“I” BEFORE “U”

Sylvia: Erma, how have you survived that mother of all relationships? You know. Marriage?

Erma: Oh Sylvia, that’s a biggie. The question of all questions. Too early for wine or an old-fashioned, so put a fresh pot on.

As the cooler temperatures set in and the daylight hours grow shorter, Sylvia contemplates all the ways to bring possibilites for happiness to life. It seems a bit inconsistent though since autumn for many carries darker thoughts. Death and dormancy even for some. However, Sylvia, ever hopeful given the company she keeps and her best friend’s soothsaying abilities (Erma predicts that everything works out as it should in the end), is thinking about what makes people tick this time of year, especially other women who appear wildly happy with themselves and almost annoyingly contented in their marriages. And for the purpose of this conversation, marriage according to Sylvia means a long-standing commitment between two grown people who have vowed to be true to one another in good times and bad, yada-yada-yada, and who lack the possibility of easy escape or abandonment. How does one survive, thrive, grow, bloom, and blossom – keep the soil tilled so to speak, during and even after years of marriage?

Of course, as Sylvia has learned at Erma’s urging, a steaming cup of coffee and a daydream often help nourish the spirit and soothe the soul. On occasion, both even assist in maintaining a woman’s self-esteem and satisfying her amply. Undoubtedly, the recollection of Sylvia’s best cup of coffee which led to the conjuring of Cam’s bulging biceps and hypnotic hazel eyes often serves Sylvia well. And as Erma has told Sylvia time and again, it’s okay to wind your own clock to keep it ticking on and in your own time. Sylvia and most women, married and unmarried, need to know that lovers, partners, and spouses cannot keep time sufficiently for them if they haven’t spent the time on themselves uncovering, discovering, and exploring that which makes their their toes curl and their skin glisten.

Erma (looking for a little nosh to accompany the freshly brewed dark roast): Sylvia, I have a really simple recipe that only took me more than forty years years of marriage and togetherness to create and follow. On the surface, it’s pretty easy – to me anyway. You know, Sylvia, how you made me think about “to B or not to B” a while back? Well, I have my own alphabetical application that I use to keep the marriage and relationship ground alive. “I” before “U” always!

Sylvia (mug in hand as she hurries towards the carafe for a quick refill): Hold that thought, Erma. Something tells me I need to be sitting for this next piece of info. I’ve got a feeling I should even be taking notes.

Erma and Sylvia spend the next several hours discussing, sharing, and lamenting the lack of true and unbridled fulfilment in many relationships, but namely marriage. While Sylvia interjects her own tales of woe due to feeling less or smaller in her relationship, Erma repeats what she knows to be true after oh-so-many years of being committed to one person.

“Sylvia, there are only two ways to be fulfilled in this life. First, ask for what you want. Be clear. Crystal. Don’t leave your happiness and satisfaction to chance, hoping that your friend, lover, spouse, or partner will pick up on your cues and read your mind. Be specific. Be direct. You want eggs for breakfast and you know that only eggs will satisfy you completely, then why are you settling for oatmeal? Don’t be afraid to ask for eggs – and any way you want them! This leads to the second way to fulfilment, by the way, and I don’t think it’s coincidental. If you can’t get your eggs over-easy just the way you like them, want them, and need them, make them yourself. Often the only way to get something or to accomplish what you want and desire is to do it yourself. Anything and everything. This doesn’t mean you don’t want the person to share the meal, but it means that you know how to shop for, prepare, and feed yourself if they are unwilling, incapable, or unavailable. So, Sylvia, to recap: Ask for what you want. And if you don’t get what you want or don’t feel like asking, do NOT settle.

Erma collects her mug, places it gingerly in the kitchen sink, and turns to her friend with one final utterance before heading out. “To recap, Syl, remember that ‘I’ always precedes ‘u’ in every way imaginable.”

SHE’S SITTING HERE PRACTICING THE ALPHABET!

