“Whatever you do, try not to dwell too long on your failures.  You don’t need to conduct autopsies on your disasters.”   This line is one that I thought best for today, for my “re-birth day,” and is a gift from the author Elizabeth Gilbert.   She goes on to tell me, well, she’ll tell all of us if we want to pay attention, to “own your disappointment, acknowledge it for what it is, and move on.”   Can there be any better way than this to reflect on the year behind that is over, and simply go? Go on.  Go ahead.  Move forward.  Step off.

You really do get to be ‘born again’ every year if you want to.  All your birthday is is a recognition of the day you were born, it’s up to you, and totally up to you, once you are all ‘grown up,’ what you want it to mean.  I feel like I’m at an age where I find it useful to deeply ponder over my last year, and think about what I want to change or modify, and take note of any and all things  that made me mildly distressed, or wildly angry, the year before, and let my rebirth address these things…to resolve the unresolved, to tend the tattered, to amend the awry…it seems like a perfect thing to do on your birthday, and today is my birthday so this is what I will do.

For me my birthday involves a little bit of guilt; I nearly could have killed my poor mother on my birth-day.  Just to be clear, my mother didn’t  instill this guilt, it’s mine alone from knowing the story about the day I was born.  I was in the frank breech position, which if you don’t know, means your head is lying on your knees and you enter the world bottom first…In this modern world, doctors don’t even let a woman consider a natural birth like this, they just prep the momma for a c-section, but in the 1960’s when you were young and had no insurance they just stuck a needle in your spine and let mother nature nearly kill you…but then you have your lovely baby…so I  feel some guilt every year on my birthday, but because I have tried to be a good daughter and a good person, I like to believe that I made that brutal delivery ‘worth it’ to my mom.

When we are infants and toddlers and preschoolers and children and adolescents and teenagers, each year is more or less thought about in milestones, what did we make happen?  …first steps, first songs, first play date, first award, first kiss, first car…what you achieved, what you can now do that you could not do before, actual growth and newness is celebrated each year we have a birthday while we are young, but we then reach adulthood…well then what?  Not much changes when we are adults.  A wrinkle on my forehead that was not there the last time I looked, gray hairs that were not on my scalp last week, a creak in my knee when going down the stairs that I did not notice last time I went down the stairs, the inability to sleep soundly through the night…other than these sorts of things, things stay remarkably the same…same vehicle, same job, same address, same lawyer, same Visa card…and the sameness of year after year becomes less than celebratory.

We can continue to evolve and continue to try to be better, year after year, than we were the year before, or we can just be.  Dwell in what is, dwell in what was, just float, rather than swim.  By the way, I can’t. Swim.  I could swim well enough that I am pretty sure I won’t ever drown, but I have no skills to really propel myself forward.  I do however have a fondness for metaphor of growth and change.

I’ve made many questionable choices over the years.  I’ve given myself many moments of reflection that involve head shaking and dismal thoughts with frowning.  You know what all of those moments give me?  Nothing.  Well, they give me wrinkles and gray hairs and a perpetually upset stomach and anxiety filled sleeplessness.  I think I’ll pass.  None of those things feel good.  None of those feelings are like a gift I can give myself.

A gift that costs nothing is reflecting on what IS good, what HAS worked out well…the little bits, or big bits if you’re lucky, of perfection that you savored over the year, and the joys that gave you a memory to treasure.  Do a check on where you went wrong, and determine what you want to go right, and be finished with it…There is absolutely nothing that can be changed about what is already done.  ALL WE CAN DO IS MOVE ON AND KEEP GOING.  THAT my friends is the gift we can give ourselves on our rebirth day.  I read years ago in a Mark Manson blog that the most common cause of upset and anxiety is constant anger over unresolved conflicts…seems to me that a birthday ought to be the perfect day to fix it, whatever it is, and fix it good.

Wake up and let the past be behind us and know that if we have a goal, we must act upon that goal with every decision.  If we have a plan we must act upon that plan with every choice.  If we have a mission we must act upon that mission with every action.  Otherwise it’s all just smoke and mirrors, nothing real or substantial about change or birthday wishes. I’ve read a quote that asks something like, are the choices you are making today getting you any closer to where you want to be tomorrow?  I think that is the best kind of wish we can make when we blow out our candles…a wish to make finding the best choice the easiest choice, the most obvious one, that we act smartly and effectively towards fulfilling said wish…a wish to stick with the vision we’ve got of the BIG Picture, and get there, however quickly or slowly our decisions & actions  can take us there…

I am not sure yet this morning what I am doing today.  I have not yet decided if I will go to work.  I am uncertain if I will stick close to home or go off on an adventure.  I am unclear about much of what I will do on this rebirth day, but one thing I am sure of; I will think about this next year in front of me and what to do better…Did you know you are writing your story of your very own life?  It is ours to rip up and start over, or just erase a few sentences, or jump ahead to move on to another chapter…but the big climactic joy of things coming together for the heroine, and the blissfully happy ending, are ours to pen.

