Stay Gentle (Brandi Carlile)

[Art by the amazing A. Silivonchik]

First of all, I need to stop apologizing that I I haven't posted in two days, two weeks, two months.  Ack... and oh f*cking well!  Life has been blissfully, joyfully, delightfully... well... full... 😄

Case in point:  my 68th birthday was this past Friday (August 5).  I spent the morning in the Hope Garden, then most of the rest of the day at my laptop, and posted the following a few minutes before midnight (here's the fundraiser I created to benefit The Caring Community, which has changed my life over the last year.  My goal was $200, which has, only four days in, more than doubled... 💖):

" “There’s a particular feeling in your body when something goes right after a long time of things going wrong. It feels warm and sweet and loose... For a moment all my bees have turned to honey.” ~ Lily King, Writers & Lovers

Thanks again to my friends and family for contributing (via your posts and comments, text messages, phone calls, fundraiser donations, gifts, etc.) to one of the best birthdays I've had in a very long time.  Many of you know I deactivated my Susan Moss account in late-December 2019, meaning I went two years without fanfare, until I was encouraged to create a "ghost" profile (Daisy!) for my gardening presence.  Despite its many frustrations and glitches, there is really just nothing like a Facebook birthday!  I am grateful to you all for making me feel loved and appreciated... 🌼

This aging thing is not for the faint of heart but, so far, I still have my original knees, hips, shoulders... as well as eyes, lungs, and kidneys (none of which I take for granted).  I'd like to think I have also retained my generosity of spirit, my unrelenting optimism, my joie de vivre.  I can even get out in the garden every week, although this summer's heat has taken its toll on my endurance.  Biggest lesson:  Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate!

Actually, no; it's Expectations.  Inheritance from my mom + Leo tendencies = disaster.  One of my major life lessons in the last decade has been letting go of them (I have slips now and then), and I find that life is easier and I am happier as a result.  New Day, Tabula Rasa, Starting Over has become a mantra.  I am also working harder to re-set my boundaries, such that everyone's default is based on a respectful, loving place.  If we model it, they will come (around...  😍)

As Joni sings:  

"Calendars of our lives circled with compromise

Sweet bird of time and change, you must be laughing..."

So am I! "

And then this:

FREE WILL ASTROLOGY, week beginning August 4, copyright 2022 by Rob Brezsny

LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): In the coming weeks, Leo, I urge you to always be confident that YOU ARE THE PARTY! Everywhere you go, bring the spirits of fun and revelry. Be educationally entertaining and entertainingly educational. Amuse yourself by making life more interesting for everyone. At the same time, be kind and humble, never arrogant or insensitive. A vital part of your assignment is to nourish and inspire others with your radiance and charm. That formula will ensure you get everything you need. I foresee bounty flowing your way! PS: Regularly reward your admirers and followers with your magnanimous Chesire-cat grin.

And this:  August 5 birthdays:  Neil Armstrong, Wendell Berry, Loni Anderson, Rick Derringer, Maureen McCormick, Mark O'Connor (to name the ones I recognize!)

P.S.  Cynthia is throwing a Croning Party for me next week, which will most certainly be blogworthy... ✌ 💥 💞

SONG:  Stay Gentle by Brandi Carlile

BOOK:  To The Women: words to live by... by Donna Ashworth

POEM(S):  Change the Way You See by Donna Ashworth

I don’t have crow’s feet,

I have happy happy memories of laughing with friends until the tears flowed.

I don’t have frown lines,

I have the marks of my frustration and confusion, which I battled through, smiling in the end.

I am not going grey,

I have shimmering highlights of wisdom, dashed throughout my silver hair.

I don’t have scars,

I have symbols of the strength I was able to find, when life got tough.

I don’t have stretch marks,

I have the marks of growth and the marks of motherhood. My womanly evolution.

I am not fat,

I bear the evidence of a life filled with abundance, blessings and good times.

I am not just forgetful,

I have a mind so full of stories, memories and moments there is scarce room to hold much else.

I am not old,

I am blessed, with a life of great length, something not everyone can say.

