So, the above is a tweet from Think Smarter, which those of you who are my regular readers, know is one of my favorite and most oft-quoted Twitter feeds. This tweet has been posted on Think Smarter, at least three times. Honestly, I have always related to it, but I felt too shy or vulnerable to admit to you readers that I relate to it. The fact that it has been repeated so often on the Think Smarter feed and already, this current posting of it has 265 retweets and 780 likes, tells me there are quite a few people who sometimes feel like weird, passionate loners. So, maybe we are not the “loners” who we think we are, in this confusing world. Being honest and vulnerable with others, or at the very least, with yourself, is a brave and a beautiful thing. The level of intimacy you feel is one of the most “alive” and vibrant feelings that there is in this world. Unfortunately, our modern way of going about life, encourages us to numb out, in one form or another, putting on layers of masks and performances and then looking for something outside of ourselves, to fill the hole. We miss so much when we do that. Just for today, allow yourself to be as open and honest and real as you have ever been, even if it is just with yourself, your “one man wolf pack.” Sit with that vulnerability and rawness. Cry, laugh, scream, whatever – feel all of your feelings, and sense where your feelings are experienced in your body. In short, give yourself permission to fully experience being totally and unguarded-ly, alive. My guess is, that instead falling back to your go-to of routinely “dulling out”, you’ll be attracted to coming back to the vulnerability. You’ll repeat it, like Think Smarter keeps repeating the above post.
“How beautiful it is when one lives completely and not with just a part of oneself. When one is full to the rim and calm because there is nothing more to get in.” ― Erich Maria Remarque
My son was almost arrested a few days ago. He had only been home from college for about a day and a half. He is an excellent student and he attends a prestigious university. He was with three other friends, with the same kind of pedigrees. It was in the middle of the day. What was his offense? He and his friends were visiting their previous high school teachers and coaches. Despite being what would be called “distinguished alumni”, they are never allowed on the school property again, for the rest of their lives. Why? They entered the school through the back teachers’ gate (on advice from a former teacher). My son and his friends were technically “trespassing” and in today’s world, that is a serious, serious offense.
My daughter is a sophomore, at that same high school. Every day that I drop her off at school, I anxiously scan the crowd going into the high school, trying to get a feel for the energy of the kids and of the other people entering the school, each day. I say a little prayer for everyone’s safety (I’m pretty sure that I am not the only parent who does this) and I wave to the school officer, the same officer who almost arrested my son. Earlier in the school year, I thanked the lead school police officer for making me feel safe, and for giving an aura of calm and authority, to all who enter the school.
My feelings are very conflicted on this entire situation. The police officer acknowledged that my son and his friends are “good kids”. He knows that I volunteer every week at the high school, as I wave to him as I head into the office, to mentor my student. These are some of the reasons why the school police officer gave my son and his friends “a break.” By banning them from school property forever, they got off lightly. They won’t have arrests on their records. The officer assured me that he will probably have to do a lot of explaining as to why he didn’t arrest them for trespassing. Their principal was in tears, begging the officer not to arrest this group of kids, all who had been in the top ten of their graduating class, this past spring. But ever since the horrific Majory Stoneman Douglas massacre, that occurred right here in Florida, the laws are incredibly strict. And as a mother of a student at the high school, I am grateful for this fact.
I have been letting this situation churn inside of me for several days now. It has been unsettling and upsetting, to say the least. My son played basketball for the school, but he is never allowed to attend one of their basketball games again. His friend, a former baseball player, can never go on to the baseball fields. My son will never be able to pick up my daughter from school, for me, nor will he be able to attend one of her high school tennis matches. The teacher who texted the kids to use the back gate, has taught students for years on end. His students consistently have the highest passing rate for the AP Calculus exams, in the entire county, sometimes even in the state. Nonetheless, he is in serious trouble and he may lose his job.