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“Always putting others first creates deep resentment, destroys your happiness, and is unsustainable.
Putting yourself first allows you to meet your needs in the most skillful way. This, in turn, increases your happiness, joy, and capacity to love, so you can give freely and create healthy relationships.”– (Aziz Gazipura)

Don’t Live on the Periphery

Some days, most if truth be told and we are truly committed to appreciating and living in the present, we should only pay attention to what is right in front of us. It is what can bring us the most peace and comfort. It is okay to put on blinders once in a while; they allow us to keep our eyes open and focused on what is important. And more often than not, we discover, Sylvia & Erma discover, the what is a who. Who is most important in your life? You.

A bit worn this midweek but in the best way – from multiple days of self-care, a change of scenery, and a bounty of unconditional love – the “blinders” are helping. Twenty-four hours of worrying, lamenting, and second-guessing herself gets wearisome each day, so Sylvia opts for the here and now. The blinders can be eye-opening and restorative.
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Some days, 24 hours is too much to stay put in, so I take the day hour by hour, moment by moment. I break the task, the challenge, the fear into small, bite-size pieces. I can handle a piece of fear, depression, anger, pain, sadness, loneliness, illness. I actually put my hands up to my face, one next to each eye, like blinders on a horse.
~Regina Brett

#nowplaying
#overfiftyandfine #womensupportingwomen
#midlifeblogger #wednesdaywisdom

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Saddle Up & Ride

“Lately I have been going to bed feeling much closer to my goal, but today, I see and feel that I’m in the same place I have been. That light at the end of the tunnel even seems a little dimmer,” Sylvia laments.

Erma, not the optimist but the realist today, hears something in her friend’s voice that she hasn’t heard in a while – despair. It is a slippery slope that she has seen her friend travel down more than once, so fortunately she knows that it is temporary. She also is well aware though that Sylvia needs a jolt to snap out of the looming funk fast.

Thinking back on some of their past antics, Erma recounts the story of the penny pony that has only recently become a favorite memory for both of them. She tells the story attempting to conjure up the image and the feelings that Sylvia experienced that summer afternoon. “It was totally impromptu, remember? We were walking the mall, complaining about how grumpy and miserable society had become. And then, there she appeared, Sandy, the penny pony, strategically placed near the restrooms on the way to the exit.”

A Penny Well-Spent

“That was funny. Silly and immature, but fun. Do you remember the passersby with their eye-rolling and judgmental comments?”

“Oh yes, but what I remember most is the pure joy in your eyes. The completely carefree look of freedom as Sandy rocked back and forth for those all-too-quick twenty seconds. Awesome.”

“Too short. Fleeting. And look, that ride didn’t take me anywhere,” Sylvia said dampening Erma’s mood.

Erma, sadly annoyed by her friend’s complaining, decides it is time for the stir, the jolt, the wake-up. “Syl, stop. Take a roll of pennies and go to the mall. Lose yourself in a trashy novel. Make brownies and eat the entire batch. Pour yourself a cuppa and have a daydream. For God’s sake, those won’t get you anywhere in life either, but they will hold your place in line – and you might even have a little fun and find a little happy. I know you will.”

Sylvia, lifts herself from the chair, and rides into the very next moment with a smile and a little more hope, enough to finish today’s ride.

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There is no straight way to a destination. So enjoy the ride even when you get lost.

~Debasish Mridha


The Free-Fall Zone

“Sometimes we fall, Sylvia. That’s just the way it is,” Erma informs her friend in a calm yet authoritative voice.

“Oh, I’m falling. That I know. I have bumps, bruises, and cuts. I’m worn, weathered, and yet I am becoming more and more curious about this abyss of time in front of me, hanging over me, and likely beyond me and my imagination. Sometimes I actually welcome the path of the abyss – full of meanderings, gulleys, and hidden impediments. At least I know I’m not tripping over my own two feet. There is a quiet comfort in that.”

Erma, never surprised but always somewhat unsteadied by Sylvia’s musings, sighs. She pauses. She is digesting her friend’s perspective.

“Ah, Sylvia, you describe the free-fall perfectly. You never see rock bottom, perhaps because deep down you know that there is no end to the abyss.”

“Could be, Erma. Or maybe I’m just looking up the entire time I’m falling.”

