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Monday’s Maxims

+ “Behind every great recipe there is a grandmother. We call ours “Cuddy”!” – from a package of Chunk Nibbles

This is the first time I have heard “Cuddy” for a grandmother’s name and I just love it. I do believe that the best recipes I have ever gotten are from my grandmothers and my great-grandmother. Not too long ago, I brought out some old recipes for a neighborhood gathering and I was told that they were total “crack” and couldn’t be left alone until they were all gone. So much is store bought these days, that baking from scratch tastes extra good, doesn’t it? Nostalgia must be the secret ingredient. My mother-in-law taught my daughter how to bake (I am not at all a kitchen wizard) and I still have fond memories of watching them spend an afternoon in our kitchen together. Baking is bonding.

+ “Adopt the pace of nature: Her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Why do we go out in nature in order to relax? Because there is no “hurried” energy in nature. Nature is in acceptance of what is. Nature sits in faith that everything will unfold as it should, in its own time.

+ “The entire world you see is an afterthought.” – Alan Cohen

What are you seeing in the world? Are you wearing the right glasses? What you experience through your senses is then translated through your mind, using labels, beliefs, lessons, media, past experiences, emotion, other people’s influences, etc. We could both be looking at the exact same world and be translating it in entirely different ways. You could look at the identical object/scene you are observing today, and see it in an entirely different way tomorrow. Make sure that your translator is up to snuff.

+ “You fear losing what was never yours. Nothing belongs to you but the journey.” – Shams-e Tabrizi

We don’t even get to leave here with our bodies. Our true treasure is the adventures of our every day lives. Learning to let go of attachments is one of the hardest lessons in life, isn’t it?

+ “There is no fail. You either win or learn.” – Gary Keller

Our daughter has just recently started her new job and as always, she is being extra hard on herself for not being perfect at it, from the starting gate. If we learn from the lessons of our mistakes, there is never a loss. I know these words fall short on her now, but in hindsight, there is no doubt she will see the truth of it. What we learn “the hard way” is what sticks with us the most.

Happy Monday! Happy New Month! Happy New Week!

“Every dawn is a new beginning.”

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Joys and Serendipities

So this morning, I was thinking of some of the every day small things that bring me joy and make me feel totally unique and myself. Two things came to mind:

First, this is Celestial II:

I love betta fish. They are the most underrated pet you’ll ever have. They’re beautiful, they constantly want your attention (and by attention, I mean food), they’re curious and they are relatively easy to take care of, even among other fish species. I’ve had betta fish throughout my whole life, but in particular, Celestial I was more than a fish to me. He was almost like a “familiar” or one of my “soul pets.” He lived on my desk and watched me write for a good five years, until he recently passed. He was a cream colored betta fish with dark eyes. After Celestial I died, I decided that I will always need a “Celestial” betta fish mascot of sorts to live on my desk, watching me write, for the rest of my life. (I got the idea from the University of Georgia bulldogs mascot, Uga tradition. The current official Georgia bulldog, Uga, is number XI (11).) And so last month, I ordered Celestial II from eBay because I wanted a fish that looked almost exactly like Celestial I. Celestial II arrived from North Carolina in excellent condition and he already has me wrapped around his fins. He is demanding, commanding, active and dramatic and I absolutely adore him. I have two other bettas, Minka and Ice Baby, who live in the kitchen, and they each live with a helpful cleaning aide, their snails. (the snails are both named Gary) Unfortunately, just like his predecessor, Celestial II vehemently refuses to have anybody else living with him. He is vicious about his private space. He loves his solitude and so do I. Who ever thought that a fish could bring so much joy?

Another possession that brings me great joy is this little piece of art:

She’s filthy, I know. I’ve tried cleaning her off, but when I do this, some of her paint starts getting removed and I don’t want to destroy her. (I’ll have to get with a museum to find out how to do art restoration – wink). I bought my Namaste lady probably over a decade ago when I started driving convertibles. I consider her to be my friendly protector. Recently, my aunt and I drove my convertible to get breakfast and when we were leaving the car, my aunt asked me if I wanted to put the top up. I said, “No, I’ll just put my Namaste lady on the dash. She’s great at guilt trips.” I do look at this darling woodblock as a friendly symbol to anyone who passes by my car, even when I am not around. She’s also a reminder to me, to stay calm, when other drivers are in a crazed state. My Namaste lady was painted by an artist named Tiffanie Seiler, and here’s the crazy part: This morning, when I looked up what number the current Uga bulldog is, it turns out that the Seiler family, have been the owners/caretakers of all of the Uga bulldogs since 1956. Now I do not know if Tiffanie is related to these particular Uga Seilers, but I love coincidences and serendipities, so this kind of made my day and it’s only still the morning. (someone once told me that “Coincidence is just God being anonymous” and it has stuck with me ever since)