The kids were wrong. The teacher was wrong. The rules are in place for a very good reason. I think that the biggest pit in my stomach lies in the fact that this is a prime example of where we are, in today’s world. This is what it has all come to, and I despise it. For the sake of our children and for our grandchildren and for all future generations to come, we need to change the direction that we are headed in, and we need to find a way to come to a common ground that makes sense for the greater good of our society. Politics, partisanship, superiority, sensationalism and hate, have proven to do nothing for this problem, except to make matters more divisive than ever. We need to wake up.
I wish that I had the answers. I don’t. But I believe that a Higher Good has the answer and if we make it a priority as a WHOLE, to feel in our hearts, our intuitions, and in the deepest parts of our souls, what the right answers are, we can then take loving, tangible steps towards the greater healing of our collective hearts, and of our unified minds. We need to stop living in fear and judgment. We need to stop being narrow-minded and righteous, seeing anyone who doesn’t see things as we do, as the enemy. We need to visualize this problem, as if our entire society was stuck on an elevator car, which is hanging by a loose cable that is about to break, and is about to come crashing down. We need to work together, feverishly, to find an answer to our violence problem. We need to do this, as if our lives depended on it. Because they do. We need to look upon each other as bright, hopeful, capable, sincere people who only want the best for our families, for our friends, for our communities, for our country, and for our society. We need to stop playing coy games. The real game is on, and it is CRUCIAL that we all play on the same team, against the evil that is taking us down.
Do you ever have the sense that each holiday season seems to have a certain universal trend or vibe or energy to it? I suppose the holidays, in one sense, are really an end cap/recap of the year gone by. To me, every year, the holidays seem to kind of summarize the year, in a very general sense.
This year’s holiday feels a tad more subtle to me than the last couple of years, so far. The parties which we have attended have been nice and warm, but nothing too outlandish. People seem to be “calling it a night” a little bit earlier than usual. The Christmas cards that we have received so far, seem a bit simpler, too. They seem to be less newsy and to contain less pictures. The outdoor decorations didn’t go out as early this year, as they had been put out in previous years, on many homes in our neighborhood. I’m not sure if it is just my own projections, but the holidays just feel a little more toned-down, a tad more introspective, in a broader sense, this year. It’s not a “sad/worried” energy that I am sensing, but more of a quiet, inquisitive, slowed down atmosphere. Is that what you all are sensing?
I notice and analyze quirks all of the time. I suppose that is part of being an observer/writer type person. Last year, about 90 percent of the Christmas cards that we received, had pictures of our friends’ pets on them. Pictures of pets on holiday cards are not unusual, but last year it seemed to be the complete norm. Last year, I was surprised when I opened a card that didn’t include a picture of a pet. I said to my husband, that indicates to me, that people were needing to feel warmth, and comfort, and unconditional love more than ever, last Christmas. Last year’s holiday season seemed to have more of outwardly frenzied neediness to it, than this year seems to have, to me. So far, anyway. This year’s holiday, thus far, seems to have more of a universal theme of acceptance, relaxation, and introspection. Tell me what you are sensing. I would be curious about everyone’s unique observations. And if you think that I am completely “off my rocker”, go ahead and tell me that, too. It’s often been suggested that I move to the beat of my own drum. (Don’t we all? Some of us are just better at hiding our drum beat under the cloak of conformity than others, I think.) My current calm presence can take any suggestions, right now, I am sensing, with a semblance of light bemusement. It’s just something in the air, this Christmas. Right?
Today is my youngest son’s birthday. He is still away at college. He doesn’t have any final exams today, but he does have two tomorrow, so he’ll spend his day studying. We laughed together this morning, when we talked about that fact. Adult birthdays aren’t quite as magical as when you are little kid. Real life still has to happen, with a cake break, if you are lucky.