For now, don’t look down.

We fall into an abyss and automatically we assume an absence of light. An interminable darkness. After all, that is the definition of abyss, right? A Saturday stroll has Sylvia thinking about how others might view her in this abyss of time. Right here, right now, it is not so bad. She has found a place of light.
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“A photograph offers us a glimpse into the abyss of time.”
~John Updike
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Roots of Vulnerability

“You were away for quite awhile, Syl. Are you well-rested?”

“Not at all. I’m exhausted. Two weeks of caregiving and then some self-care of the best kind.”

“I’m happy that you recognize the need to care for yourself. However, wherever, whenever, and with whom you choose to refuel are secondary to the need. Good for you.”

Sylvia took care of an aging family friend and realized the fragility of life. She learned that tough love is still love.

She decompressed on the beach, walked the shore, bid farewell to the days as she watched the sunsets, and slept soundly. She even managed a delicious dream or two.

Meeting with both old and new friends who shared their stories, she became acutely aware of her insecurity but also extremely cognizant of that which set her apart from others. Early morning walks and play with canine companions, adventurous rides on a jet ski enjoying the vastness of Lake Michigan, and sipping wine and swapping stories, Sylvia then shared with Erma the greatest lesson of all – the epiphany she had amidst the sunflowers. “I am deeply rooted in vulnerabilities – we all are – and in them, I’ve found my gifts. I’ll let you decide for yourself what they are, Erma. I know what’s inside.”
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Standing tall and Finding the sun

There’s something in this world that makes you happy– find it; do it; breathe it in; let it wash over you; simply hold it; stare at it; bask in it; enjoy it; keep it to yourself. Or, share it. It’s the beginning of something – at least another glorious summer’s day. I’m starting to recognize my happy, and I wish the same for you.

Read What You Cannot See

Erma reads it, looks at the video clip, and laughs. “I’m fairly certain Emily was talking about how poetry set her free.”

Sylvia, at first nodding in placid agreement, then quips, “Well, you got the gist, Erma. Others might, too, if they read and don’t just look at the pictures.”

Ever the realist, Erma tells Sylvia that she might be hoping for too much. “People want quick, easy, not too much thinking.”

“I know, Syl, but just for today – this last Monday in June – I’m putting aside my cynicism and counting on all of the women who are ready to set aside convention and set themselves free.”

Erma, once again tickled by Sylvia’s newfound optimism, has one final thought to leave with her friend before she heads back home. “From dirty to flirty, lickety-split? I guess that’s not too prosaic, although I’d hardly call it poetic.”
🐦🦚💐🐦🦚💐🐦🦚
They shut me up in Prose –

As when a little Girl

They put me in the Closet –

Because they liked me “still” –

Still! Could themself have peeped –

And seen my Brain – go round –

They might as wise have lodged a Bird

For Treason – in the Pound –

Himself has but to will

And easy as a Star

Look down upon Captivity –

And laugh – No more have I –
~Emily Dickinson

So Much More

The start to summer has Sylvia and Erma discussing the joys and ravages of basking in the sun, literally and figuratively.

Sylvia: Sun on my face. Sand between my toes. Fresh ocean air.

Erma: Sweat dripping from my brow. Sand in my car. The lingering taste of salt in my mouth.

Sylvia: Long walks enjoying plush, verdant paths. Sun-kissed cheeks. Evening cocktails on the patio.

Erma: Bees and bug bites. Crow’s feet and weathered skin. Sugary spills and the ensuing march of ants.

“Well, aren’t you the definition of a curmudgeon? A true crank,” remarks Sylvia.

Erma, tongue-in-cheek and with her signature sarcastic tone, lobs back, “Yep, that’s me. Ageless and timeless, my dear.”

“What? Ageless? Timeless? Those choice words are used to describe a woman’s looks,” Sylvia counters.

Erma, ever the teacher and always poised to debunk her younger friend’s perceptions, staves off any further commentary in one thought-provoking and accurate analysis. “Who says that ageless and timeless have anything to do with looks? Both are so much more!”