Don’t change the way you look my friend,

change the way you see,

change the way you see.

home body by rupi kaur

give me laugh lines and wrinkles

i want proof of the jokes we shared

engrave the lines into my face like

the roots of a tree that grow deeper

with each passing year

i want sunspots as souvenirs

for the beaches we laid on

i want to look like i was

never afraid to let the world

take me by the hand

and show me what it’s made of

i want to leave this place knowing

i did something with my body

other than trying to

make it look perfect

QUOTE(S):  “I want to live the rest of my life, however long or short, with as much sweetness as I can decently manage, loving all the people I love, and doing as much as I can of the work I still have to do. I am going to write fire until it comes out of my ears, my eyes, my noseholes, everywhere. Until it's every breath I breathe. I'm going to go out like a fucking meteor!” ~ Audre Lorde

"I was pondering yesterday why I am enjoying getting older so very much. I think it's because of this fact: That unless you are making a sincere effort to wake up early every single morning and work hard at staying stupid, then you are probably — just by sheer default — getting smarter as you age. (Because seriously — you've gotta REALLY not be paying attention to life, to not be getting even a little bit more wise as you go along.) All that I have ever wanted and longed for was to be wiser, smarter, more clear, more peaceful, more expansive, more prepared for life. The years are bringing that intelligence, my dears... the years are bringing it at last. (And not a moment too soon, may I add.) I look forward to all that I have yet to learn. I plan to keep paying attention, and to let it all in. Stronger by the year, better by the day. It's awesome." ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

Harvest Moon/You and Me (both by Neil Young)

Today, September 18, 2020 marks our 44th wedding anniversary.  It's been a long-standing joke of mine that, like the famous 12-step program, we do our marriage One Day at a Time (that would be 16,060 days, but who's counting?... :-)

Chico (given name Robert) and I met when he was a senior and I was a sophomore in college (Fall 1974).  One Sunday a group of my friends had been challenged to an impromptu football game by another group on campus, and I went along to watch. I was recruited to be one of the holders of the down-markers (two pointed brooms with string tied between).  Chico flirted with me all day, but saw me leaving with my "gang" and assumed I was dating one of them (I wasn't). The next day I was in my usual spot/routine in The Student Center, drinking coffee/reading a book/smoking cigarettes (gave up that bad habit when I found out I was pregnant with our daughter Sarah, over 38 years ago).  He came up, introduced himself to me and asked permission to sit down.

I was impressed by his good manners, among other things, and we were "an item" for the remainder of the year.  He graduated with a degree in Latin American Studies and got a job in Ft. Campbell, Kentucky with the Red Cross, counseling servicemen. I stayed to finish my degree and we carried on a long-distance relationship for the remaining two years, writing, calling and visiting when we could.  The April of my senior year, during one of his visits, he asked me to marry him… and we rolled out of bed to call our parents to share the good news.  I graduated in June and we were married the following September.

An aside: During my last two years of school, I worked at a clothing boutique not far from the college.  I would walk there directly after classes, putting in about 30 hours a week and getting a 30% discount.  Chico and I had only been dating a few months when a beautiful dress came into the store.  I knew then I had to have it, whether to be married or buried (whichever came first) in such elegance, and I put it on layaway immediately. It was an off-white muslin with long, crocheted-lace sleeves and an empire bodice (very Guinevere-ish).  The big joke in my family is that, with my discount, I paid $28. When my wedding day was finally announced, my mom tried hard to talk me into something more traditional but I would not be swayed.  I still think it was the perfect dress… 💖

We stayed in our small college town for the next 8 years, moving temporarily to Atlanta en route to Puerto Rico for a company transfer (where we put in 4 1/2 years).  Back to Atlanta for almost three years and then to South Florida, where we've resided for the last 28. 

During the first twenty-five years of our marriage, Chico traveled quite a bit (twice a month, a week or more at a time). I've always been a strong and spirited soul and when the children were younger, we talked about the time he was away, not as better or worse but just different.  I belonged to AAA (although AA seemed more appropriate some days... 😉), I learned to fix small household items, I became responsible for my own entertainment.  When it had to be done, I did it. The worst were his two-week trips, when I didn't want to relax and appreciate having him home the weekend in-between, because it just meant giving him up again.  I learned various coping mechanisms, but I missed him.

Career moves found Chico home more, and the rest of us having to readjust, awkwardly at first, but happily.  He and I have always had separate interests (my music, his soccer), meeting in the middle more often than not for conversation, intimacy and intensity. 

My husband is of Brazilian descent and I am of Italian/Native American heritage... so emotions run high most of the time.  We pendulum between pondering what to name our wished-for houseboat when we retire... to me threatening to run away with the Renaissance Festival each February. 