It’s a mystery really, how we “find our tribe.”  I met my 1st friend from 1st grade on the 1st day of school, and we are still dear friends, I’d say she is my best friend, despite her 1st words to me being, “you have bad breath.”  Maybe I did, I was 5 years old, who knows?!  My 2nd best friend I met in my 2nd semester of gym when I was a freshman in high school, and we are still dear friends and I’d say she too is my best friend, despite her first words to me being, “why do you dress like a boy?”  To be fair, I did at that time live in 501 Levi’s and Docksider suede sneakers and t-shirts from Freedom Surf Shop.  But, knowing nothing about a person, and then learning some things, turns out to be everything, when you find somebody you connect to and with.  In the same way that Barbie clothes fit Monster High girls, and in the same way that Mega Bloks will make a tower just fine if mixed with Discovery Kids blocks, relationships manage, in some miraculous way, to mix people with seemingly different everythings, and they form bonds, lasting loving bonds, out of lots of little nothings.

I have a few friends in cyber-space who I seldom, and some NEVER, see, but their value to me is no less significant than friends I see or speak with regularly.   I am becoming of the mind that it is what we think about people, and what we think about circumstances, and how we feel about both that matters more than anything else.  If I have positive and loving thoughts about a person, it does not really matter to me how often I see that person, it matters most to me how I feel when I think about that person, or what I think about that person.  Just like if I have high hopes about a situation or a circumstance.  I think this is part of the magic of finding one’s tribe.  People with whom you connect on a level that is a mix of the physical and the mental, and when it “feels” right, it is something magical.

I always said, for all of my adult life, that I would never date a man with kids.  When I was a young single mother I had visions of a beautiful family becoming part of my world, by visions of marrying a man, and him adopting my child, and us having children together, and making a home and making a family, and a white picket fence to box it all in…and all that fairy-tale-stuff that never happened for me…never even came close.  In what universe would it happen that MANY years later, after I gave up all my familial dreams, I meet a man who has a child just a half a year older than my eldest grandchild and not even three years older than my youngest??  AND that they click together almost like sisters??  And suddenly I am a woman who, when out with said man, and said three girls, people often assume is part of that fairy-tale family I always imagined.  It’s funny that yesterday the little one said to me, “Nana my friend asked me ‘which one was your mom’ after my party.”  It seems that she has a friend who has a mom who is older than I am…she found it hilarious that her friend’s mother is a few months older than her Nana, they discussed this!   So, while my little family “dream” of three little girls and a boy who loves me, never worked out for me in the exact way I envisioned it, it “sort-of” did, and this is one of the funny things about the universe…maybe it gives us what it knows we need, and not what we think we need…like that expression I have heard and read too many times to count, “want to make God laugh? Tell him your plans.”

I had a third “best” friend for many years…20 or so, maybe more, and when I met her it was really like magic, I felt a connection and a “vibe” that bordered on miraculous.  She was my first “real friendship” that I formed as a “grown-up.”  I met and became friendly with lots of people during my years of college and my various jobs, but this woman became a really important part of my life, for a really long time.  That we shared a love of Eddie Vedder’s voice and that she was up for going to lots and LOTS of Pearl Jam concerts that neither of us could really afford was just an added part of the joy of our friendship.  She had a devoted and hard-working husband, and three beautiful and brilliant daughters and we had, for a long time, a really deep friendship.  But it ended.  With very little explanation from her and many assumptions on my part, what was really good for a really long time, just ended.  Much like a boyfriend I guess, who you are crazy about and the sex is amazing, and you go on great vacations and do all the things you wanted to do, and then you just don’t love each other anymore…so it ended, and all those little somethings that became everythings to me, about her, and us, became nothings.  It just ended.  And while I felt for a long time that she was the most significant part of my tribe, she felt otherwise, and we stopped being friends…it was a loss that hurt me deeply, but I accepted it, like I have accepted every break-up of my life.  It is what it is, as people like to say…Everythings can become nothings just as easily as somethings become everythings…

It’s very easy for all of us to look at and focus on what is going wrong in our lives, in our country, on this planet we share, and when we get bogged down by all that is wrong, we have a very hard time zooming in on all that is right.  I am of an age, and of a mindset now that the camera of my life ought to focus on the best view, the best image, the best vision.  I can choose to focus on the nothings, or I can choose to zoom in on the somethings, and most of all, I can embrace all of the bits that become the everythings.  I’ve read that ‘our vibe attracts our tribe’ and I believe this.  Our ability to see and accept how nothings become somethings that grow to be everythings…it’s how it all comes to be, the you and the me, the us, the we.

I think about writing every day.  I write every day.  I think myself a writer, in the same way that I think myself a reader, gardener, crocheter, house painter, cleaner, and cook.  It’s what I do.  I suppose just like some people think about their dogs every day and are dog lovers, or some people think about music every day and are musicians.  We become what we think about, right?