What are your favorite “little things” in your life that help you to be and feel uniquely you? I’d love to hear about them in my Comments.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Wednesday’s Whimsies

+ A wise friend recently gave me this tip when it comes to intrusive rumination. She said, “Envision a box or a file in your brain. When the same old worry thought shows up to be “solved” (Ha!) and ruminated on, tell yourself this, ‘I will put this thought in the box and I’ll take this thought back out, only when it serves me’. You will find that you will never need that particular thought again, ever.” (spoiler alert- these types of thoughts never serve you in a good way) I know that this trick sounds silly, but I’ve tried it, and it works. There’s apparently a science to it. First, this tip makes you notice and stop the thought train in its tracks, and second, it tricks the brain into believing that it is still “taking care of things” by keeping the thought “filed” for future use.

+ “We don’t need to save other people. We need to save ourselves from the belief that we need to save other people.” – Cheri Huber I think a lot of women, particularly us mothers, may have a tinge of “savior complex.” I know that I do. It comes from a good place and a noble motivation. Everything I’ve struggled with, I want to “save” the others whom I love, from the work and the angst and the fear and the heartbreak and the frustration and the shame and the doubts, that came from my ordeals. But if I’m honest with myself, some of my favorite traits of myself – resilience, authenticity, creativity, faithfulness, empathy, optimism, foresightedness, etc. were the outcomes of going through some of the toughest situations which I have ever endured. Fire forges steel. Why would I want to rob anyone whom I care about, the chance to meet their absolute best selves? Why would I want to make anyone I care about feel like they weren’t capable and best suited for taking care of themselves and creating their own unique lives, exactly as they see fit? Isn’t it a tad presumptuous and controlling to believe that anyone needs saving, and I am the one (wearing the cape) to do it? Isn’t the project of “me” enough for one lifetime?

+ “We won’t be distracted by comparison, if we’re captivated with purpose.” – Bob Goff

“Avarice never wrote a good novel; hate did not paint The Birth of Venus; nor did envy reveal to us that the squares of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the two sides. Every creation of humankind’s mind that has stood the buffering of time was born of love – love of something or someone.” – Harper Lee

For most of my adult life, I have felt really purposeful about co-creating a healthy marriage and successfully raising a large family. There were trajectories in my husband’s and my heritages that we wanted to keep, and also ones that we desperately wanted to change. My purpose of creating and growing my family to adulthood was born of love – the greatest love that I have ever felt in my life. My love will always be a bedrock for my family, but now that my children are grown, I can focus more on other personal purposes in my life. When I write, I am captivated with purpose. This blog was born of love and it remains full of love. I love the action of writing. I love you, my readers, for validating the blog and it’s existence and the existence of my creations, just by being here and reading and witnessing. The “thought trick” that I wrote about in my first bullet point, is a really good tool to use, to make sure you are staying on the track of living out your life’s purposes. Purpose feels good and natural. It feels captivating and sometimes even feels time-stopping. Purpose is born out of love. Anything else that comes up that isn’t a compliment to your sense of purpose, needs to be put in the proverbial “box/file”. These negative thoughts and the painful emotions that inevitably come with these thoughts are not part of your purpose. The things/thoughts which you deep down know need to be put into that box (distraction, comparison, rumination, avarice, hate, envy) – these things DO NOT SERVE. These things are not born of love, they are not part of your purpose and therefore, they will not survive the buffering of time. Love is eternal. Love is. All else passes away.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

A Girl Named Sue

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize what most people want more than anything is a witness to their story. Why do we think that social media has become so popular? Most people just want someone to listen. Most people want to be validated and comforted that they are doing their best as they experience the incredulousness of living a life on this Earth. Yesterday, I was trying to get a million errands done because we are having company this weekend. However, the cashier who was waiting on me at one of my stops, clearly needed me to hear her story. I sensed this – intuitively but also because she mentioned to me more than once that she had not had an easy life. To be fair, I was also sensing my own inner aggravations about time limits, and I was feeling the impatience of the people behind me, but something told me that it was more important in that particular moment that I could easily fulfill an obviously strong need of another living being to be heard, by just intently listening. I am a big believer in boundaries, but I am a bigger believer in listening to my intuition and my inner spirit, and something deeply calmed in me, and so I became a listener, a witness, and a validator to a woman named Sue.

