The Woman in the Moon

 

2013-12-18 Good Morning from Stowe Lane (2)

I am a lunatic. Not in the insane sense of the word but in the suffering from the belief that lunacy fluctuates with the phases of the moon, like this week for instance, sense of the word. It’s that everything gets blown out of proportion, am I doing anything right, every picture of me looks horrible, have I done enough for womankind, why do I always have to do everything on my own kind of lunacy.

It started with a request to pick a song to sum up our experience in Houston recently and all kinds of ideas flood your head. You come across the most amazing things when looking through old playlists; I mean really old playlists, like 1976 kind of old. A lot was happening then, for me, for women, for our country. I was in my twenties; working at a great job, thin, single (I wouldn’t meet himself until 1977) in my fabulous polyester shoulder padded pant suit the world was mine. I was part of the second wave of feminism and there was nothing holding me back. Barbra Streisand and Khris Khristopherson (who was incredibly hot at the time) were starring in the remake of A Star is Born which illustrated the feminism verses all in for love that was still a bit of a struggle for so many women. I was a huge fan of Streisand and her song Woman in the Moon became my mantra.

I was warned as a child of thirteen, not to act too strong

Try to look like you belong but don’t push, girl

Save your time and trouble, don’t misbehave

I was raised in a ‘No you don’t’ world, overrun with rules

Memorize your lines and move as directed

That’s an age old story, everybody knows that’s a worn out song

Ok so maybe I didn’t pay any attention to those things anyway but they were certainly prevalent.

I believe there’s a best of both worlds, mixing old and new

Recognizing change is seldom expected

As I long suspected, they believed that strange was a word for wrong

Well, not in my song ’cause you, you and I are changing that tune

We’re learning the rhythms from that woman in the moon

Here’s the thing, since I’m back from Houston I’m wondering where the hell am I going to find like-minded people.  I’ve become strange, again.   I’ve gotten myself so firmly ensconced in everyone’s life in a certain way that I wonder how I’m going to a)let them down easy when I really don’t feel like doing things the same old way and b) remove the armor I’ve built around me to find someone amazing to do things with. As my friend Sandra calls it, an Emory (I’ll save that for another post).  I’ve come to this A and B because of a picture, one that, let’s just say didn’t show off my best side.  What I initially did with this picture was dictated completely by the full moon, meaning I freaked out at just how big I’d gotten, how much I didn’t recognize myself, how much self-pity I could summon up for the lack of having anyone to “help” me.  In other words why didn’t anyone want to play with me…Oh God it was ugly and completely ridiculous but don’t lie, you’ve had that same conversation with yourself at some point (probably under a full moon too).  They say that it’s not what happens to you, it’s what you do with it.  I took the picture and made it into something completely different, something I could relate to, something creative and I gave it to the people I trust.  True to form they responded in kind, with a cheer and encouragement, not even knowing the circumstances of my momentary lunacy, well except for Sandra who has an uncanny way of just calling at the right moment.

9442_10201892903164477_5991284434037354943_n

The point is this, in 1976 I had everything in front of me, I was surrounded by like-minded people who were fighting for the very same thing, it was critical mass.  I don’t have that now, but the words of that song still ring true for me.  What a gift to be given a second chance at fulfilling that destiny with a mantra to boot.  So now, yes I’m a lunatic, but I just might also be the Woman in the Moon.

‘Cause they can hold back the tide

But they can never hold the woman

I said, “The woman in the moon”

 

The North Wind

NJ Botanical Gardens (3)

If perchance your hopes had been disappointed, you learned never to ask for more. So through good times and bad, famine and feast, the villagers held fast to their traditions. Until, one winter day, a sly wind blew in from the North…Chocolat’

The north wind blew in last night; you could hear it in the chimney and through the windows.  The wind was wicked this morning on our walk but we got our hour back and I was grateful for the light.  I’m sure our morning walk is going to require gloves and more layers going forward and today forced me into corduroy leggings (the most God awful, least flattering, still have them on as I write this piece of clothing in the world if you are round).

You can tell by today that winter is coming but I love that it’s coming.  I love burrowing down into my home; it’s quite possible I may light the first fire of the season tonight.  I love the weight of an extra blanket on the bed and that the girls snore a bit louder in winter. It’s really not a hardship for me; most of what I do is solitary (writing, photos, “real job” subject matter expert…it’s a tiny little subject) so when everyone hibernates and longs for spring I’m doing my thing in a house that smells like roasting, eating soups and stews.

My office is the sunniest room in the house and the afternoon sun warms it even on the coldest days.  It’s conducive to getting any kind of work done, be it administrative or creative.  The weather doesn’t matter to me; I do that kind of work that can be done anywhere.  I thought for a long time that I had a traditional job that chained me to a desk but not so.  With the advent of technology I can be anywhere and work by cell phone and laptop away from the chaos of an open floor plan office with not enough white noise and safely shielded from the harsh elements. For this I am grateful.

