Periodic physical and emotional housecleaning…..When dead branches fall off a healthy tree, the tree can still be beautiful, live and thrive.
Archive for July, 2013
There was a room filled with creative people. They all believed in themselves and their dreams. They wanted their talents to be recognized. After what seemed to be forever, one by one, they left, discouraged by little or no validation for all they hoped for. Only one person was left in the room. The door opened and opportunity said come in………………………….
Henry David Thoreau quote..” Most men lead lives of quiet desperation, and go to the grave with the song still in them.” I so much prefer Walt Whitman..”The sweetest songs yet remain to be sung.” I have to keep fueling the fantasy with positive energy, creating realistic dreams. Having twitter followers has been a wonderful “fueling” experience.
If you can hug, you can love. How does romantic love exist without knowing how to hug and kiss? A really great hug is a gift from the universe. Something so simple,yet so many have no clue how. I said before, kissing should be considered an art form. Emotional understanding should lead to physical joy. For many couples romantic love leaves too soon, and if not nourished, quickly disappears. Why is the courtship for so many a “state of craze,” that too soon fades. Such an easy fix for a one way track, instead of two trains going in totally different directions. Stuck in negative thought is somewhat like being in emotional quicksand. My husband and I almost made it to 50 years, and I loved when he told me I was never boring and kept our romance alive. Can be as simple as eating by a tiny votive candle and one small flower. It doesn’t get any better…well maybe when your grandchildren tell you, you’re a “cool GaMa.”
Would like to clarify that my tag lines are from archived posts, with credit to the authors. Received a lovely tweet from someone who liked a quote, and of course, tweeted back and gave credit to Coco Chanel who said “you can be gorgeous at thirty, charming at forty, and irresistible for the rest of your life.” “Longing for the past, is like chasing after the wind.” is from a Russian proverb…and Turn the other cheek, you might be kissed is my own.
She was born with a bit of uniqueness, some thought enchanting…but all knew of her acute sensitivity. Quietly observing, painfully shy until high school where she flourished. She was amazed when a classmate told her at the 25th reunion, he always thought she marched to the song of a different drummer. She knew, but unaware others noticed. She was fortunate to have friends who appreciated her cadence. She loved singing as a child, and any animal she could hug or kiss, even a goldfish. She gave personalities to inanimate objects, and thought she heard grass cried when mowed. Her singing concerts were once a week, lining up every stuffed animal to attend, and of course she knew they enjoyed. When she was about six years old, the doctor told her mom to bring her to the office for a visit, knowing it wasn’t routine, under the pretense she would sing for him. Mothers didn’t question the validity of doctors opinions in “those days.” So, off they went to the doctor, her music folder in hand. She was so excited to sing Poor Buttercup. She knew many Gilbert and Sullivan songs. She remembers vividly all the details of that day. She opened her lips to sing, and the doctor clamping something on her mouth. She remembers screaming, and he told her to keep screaming mother to keep her mouth opened. Her tonsils, and so much more were cut that day in that office. She later found out, she was not alone with her nightmare.. Many children in “those days” had very much the same experience, but this little one was shattered by the trauma, and carried fear of doctors her entire life. Her singing was silenced. When the school doctor arrived once a year, she would hide, and the teachers had to go find her. When she was in her 30’s, she was at a party, and during a social conversation with a child psychiatrist, she told him her story. “How you grew up not hating your mother is a miracle.” Seems you transferred all your fears and mistrust to physicians. “I don’t know, she replied. I guess I just thought she was following doctors orders, at that time.” Years later, at a weekend writing workshop at Skidmore, an exercise was to bring in a childhood photo of yourself. Told to look at the photo, and say the first words that come to mind. “I wish I could have been your mother, she said softly, I would have recognized you.”