It is strange not having him home for his birthday. I have been through this now, with both of his older brothers, but it still feels strange. Is there anything more intimate between a mother and her child, than her child’s birthday? On the day of a child’s birth, the child gets the blessing of life on Earth breathed into them, and also, at that very moment, the mother has already begun the gradual, painful, yet affirming process of releasing her child and letting go.
I asked my son, “How do you feel about it being the last year of your teens?”
He answered, “How do you feel about it?”
My real unsaid response was this – Oh, honey, you don’t want me to unleash the storm of feelings that I feel on every single one of your and your sibling’s birthdays. The torrent of pride and love and bewilderment and fear and memories and giggles and gratefulness and giddiness and pain and hope and guilt and amusement and joy and awe would probably be too much for both of us to handle . . . . but maybe not. Maybe that torrent of emotion is what we both felt, on the crescendo of that beautiful winter day, nineteen years ago. And I think that we have both turned out pretty good, so far. We weather well. I know that I love our relationship. I know that I love you from the deepest wells of my heart. The relationships that I have with you and your siblings and your father, is what my makes my life sing its very song. Thank you for the gift of my sacred song.
Instead I answered, “I feel great! I’m proud of you. I love you. Have a wonderful day!” And then we hung up, and I let go, just a little more.
“You’re in my heart, you’re in my soul You’ll be my breath should I grow old You are my lover, you’re my best friend You’re in my soul
My love for you is immeasurable My respect for you immense You’re ageless, timeless, lace and fineness You’re beauty and elegance
You’re a rhapsody, a comedy You’re a symphony and a play You’re every love song ever written But honey what do you see in me”
You were probably singing along to the above lyrics from the song “You’re In My Heart” by Rod Stewart, as you were reading them. (Admit it. I know you did. You are fun like that!) I have always thought that those lyrics were the best that I have ever heard in a love song, and what I really enjoy about the song, too, is that it is encased in such a fun, upbeat, easy-to-sing melody. It’s the kind of song that 25 people will belt out together, at a bar or a party, all looped together, in shoulder slung arms. I did some research and I found out that Rod had written that song, mostly for the Swedish model/actress, Britt Ekland. Having always been quite the “player” in romantic relationships (he has had three marriages, and eight children by five different mothers), Rod doomed their relationship to last only about two years, but the song will go on in popularity, for quite some time. The lyrics and the tune are timeless.
I think that Rod Stewart probably has a big heart . . . . a big heart in the sense that it is filled with a lust for life, rarely witnessed in other human beings. I just read that in the 26 years that Rod Stewart (now aged 74) made 13 musical albums, and went on tour 19 times, he was also creating a masterpiece. Rod Stewart just put the finishing touches on an epic model train railway city. This is how it is described: “a 124ft spread depicting an entire US city and inspired by the view from his childhood home.” (Twitter) So, while writing songs and rocking it out on stage, womanizing, being a dad and a husband, and a grandfather, and a knight, an avid car collector, and at one time, having given it a go at becoming a professional “footballer” (in America, we call them soccer players), Rod Stewart was working on his model train set. Apparently, though most of this awe-striking creation is kept in his Los Angeles’ home’s attic, he would bring parts of it on tour, keeping the part that he was working on, in its own separate hotel room, so that he could work on it, in between shows.
There must be a connection with musicians and train sets. One of my best friend’s boyfriend is an avid musician, who also faithfully attends his model train club meetings, at least once a week. Apparently, Roger Daltrey, Phil Collins, Neil Young, and Ronnie Wood, also share in the hobby.
Miniature train sets, are fascinating. When I was a kid, we made several trips to The Miniature Railroad and Village, owned by the Carnegie museums and now housed in the Carnegie Science Center in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The Ringling Museum in Sarasota, Florida also houses a magical train display, depicting the circus in the 1920s. My favorite part of both of these attractions, is how they simulate night and day, so when it gets dark, all of the the warm and twinkling lights on the buildings and street lamps start to glow.