I don’t post or share even a third of the blogs I write, or start, or work on, and I have never had published any of the short stories that I write month after month, and mostly I think to myself, “well, who wants to read about what I know about?”  But these last couple days I am reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s new book called Big Magic where she explains in her delightfully conversational way that it matters not if anybody, anywhere, ever, wants to read what I write, it just matters that I want to write, and if I feel inspired, then I just do it.  She writes for paragraphs and chapters about finding ways to let yourself “get” inspired and I realized last night, I need no push.  I need no nudge in the direction towards motivation.  I am inspired EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

Perhaps for some women who get “stuck” in a role of wife and mother, and lose touch with the other roles they once played; roller skater, hula hooper, limbo winner, Jager shot master, boot seller…whatever they once “were,” and then they stopped thinking about THAT, because they were too busy thinking about burp cloths, and play dates, and signing homework pages, and college and financial aid applications…and suddenly 19 years have gone by and she thinks, “Who is this woman, is this who I am??!!”  Maybe those women need to be told it’s okay to think creatively and let themselves be inspired, they might need a little push towards believing it’s okay to think freely and about new things.  Perhaps for some men who get “stuck” in a rut remembering who they used to be; hot rod racer, musician, house flipper, poker winner, snow boarder…all those things they once were, and now they are stuck feeling like they are nothing but the ex-husband, the child support payer, the every other weekend dad, the looking for work middle aged white guy, and he thinks, “What the F**K did I let happen to ME?!  The man I was?!  This is who I am?!  Who is this person?!”   Those men might need a nudge in the direction of ‘thinker-outside-of-the-box’  if they want to see their life turn back to one of positivity and joy.  I think there are many of us who are wondering where did all the magic go…

I write about happiness and sadness and relationships a lot, because that is what I know about, right now, whether I am sad or happy and if it has anything at all to do with any of my relationships.  News Flash, um, yes, it seems to have much to do with my relationships…but I also write about children, and laughter, and how I feel when I look at the sky, and the stunningly beautiful mix of fall foliage in shades like raw sienna, oxide red, mahogany, burnt orange, and cadmium yellow deep, right outside my door.  I read page after page of this new book where she tells us we don’t need permission to be creative, we don’t need schooling to be creative, we just need to let ourselves be pulled by an idea, ANY idea, if we feel inspired by it.  Most importantly it seems, that we are open to new ideas…

This is the third book by Elizabeth Gilbert that I’ve read and I like it and I like her, but really…a whole book about this?  I initially felt a bit bummed out, or better I guess I should write inspired; that she simply chose something to write about which she enjoys thinking about, that is ‘being creative’ and how to go with it, and now it is in the top 50 of sales on Amazon.  I realized as I was reading that perhaps it’s  written for people who keep thinking they have to follow certain rules, specific ways of being, and are a bit timid when it comes to coloring outside of the lines, people who were told they were not artistic or told they lacked creativity…I imagine  a lot of people are like this, but I decided, although admittedly I have about three chapters to go to be finished, I am not one of these people.  I think she is writing for people who think that they lack the ability to think freely and to DO something creative, and she is saying, no, you are human, therefore you ARE creative, and you don’t need anybody to tell you it’s okay to be free with your own creativity…at least this is the essence of what I’ve read, or what I’ve gotten from it.

I really do allow myself to be pulled by whatever magical feeling fills me, and I write my heart out when it happens.  Sometimes I do it with vodka and tears streaming down my face.  Sometimes I do it with coffee and my fingers move as fast on the keyboard as the words come flying from my head.  Sometimes I do it with my eyes and my ears, and I just absorb the thoughts that swirl around my brain when I watch my grandchildren play in their incredibly imaginative and beautiful way, and listen to them pretend, pretend, pretend…So I am going to continue my journey pretending to be a writer, and finding a new voice every day with everything that stimulates my brain and touches my soul.  I suspect if we become what we think about, then I shall, at some point “become” a writer, and in the space between now and then, I’m okay with simply finding my own voice, even if nobody ever hears it…

“It’s not fair.”  I have a distinct memory of this lament, when I was in about fifth or sixth grade, and my friend Lori got picked for a dance troupe that I wanted, desperately, to be selected for…I remember crying very hard; that I had practiced and practiced and worked so hard to improve so that the teachers would see I could handle the more rigorous schedule, practice, and rehearsals, but still, they picked her over me and I felt it was not fair, that a great injustice had been committed…  AND all these years later, I realize that it is not fair, great injustices are committed every single day, and it is so easy to hang your head and cry for the dreadful cruelty of it all… BUT it is very hard to get things done with your head down.