I have a friend Edith, who is 96, with wisdom pouring out of her pores. She has a favorite saying, and I quote “You take yourself wherever you go.” I visit her at a senior residence. She has never complained in the nine years that I know her. Everyone fortunate enough to be in her path, loves her. “This is my family” she tells me, because she has none. She wanted children, but she wasn’t able to have them. She graduated college when few women did. She married and divorced quickly. “He was a mama’s boy” she told me. She was an only child and welcomed back with open arms after her divorce. She became a dance instructor at Arthur Murray Dance Studio. Dogs became an integral part of her life, especially Bichon Frises, and she even became a judge for the breed. Her room is adorned with large photographs of the two she raised and loved. She went to a hotel in upstate New York one weekend, and met her second husband. She adored him, but their time together was short. He was 20 years older, and she became a young widow, and never dated again. She told me he was the love of her life. I spent what would have been my 50th wedding anniversary with her. She comforted me with her soothing words. “We had men who loved us.” We disagreed on only one issue. When she moved to the residence about 14 years ago, because she so disliked living alone, she met a man. He gave her wonderful little stuffed dogs. He said he was too young for the place, and wanted out, and he so wanted Edith to move with him to California. They spent time together…..but, it was what I wished for her, not what she wanted. He left, she stayed. I would love to be able to celebrate Edith on her 100th birthday. She tells me not to look for another man in my life. “He will come to you when the timing is right.” I believe Edith. My mother’s name was Edith…………….My wonderful beautiful friend Edith passed away March 7 peacefully. She was 97. I will miss her and love her and of course, will always remember her words and wisdom. I was lucky to have her in my life for ten years. Rest in Peace my loving Edith.
There once was a woman who lived alone. She sang soulful songs at a local café. A very very young man played tenor sax at the same club. He was into his own music. Playing smooth jazz, his body moved slowly to the sensual beats and rhythms of the sounds he created.
The woman watched and listened to him. Their mood evoking music connected them in a strange, almost mystical way.
For eight years, they said hello to each other——one word only. And the years went by, and he was still a very very young man.
One night, after an unusually long set, they said more than hello. Many phone calls later, talking about everything, Mr. Tenor Sax, Hank told singer Maude that he wanted to be with her. He thought about her. He found her attractive. He desired her. Singer Maude was so very flattered. She created lovely fantasy moments thinking “when will something like this ever happen to me again?” But Maude knew, she would never separate the music from the lyrics. She could never have one without the other.
She kept a small picture of Mr. Tenor Sax on her window sill. One morning, a white pigeon perched on the sill, took the picture, and flew away.
……… and just like that, Maude knew desire without love, would never be played again.
Happy INDEPENDENCE Day This was requested to be re-posted..
Just a thought today. I have just two male “friends”, and not the Hollywood couple thing, when referring to a lover as a friend. These are in the true sense of the word platonic friends. When we email, I usually sign off Cheers!….seems innocent enough. One man I know for over 50 years. He was the husband of one of my dearest friends who died. He always signs off Love, so I thought, I better do the same or it sounds a bit cold…a rather new friend I met 8 years ago, but really have only had contact for almost a year, signs off xo…Now, that is a quandary. Remember the olden days when we wrote letters? I don’t ever remember doing the xo thing. It was Sincerely yours, Cordially, or as I used to do, With affection or Affectionately. Please know that none of this is earth shattering, just an observation. I see hidden meanings in words at times, when they don’t exist, except in my mind. I very often call people love, and mean it….but the xo thing?…would a man sign off kisses and hugs if he had to write out the xo…I doubt it. I received an email last night with the xo and for some reason I wrote back and just put x…realized it was a mistake, because if I was just going to put one, I think the o less intimate. The things we do, not necessarily to complicate, just a bit of humor…that is all this is about!!!!
One very important tool in my life comes from something my mother told me as a little girl. “you are better than no one, and no one is better than you are.” ….”if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing.” In the 50’s being a “good little girl” was very important, and that meant up to any age. I kept the good deed until I was 40, and when my mother died several years later, I buried the good little girl with her. I loved my mother, I just didn’t want to lead her life. Shortly after her death, I took a writing course at Skidmore, and had one of the most powerful moments in my life. There were about 40 women in the class and I read a letter to my mom, that I wrote after her death. When I finished, every woman lined up to talk to me about their own experiences. I wish I could have talked to my mom woman to woman, perhaps todays young women are able to have that luxury. I still mourn for that loss….I was asked to bring a picture of myself as a child to class, look at the picture, and say the first words that came to mind..I looked at my picture and said very quickly “I wish I could have been your mother.” but…..she did do the best she could, sadly, being unfulfilled so much of her life, but I live by the positive words she left me, and that is what I choose to remember, most of the time.