I kind of got wander-y and meandering in this post, much like a charming little model train, making its way through towns and countrysides, and bridges and tunnels. I’ll park my post back in the station, of the point that I was trying to make all along. Life is grand. Life is full of possibilities. Life is so interesting because we are so interesting in the ways that we are INTERESTED. We all find ourselves attracted to different fascinations. What if we all started this upcoming new year (and new decade, for that matter) with an agreement to go after our interests, our hobbies, our passions, and our curiosities, with gusto? With wild abandonment? With unbridled enthusiasm? Can you imagine how great that would feel? Can you imagine the wonders that would come from that excited frenzy? Take the shoulds/what other people would think/judgments on level of “cool” or “sophisticated”/our somewhat limited beliefs on time constraints/worries that we aren’t talented enough/comparisons to others, etc. etc. right out of the equation and in the forever truism made popular by Nike – JUST DO IT.
Friends, in embarking on a whole new span of time – a new year, a new decade, in our decidedly short lifetimes, let’s throw the excuses out of the window, and get back on the tracks and see where they take us. It’s bound to be amazing. And much like a miniature train, it doesn’t have to end. It can loop around and around, reminding us, again and again, of just how damn delightful it is to be ALIVE.
Our own little poetry workshop. Our safe space to toy with the words. You show me yours and I’ll show you mine. Today, mine came out to be a little more “prose style” . . . .
Chris
I just woke up and Chris is right here.
It’s just that there’s always Chris . . .
Chris is . . . . well, Chris is A LOT . . . .
When Chris comes, everything just seems to revolve around Chris.
“How does this relate to Chris? How does this honor Chris?”
Living your normal life when Chris is around, is almost impossible.
Chris always brings so much drama to everywhere and everyone. Chris is just one who brings out the best and yet also the worst, in everybody.
Chris seems to always bring that BIG load of baggage, every year. Every single year. And it seems, that every year, Chris just stays longer and longer and longer, always extending the stay. Chris is an expensive, messy, emotional, time consuming, exhausting house guest. Chris really should be named Great Expectations. Chris is the “Original GE.” OGE. That’s Chris, for ya.
Yet, everyone loves Chris! Everyone gets so excited for Chris to come every year! Everyone counts down, for the reliable arrival of Chris. And the truth is, I’m right there with them.
Chris is fun! Chris is colorful! Chris is generous! Always full of gifts and surprises! Chris has a way of making life feel just so much more rich and decadent and bright and hopeful! How can you not love Chris? Chris is just so amazing at connecting everyone and reminding everyone of their deepest bonds and fondest memories and greatest hopes and kindest selves. That’s just Chris’ way. And it is special to Chris. Truly, uniquely, special. Chris brings depth to life, in the ways that no one else can.
Maybe we are unfair to Chris. Maybe Chris just wants to be Chris. Chris doesn’t want to let anybody down. Chris just wants to be loved, just like the rest of us. Everybody loves Chris. Everybody hates Chris. But have we really taken time to figure out our own special relationship with Chris? Do we know what Chris means to us? Maybe Chris is different than our projections, or the many movies and books made about Chris, or even different than whatever anybody has told us about Chris or what theythink that we should think about Chris. Maybe this year, I’ll spend some private time, some quiet time, just being with Chris, just observing Chris, just letting Chris show me the hidden depths and meaning of our own personal relationship with each other.
Chris is here to stay for a while, like it or not.
I love Chris. I truly do. Sometimes, I hate Chris. In the end, though, I know that there are reasons why Chris is in my life.
I think that I’ll really explore those reasons, this year.
Why not? Oh, wow, here’s Chris now.
I just woke up and Chris is right here.
“Hi Chris, what have you got planned for us today?”