My husband makes me crazy... and he makes me feel adored.  He is frustrating... and he is flattering. He is honest, even when I don't want to hear it... and I know I can trust his words and his actions (how many people in our lives can we say that about?!?).  He is intuitive, which is sometimes annoying but mostly a blessing. 

I wholeheartedly cherish our ongoing flare-ups, passions, commitment, disconnects, conversations, silences. It has never been easy; it has always been worthwhile.  As Brian Joseph sings in Cal’s Chevy:  “it ain’t easy… but it’s ours.”

I vowed that *happy* and *marriage* didn't have to be mutually exclusive.  My parents divorced after 29 years so I learned early on that one is never safe, and I try not to take it for granted.

Chico and I have made a conscious decision to stay together in this hectic and unsettling world (especially now during the pandemic). I crave and cherish my independence, but I don't worry any more that I'll have to "give in" (reminds me of a Dar Williams' song, In Love But Not at Peace: "I still need the beauty of words sung and spoken and I live with the fear that my spirit will be broken").  We seem to have forged a wonderful agreement where we both manage to get our own way a good bit of the time, but we haven't forgotten the art of the happy medium.

When we got married in 1976, a popular reading to include in weddings was “On Marriage” by Kahlil Gibran.  I loved it at the time, but even more so now.  The concept was, and remains, groundbreaking.  Remember these lines?

“You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore. 
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God
But let there be spaces in your togetherness
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.”

I've spent the last few weeks re-evaluating what's kept us going these 4+ decades.  We have had just as many troubles as everyone else, but the risk is the reward, and the leap of faith is the longevity... that, to quote Jackson Browne, we just keep getting up and doing it again... amen...

I have always hated the term soul mate which, in my mind, used to conjure up images of Hallmark movies with couples joined-at-the-hip in that "you-complete-me" kinda way. Ugh. A few years ago, a dear friend (who is also a therapist) offered up her definition of soulmate:  someone who challenges you to be the best person you can be. Chico does that for me and, I'd like to think, I for him. We have "a head and a heart marriage" (a phrase I heard on a TV show recently). It suits us... ♥

When it comes to troubleshooting, I am in constant awe of Chico’s ability to stay calm, to let go and to move forward, in all aspects of his life.  His oft-repeated phrase is "let's not worry about how something got to be a problem; let's just figure out how to fix it". Wow.  With my tendency to finger-point, internalize and dramatize, he sets a wonderful example.

Chico loves me unconditionally, a status I am always trying to achieve but come up short.  I love him no less, but my family history includes strings attached, a very difficult pattern to break.

He is the calm to my storm, the ground to my clouds, the 33 1/3 to my 45, the waltz to my polka, the reason to my emotion, the carousel to my rollercoaster, the string to my kite, the balance to my spinning.  He supports but never suffocates, respects but never expects.

In an anniversary card one year, Chico thanked me for my enduring love and patience with his failings.  I can say the same.

Ups and downs, ins and outs, betters and worses go with the territory.  We've lived to tell about it ("fairy tales and diaper pails" indeed, as Amy Rigby sings).  My marriage has endured for many reasons (one of which is just good old-fashioned luck).  Cheers to the two of us for our perseverance, patience and passion with each other.  Tomorrow is another day!

SONG:  Harvest Moon / You and Me (both by Neil Young) 

BOOK(S):  When Captain America Does NOT Save My Day – My Messy Beautiful by Cindy Brandt (actually not a book, but an essay)

Unwind by Glennon Doyle (excerpt from Carry On, Warrior, her first book)

POEM(S):  Ode to Time by Pablo Neruda (translation by Paul Scott Derrick)

Inside of you, your growing
age,
inside of me, my passing
age.
Time is decided,
its bell doesn’t ring,
it slowly flows, advancing
inside of us both.
It’s there,
like a quiet pool
in your eyes
and, beneath their
burnished chestnut,
a splinter, the trace
of a tiny stream,
a dry little star
ascending to your lips.
Time may draw
its threads
through your hair,
but in my heart
you will always bring the fragrance
of the honeysuckle vine,
as vivid as living fire.
How lovely it is
to grow old living
all that we’ve lived.
Every day
was transparent stone,
every night
for us, was a deeply shadowed rose.
And this line on your face, or mine,
are flowers or stone,
the fossil of a lightning-flash.
My eyes have been spent on your loveliness,
but then, you are my eyes.
Maybe I’ve tired your duplicate breasts
with my kisses,
but the world has seen your secret splendor
in my joy.
What do we care, my love,
if time,
who raised like double flames
or parallel stalks
my body and your sweetness,
should guard them tomorrow
or strip them away
and with its invisible fingers
erase this identity that keeps us apart
giving us the victory
of a single final soul beneath the sod.

