Freefall

I named this blog 'beauty' to avoid the temptation to use it as a place to rant, judge, complain. Before starting it, I asked myself, what do I really have to offer the world? What do I have to give that only I can give? As I often find beauty in places most don't think to look for it, I decided that's what I would write about here.

Thus I haven't written in a couple of weeks, because I have been of late much more inclined to rant, judge and complain. I save that for my near and dear, who can't get away...

I grow weary of this, and this morning I turned to my beloved Rumi for inspiration. I landed on the poem 'Joy at Sudden Disappointment' and the reminder not to 'grieve for what doesn't come. /Some things that don't happen/keep disasters from happening.'

I find this immensely reassuring. It frees me to go full forward toward what I want, knowing all the while that I move within an existing web of cause and effect, not creating one from scratch.

It is a reminder that some of the things I wanted turned out not to be so great, and some I dreaded opened paths to beauty and possibilities I'd never imagined could be real.

It is a reminder that I’ve never known what happiness looked like before I got there.

So I leap, hands eyes open, screaming and laughing and waving at you as I freefall toward Goddess-knows-what.

Courage, I think

A good agent is like a parking spot, or a mate. I only need one.

Now that I am looking again, I remember how much it feels like dating – so much getting ready, so many attractive people at the party, but when rejection comes it only takes a second to pop all the balloons.

So I am writing here as meditation of sorts. I’ve written a story about which I care deeply, and I am simply looking for the best way to share it with as many people as possible, because that is what I do when something touches me. I’ve been known to stop strangers on the street to point out the rising moon, or other heavenly phenomenon, because the beauty was too much for me to carry alone.

I need to remember that this process of seeking agency and publication will result in me being somewhere other than I am right now as I begin, somewhere I cannot predict, whatever the result.

I need to remember that I am not alone. Such friends I have, new and old!

I need to remember that I am being bold! Do you hear me, mighty forces that are said then to come to my aid? I am laying it on the line, officially calling this my best.

I need to remember that feeling this naked and full of want has resulted in some of the greatest beauty I’ve known.

I need you to remind me what else I’ve forgotten. Help!

Women on Fire

When we fall in love , we revel in discovery, risk and expansion. Then, when we start to feel vulnerable in our need and newfound sense of safety, often we stop taking chances.

Worse, we make a terrible bargain: 'I'll pretend I won’t change if you promise to give up changing too. I’ll always be the same person you've come to need and love, and you'll do the same for me.'

We've all seen this happen to people we love. Most of us have made this deal ourselves, whether with spouse, parents, children, or whomever we come to count on.

I am writing today to honor certain women -- you know who you are -- who of late have come to me with the cry: 'I am growing and changing and the whole life I’ve built may shatter.'

I am honored by your trust and inspired by your courage.

Intricate webs of family and love and obsolete dynamics hang in the balance. In addressing these, you have chosen to care too for the fire that keeps you going, you as woman unto herself. You came and lit your damp wick in my flame, a flame you have helped me keep burning over the years.

I think of the lamp that is kept ever burning at many an altar, symbol that the deity is present.

Thank you for your fire. Goddess Bless and Goddess keep.

Walt's World

It’s my first time in the land of Disney. Paul has a techie convention here, and I came for the ride. It’s warm and friendly. Also very difficult to leave without a car which is exorbitant to rent. It reminds me a bit of the movie The Truman Show.

The resorts and 'kingdoms' are islands of construction in an ocean of swamp and impenetrable tropical forest, home to wild storks, egrets and the like, even an alligator (!) who patrols a liminal drainage ditch, I mean pond.

Inside, welcome to stone bridges made of painted concrete blocks and housekeeping staff in alleged Mexican aprons (this resort’s theme is the Southwest) made of embroidered Mickey Mouse logos.

It’s lovely here, yet I feel stifled. Why? This is Walt’s creation: a land where his imagination became three-dimensional.

Aren’t we each of us ever living in the world built by our own imaginations?

I want to make mine truly my own, with all the mistakes and pitfalls that entails. Someone else’s idea of safe haven may charm me for a while, but after a while I feel that charm presents a greater danger than any I could face on my own.

In its utter safety, I can take no meaningful risks, without which there is no fear, but also no possibility of brilliance and beauty.

And that possibility is what feeds me. Walt rolled his dice, and he both won and lost, if you know his story. I want to roll mine too.

For Daughters

Living with my mother as she descended into Alzheimer's, I got to know her as a little girl. My tyranical, commanding mother developed a jig in her walk and an easy laugh on her lips. We danced in supermarkets and elevators. We spent an occasional quiet afternoon with crayons and watercolors. Was I going out without combing my hair? She never noticed.

I treasure the gift of those years. I also weep over never having met woman to woman. By the time I was ready, she was already receding.

But I wonder: would I have ever been ready if she had not receded? At the time, I met for lunch with a friend my age whom I had not seen in years. We talked about my mother and her illness and the sadness of it all. But when I said,

'You know, it's also kind of liberating that she no longer has any idea what I do,'

my friend gasped and put her hand up to her mouth, as if we were teens, about to get caught smoking. She understood.

Did my mother in fading let in the sunlight I needed to grow as tall as she? Is there another way for this to happen?

Are there any women out there who have had a face-to-face encounter with their mothers that has resulted in the same kind of liberation? I’d like to think there are. If you’re among them, tell me. If not, tell me how you find your sunlight.

Onward

The following came to me in light sleep between dreams last night, verbatim. May it speak to you as it did to me:

There are times in life when we are shattered not to pieces but to dust. And even as we fear the wind will come and scatter us, we rise from this dust, not as a phoenix from its ashes, again and again a phoenix, but as something completely new from what we were before, with the added knowledge that we can survive the fire.

Lessons on innocence

Betty is my first puppy. We've been living together for ten months now, and I am honestly startled by how much I love her.

The greatest novelty has been living in the presence of happy innocence. I lived with my beloved cat Emma for 13 years (until she died) and while Emma was deep, intuitive and at times comforting, I never saw her as innocent in the way I see Betty. My cousin Dana, who has lived with cats her whole life, says, 'That's right, they seem to be judging us.'

I don’t think about this as cats vs. dogs. It’s the individual animals. Betty makes me laugh out loud when I'm tense, she helps me get over myself when I’m too deep in my own head, and she ever reminds me of the joy of being directly in touch with body and emotion. Anyone who's ever seen a small dog find a great big stick to carry home knows what I'm talking about.

I realize in writing this that her innocence has evoked mine, and made me literally enjoy my self more. I’m encouraged to be as gentle with my own mistakes as I am with hers – redirecting, corrective, but never punitive.

What have you learned from the animals in your life? What has their neighboring or intimate presence brought?

p.s. I also live with an old dog named Daisy. I'll tell you about that 'love child' another time, soon. By the way, they're both Clumber Spaniels.