Sue was an orphan of Indian descent. She was raised by nuns in a convent in Ediburgh, Scotland. Most of the nuns were good, sweet ladies, but the head nun was horrific, mean and controlling. Sue was a natural student and so by the age of 15, the head nun had made Sue start teaching the other children at the orphanage. Sue knew that this was not right. Sue was still a child herself. She told the head nun this fact and was dearly punished for it. So Sue kept calm, put her head down, kept with her studies, and despite the nuns pressuring her to stay at the convent and teach, she left the orphanage at the age of 18 and continued at university, while also working and living in a small apartment with five other women. Sue became an educator in a school of her choosing, and won more than one teaching award throughout her career. Sue also met the love of her life, an older man and a doctor. They married, had two children and Sue was living the life of her dreams, but unfortunately her husband suddenly passed away. At that time, her two young children begged Sue to move from Scotland to New York City, as Scotland was the land of their father and there were too many memories for all of them to bear there. So Sue finished raising her kids in New York City, and both of them have gone on to be successful in their lives and have families of their own. Sue’s children and friends all thought that she should remarry, but Sue felt that she already experienced the one great love of her life. When Sue retired, for better winter weather, she chose to move on her own to Florida, with her children’s blessing. Sue likes cashiering because she likes to keep busy and to meet people. I told Sue, “You have always had a strong spirit, it seems.”

She sighed, “I didn’t have a choice.”

I said to her, “I know that you didn’t want any of these hardships, but you stepped up to the plate. You met them. You endured and even thrived.”

Sue clasped my hands and thanked me. “He died 22 years ago today,” she said with watery eyes. And it was then that my heart knew that I was right to listen to it, and to hear Sue. And not surprisingly, I got everything done that I needed to get done for the rest of the day.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Brows

The other day, I had an appointment in a part of town I don’t normally spend time in, but I needed some groceries, so I went to the chain grocery store in the nearby strip mall, and then the multi-tasking part of my brain kicked in, and me, knowing that I’ve needed my eyebrows waxed for weeks (okay, if I’m honest here, a lot of parts of my face needed waxing. In fact, lately, my face actually feels like it’s falling off of my face, like off of a cliff. Therefore, waxing my entire face seemed like a good idea to give it any kind of hair-free lift I can get. At least in my mind . . . ) On a whim, I decided to enter a nail salon, like you find in every strip mall that has a major grocery chain store it, and I asked them if they do waxing, so I could get yet another thing checked off of my list. A woman took me right back to their little waxing room in the back of the store.

I had never been to this particular salon, nor had this particular practioner ever done my waxing, so I started in with my emphatic lecture that I give every waxing professional I go to, about how I love my hairy caterpillar eyebrows and I want to keep them as thick as possible, and please err on the side of thick, heavy Brooke Shields, even Frieda Keilo eyebrows, yada, yada, yada, yada . . . .

“Yes, yes, just clean them up,” she nodded, clearly having heard these particular instructions from many clients in the past.

“I’m sorry,” I said with a chuckle. “Can you tell I have PTSD?” I said this off-handedly, thinking back to a time in my thirties when I just started getting my eyebrows waxed, and clearly my waxer, had just started waxing the art of waxing herself, and I lost half of one of my eyebrows. (and that was back at a time that I could count on my facial hairs growing back, in the right places)

My waxer did one of those half smiles that did not mask some deep pain. “Oh, I know PTSD,” she said. “My ex had PTSD from being in wars. He would wake me up every night, yelling and screaming. He kept two guns in the night stand.”

“Oh, wow, I’m so sorry. I was wrong to use ‘PTSD’ so lightly,” and I could feel my face turning red, not from the waxing, but from shame. And then the vain, self-centered part of me, started panicking, thinking that this practioner might just wax off half of one of my eyebrows to teach me a well-deserved lesson.

