2014

Outside today in Michigan a light snow is covering the tree branches and rooftops.  The beauty of the whiteness conceals what is underneath with clean snow reminding me that this is a fresh moment, a new beginning, with no footprints, no action by me until I chose to put my fingertips to the keyboard to communicate.   

My work at the book store will be finished on January 5th.  The grad application to University of Michigan MFA program has been submitted along with writing samples and recommendations;  I will wait for an answer.  I am dedicating the winter months to finishing the rough draft of the novel I have been working on along with teaching a creative writing course in my local area.

How about you?  I send wishes of peace and love:  Happy New Year.

Doing the Work

“The very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for.  The most you can do is live inside that hope, running down its hallways, touching the walls on both sides.”  (Kingsolver – Animal Dreams)

I am better with language than I am with people. This past month I have immersed myself with discipline into the craft of creating a story.   I am choosing to do the work while keeping a receptive mind and an open heart to what my characters need to say.  Daily writing and re-writing will be a long process for me.  To this end, creating a novel that I can share with you, I will not be posting on the blog.   I will leave the blog site open for readers who may want to read one of the 185 past posts. 

Yes, a tree fell in the forest of my life; this time I have listened and there is a story to tell.

"A Prison of his Own Making"

Recently, when corresponding with a friend, the topic of a relative came up.  My friend stated that this person lived in “a kind of prison of his own making”.  This written conversation brought to mind a Henry David Thoreau quote:  “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.”  This morning, upon waking, I profoundly felt the sadness of this statement – not only for my friend but for me.  There is a truth in confining oneself that I understand.  And, I fear that I am headed for that demise … the inability to listen and share creatively because I box myself in a psychological prison of my own making.

For me, the concept that I have a song that needs to be sung is a hurdle. I know that what separates the people who take action and those who live in a mental world is this: doing. We are all the same in that regard.  The person who releases their “song” has had to walk through the shadows, knowing that there is sun, during those times when the artist is stuck.  This is when she questions if what she is producing is worthy.  An artist has to reside in this mysterious, sometimes frightening, gloom and yet, keep working to produce the image she has held in her mind and heart in order to birth the end product ... art.  This creation is a personal expression of interacting in the world and what it has meant, how living has felt, at least in this one instance, a written piece is an attempt at offering a personal truth. 

Last December, I received a Christmas card with a simple one word message: “Believe”; that was it.  This word is a perfect descriptor of what I have lost or, more likely, never had.  I do not have a deep sense of knowing what it means to believe. 

Looking up the word in the Oxford Pocket Dictionary (2005), I found a couple of definitions that I would like to share.  Believe means to accept that something is true or someone is telling the truth and secondly, the word is defined as to have faith in the truth or existence of. 

There are limitless examples in the world of people believing … people who have overcome the melancholy, the Venus Fly-trap sticky spot that lures them into nonproductivity.  There are no excuses ... action is required.  No person who achieves is spared ... "Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadows of death, I will fear no evil."  (23rd Psalm)

I understand this, I too have built walls of confinement to stifle inspiration.  I have gotten very good at running away from a song that screams to be written … my song.  I am writing to you to pronounce that I am continuing the journey … the excursion to produce work … to unlock the prison confinement, the one of my own making.

I am challenged by this endeavor … the endeavor to:  Believe.

Weddings

Officiating wedding ceremonies is an enjoyable experience for me and hopefully, for the couples that have hired me.  This week I have been invited to perform a special service in St. Thomas, Virgin Islands.  I have never been there and the prospect is quite exciting.   I will be staying with the other guests in a large villa on the secluded side of the island – they’ve hired a chef – oh please … pinch me : )

As I draft the words for the couple, what they will say, what I will say, I gain a deeper understanding that the ritual of marriage is one of the joyous moments in life’s journey.  I have discovered that serving as officiate adds zest to my life as well as reminding me the importance of love.   Most of us know this – love is all there is (Beatles) - but troubles and challenges often absorb our energy – our focus becomes blurred.  We forget. 

What I have witnessed at the moment of union when the betrothed gaze into the eyes of their beloved, join hands and repeat their vow is a spiritual beauty, an aura, or a presence, if you will, that embraces all of us in attendance with love.  This emotion can be felt; there is a momentary hush among the onlookers as the man extends his heart to protect and honor the woman before him.  She knows that she is his girlfriend and more…she is cherished.   

In my last post, I quoted a scene from the movie:  P.S. I love You.  I am going to use that movie dialogue again.  The main character Holly is strolling along the water’s edge with Daniel when a senior couple stops near them to also enjoy the view.  Holly and Daniel are eating and laughing when Holly makes an observation about the older couple.

Holly:  That’s a real honest to goodness couple right there.  They’ve probably been together since the flood.

Daniel:  We’re so arrogant, aren’t we?  So afraid of age, we do everything we can to prevent it.  We don’t realize what a privilege it is to grow old with someone.  Someone who doesn’t drive you to commit murder or doesn’t humiliate you beyond repair.

Ahhhh...call me a romantic…I don’t care.  In a world where many folks are not making commitments, selfishly worried about what they may give up or what they need to get; I feel honored that there are men and women who cherish each other enough to take this important step and, this is the fun part, ask me to oversee this promise.  All of us who witness such vows have a duty to support and encourage the couple.   It is a privilege.

P.S. What Do Women Want?

