It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.” Is it though? I don’t know about you, but every single Christmas, though blanketed in tradition, has been markedly different. Not better or worse, but different. I have done as much shopping and preparing as I am going to do this year. A lot less than last year, […]
What’s in a Look?
As July comes to a close and the first eve of August holds all of the promise and uncertainty of a new month, I’m coming to terms, yet again, with changes, new struggles and obstacles, and reconfigured ideas of what hope and promise look like.
July has been a very full and fast month, no stops and starts, just more than the usual dose of an air that hangs with the thickness of reconciliation – learning to temper the extremes, the heat of summer with the blasts of indoor cooling; the wavering lust for either sunrises or sunsets; and the yearning to be social in the face of a gnawing desire for solitude.
What’s new? Learning to be more than okay with uncertainty!
“Let July be July. Let August be August. And let yourself just be even in the uncertainty.” ~ Morgan Harper Nichols
Hope just isn’t a dangerous thing; it’s the most bittersweet part of my midlife journey most days. I’m no longer expecting smooth transitions as I make and experience changes to my life. In fact, I brace myself for a fair amount of sting and hurt as I navigate a meandering journey to self-love (which if I allow myself to be completely honest is really the conscious act of moving away from self-critical behaviors that zap me of energy and opportunities for joy).
Bitter and sweet. They are never evenly balanced. I think that between the two is where the majority of my midlife evolution is occurring.
“I deserve my lollipop and I deserve my toothache.”
~Khayri R.R. Woulfe
#over50andfabulous #midlifewomen #womensupportingwomen #healthybodyhealthymind #writingcommunity #nonfictionnetwork #proagers #writeyourstory #tellyourstory #livewithintention
Summer has arrived in full force on the Cape, and nothing announces it more than the glorious blooming of hydrangeas everywhere.
Simple things. A sunny day. A bouquet fresh from the yard. Hydrangeas have become my favorite, perhaps because they were hers. It’s funny though because symbolically, especially in literature, hydrangeas signify opulence and arrogance; they are indeed a showy flower with an unparalleled presence in a garden. She, however, was so modest and humble.
As I watched the fluffy, delicate balls of purple, pink, and periwinkle wilt in the heat, I reflected on the contradiction. I realized that her choice of the flower was quite simple, two-fold I think. First, the blooms are undeniably beautiful; and second, they are incredibly resilient. I’d like to think that as I age, wilt, and weather in this life, I also learn that there is intrinsic beauty in the ability to rebound and rise. Deep down maybe my mother knew her worth all along. Her resilience became much of her legacy. I’m determined to keep that tradition alive.
Off to gather more blooms and share them with the next generation.
Sure does appeal to me, but can I get there easily? Who knows? I don’t, but that’s the point, isn’t it?
This Saturday morning inspired me, as I sipped coffee on the deck and listened to the cacophony performed by all of the woodland creatures and birds calling out their unique tunes – none of them in sync, by the way, but somehow the dissonance created a melody all their own. I was listening to the sweet season of summer (both literally and figuratively), and for those moments, I realized that my life didn’t lack appeal or promise. It was just meant to be lived simply and peacefully, preferably in great pajamas!
Special thanks to a dear friend who reminded me that I can dance my way back into life –no matter where I am – as long as I take the time to hear the music!
I’ve been traveling pretty much non-stop since mid-January – caregiving, visiting old friends, making new friends, discovering and uncovering, and above all else, trying to make changes to a life that stole away parts of me long forgotten – and slowly, I’ve become the main character in my story. There have been a fair number of plot twists, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. My story might not seem all that interesting to anyone else, but I must say it’s been keeping me excited (often in an unsettling and even uncomfortable way); engaged, and committed to writing and turning a page or two each day.
I’m no longer journaling about a stranger’s life, the woman I had thought lost or who had disappeared altogether. I’m living on the outside, not waiting for life and all of the feelings it conjures daily to happen to me so that I can react. I’m experiencing everything from the mundane to the extraordinary; and for the first time in a very long time, I’m more interested in me and the woman I’m becoming than the woman I was!
*********
Screw the mid-life crisis
Go have a mid-life spa day
A mid-life quickie
A midlife tiramisu
But whatever you do
DON’T give in to mid-life blues!