Not so long ago, I saw a photo of a t-shirt that said “NO! I do not want to adult today” and I thought it was perfect for many of us at least once a week!   What I have learned in this life as an adult is that it is often, too often it seems, grossly unfair and that people who are often shite people “get” what they want or wish for or work for, and people who are many things, but shitty isn’t one of them, continually get passed over by the universe for that perfect job, perfect apartment, perfect spouse, or get the flat tire on the one day they are running late, or the dog throws up right by the door on their way to a doctor appointment, or have their unlabeled lunch in the office refrigerator eaten by somebody else on the one day they have left the house without their wallet, or whatever…countless scenarios go through my head of really terrific men and women who do really great things, and so often great things for others,  to whom the universe often gives a big bold F**k You!

When your own life is not going at all, in any direction whatsoever that you anticipated, planned, or aimed for, when a friend confides in you that he hates his job and can hardly drag himself out of bed in the morning, or a friend’s marriage that seemed so loving,  crumbles, or a girlfriend keeps trying to get pregnant and would be a gloriously wonderful mother, but can’t, or somebody who is so creative and good just keeps getting knocked down by bad health that does not improve…all of these things make us think that ‘it’s just not fair.’  But what is fair?

Some people bet and bet for years that their gamble will finally pay off in some big way, some big win, some grand moment of things finally coming together but it never seems to…some people put $1 in the penny slots and a whole new life falls into their lap with one push of one button…and it feels so unfair…AND I have figured out that it is always going to be this way…there is always going to be somebody winning who does not seem deserving and there is always going to be somebody losing who really needs the prize and it might be you or it might be me, on either end, at any time…

SO I have understood that a smirk and a grin from the little blonde-wonder next door, as she uses sarcasm in the wittiest way you can imagine and a pun that knocks you off your feet, she is only 7 after all, is a gift.  I have understood that an invitation to, yet again, watch a dance routine the long-legged beauty next door has choreographed, she is only 10 after all, is a gift.  I have understood that a text message from the 30 year old stunner next door, their mother, who feels a cold coming on and wants nothing more than mommy’s, that would be me, homemade chicken noodle soup, and “I have the chicken,” is a gift.  An unexpected lunch date with friends that involves cocktails and laughter all before 3 o’clock in the afternoon, is a gift.  I have come to understand that the windfall of life is built upon moments of kindness, and things that make you laugh, and seemingly insignificant pluses that become, when you look back, a fortune.  I have come to realize that best way to change your fortune is to notice just how very rich you are.

 I often get annoyed with myself that I never learned a foreign language.  Sure, I took Spanish in school, but at the time didn’t really care, or fully understand how it could truly change my brain for the better, as countless studies indicate, forever…so here I am, a monolingual.  When my first grandchild was born I told her father that he should only speak to her in Spanish, that my daughter should only speak to her in English, and she would have a benefit of better-stronger-faster gray matter from the get-go…needless to say they did not heed my advice nor follow my suggestion in any manner, but I digress.  3 years 3 months and 3 days ago I met a boy…well a man with beautifully boyish features, and the first time he smiled at me, without a single word, I heard and understood so much, and felt profoundly confident that he spoke my same language.  I am thinking today about the universal language of happiness, joy, elation…really any descriptor will do, and how a facial expression has no borders, no barriers to communication, no pretense…it says everything while saying nothing at all…

“If you smile at me I will understand, ‘Cause that is something everybody everywhere does in the same language”  is a line from a song by Crosby Stills Nash and Young and as so many great song lyrics are, it’s a truth as pure as a day is long, acknowledged by everyone as real and honest.  The first time this person smiled at me I “read” that he was so ready to have someone smile back…which I know might sound ridiculously corny and rather juvenile, but it’s true…his smile said his parents were long ago dead, he was going through a break up and a divorce and had recently lost his job and was clawing his way out of a confused time, with a loss of friends from a move across the country, giving up all he had worked so hard for and pretty much everything he had for the love of a woman who turned out to be a bad choice as a wife…his smile “read” mine which said I had a perfect childhood and nearly perfect parents who love me unconditionally and now in mid-life I get to live right next door to my daughter and her daughters, and I work really hard and have tried my whole life to do right, and to be good, and think myself to be so very kind, and why can’t I just find a person who makes me feel like I have finally found somebody who fits me?   I felt like the moment our eyes met, and that very first smile we shared was a level of communication I had never before experienced,  and perhaps never will again.

To be clear, it has not been all rainbows and butterflies…it’s been positively dreadful a couple of times and a few times we’ve considered throwing in the towel because face it, it’s not easy to fall in love with somebody when one of you is down and out and the other is beautifully broken… it’s SO MUCH easier being in a relationship when things are going swimmingly for all parties involved, but guess what I’ve learned?  If it’s all perfect all the time and there are no difficulties,  when the rug gets pulled out from under you, it’s a lot harder to keep your balance.  When you start out in difficult circumstances, or during a trying time, or at “rock bottom” so to speak, for one, or both of you, the only way to go is up!!!

