually, back and forth.  And yet, I felt like I had bugged the bedroom of the most loving couple engaged in the most intimate activities – or like I was overhearing a conversation about love and feelings and emotions.  And yet, the tones weren’t loving or filled with emotion or intimacy in the slightest.

A while back I read that part of a marriage (or any long term relationship) is the intimacy that develops through time and simply being together.  It might not be the intimacy that comes with trust or physical engagement or anything like that.  In fact, it can develop in the most cold house or in the most platonic of relationships – but it develops all the same. 

It is the intimacy of people being not on public view.  It is the intimacy of sharing a home or a life.  It is the intimacy of sharing a bed even if you gave up any physical connection fifty years ago…

The conversation was ordinary – and it was intimate in just how ordinary it was.  The tones weren’t emotional or overly loving.  There wasn’t flirtation or banter.  It was a conversation between my parents talking about the weather or engaged in a discussion about the road as they drive.

The whole thing and my reaction caught me off guard.  It left we wondering if a phone accidently ever dialed while I was talking to someone.  (Not that it matters, as it doesn’t as it happens to people all the time)  But I wondered what the other person overheard? 

I could have hung up the phone when I realized that it was just a casual conversation, but I didn’t. I didn’t really understand what it was until it was nearly finished.  That surprised me as well as I am not obsessive about things, like people, in the slightest.  I am curious but not enough to invade privacy or track them down and note everything they do or say or whatever.  People are… people.  The President of the US or the average Joe American… we are all just, people. 

But I didn’t hang up.  I listened.  I wondered about the emotions, or lack there of, expressed.  I wondered at the intimacy included in the most mundane and ordinary conversation…

I wondered about people, single and married, making such a huge deal about wanting and finding intimacy… and whether they realize that intimacy is actually right there, before them, in their every day lives.  It is in the simplest conversation or touch.  It is something that we might not even notice (until we miss it) but that someone else picks up easily.  That it isn’t trust or honesty but shared space just as much as anything else.  It is that which people miss most when it is gone.

Yet, perhaps I am mistaking comfort and safety for intimacy?  Perhaps couples often mistake one for the other as within everyday living there is a degree of intimacy that comes from the comfortable and safe environment.  It is intimacy in its own way.  It is not the intimacy that comes from time and trust at the deepest of emotional levels.  It isn’t the intimacy that happens when people reveal themselves completely and allow another to see them for exactly who they are.  

This conversation was intimate in the degree of casualness.  It was intimate in that it wasn’t to have included me.    

And… maybe I am just reading way too much into this accidental voice mail that sent my mind wandering…

That Man

He stood in my office door…

6 plus feet of attractive, intelligent, witty manliness. 

I smiled as I turned to talk to him – hearing him criticize the bags of stuff on my office floor waiting for me to find the time to take them to the shredder. 

“I can’t believe you are leaving me…” I smiled and winged… and yet it is possible to do both at the same time.  “Everyone is leaving me…”

“I thought you were out of here a while ago.”  He comments referring to changing, great professional changes, that were on the horizon last year.  The changes that didn’t transpire due to changes in staffing and work loads.  The changes in my life that I anticipated only to have other parts of my life change instead.  I explain this to him and that right now, professional stability is required, but I am okay with changes in the future… maybe even a move from the area?  Who knows.  

As he talks about the position he has secured and his future plans to move to Texas, my thoughts drift back to a meeting years prior where I first laid eyes upon this tall Texan with the bad boy attitude.  I remember the meeting.  I remember the topic as it is my specialization.  I remember this smart mouth Texan sitting there with that “grin” on his face poking holes in the argument set forth by the presenter. 

I remember knowing that this man was someone I would enjoy having around the office!! 

It isn’t often that one finds the passionate person in an office setting.  I don’t mean that office workers and executives aren’t passionate, as they often are.  I mean the workers with the sarcasm and the wit – the men and women who are just a tad “different” in that they are the square pegs in the office.  They are those that think just a bit differently, dress just a tad off, and have an energy about them that sets them a part. 

It takes one to know one – right? 

“You are taking a lot of business with you.  There is no one that can replace you.”  I tell him with great honesty.  He is one of a kind in the office, his work, and in spirit.  He is the one man in the office that I trust completely to do a quality job and consider all options – and not to fall under the thumb of politics.  He says it like it is.  “You’re one of a kind.”

“I don’t know if that is a good thing…” he smiles.  “I am not sure the world could handle more than one of me.”

“Oh… I could handle *pause*  *did I say that out loud*… “  and then I turned red.

People, we aren’t talking light pink.  We aren’t even talking slightly red.  We are talking crimson.  We are talking the kid of red that cartoon characters turn when they eat something hot just before steam comes out their ears and their head explodes. 