But of course, she didn’t. My waxer was lovely. She did a great job with my waxing, and she even did a sort of facial massage that felt absolutely wonderful. Clearly, my waxing practioner was a pro at what she does. And also, clearly she knows a hell of a lot more about PTSD than I ever have known.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Monday Got Me Good

“How alive your heart to feel such sorrow!” – from Catherine Newman’s bestselling book, Sandwich

So last month, I was out to lunch with two friends and our one friend gave each of us a different book that she had finished reading. She told us to read them and then to swap them. So the other day, my generous book-giving friend mentioned in a casual text to me that our other friend had finished her book. I hadn’t even started mine. So, in a frenzied mix of competiveness and a dutiful sense of consideration, I finished my book, front to back, all on Monday. That book was Sandwich by Catherine Newman, and it was essentially a heart-bearing, brutally honest account of a woman in the exact stage of life me and my friends are in – empty nest, menopause, having the people whom we love on both ends of our lives, slowly and methodically fading out of our lives, in different ways. Being in the “sandwich” stage of life, our adult children are moving out and on, and our elders are slowing, aging and sometimes even passing on. Newman mentioned something about us being at a “fulcrum” stage of our lives. Sandwich was a great, relatable read, mostly in how it touched on the big emotions and the almost feeling of disbelief, which this stage of our lives brings to the table. For me, the book was mainly a reflection of the poignancy of life and the beauty of love and living fully. Here is my favorite excerpt from the book:

“Here’s what foragers know: Most of what grows is neither delicious nor toxic. There’s a whole world between what we call the choice edibles- the hazelnuts and porcini and black raspberries- and say, the destroying angel mushrooms that will shut down all your organ systems after a single nibble. You can eat the grass, the lichen, and the inner bark of most trees, a thousand kinds of leaves. Not that you would, but you could. So much of privileged adulthood seems to take place here, in the space between the soaring highs and the killing disasters. It’s just plain life, beautiful in its familiar subtlety, its decency and dailiness.”

So after finishing the book, I felt a little more fragile than usual. My feelings were closer to the surface and at that moment, I remembered that I had to get six pictures of various stages of my middle son’s life to his future mother-in-law for their upcoming wedding shower. That entailed me and my husband opening up one of two enormous plastic tubs, with dusty lids, in the garage, full of photographs. Photos I haven’t viewed in years. Photos full of my children in baby clothes, and sports uniforms, and prom attire and cuddling with various pets. Photos full of vacations taken, birthdays celebrated, and sweet everyday moments which we were lucky enough to catch on camera, because something deep in us, wanting a sweet token of that simple moment for posterity. The box was full of pictures of people who are still in our lives at all different stages of their lives, and also of people who, for various reasons, are no longer in our lives. There were literally piles and piles of pictures of the life of our family, at every single stage of it. And so yeah, Monday got to me. Monday got me good.

Besides nostaglia, and meloncholy, and wishing that certain things had turned out differently, but also primarily feeling awe and gratefulness for how well most of those “raising the kids” years had gone, I also sensed myself feeling deep compassion for young mother me in all of those pictures. She was much prettier and thinner and obviously more engaged and earnest than I ever gave her credit for being. I was so damn tough on her a lot of the times. I wish I could reach back in time and offer her a glimpse of the grace I feel for her now. I guess the best thing I can do, is offer up that same grace to myself, now, in this meaningful stage of my life, so that when I am elderly and peering through the stacks (or reels) of photos and mementos, I can recognize myself as exactly who I am – a faithful forager, doing my best to enjoy and to savor my “just plain life, beautiful in its familiar subltety, its decency and dailiness.”

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Frislands (or Islands of Friday)

I recently read about a theory created by psychologist Pauline Boss, that states when going through times of big changes, loss or upheaval in anyone’s life, we need “islands of certainty.” These are stable, familiar entities that give us a sense of normalcy which we can “cling to” while moving through change. Boss puts these islands of certainty into four main categories (conveniently they all start with the letter “p”) : People, Practices, Places and Possessions

What people (and/or pets), rituals, regular haunts, and most treasured things give you a sense of comfort and stabilty? It is suggested to write a list of these precious parts of your life and update it regularly, so that when changes or surprises inevitably occur at different times, you have something to refer to, and to remind you of what and where you have to turn to, for comfort, for a sense of normalcy and certainty.