I’ve known people who, on the surface, seem to have everything and life for them looks great on the outside…but it’s all just on the outside, it’s all just keeping up appearances…some of the most miserable people I have ever met are ones who behave and act like they’ve got it going in the right direction.  I’ve learned that kindness and joy are languages which not everybody speaks, and many people never learn the nuances and the tones and the timbres of voice, that allow them to become fluent, and encourage them to find others of their kind…do you speak my language?  is a question I think more couples ought to ask each other…I know some couples who, when you see them smile at each other you can practically hear the angels singing!!!  That’s a language we ALL could learn to master if we only tried…

This man I share my life with, with the beautifully boyish face, speaks my same language in silence but also deeply understands my need for words; for effective and open communication, for honest and heartfelt apology when one of us has done wrong, and genuine gratitude for all that is good when it is good.  He knows that I crave words and love how they string together in a dance, and he knows I believe this is a language which connects us all…we talk a lot,  about a lot of things…we disagree mightily on a few issues, and are in strong solidarity on most others.  He too often tells me to “relax” which makes me want to punch him in the face, and I too often correct his grammar which causes him to shoot me the eye of death…but then comes the smile, always the smile, the language we all speak fluently but so many of us forget its value…but in this house, this space where I try very hard to maintain peace and positivity, the smile packs a punch…through the thick and thin of these 3 years, 3 months, and 3 days there have been infinitely more smiles than frowns, much more laughter and light than raised voices and dark thoughts, open communication and freedom of expression, instead of dwelling angst-ridden silences…In this house  the language of kindness is the primary one spoken, and when we fail, or forget, we apologize, and we mean it…we smile, we forgive, and we remember all the words that were not spoken the first time we smiled together…

You can go to Dr. Wexler and get a perfect facial buffing peel and some Botox to smooth out those bothersome forehead lines,  you can go to Sally Hershberger for the perfect hair cut and Chris McMillan for the perfect highlights, you can go to Anastasia for perfectly sculpted & shaped & flattering face-framing brows, you can go to Dr. Fisher for luscious bee stung lips, you can go to Dr. Daniels for the perfect breast implants, you can buy Frette sheets and Bottega Veneta handbags from Italy, and insist that you only wear 7 For All Mankind jeans, BUT… if you’re not nice, if you lack empathy, if you begrudge the joy of others, if your heart is cold and you harshly judge people, or worse, you can’t differentiate between to, two, and too, or bare/bear, what good is it to be pretty?

I spent the day yesterday with eight women, women who have been friends for a LONG time; some who have been on vacations together, some have held each other over heartaches, some have rocked and comforted each others babies, some have wiped each others tears while they buried their mothers, they have deeply meaningful relationships among their group, and I was included for the day in their tribe.  It was a gift for which I am profoundly appreciative.  I’ve often written of my two ‘best friends,’ but in no way does that diminish the significance of the friendships I’ve formed during these adult years of my life.  While it’s true that my first friend from 1st grade is my longest running relationship, and my other friend from 9th grade gym class is my second longest running relationship, I realized last night while I was driving home, full on wine & laughter, that each of those eight women, while not as close to me as some other friends, I bet, if I called, or emailed, or texted any one of those women during a crisis, I felt strongly that they would “be there” or “do something” or “step up” if I asked for help, or needed them…and I hoped that they felt that same way about me.

It’s not always easy to make grown-up-friends.  We might become acquainted with our neighbors or our coworkers, or maybe the wives of our partner’s friends, but not all women easily make friends on their own once they are women, and perhaps it is that way for men as well, but how would I know?  I know what it is like to be a little girl; you admire the rainbow handlebar streamers on your new neighbor’s bike and suddenly you have somebody to play Barbies with, or go on adventures with, and BOOM, there is your new friend!  But I also know what it is like to be a woman, in a new state, knowing nobody, starting a new job, knowing nobody, and feeling terrified that when you walk in the door there are going to be people there who are, from first glance, going to like you or not.  Going to a new gym after years of neglecting your body and ignoring your increasing weight, going to a new salon after years of letting yourself fall into a category that can only be described  as “low maintenance,” going to a bar or a club or an event after the end of a decades long relationship and being ‘single’ again…all of these things are when you feel a little bit scared and a whole lot of vulnerable, and you want to be well received…you want to feel that some other woman “gets” you…

Our rented limo, for which we all pitched in our equal share, held a diversity to be applauded…smart & funny singletons, divorced, long-time marrieds, childless by choice, grandparent, and kids ranging in age from 7 to 30…some of us struggling to make our monthly bills and some of us planning our next vacation, some of us trying to consolidate debt and some of us trying to diversify our mutual funds, some of us who like to buy our purses from TJMaxx and some of us who prefer Bloomingdales…none of it mattered.  Some of us just in need of wine and laughter and frolicking, and a desire to be out of the house, away from work, away from laundry, away from loved ones and their needs…to just be free for a day…I can only write for myself, but am willing to bet that not one of us thought of one negative thing yesterday, not one bad thought of some issue looming over our heads…it was truly a day of freedom and bliss.