Any collaboration that is needed can be done by conference call or video blah blah.  I learned a wonderful lesson this week about creative collaboration.  It doesn’t have to be done head to head in the same room or even the same state.  One of my dear friends was moved by the same approach of winter and wrote about it.  She is not anxious for winter’s arrival the way I am.  I had the good fortune to be the one she trusted with her words.  I had even more good fortune to see her on my way home from a recent business trip.  I took some photos of her fall garden and together we created this (with her permission):

Winter is on It's Way

This was a week of gathering with friends in unexpected places but restorative to me none the less.  It was all the right people saying all the right things after I voiced my concern about where I’d find like-minded people who could understand that I didn’t go to Houston to learn to “color”.  There will be some people who hold fast to their traditions and they will be safely relegated to acquaintance.  While others on the tail of the sly north wind will be boosted even further into my heart.  All these people important as with both I have balance, but oh how I love those on the wind… I think we’ve got to measure goodness…by what we embrace…what we create…and who we include…Pere Henri…Chocolat’

 

And Whatever

Yes You Do

God knows I love a good rant. A good rant is spewed from righteous indignation, full of snappy repartee, hard to argue points, and substance. It’s fast, almost impossible to interrupt and it can have you standing on your feet if you agree, or slinking away if you’ve been proven wrong.   Think Aaron Sorkin, who can spin several different political points of view into one oh yeah we can all agree on that tiny thing. Think George Carlin, linguist extraordinaire going off about his post-modern manhood. Think Anne LaMotte who I call the world’s most amazing spiritual rantist. She has a way of looking at things that transcends the conventional but gets us all on the same page. Rantist is not yet a word, I’m working on that, there are days I truly aspire to be one… You see the common thread here? There is always one tiny thing that anyone listening can take away as their own.

Unless you rant for a living it’s usually a one time, get it off your chest; say what you have to say kind of thing. It’s hard to repeat if it comes from way down inside and really means something. What it is NOT is bitching. Bitching is excruciatingly slow, whiney, poor me, oh this and oh that and usually someone else’s fault and ends with “and whatever”!!!   I get people have something to bitch about but there’s a change that could be made somewhere in there and after hearing the same bitch over and over it’s enough. Just change one thing, just one, please. Then you’ll have something different to bitch about or shut up already. Can you tell I’ve heard more than a few of these this week?

I try not to bitch because I recognize the things I’m tempted to really bitch about have several very good solutions, none of which I’ve gotten off my ass to implement.   Yet, I mean I haven’t gotten off my ass to implement them yet. Right, don’t want to send that down on myself blah blah into the universe.  I can assure you I don’t live in a Que Sera Sera world and that shit travels…fast… Just sayin.

NJ Botanical Gardens (28)

That doesn’t mean there shouldn’t be an outlet for everyone who has that “thing” they’re stuck on. I’m not sure what that outlet should be because it’s personal. Mutual bitching partners? Pity parties? Racquetball? That used to work for me but my joints are long past bouncing off the walls. No it’s more like a photo walk for me now. I say I haven’t found my bitch and purge outlet yet but here I am bitching and purging.

If you can learn how to rant, do. It’s amazing and cathartic. You don’t have to do it out loud if that’s not your thing. I recently met a wonderful woman who posted her rant on Facebook. Just the other day I made an alternate response to an email that made me feel much better about the ridiculousness of the original request from someone who had no business speaking on behalf of….well anyone. There is a wonderful finality in the Whewwwww.

You’ll feel much better. I rant therefore I am…Dennis Miller

Lime and Lime Again

Lime and Lime Again (17)

In a full heart there is room for everything, in an empty heart there is room for nothing. Antonio Porchia

I had the honor of joining several of my oldest and dearest friends in Houston this weekend. We met for the very first time. You’ve heard me say before what a lovely and rare gift that is; meeting an old friend for the very first time. How is it that twenty five women can find themselves together sharing, learning, laughing, exploring, and just plain, well, liming… Liming is an expression that has its origin in Trinidad & Tobago. It has relaxing at its center but goes further to include rejuvenating, enlightening, connecting and gathering around food and conversation. We attended the LimeLight Sessions this weekend and I did indeed lime. These sessions are the brain child and, come to find out, dream come true of Karen Walrond. Human being extraordinaire, story teller, speaker and photographer, creator and curator of the website Chookooloonks.com.

My participation in these sessions came at a turning point. I’ve been following Karen for several years and love the way she makes her way in the world, the way there is a community around her, the way she values her own backyard and the world’s backyard. Yes, I do too. So how does she do it, what is she really like, can I learn from her. The answer is yes. And yes. And yes. Her generosity is unrestrained while taking good care of herself, not an easy thing to do. One of the more frustrating things women struggle with.

Timing is indeed everything; having just reached that turning point in Ordinary Legacy, having just brainstormed a truly frightening and exhilarating idea for where it should go, having just actually put that idea on paper and presented it as a product the invitation to lime in Houston reaches my inbox…In Houston. I haven’t been on a plane in almost a decade. So what? I sign up, I make travel arrangements including flights and hotels and shuttles and lions and tigers and bears and I’m a minute from a meltdown and excitement overrides my fear. There are gifts and then there are gifts, excitement is truly a gift.