****And for old times’ sake (reminscent of my regular Favorite Things Friday posts of the past), I am going to add a new favorite of mine. I read that plastic jelly shoes were making a comeback this summer and I thought, “Not for me!” The first time jelly shoes came around in my lifetime, they were made of stiff, sharp edged plastic that inevitably created miserable blisters on my feet. Also, the jelly shoes’ colors would fade fast or inevitably get ugly marks on them. But alas, recently I got suckered into buying a new pair of tortoiseshell jelly ballet flats made by CUSHIONAIRE (I bought mine from Amazon), because an article in the New York Times insisted these were not the jelly shoes of yesteryear. And they were right! I love my Cushionaire jelly ballet flats! They are soft, stretchy, comfortable and they have an amazing cushiony sole. I wore my tortoiseshell jelly flats all day yesterday with a breezy pair of linen pants, and I felt cool and comfortable and fashionable, even as I was melting away in the hot air of summer. Happy Friday, friends. Friday will always be one of my Islands of Certainty!

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Temperature Rising

I recently heard the term “human emotional thermometer.” This label means that you are the type of person who is continually taking the temperature of everyone else’s moods and then treating those moods of other people, as if they are your responsibility to fix/change/manage. Many of us women fall into this category. And while we are often very good at testing and managing other people’s emotions, our internal emotional thermometers are often broken when it comes to measuring our own emotions, and what personal needs those emotions are trying to guide us to fulfilling. As in touch as we are with the zeitgeist of the room, we are often entirely out of touch with our own internal feelings.

Are you a human emotional thermometer? Do you need to change the settings from “external” to “internal”? When we become more attuned to our own feelings and moods and thus start taking care of our own needs which these emotions and feelings point to, we actually embark on healthier, mutual relationships. When we can rely on ourselves to understand and to communicate and to fulfill our own needs, we can relax into the idea that others are capable of doing the same thing for themselves. The reality is that most others probably do not want to be “managed” by us, anyway. Finally, when we trust ourselves to keep our own temperature at normal, we stop expecting others to magically do it for us.

“Be a thermostat, not a thermometer.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

“Think of your moods as a thermometer that takes the temperature of your life.” – Robert Biswas-Diener

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Birthday Reflections

Happy Birthday, USA! I was here for our bicentennial. I was five years old. I clearly remember all of the hoopla and all of the “schlock”. I read yesterday about a professor who created a large curation and collection of 1976 bicentennial “schlock”. (there was even a red/white/blue condom which referenced fireworks) He later donated the collection to one of the Ivy League universities, believing it carries important insight into our American culture. As I was reading the article, it occurred to me that this 250th celebration doesn’t seem quite as “in your face” as the 1976 one did. Now this could be because in 1976 I was a young child and everything seems bigger and more incredible when you are little, but I don’t think that is the reason. This year’s July 4th celebrations (other than in our nation’s capital) seem relatively subdued considering the milestone we have reached. But that’s okay. Because, honestly, we’ve gotten something much better than an overload of tacky red, white and blue crap. In a time period, when everyone is weary of divisiveness and politics and fearmongering, we got hundreds of thousands of visitors from all over the world, many with fresh eyes to our country, having never been here before, being perfectly astounded and amazed by what our people and our country have to offer: enormous portions of food and drink, gorgeous nature that goes on and on, friendly, kind people who want to make you feel welcome, air conditioning everywhere and running strong, sunshine, cultures within cultures, can-do optimism, giant trucks and cars, huge arenas and venues . . . . the list goes on and on and on. I keep watching the reels of excited visitors, as my eyes get misty. I’ve always been proud and utterly grateful to be an American, but this surprising reminder from foreigners of the many, many reasons why we are so lucky to be Americans is the best birthday present the USA could ask for – thank you, World Cup!

It also occurred to me yesterday that I will be lucky to reach the USA’s tricentennial. (I am going to have to cut down on my American large portions, if I even want a shot at it) I probably won’t be around to celebrate it, but America will. I have no doubts and the United States will be stronger, and more clear-visioned and more inspirational to the entire world than it ever has been before.