As we emptied another bottle of wine on our two-hour journey home we blasted an iphone & sang 80’s songs and we laughed with no inhibitions.  I think each one of us at any  time during the ride home felt as peaceful and invincible as we did at 14, with not a care in the world…that’s some good medicine.  Not once yesterday did I wonder if my Spanx were making my butt and thighs smooth enough in my skirt, I did not think twice about having another piece of cheese or shortbread, “more wine?”  ‘sure!’  it was like a great date, where you just have total confidence and unlimited joy, and we all were smiling all day long.  I felt so fulfilled when I got in my truck to go home, and I suspect that each of the women with whom I spent the day, felt exactly the same…life might some days be hard, some days it might be very complicated, some days it might be terribly scary, but hey, I’ve got a limo filled with women who’d have my back in a heartbeat.

Do you ever watch those shows on PBS that are about the Cosmos?  Have you sat slack-jawed as Carl Sagan or Neil deGrasse Tyson explained so clearly and in such detail how VERY SMALL WE ARE, and how VERY LITTLE WE ACTUALLY MATTER in our galaxy in this universe?  …and that’s only the universe that “we” have observed, that we know.  “…set my soul free.  We are stardust, we are golden, we are billion year old carbon, And we’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden”

The boy who holds much of my heart has been practicing songs for a potential new job, going back to what I think he does best, which is make music and be amazing and creative, and the songs are all for a Crosby Stills Nash and Young tribute band.  They are, most of which, songs I’ve heard on the radio for years, some of which I know well, but most of which I don’t.  The lyrics to every one I have listened to, 23 of them to be precise, are powerful in many ways, and many are filled with deeply moving words that should (well I think some of them should) make one think about deeply moving subject matter.

I was thinking about this, how small and how insignificant we are, everyone of us, last night as I watched some of the Republican debate on CNN.  Anyone who knows me or reads me should know by now that I am not a republican, have never voted republican, and often consider myself a social liberal and a fiscal conservative and rarely if ever vote for a person I feel represents ALL OF ME, or all of what matters to me, and frankly I think I write for us all when I share that in general I vote for the person who I most agree with on most topics, and who to me is the lesser of the two evils.  It is also common knowledge to those who know me or read me that I am the proverbial black sheep of my entire family.  I come from a family filled with love but extremely conservative views about most things, so we have, for years, agreed to disagree and seldom if ever do I have the joy of talking about things that matter to me with the people who matter to me.  SO I spent years talking about what matters to me with other people, none of whom are related to me, and I finally, after years of struggling with this, accepted it; it is simply how it is…but in the scheme of things, none of it matters, much at all…we think differently about the same things and so what?

It matters to me, a lot, to feel that I’m well-informed and well-rounded; I try to learn about all sides of all things before I form an opinion of anything.  So I watched the debate.  What struck me the most, in the hour and 40 minutes that I gave myself to it, was how for me personally, SO LITTLE mattered…so little of what was talked about has any meaning whatsoever to my life; my little house, my little business, my little family…I got to thinking about how small I am in the big scheme of things…how small every thing is that has to do with me, in the big scheme of things.  When you are white and part of the working class or middle class in America it is rather easy to get bogged down with upsetting thoughts, like, I forgot to put a stamp on my Nordstrom bill and now my payment is going to be late, or I have to get my new jeans hemmed, or my high-speed internet is slow, or my tire has a leak and my truck is overdue for an oil change, or, or, or…to us they could be a big deal, but really?  Really, in the big THING that is US, LIFE, the world, the galaxy, the universe, does any of what “upsets” us matter?

So last night I finished a wonderful novel called The Nightingale that took place during World War II and my heart was heavy, I mean, what deeply moving subject matter right?!  I had listened to CSN&Y songs a bit after work, as they are on a constant shuffle lately, while the magic of a musician’s brain learns them in his head, I had watched almost two hours of the debates, and I closed my eyes and had the most simple thought…everything is probably going to be fine in my life, and in yours, and I am nothing but billion year old carbon, and I slept better than I have slept in a very long time…

Because I did not renew my XM subscription in June, I’ve been listening to NPR in my truck every day, just like back in the 90’s before I had satellite radio, and I’m finding myself so grateful, more and more every day, for even the shittiest days of my life…There is a crisis throughout the European Union that is not reported nearly as much in our media as it is on the BBC, and it is heartbreaking and tear inducing, every day when I listen on my way to work.  People like you and me, JUST LIKE YOU & ME, but who happen to have been born and raised in Syria or Afghanistan, are desperately trying to get out of their war ravaged countries and to any number of European countries, and thousands and thousands are stuck, in limbo, in purgatory, in this half-way point, not home & not settled, that they can’t get out of, they are out of their home and their country but nowhere they wish to be…they are in the streets on islands, they are at train stations, they are stranded…