Upon Request by Anton Korteweg

That I love you, I want to finally
have that written down, now that
you ask. Because I love you and
not just sometimes, given
the four thousand days and nights.
That it seems as if you hardly
have grown older, that
you sometimes gaze into the distance
as if love struck, that
your hands are still beautiful, further
than this I'd rather not go.
That I sometimes look for your cheek
and not your lips.

QUOTE(S):  “That was the strangest thing about weddings, from Amos’s point of view, that they pretended to be sacred occasions but in fact had no meaning. Because a marriage isn’t a marriage until it’s over, he thought, until the couple looked back, years later, at the moment they wed and said, “Oh, that’s what really happened that day.” ~ Haven Kimmel, from the novel The Solace of Leaving Early

"Wasn’t marriage, like life, unstimulating and unprofitable and somewhat empty when *too* well-ordered and protected and guarded. Wasn’t it finer, more splendid, more nourishing when it was, like life itself, a mixture of the sordid and the magnificent; of mud and stars; of earth and flowers; of love and hate and laughter and tears and ugliness and beauty and hurt." ~ Edna Ferber

“Tell the story of your marriage,” my young friend Niki says to me. “Write down how it is you have a happy marriage.” But the story of my marriage, which is the great joy and astonishment of my life, is too much like a fairy tale, the German kind, unsweetened by Disney.” ~ Ann Patchett, from her book of essays, The Story of a Happy Marriage

“People think a soulmate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soulmate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.  A true soulmate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake.  A soulmate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life.” ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

Anthem (Leonard Cohen)

So... after five days of relationship musings, discussions of crashed hard drives should be the proverbial piece of cake (not wedding), eh? - when last we left our She-ra, I was waiting for my tech guy, who came Saturday morning a week ago, attempted to run CheckDisk with minimal results and then took my tower with him. He installed a replacement this past Tuesday, but he's not been able to recover any data (although he's still trying) - sadly enough, I had never backed up, so I take full responsibility...

A few major things I had been able to recreate or had sent as attachments in the last month so they were retrievable - most everything else was not only irreplaceable but sentimentally dear. At this point, I'm attempting to focus on the bright side of clean slate/starting over - my e-mail is okay, albeit almost 600 messages at this point, since I've not had the time/inclination/energy to deal.

This weekend has been critical in moving forward - I'm also attempting to set up an organizational filing system right off the bat so I'll know where to find things immediately. I obviously have a back-up drive now too - god, what a hard lesson learned.

Panic, breathe, relate, relax, release - it is what it is (oooooommmmmm)...

My book club (more in a future post) was here this past Thursday to discuss Eat Pray Love - it was an amazing evening of soul-searching, sharing and spirit. We all felt really... open (in a good way, Martha)... and I was fascinated by the different insights and preferences - Elizabeth Gilbert certainly speaks to many hearts in various ways. J sent me this link a few days ago - make sure to peruse all three pages!

I read today's poem aloud to our group (obviously because it reminded me of the second third of the book) - wanting judgment sadness indeed...

SONG: Anthem by Leonard Cohen

BOOK: Mindfulness in Plain English by Bhante H. Gunaratana

POEM: Buddha's Dogs by Susan Browne

I'm at a day-long meditation retreat, eight hours of watching

my mind with my mind,

and I already fell asleep twice and nearly fell out of my chair,

and it's not even noon yet.

In the morning session, I learned to count my thoughts, ten in

one minute, and the longest

was to leave and go to San Anselmo and shop, then find an outdoor cafe and order a glass

of Sancerre, smoked trout with roasted potatoes and baby

carrots and a bowl of gazpacho.

But I stayed and learned to name my thoughts, so far they are:

wanting, wanting, wanting,

wanting, wanting, wanting, wanting, wanting, judgment,

sadness. Don't identify with your

thoughts, the teacher says, you are not your personality, not your

ego-identification,

then he bangs the gong for lunch. Whoever, whatever I am is

given instruction

in the walking meditation and the eating meditation and walks

outside with the other

meditators, and we wobble across the lake like The Night of the
Living Dead.