Each morning I sit with a cup of coffee in a location where I can enjoy watching the birds feed on the oiled sunflower seeds that I put out.  It doesn’t take much observation to understand that within the species of birds, there are defined roles for the male and the female.  They know instinctively their place.  Humans are more complicated and I believe confused with gender roles.

Let me share an example.  Yesterday I was sitting next to one of my grandsons in the bleachers at a baseball game.  In my peripheral vision I saw a man approaching and all though quite a distance away, I recognized a friend.  I commented to my grandson that he was probably coming over to greet us and that it was the right thing to do to extend his right hand and say hello when greeting another male.  I explained that it was an action that was appropriate much like opening doors for women.  These actions are polite and respectable for a man to do.  He took this information in stride and when my friend arrived he put his hand out and said hello. 

Later, a man (about 45) seated next to my grandson – a stranger – commented, “I am glad to hear you say that … that a man should be opening doors for women.  I tell my son that too.”

Reflecting on that event this morning as I view the bird couples, I realize in my world the roles of men and women are often a mystery.   I believe that emotionally a female has a spot in her heart that longs for a strong male, one who not only sexually pleases her but one who supports her emotionally.   Of course, she should exhibit the same qualities and behavior toward him … she sexually pleases him, she demonstrates respect towards him and considers him her best friend.  The exception between a man and a woman is that he is the protector.  The upper body strength of the male is in most cases, designed to be stronger than a female.  This is a physiological fact.  He is intended to be the defender of his family.

I know that growing up without a father and also during the tumultuous 60’s and 70’s have contributed to my not having this baseline information established in my psyche.   I have observed that a lot of men and women aside from me also seem baffled about the importance of a strong man in their life.

There is a scene in the movie 'PS I love You' that makes me laugh.  Daniel (Harry Connick Jr.) is having a conversation with Holly (Hillary Swank) in a bar.  He asks her out and she gently turns him down.  He turns to leave and then abruptly turns back to her and blurts out:

Daniel:  I don’t mean to throw this at you from left field, but what do women want?  I mean, I can’t figure it out.  They want us to ask; they don’t want us to ask; they want us to make a move, not make a move.  They want us to be on bottom; they want us to be on top.  Use hair products, don’t use hair products.  What do you people want?

Holly:  I’ll tell you.  But, you have to promise not to say I told you.

Daniel:  I… I swear.

Holly:  Because it’s a sacred secret.

Daniel:  A sacred secret.

Holly:  You ready?

Daniel:  Yeah.  (He leans in close to her.)

Holly:  You sure?

Daniel:  I think so.

Holly:  (whispering)  We have absolutely no idea what we want.

Daniel:  I knew it!

A funny scene but, I believe, inaccurate.  Instinctively, unlike this movie dialogue, both sexes know what they want in a committed relationship. I want my grandsons to know what I believe a woman wants and admires. 

As I watch the Cardinals at the bird feeder, I have been given a visual confirmation of the explicate role that I admire in a male.  He is bright red compared to her equally beautiful but subdued coloring of tan with red in her wings, tail, and crest.  The male bird is always there with her, sometimes on the tree branch above but he is watching out for her.  If another bird seems to be a threat, he immediately flies to her.  He is territorial ... her protector.  I have never seen a male bird attacking his mate ... not ever.  I have never seen her attacking him ... never.

To my way of thinking, the human world is all upside down and topsy-turvy.  Neither men nor women know their role.  Being the stronger does not mean the man should demean his mate nor should woman put down her man.  From my experience, a woman wants a faithful lover, champion and best friend.

Our natural instinctive need for sex has been fueled by the media to a point where this powerful energy has been used against us.  We want sexual intimacy without reflecting on the ability of the person we partner with to cherish us and likewise, for the female to be able to respect and cherish the man.  If that is not happening before marriage, I have never witnessed a couple changing.  They are both disappointed - either openly or secretively. 

If only we could clear out our past experiences and media promoted confusion to enjoy femininity and maleness as nature intended.  The birds seem to have this right.  Little boys also seem to instinctively know this ... I'd like my grandchildren keep this truth.  Perhaps with understanding their role, they can select a mate and together create joy.

Luminosity

There is a beautiful half moon in Cheboygan, Michigan tonight; no traffic except for me … human traffic walking briskly on an empty sidewalk at 10:30 p.m.   I am alone and I feel safe.  The quiet is clean, inspiring and fresh.   My brain seems to be static with an extra snap … snap …. Synapse.     I am ready for this; I am listening … hide it under a bushel … no.  Instead, shine girl, let it shine.   

Father's Day

The accidental death of my dad occurred when I was six years old.  That traumatic loss left a gap, an emotional hole in my heart that has never repaired.  I am damaged goods; and, I have learned, so are most people in one way or another.  (I have not met, to date, a person spared from an affliction caused by a past experience with another person.)

Today I want to thank the men in life that have kindly stood by me through daily struggles, understanding the necessity for me to have a strong, compassionate male … fair or not fair has not been debated with me … they have taken on the role as friend and protector.

I lost one special friend this past year who demonstrated character and integrity always toward me. I know that he was a blessing.  When I grappled with an issue, he would say:  “Straighten your back and do what is right for you.”   He never said I was wrong (although most often I was : ).  He was neither offended nor indignant by my divergent point of view.  He liked me as I was and told me so. 

Not a day goes by that something he has said to me throughout my years of knowing him as friend does not pop into awareness.  I can only hope that when I am gone, someone can say the same about me.