…and every day I listen to BBC news in my truck, I think to myself, that even on my very worst day of my entire life thus far, my life is and has been so much better than that of these scared and desperate people, and why?  Why am I the lucky one who got to be born white, in the USA, to middle class parents?  The interviews with some of these refugees rip my heart out, every day, but I still listen, every day…I want to know, I want to know what is happening, how are they making out, will they get to Germany, to Iceland, to Sweden…do they have relatives somewhere who will take them in, have they got anything to eat, are their babies sick…I want to know…These are educated women and men.  These are people who owned businesses, who worked for law firms, and as doctors or nurses in hospitals, and taught school, and drove delivery trucks…they had birthday parties for their kids, they had dinner parties with their friends, they had date nights with their husbands and their wives…and now, because their ability to live and thrive and raise their children with any semblance of peace or contentment in Syria, or wherever,  had become near impossible, they risked everything they had to try to find a better life somewhere else…they left their jobs, their houses, their older family members and took what they could carry in  a suitcase, or they took nothing, and took whatever money they had, and left the only life they knew…brave, desperate, hopeful, hopeless?  I think you have to be every one of these things to do this seemingly impossible thing, flee your life…

I watch the news early in the morning and most often at night here at home, and having listened during  the morning, can’t help but think about myself…how so many of the plans I had, the wishes I wished, the dreams I dreamed, did not come to fruition, and wonder, how dare I feel even a bit blue?!  When I think about these Syrians or Afghans, these men and women who had loving parents just like I did, who came from a lovely home and stable family just like I did, who went to college just like I did, who worked hard to own a home and make ends meet just like I did, and now, through no fault of their own have had to give up all that they knew and all they had to try to find a  new life…

These refugees are far more educated than I; they speak English, AND one or more other languages.  These refugees are far more brave than I; they left all that they knew with nothing but uncertainty and dreams for something better.  These refugees are far more resilient than I; they have had no full meal, no shower, no toilet,  for days on end, and they press on…and I say to myself, how dare I complain about ANYTHING?!  I work for people whose biggest problem of this weekend might be that one of their ice makers is on the fritz, or the caterer brings fewer plates than are needed, or the landscapers cut the wrong tree limbs, or the pool filter is too noisy…the news brings an oft needed reality check to my life…what life could be like, what it IS like, for so many and holy cow am I lucky or what?!

I have joked with several of my customers over the years, that here I am, graduated first in my class in college, and cleaning bathrooms of rich people and painting their bedrooms.  Not complaining at all, but recognizing that my plans for my life and my future did not work out, at all.  I planned to get a job with the Prosecutor’s office, or a prestigious law firm, or some sort of women’s advocacy organization, or with the county pretrial intervention department, but not one of my plans worked out…I applied for job after job after job…I kept wondering, how do they not want ME?!  My parents and my friends would wonder the same thing; how can so and so get hired and not you?!  Who would not want a woman who was a single mother, who worked full time, who put herself through college, who got straight A’s?!  Who would not want a woman like THIS?!  But nobody did…and I have held onto that hurt for so many years, that not one of my plans for my life worked out…I worked so hard to do well in college, and for what?!  Now I plant gardens and clean houses and paint siding for millionaires, and I think about it often…how what I planned did not work out at all…AND it can be so easy to get sucked into that state of woe, any of us can get sucked into it…how woeful when your best laid plans don’t pan out…and then I listen to the news and I watch the news and my reality check is presented to me…and think, how dare I feel blue or rueful??!!   These people are not much different from me or you…they worked hard, they studied, they did well in school to have a career, they did what they had to do to buy a home and now…this…talk about plans not working out?!  In not one of the interviews have I heard a woman say, “why me?”  or “what did I do wrong?” …NONE of that sorrowful talk…just bewilderment that this is their now, that this is what is happening to them right now, and they are tired and hungry and thirsty and scared, but they just keep looking ahead to what will come and pray it will be okay…undaunted, resolute…I am amazed by their bravery…So here I am in my air-conditioned office, at my computer, sipping coffee, getting ready to head out the door to my job, and realizing how very good and easy my life is, when I look at the bigger picture…

30 years ago today was one of the worst days of my life.  Most women are full of joy, hope, dreams, and laughter on their wedding day…I was just a girl, 17, and knew in every cell of my body that this was a terrible idea, mistake, decision, and plan, and that nothing, from that day forward, was going to go the way I had anticipated for my life…All those dreams you have as a teenager; all those wishes for “how’s it gonna be?” totally extinguished in one afternoon at 17 years old…

To be clear, I have in fact had some really awful days since, and some really, really splendidly great days during these last three decades; I don’t in any way intend to imply that my life has been all shite and woe for all this time, but I do intend to express that if today were my last day to breathe life on this planet, I would say that one of my greatest regrets was that day;  having gotten myself pregnant, having been too slow with my phone call to the clinic to get myself un-pregnant, and then being too chicken to fess up to my parents right away, of the mess I had made of my very young life, thus removing any possible chance for them to fix the situation to a solution that would be the best possible outcome for their 17-year-old daughter…so chicken was I, that I made my sister tell them, on her 15th birthday no less…what a f**king mess…not only is the 30th anniversary of my wedding day a melancholic memory, the entire memory from that summer after I graduated high school is a wash of tears and worry and anger and frustration and confusion, it’s really a miracle, looking back now, that I did not just drive my little green Pontiac into a building…it’s a wonder that I managed to get up every day and live…because in my mind now, remembering  that time of my life then, I did not want to live, but did not know how to un-live.