I have a migraine headache today. Migraines suck. For years, I had myself convinced that it was my sinuses, so on top of the unrelenting pounding on typically one side of my head (today it is the left side), I would force myself to inhale copious amounts of saltwater with the use of various ancient torture contraptions called neti-pots. I effectively water-boarded myself, on a regular basis, to add to the torment that my body was already going through and I never understood why it didn’t work. What can I say, other than admitting that I can be a very obtuse, stubborn, know-it-all? I own that fact. (all of my friends and my family are nodding their heads vigorously, and clucking their tongues right now) Anyway, I worked with a woman who told me that she gets migraines and she described them and it is only then, in my mid-forties, that I realized that I am prone to migraine headaches. If you think you have sinus issues and these issues are not getting resolved, look up migraines. It could be an a-ha moment for you, like it was for me. I have medication now, that is usually very effective in thwarting my migraines, but I waited too long to take it, and I have a hair appointment in an hour or so, that I can’t cancel, because my stylist is headed out of town. My hair is already looking “ombre-ish” (not on purpose) with unsightly greys melding into faded out blondish-brown, that could use a major dose of color and shine. I don’t do wigs, and we have the usual list of holiday get-togethers/command performances, so today’s experience will be reminiscent of my previous self-torture days of a pounding headache, with my head in the sink, for what will feel like a never-ending eternity. Boo-hoo. Boo-hoo.
Enough of the complaining . . . . yesterday, my friend texted our group chat that yesterday was the anniversary of the “Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer” Christmas special. The first one debuted in 1964. We got all excited thinking that we were the first kids to grow up, believing in Rudolph. We were the first kids to buy into the legend of a flying reindeer, with a glowing red nose. It turns out that the Rudolph song was written in the 1930s, so it was really our grandparents who were the first kids to have the red-nosed reindeer added to their Santa lore, but I don’t begrudge them for that, too much. They were the Greatest Generation and they deserve that distinction, and all the fun that Rudolph adds to the magic of Christmas. (I’m in Generation X. We don’t deserve anything – ha!) The Rudolph reminiscing got me to thinking about my children’s Santa experiences and that inevitable questioning that comes out, when their reasoning skills (and exposure to the outside world) start to become honed. My middle son is a scientist, at his core. He is the only person whom I have ever met who has used “Organic Chemistry” and “fun” in the same sentence. He likes things to be factual and black and white. He doesn’t like subtleties and nuances and philosophy and subjectivity. At all. So, when he started questioning the whole Santa scenario, he came to me, in a very serious tone. I think that he had been doubting the validity of the Santa chronicles for quite some time, but like every little kid that I know, he felt the need to hedge his bets. If, in fact, Santa was the real deal, and my son was a doubter, he couldn’t stomach the idea, of his siblings and friends, lavishing in their piles of shiny, new, exciting toys, while all he got was dirty, in his little pile of coal.
“Mom,” he said, looking me directly in the eye. “Look, to be clear, I still believe in Santa, okay, but, Mom, flying reindeer?!? I mean, come on?! I don’t believe in flying reindeer.”
Now I’m chuckling. Now my head is pounding even more. I hope that today, you get some chuckles from some of your fondest Christmas memories, minus any headaches. Now go do some decorating and jot down some poems to share, for tomorrow’s soul Sunday. Ciao.
Years ago, JCPenney came out with this classic commercial entitled “The Doghouse”. It is one of those videos that you can watch again and again, and still laugh out loud. There is a lot of controversy about the latest Peloton commercial, where a beautiful, thin, seemingly already too “hard on herself” young woman is surprised by the “gift” of a Peloton exercise bicycle from her husband for Christmas. While the actress was paid to look thrilled, the backlash from consumers, seems to suggest most other women would be less than excited and might want that $2500 that a Peloton costs, in other forms, such as a diamond or a check. Perhaps the ad makers could have done themselves quite a favor and saved the stock price of the Peloton company, by looking at the archives of wise, old commercials from Christmas’ past. This Ghost of Christmas Past has a lot to teach husbands/boyfriends/partners, in the present and in my opinion, for the LONG unseen future. Words to the wise, gentlemen, watch the commercial VERY closely. If your special lady doesn’t specifically ask for something, by name, that is exercise related, or home cleaning related, for a Christmas present this year, steer very clear. Look around your house for catalogs with circled items on them and listen closely when she talks. She’ll tell you what she really wants and my bets are not on any type of exercise equipment from you.