Less is More

“She tells her story in her face. When her life comes to an end, she can only hope that others see what she aspired to – a life well-lived and well-loved with some very juicy parts that kept her going.” ~ K. Morgan


Intoxicated

To begin the day with choices, her choices alone, and the fresh ocean air proved the most intoxicating elixir for her mind, body, and spirit.

Today – and who knows, tomorrow too, perhaps – she stands with her soul ajar.

Oh, Emily, I think you have known me in so many ways all along.
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“The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.”
~Emily Dickinson
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Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

Don’t Stand in the Doorway

Up early, coffee-inspired, dressed, and ready to cross the threshold into a new day, Sylvia smiles at the prospect of the here and now.

In our 20s, we live with anticipation and energy; the goals (for most of us) are to make tomorrow come faster, have fun today, and remove ourselves from what we looked like yesterday.

The 30s hit and we live with hope that tomorrow will be easier; today we will get ahead a bit or at least stay afloat and that our mistakes from yesterday will not be repeated.

The 40s for many of us are wrought with anxiety and fear that tomorrow we will find that we do not have enough of anything – time, money, love or patience. Today we went through the motions and have little recall of what actually transpired. We long for the lack of accountability and responsibility we had in our youth – yesterday was not so bad.

Ah, our 50s and 60s? Well, we live with intention and purpose. Tomorrow is getting close and it promises nothing, so we focus on what absolutely must be accomplished today. Today we will carve out a little bit of time for ourselves, even if it’s only a second to reflect, breathe, write, or have a bit of conscious “me” time, for yesterday, though we intended to do just that, time slipped away and we cannot get it back.

And here’s where Sylvia & Erma stop and welcome the many wise and witty friends of a certain maturity to add their two cents which has infinitely greater value than anything either of the gals could pretend to know or even imagine.

This Sylvia knows: tomorrow is not guaranteed and yesterday is done. Here and now is all we have!

💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐

With Erma’s steadfast friendship and support, Sylvia has come to believe that she has the strength and power to sprout wings on the way down. Today, both admonish the danger of standing in the doorway. The gals recommend crossing the threshold into here and now. No hesitation.
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Thresholds are dangerous places, neither here nor there, and walking across one is like stepping off the edge of a cliff in the naive faith that you’ll sprout wings halfway down. You can’t hesitate, or doubt. You can’t fear the in-between.
~Alix E. Harrow, The Ten Thousand Doors of January

Hats Off to Fascinating Women

Sylvia has been unusually preoccupied these first few days of March. The end of winter always has her dreaming and reflecting—even more than she ordinarily does! She dreams of places not yet visited, renewed purpose, and endless possibility. She reflects on the many stories Erma shared with her about how women wear different hats during different stages of life. Student. Sister. Wife. Mother. Executive. Housekeeper. And the list goes on. Erma always said that the most amazing friendships between women happen when we take off our “hats” and allow ourselves to be in the moment for and with each other.

When Sylvia happens upon a lovely duo who appears to be mother and daughter, she smiles and approaches them to gush about their obvious fun-loving nature and friendship. “M&M“—as Sylvia lists them now in her cell contacts—laugh; and then M, the beautiful, young brunette who looks ravishing in every single hat, offers, “She isn’t my mom. M is Mom’s best friend. We have become friends, too.”

The other M, the more experienced, mature, and equally lovely lady, adds that they have enjoyed a glorious and heartfelt day of love, laughter, and overlapping life experiences. Both of them said final goodbyes to very special people this past year. A powerful connection, indeed.

Sylvia, after sharing her personal story of loss from this past year as well and engaging in a bit of fun with her new friends, wonders, “What if Erma were here to share this experience? Sylvia is certain her best friend would be rolling her eyes and then nearly wetting her pants from laughter as each woman tried on hat after hat. Sylvia and the younger M would then have reminded their more seasoned friends of this new trend, “They are not hats. They are fascinators.”

Yes, fascinators! An absolutely fascinating connection between women that is sure to become a favorite memory.
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“When women hear each other’s stories, told from the heart, it gives us inspiration to keep on going.” – Elizabeth Lesser
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Fascinating in every way!
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