-Sanjo Jendayi
#over50andfabulous #womensupportingwomen #midlifewomen #nonfictionnetwork #healthybodyhealthymind #chooseyourself #becoming #womenwhowrite
I grew up in a New England shoreline town, so the assumption of many who meet me is that I’ve always been a beach lover and sun worshipper. Not true. In fact, I avoided the beach for years, especially when I hit the awkwardness of adolescence. That young girl grew up hating her body and trying to get people to like and love her for being smart and hardworking. I was that girl who avoided pool parties, beach dates with the cool kids (who seemed to like me), and any and all outdoor activities that required exposure of anything more than my smile, mind, and veiled confidence. After all, my sisters –both several years older– had by virtue of birth order and the endowment of petite frames thanks to our mom’s DNA, earned the coveted positions of the cute and perky one and the tiny and tenacious one. This girl, I was the fair-skinned, bigger-boned, studious one. Needless to say, the beach and bathing suits were quite far removed from my wheelhouse.
I often say and think that time and maturity are the great equalizers in life. (I say maturity rather than age because I no longer think wisdom derives solely from the number of years lived; there is a marked difference between growing older and growing wiser.) Those great equalizers are finally forcing me to realize that I’m the one who often stands in my own way. Giving in to those feelings of body loathing and shame and obsessing over how others, namely my peers, “viewed” me prevented me from experiencing two of the most important elements that the beach and ocean offer: peace and play.
As I walked the beach of Siesta a couple of weeks ago, sand in between my toes and a slight ocean breeze caressing my 61-year-old sun-kissed cheeks, I thought about that girl who missed out on so much peace and play in her youth. As I sat down at the base of one of the intricately crafted sand sculptures, I leaned into the moment. I had become the agent of change in my own world. Peace and play were present. How lovely to realize that it was not too late for me to welcome both into my life!
I talk. I talk a lot. To strangers. To friends and loved ones. To service workers. To children. To the older and the wiser. To the naive and unlearned. To the refined and educated. To men and women from around the globe. To people of all races, creeds, colors, religions, and sexual identities. To those who are powerful and those who need empowering. To those who use their voices freely. To those who have just begun to find their voices. Most of all, I talk to myself. Listening all the while.
The voices – all of them at times creating a cacophony in desperate need of silencing – provide depth, meaning, love, and laughter; they are the essence of life’s purpose. And then…
I write.
“I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still.”
~Sylvia Plath, Letters Home
One of my favorite people in the world is another Scorpio sister; she and I met nearly two decades ago when I was teaching middle school English at a small private school. I had the pleasure of having her son, a quick-witted and vibrant young man who has since made his way in the world fearlessly and whom I am proud to call friend. Both my soul sister and her son –actually, the entire family including her husband (the “punniest” man I know), their fur baby Lua, as well as their eclectic and completely welcoming groups of friends – have expanded my world in myriad ways, but no way greater than sharing their deeply-seated love of exploration and their zest for living and loving fully.
While my friend and her husband have been in Europe on another adventure, they graciously offered me their home in the Pacific northwest (dog, plants, and roses galore). “Work” never feels like work when I’m on an adventure of sorts. From learning to use an electric mower to visiting Williamette wine country to outings where food, beverage, and above all else laughter were abundant, the months of September and October to this point have been full. My soul is lighter. My heart is fuller. My mind is clearer. And for more times lately than I can remember, I have felt like I – just me – am enough. If truth be told, I might even be too much in the very best ways.
I’m making memories, satisfying curiosities, and challenging myself most days. Those days, these days, are indeed sublime. Life itself has been challenging most of the past six decades. I’m going to challenge it back!
All day yesterday, I thought about my father and the unexpected nature of life. As he declined cognitively due to Alzheimer’s, my days seemed to pass too quickly, and there was never enough time with him. As I became more conscious of the limitations and deadlines imposed by his illness and by what it means to live this one mortal life, moments grew longer and more meaningful. Just a moment. A split second. A smile. A laugh. A tear. A memory. My recall now of those moments tends to be in slow motion. Thankfully. I’ve learned that when I become acutely aware of how fleeting life is, I have the power to slow down and take in the present moment.
Not all experiences are meant to become deeply embedded in the memory, but those times when I’m happiest – and right now that means the days, hours, and minutes when I want nothing but peace and I find it and feel it simply – become the salve I need to soothe my soul. The anticipation of meeting up with a new “old” friend (and the resulting pep in my step). Heading out for coffee in a newly discovered café. Sitting and swinging in an unknown spot. All in slow motion the past few days. I remember all of it vividly…today. And maybe, just maybe, that’s all there is, but it is enough.
I’ll just keep using these wings each day.
#lovethelifeyoulive #hereandnow #writeyourstory
"ARE YOU THERE, ERMA? IT'S ME, SYLVIA." 