“I can’t believe I just said that!”  I buried my face in my hands.  I am so accustomed, right now, to thinking and not speaking that I think I have started thinking aloud…

Given my relationship with this man – this man with whom I have spent many hours over the past years – the comment was not out of line or truly out of character.  We have often gone toe-to-toe to see just how close we can get to that line… that line of no return.  That line that we have never crossed though we have ventured close from time-to-time.

So my comment didn’t phase him.  It might have surprised him but it didn’t phase him. 

The truth is – I will miss him.  I will miss this man who has lightened my spirits and proven to be a worthy  opponent in the game of banter – both political and flirtation. 

I will miss this man who leaves me feeling that much more feminine simply by being in the room – and I will miss his respect for my mind and his belief in my abilities as well.

The office just won’t be the same without him!

Taking Flight

We kicked off our shoes and headed to the dunes.  The sand felt hot against the bottoms of our wave worn feet.  Above, the sun  shown brightly from a pristine blue sky making this a wonderful day for my daughter to try her hand at hang gliding.

Nerves tinged her conversation with me as she flitted and flew over the hot sand.  As the crew assembled and set up the kite, she took her place amidst the kids without a second thought.  When the team leader called for a volunteer to take the first flight, her hand flew into the air as if it were on wings of its own. 

I had to smile.  Whether it is dancing on stage or hanging from a rope feet in the air, my kid is first in line letting her love of life and experience tamper her nerves. 

She hung from the rope beneath the kite.

She put her hands at the bar.

She yelled “clear” without a waver in her voice. 

She took her first running steps and…

Off the dune she went!

I smiled with delight – my heart taking flight with her.  Delight crossed her face as she landed, on her feet, on the sand below.  Laughter bubbled forth as she raced the instructors up the dune to take her second flight. 

“She looked like she loved it,” the television reporter commented. 

“Oh, she did!”

For the next hour, I watched my daughter getting the feel for hang gliding.  She told the reporter about her nerves, her excitement, and the joy of flight.  She didn’t complain about the time between flights or engage in the criticism expressed by the boys in her group.  Rather, she ran, laughed, played with the instructors, and flew!

My daughter never ceases to amaze me.  My heart thrilled with her enthusiasm and her never ending determination to fly and enjoy the experience.  This child teaches me so much – I wonder if all parents experience this wonder and the exchange of teaching and learning with their kids?

A few months ago I would have grabbed my mobile phone and dialed eagerly sharing this child, this love, and her experience with my best friend.  I would have talked 100 miles a minute and filled his ears with my descriptions and thoughts and emotions hoping to paint him a picture of the experience unfolding in those moments.  Sharing that love with my best friend always enriched the experience for me – whether it meant anything to him or not – I don’t know! 

Now, as I stood on the hot sand under these gorgeous blue skies absorbing the brilliance of the sun coupled with the enthusiasm of my daughter, I felt a shiver in my heart.  I can no longer pick up the phone and share this love and these experiences with my best friend; I no longer have a best friend. 

I pulled the experience close around me to warm me.  The realization that I no longer had a best friend with whom I could share my daughter and such moments as this rocked my world, if only for just a moment. 

Right here, right now, my daughter soared down dunes.  Under colorful kite wings, she experienced flight in a way that only she could. 

I may have shed a few – just a few- tears… for the wonder that is my daughter, for the gift of such a wonderful experience for her and for me, for the realization that my best friend is truly no longer available to share this love with me, and for the simple beauty of life and all that awaits.

As my daughter lifted her feet to fly, we each looked to the future and all that awaits.  There will be more flights, many more experiences, and much more laughter.  There will be more tears as well, but like today, we will each continue to cherish each moment and live it fully – whether that is with our feet on the ground or whether we are supported by our wings!

 

Sailboat - Memoir Monday

Tears crowded the corner of my eyes as I stood looking at the sailboat stranded on the rocks.  The moon shone off its body as waves gently brushed against its side as if to comfort and to soothe.

I remember the silence.  The sound of the waves whispering as they brushed against the sand – the cold sand upon which I stood.  The site of this boat, the boat meant for the wind and the waves and the open water, touched my heart in ways that I never would have anticipated.

I felt sad, perhaps even a touch of grief.  The sorrow that comes from deep within; the sorrow that comes when seeing something very out of place or far removed from its natural space.  This boat needed to be sailing.  It was meant for open spaces and wind and water and movement.

This graceful boat, stranded on rocks, on a cold winter night along the coast of one of America’s most beautiful cities.  Today, 15 years later, the image touches my heart in ways that I am unable to describe.  It is an image that I have wanted to paint since that very moment and yet…

And yet, I am not sure that I could ever capture in color or in words the sadness and the beauty of that scene.  I am not sure that I could replicate everything that existed in those few moments. 

Alone the boat stood, in the water, waves soothing, moon streaming… It stood alone on the rocks.  It touched my heart.  The image remains strong in my memory.  Perhaps I am, at times, that beautiful sailboat, stranded on rocks, soothed by waves, highlighted in moonbeams, remaining strong and graceful despite the circumstances.