One of our sons’ friends stopped by, over the Thanksgiving break. He is the youngest child in his family and a junior in college. His parents recently sold their big, suburban, family house and have settled into a smaller duplex in a charming, up and coming town, a few miles down the road. His parents originally planned to build a big house on the water, but scrapped those plans, as they found that they liked the freedom and ease and coziness, that the new condo provided for them. Our sons’ friend, having spent his first holiday in his parents’ new dwelling quarters, was decidedly unhappy.
“It was just so weird . . . just so, so weird . . . WEIRD!” he kept repeating to us, almost as if stuck in a mind-boggling loop of thought and agitation and confusion. Witnessing his friend’s obvious distress and disorientation, our middle son spoke out.
“Don’t ever do that,” my middle son ordered at us, in a very serious, firm tone. “Don’t move. Ever.”
I found my son’s edict amusing. It’s not like we are The Waltons who have lived in the same house for the entire existence of our family life. Our middle son has lived in three different states and five different homes, since he was born. Still, myself, remembering the first time that my parents moved into a home that I had never lived in (for me, that was even after I was married), I remember feeling that same zombie-like uncomfortableness that my son’s friend was feeling. For the first time in my life, my parents’ home was truly and completely THEIR home, and not really MY home anymore. And that signified more than just their physical dwellings.
It’s rites of passage like these, that clearly delineate the fact that our parents are their own people with their own lives to lead, and not just the designated heads of household, leading the family ship around the vast waters of our lives, while we “rebel”, but still hang on to the safety ropes, pretending to ourselves and to others, that our parents have handcuffed us to those ropes. It is a dawning moment when you see your parents move on with their own lives and experiences, because it is moments like these, that more clearly point out the hard and true fact that your own individual, independent life, is really just your own. While still being loved, and cheered on, and hugged from time to time, your rope has been freed. Sink or swim, your life is truly, your own. Your life is your own.
I think what got me into the same woo-woo, weird mental state as my sons’ friend, was the sudden dawning that the torch has really, really been passed. It is now our children that are no longer seeing us on our pristine pedestals of knowledge, authority, and leadership, but more fully understanding that we are just two people who co-created them, along with the Universe. My husband and I did our best, to give our four children a healthy, loving, secure start. Still, for all of our family members’ sake, my husband and I now have to put more of the focus back onto our own lives. We do this with the faith and with the trust that our deep, abiding love for our children and their own inner navigation, with guidance from Above, will carry them on with purpose and meaning and hope, in order to create the adult lives that they are now only just embarking on, with dreams and visions of mighty futures.
Another hard truth is, with as much feeling and meaning that we attach to a lot of our physical things, a house is just a house. It is just a safe place, a dwelling, a nest to come home to and to rest. Nevertheless, as we constantly grow and change in our needs and in our ways, the permanent fixture of a sturdy, firmly planted house, sometimes no longer fits our new selves nor our new ways of life. And as safe as a house makes us feel, a house is destructible. A house is in a constant state of decay and disrepair, and in decades to come, even the oldest and most well-preserved of houses, will no longer be here nor be remembered. What IS steadfast and what will never be destructed, is the love that created the family and the memories and the experiences and the growth and the support that was contained, all inside of the house. That love is carried on to every home that every family member will ever dwell in. After the initial shock of realizing that parents move and change and age and even pass on, I hope that all children, of every age, will realize that their true home and the true home of everyone who they care about and even people whom they just meet, dwells inside each person. Love is their real home, and it is kept safely and securely and deeply, in the beat of each of our own beautiful hearts. And it is indestructible.