I meditate slowly, falling over a few times because I kept my

foot in the air too long,

towards a bench, sit slowly down, and slowly eat my sandwich,

noticing the bread,

(sourdough), noticing the taste, (tuna, sourdough), noticing

the smell, (sourdough, tuna),

thanking the sourdough, the tuna, the ocean, the boat, the

fisherman, the field, the grain,

the farmer, the Saran Wrap that kept this food fresh for this

body made of food and desire

and the hope of getting through the rest of this day without

dying of boredom.

Sun then cloud then sun. I notice a maple leaf on my sandwich.

It seems awfully large.

Slowly brushing it away, I feel so sad I can hardly stand it, so I

name my thoughts; they are:

sadness about my mother, judgment about my father, wanting

the child I never had.

I notice I've been chasing the same thoughts like dogs around

the same park most of my life,

notice the leaf tumbling gold to the grass. The gong sounds,

and back in the hall.

I decide to try lying down meditation, and let myself sleep. The

Buddha in my dream is me,

surrounded by dogs wagging their tails, licking my hands.

I wake up

for the forgiveness meditation, the teacher saying, never put

anyone out of your heart,

and the heart opens and knows it won't last and will have to

open again and again,
chasing those dogs around and around in the sun then cloud

then sun.

QUOTE: "Meditation is acceptance. It is the acceptance of life within us, without us and all around us. Acceptance of life is the beginning of human satisfaction. Transformation of life is the culmination of divine satisfaction. " ~ Sri Chinmoy

(No Such Thing As) Girls Like That (Christine Kane)

Christine Kane is one of my favorite music artists, for many reasons - she writes amazingly literate and lyrical songs, she has a wicked sense of humor (evident in her storytelling between songs) and, off-stage, she's personable and accessible.

I've always loved music and, when I began to be aware of the plethora of contemporary folk and acoustic singer-songwriters (a story for another time), I bought various compilations so I could discover who struck my fancy - I first heard of Christine through the Women's Work CD and really enjoyed her song Off the Ground...

Fast forward a few years to the 2000 Folk Alliance conference I was attending in Cleveland - Christine was performing in an in-the-round and it was such a pleasure to hear her up close and personal. I was a volunteer for our South Florida Folk Festival and spent a good bit of the conference handing out postcards encouraging artists to enter our songwriter competition - I was more than a bit delighted to receive Christine's entries a few months later, and even more thrilled when her songs ended up in the Top Twenty. I had attended some local house concerts (definitely more about *those* at a later date) and decided I'd like to host one for Christine the Thursday before her festival appearance - I had 35 people squished into my living room, all of whom came away fans, myself even more so... <3

When I decided to present a second, and then a third, house concert, it appeared it was turning into a series - I came very close to naming it Loving Hands House Concerts (after my favorite-at-the-time CK song) but I knew it had to be something Oz-related and came up with Heart's Desire House Concerts (referencing a most-fitting Dorothy line), which had a lovely and successful four-year run.

More fast-forwarding: I had the pleasure of hosting another house concert for Christine a few years after the first and we've crossed paths many times since at various conferences and concerts - a few of us even drove up to Asheville, North Carolina in October 2005 to see her in a split-bill with Dar Williams, another dear-to-my-heart artist. Christine is now playing much larger venues, has had a ballet choreographed to her music and began (about a year ago, I think) writing the most fascinating and inspirational blog - one of the closest-to-home posts for me has been Are You Leaking? (ack!).

Over the last few months, Christine has been recommending Eat Pray Love, the book mentioned below - I've just chosen it for our local reading club selection in September, and am curious as to what my book-women friends will think of it. Thanks, Christine... for the music, the memories and the motivation - my fingers are crossed we can get you back to South Florida soon. And, as an extra added bonus, here's a YouTube video of Christine performing my blog-titled song... :-)

SONG: (No Such Thing As) Girls Like That by Christine Kane

BOOK: Eat Pray Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia by Elizabeth Gilbert

POEM: Warning by Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick flowers in other people's gardens

And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickle for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

QUOTE: "Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that, because what the world needs is people who have come alive." ~ Howard Thurman