I follow a writer, who is sort of “new age” named Tam Veilleux. I was honestly a little surprised and totally delighted by how she closed out her most recent newsletter. These are her words (I couldn’t agree more nor say it better myself):

“Lastly, because this hits my heart so loudly: Happy Birthday, America. I’m wildly patriotic by nature. Maybe it’s the long line of family members who served in the military. Maybe it’s my deep appreciation for the revolutionary spirit of those who fought for freedom. Though we still have room to grow, I celebrate all that America is…its greatness and its growing pains. It’s home, and I love it deeply.

If you are an American reader, I hope this week finds you reconnecting with what you love about this country. And if you’re reading from elsewhere in the world, thank you for bearing witness to our growing pains and holding space for us as we continue learning how to become better citizens of Earth.

Sending big love and even bigger fireworks!“

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Randomness and Magic

I read a fascinating letter earlier this week, written by Jack Antonoff, who is the lead singer of the band Bleachers (one of their best known songs, and one of my personal favorites is I Wanna Get Better). Antonoff has written music with Taylor Swift and he is also a music producer. In his letter, Antonoff was basically blasting music creators who are using AI to create. Here are some excerpts for the letter:

“What we do has become an ancient ritual. . . . You don’t have to write music, you don’t have to record it and you don’t have to bring out the band and play it. And yet for us, the idea of optimizing what we do is a complete miss of the entire point of what compels us in the first place. We (myself, the band and everyone I know, frankly) have never been looking for this work to become quicker or easier. We were never frustrated by the randomness and magic it takes. We do it for that exact reason — and without the process itself ::: nothingness.“

“So to everyone who is gassed up about the new ways you can fake making art, by all means, drive right off that cliff. We’re genuinely happy to see you go. . . .Generations coming will be engaging in the ancient ritual of writing, recording and performing as it comes to us from God.”

“So as we embark on this strange detour where the bad actors will willingly reveal themselves through slop, and the struggling great will be further spread thin to make an honest living doing what they were put on Earth to do, we (myself, the band and frankly everyone I know) remain more dedicated than ever to reveal what comes from within. Writing music, recording and performing it — that’s it. Nothing more embarrassing than considering there is a way to optimize that holy process.”

I don’t know where I stand on using AI in the creative process yet. I don’t feel as angry about it as Jack Antonoff seems to feel. Creating with AI is all still so new and continually forming and reforming. I remain curious and hopeful. (that being said, I never, ever use AI to write this blog and with all of my grammatical errors and run-on sentences and odd transitions, that’s probably obvious) However, I completely agree with Antonoff that the real joy in any creative pursuit is getting caught up in the flow of something bigger than yourself. Writing feels like transcribing downloads from an entirely different realm. Painting, sewing, playing music, woodworking, cooking . . . honestly, doing any creative pursuit often makes time feel like it’s stopped. Like most things in life, the true joy of any creation isn’t really the final product, it is the process of bringing the creation to life. As Antonoff puts it, it is the “revealing what comes from within . . .that holy process . . . as it comes to us from God.” And as he stated, this is an ancient ritual. Over the weekend, we went to an art museum which we had never been to before and again, I was mesmerized by the rooms and rooms of ancient art from all over the world, many of these pieces being centuries old. All of these pieces were made from the ancient ritual and holy process of revealing the downloads coming from within, or perhaps coming from God.

There is probably a place for AI creations. AI is really just a super fast conglomeration and reiteration of what humanity has already brought into the world anyway. But I truly do hope that we don’t let AI rob us of the sometimes painstaking, but beautiful, healing, cleansing, humane, revealing process of birthing our own creations into this world. If we are honest with ourselves, creating is really the point of living and experiencing life.

I started this blog on a complete lark in the summer of 2018 when my husband and I helped our eldest son unload his things into his new apartment, in his new city, for his first job out of college. In a sense, writing this blog saved me. It saved the creative part of me that perhaps I had let get a little dark for a while. Thank you for witnessing and being part of my creative process and my flow of thoughts and my emotions, as they came to me from within, as I transcribed them from something deep and yearning in my heart. It is not lost on me, that as I just helped my youngest child unload her things into her new apartment, in her new city, for her first job out of college, that I feel an intense need and yearning to come back to the blog to write. I have so much download, and Adulting – Second Half is my favorite place to put these downloads. Again, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. May we never lose the sanctity of the “randomness and magic” it takes to create.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.