Lime and Lime Again (28)

I have been carrying around “the book” as himself used to call it, since my father died in 2005. It has stuff, ideas, pictures, snippets and quotes. I’ve not been as consistent with it in a journaling sense but it’s been an invaluable tool. Practically the minute I got to Houston it put into action. The room I was in had a big ledge of a window sill, the kind I had in my first apartment in Cliffside Park and I found myself using it as a desk with my coffee close by and a view of the city. Priceless.

We worked we played we shared. I shared Ordinary Legacy and where I wanted it to go. What is legacy they asked…oh I know like I know this one; legacy is born of living your life the way you want your story told. Extraordinary legacies come from an ordinary life well lived. Yes they said, let me repeat that…Yes, they said. I am blessed to have been able to let my ideas about where I want to go out and have wonderful people say, yes. To have my little love of legacy become part of these sessions fills my heart to overflowing. Tia Walker said; “Affirmations are our mental vitamins, providing the supplementary positive thoughts we need to balance the barrage of negative events and thoughts we experience daily.” Amen Sister.

Lime and Lime Again (36)

I learned so much over this weekend, about the women who attended and about myself. I told my story, which I don’t normally do. Thank you Esther, you’re a love and I can’t wait to see you in December for Andrea’s serenade to us.  I met and grew to love some of the most fascinating and nurturing people I’ve ever met. And they met me, the real me. I sincerely hope that the legacy I’ve left them is the one about the favorite Aunt and not the one about Macy’s window….I’ll save that for another time.

Lime and Lime Again (20)

And then back on the plane. Goodbye Houston, I don’t know that I’ll see you again but I enjoyed your company. Hello New Jersey, my backyard where I know like I know I can make this happen. I thank you Karen for your timing, your wisdom and your ever faithful course of looking for the light.

 

 

The For Nothings

DSC_9782

“The second best thing after a gift itself is the way of giving it” ― Ali Boussi

In the middle of the mom’s-been-rushed-to-the-hospital-with-a-UTI saga I thought that rescheduling our, now annual, Christmas in July celebration might be appropriate. But we could make it look a bit different she said.  Ok?  Let’s just be together.  And so it was that I found myself with my best friend and her daughter at Kinchley’s on Friday night.  Not the elaborate sleep over we had planned but a fun dinner at a place that defies gloom on every level.  We ordered and while waiting they both began to fidget a bit in their seats.

We got something for you.

You did?  I was genuinely surprised and they were both pretty happy with themselves about that fact.

Do you want to go first, no you go first.  Should we give her this first or that first?

There’s a this AND a that?

From out of the bag emboldened with the words “shopping is my cardio” came the first something.  Prefaced by the disclaimer: “you know we are big believers in “for nothings” so we found this at a tag sale in Lake George and we thought of you.  All I heard was “we thought of you” and then the book came out of the bag.  What else would you give a person so enamored with legacy but a book titled Pioneer Women, Voices from the Kansas Frontier.  The introduction by Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr alone made my heart skip a beat.  I know I’m a history legacy crazy woman. But how perfect, even after the man holding the tag sale said all the good books were inside, these were just the cast offs.

DSC_9803

Now which one? They looked at each other. Oh this one is really cool Aunt San.  It was a book, no it is a book but they carved your initial out of it.  It’s repurposed.  And damn cool if you ask me I said.

 DSC_9789

This one’s from me.  In the box were two spoons one small and one larger.  I know where these are from, they looked at each other as if I were crazy or knew their every move, no not where you got them but where they’re from.

DSC_9796

They are from Malaysia.  I have a set very similar to them.  Turns out on one of their pop-ins at a local antique shop (because after all one must get in their cardio) my dear niece exclaimed, look Mom, spoons for Aunt San. The spoons are wonderful but even more wonderful; I’m in there. There are references that only equate to me in that beautiful little girl’s mind and I had all to do not to…well you know.  In my heart I hope that I was gracious in accepting these wonderful thoughtful gifts and not seem so selfish in my discovery that my legacy is growing with this future woman.

Dinner was fun; the movie we watched was fun.  We three had fun.  It was indeed a “cost nothing” kind of night that will forever be precious to me.  I may not be the Aunt that comes to the birthday parties but I am the Christmas Eve Aunt, the cool in some weird kind of way Aunt, the Aunt that stands in for Grandmas that can’t make performances and the Aunt that collects spoons, pottery and chairs.

“Gracious acceptance is an art – an art which most never bother to cultivate. We think that we have to learn how to give, but we forget about accepting things, which can be much harder than giving…. Accepting another person’s gift is allowing him to express his feelings for you.” ― Alexander McCall Smith

P.S. I stand corrected on the proper “nothing”.  I was mistaken in thinking it was a “cost nothing” when it was a “for nothing” an even better nothing than the first.  It remained a cost nothing kind of an evening however.  Hopefully I’ve made it right this time.