When we are young we have so many hopes and wishes and dreams and we just assume that we are skilled and smart and sharp and will make all the right choices to make our dreams come true.  It used to drive me mad, as a teenager, when my mother would say, “all I ever wanted was to be married and have a family” and I would think, good grief!  dream bigger!  …but the funny thing is that my mother made all the right choices that got her exactly what she wished for…all these years later, perhaps that more than anything, is the perpetual painful thorn in my side, the typical mother/daughter angst that we all know is part of life…that my mother made the choices to get her to her goals, and I did not.

So today what would have been my 30th wedding anniversary, I think about how we think about ourselves and how the choices we make either get us to our chosen destination or keep us struggling to achieve the unachievable, attain the unattainable, access the inaccessible.  How daunting, to think of living this way?  It does not seem like a very healthy way to live, so instead we keep getting up and getting on with our day, and keep trying to do whatever we must to get “it” all right, and surely the “it” is completely different for each one of us.  I know a few couples who got it right the very first time…I know several in fact, both my own age and that of my parents, who are still in love with the person they loved in high school.  I know two couples who went on one date and “knew” that person was their “it” and their life as a singleton was over, and all of these people are perhaps exceptions to the norms of today,  because honestly most people I know are divorced or have been divorced…and just keep trying to find one person, is that too much to ask?! they lament, to find a match, somebody who brings out the best in them and helps them to be better than they were alone, better than they were before…I think it’s perhaps what everybody wishes for, on their wedding day, man or woman; let this union make me better than I am on my own, let this relationship make my life better than it would be if I were alone…

30 years is a long time ago to still harbor ill feelings, so I don’t.  I am no longer angry with myself for all of the stupid things I did & I recognize that all of my years of anger did nothing to get me towards my goals or dreams in life, and regardless of what I always said I wanted in life, I never tried hard enough I guess to get there, so I am here…at this point in my life, full of acceptance…a Mea Culpa to the universe.  Somebody I once knew used the expression that a good relationship doubles the joys in life and halves the sorrows…perhaps that’s all any of us can hope for…two times the smiles, and frowns that are few and far between.

I went to a party yesterday afternoon and stayed many more hours than I had anticipated, and honestly had many more laughs than I knew I needed.  I had my purse and my phone in the pool house and I checked my phone only twice in nine hours.  I can’t describe how good it felt, to be “otherwise engaged,” and not at all interested really in the world inside my phone…

I originally got an iphone for one reason; I often was bringing my ipod and forgetting my phone, or bringing my phone and having no music all day at work…I bought an iphone only so that I had to remember and carry just one object.  However, as we know from countless stories on the news, in the paper, and in magazines, we, well many of us, myself included, have become attached too much to our phones,  I have become one of those who does, at least several times a day, look on Instagram & Facebook, and  check my email.  Not that many years ago I only KNEW what somebody was doing if they called me on the telephone and left a message on my answering machine in my house that they were doing ‘something,’ or needed ‘something’ or wanted to tell me ‘something,’ and I only KNEW about it after the fact, because the message was left at some ‘other’ time and I did not hear the message until I pressed play…and I lived just fine back then, NOT knowing anything…emails were read at night after work, phone calls were returned, nobody needed me immediately, and I find that texting now is one of those things that most of us can’t seem to live without…

Yesterday at a party filled with friends, old and new, I realized how much I do enjoy interaction with real live people; smiling and eye contact, the sounds of peoples voices, the warmth of their laughter, and all that good humanness that is so lost in this modern world we now live in.  We swam in the pool together, we drank beverages together, we giggled together, we shared some happy stories and we shared some heart heavy stories, we ate good food, we walked to the roof deck together and looked at the sun set, while it was setting, and we interacted and it felt so rejuvenating to my very core.  This is not to say that I won’t still be a person who checks her phone throughout the day, but it is to say that I think I am going to slowly revert to the me I used to be…or at least the essence of her, who liked togetherness and who did not “need” cyber-space to feel connected, who actually connects with humans.  Yesterday reminded me how ensconced I have become in a world that is not real.  Sure, it’s in real time…I see from photographs and read in posts that somebody is on the beach, or is on vacation, or is making scallops, or is missing somebody they love, or is feeling melancholy, or is angry at somebody who hurt them, and all of these things are valid and all of these things are part of life, but yesterday, among friends, in real life and in real time, I remembered how good it feels to be physically connected, and I am going to make an effort to be more present and less cyber, and although it is certainly something of an “addiction” it is one I feel I can enjoy a little more if I take it in smaller doses…