Of Buttons and Burdens

Well - here I am...again. Months between posts yet not time that has been lazy or blank in any way.

Months of turmoil, stress and more stress.  I knew going into this new year that the first couple of months would be - filled with insanity in terms of commitments and responsibilities.  Yet I had no idea the level to which the insanity would climb.

I feel like I've been chewed up, spit out and reconstituted only to start all over again.

And with this weekend it will all come to a stop.  Not a standstill - I'm not delusional. But a stop, a significant pause.  Space where I might be able to breathe again.

Many little & big things go into all this - church obligations that while joy-filled had become almost burdensome, work stresses that boggled my mind, the seemingly endless search for a new car for myself and some family stuff.

It's all made the first 3+ months of this year an obstacle-course of road bumps, outright blocks and blind corners.

I am thrilled to report that the last stressor - the car - has been resolved and will be finalized tomorrow.  I bring home my new baby tomorrow morning.  We had to journey out of state to find what I wanted - and she's worth the wait:



My as-yet-unnamed chariot.*  A 2014 Infiniti Q50.  Fully loaded with just about every option known to the car-buying world these days - navigation, back-up camera, 2 touchscreens, even a heated steering wheel to go with the heated leather seats (front and back).  She hits all my buttons - aggressive styling, luxurious interior and power.

Oh yes - power.  328hp in a 3.7liter V6. 7-speed automatic.  Goes 0-60 in less than 5 seconds.  Yeah - that will suck you into the back of the seats, for sure.  Let me just say that she corners flat on a wet road at 55mph - what? The sales guy told me she corners flat, how could I NOT test that theory for myself.  And she'll rocket onto the highway and get you up to 80mph before you can realize you are actually moving.

Sleek.  Beautiful.  Fast.

Yup - all my buttons pushed in the right way.

After months of having my buttons pushed in every other way but how I want or need - it is refreshing to finally be happy about it.  And once this beauty is in my driveway sometime tomorrow, the stresses of the past - oh-so-many-months - will finally start to fade away.  I will enjoy my new ride - and leave the old, bumpy one behind.

* Yes, I name my cars.  I'll need to drive this rocket for a bit before a name comes to me.

God's Bread Crumbs

Strange, where you can find inspiration.  Where you find a kindred spirit whose emotional experiences mimc your own.  Odd, shadowy corners that move you down to the very fiber of your existence.

A simple book.  Taken from my local library for a vacation week's idle reading.  Viewing it as a fun puff-piece, I clutched this humble book to myself.

Side note: this whole library thing is new-ish.  For the first time in over 25 years - I have a library card.  I'm a voracious reader and our budget in the coming year just doesn't have room for the quantity of e-books or real books that I typically purchase.  And I can't shut off my desire to read so - hello little library card.  I was so excited to get the card, much to the amusement of the library employees.  And even funnier, when asked if we had just moved to town, we had to confess we have lived here for 26 years.  All in all, it was a fun encounter and now I have a limitless supply of books to read that won't cost me anything more than a 1/2 mile round-trip detour on the way home from work.

Anyway, back to my first library book borrowing experience.

I chose "Wildflower", the new memoir of short stories from Drew Barrymore.

I know - the original wild child, she of the rehab at age 13, emancipation as a minor child at 14 and countless fun & sweet movies since E.T. in 1982.  Total puff piece...right?

Wrong.

A book of short stories of her life, Ms. Barrymore has delivered a confection of gentleness and of a spirit that will not be silenced even under the harshest of growing conditions.

So much of the emotions she experienced in her troubled childhood are very similar to mine.  Oh, not in any specific, real way to be sure.   But rather in the aftermath, the impact of those experiences.

The lack of personal confidence.  Poor self-esteem that is often-times more than crippling.  Emotional abuse and abandonment at the hands of people, who should at the very least, know better.  Unseen scars that could (and many times have) render a person nearly catatonic with pain and confusion.

And yet here Ms. Barrymore is – thriving, a brilliantly quirky mother to two gorgeous children, blissfully & happily married.  An enormously successful adult career in Hollywood; which God knows is a rare occurrence for anyone let alone a once-washed-up child star.  A career she has built on her own terms, taking advice and guidance from those who have gone before her, never once thinking she is above it all.  Allowing herself to be humbled and to learn from that experience.

Sounds like a pretty decent outcome for just about anyone.  And the best part is – Ms. Barrymore knows it.  She is utterly aware of her good fortune to have come out of such a troubled childhood relatively unscathed (though I would like the name of her therapist - J).   She has put in the hard work, asked the difficult questions, accepted things that just “are” and moved on.

Which is, in fact, my primary theme for this new year.  To move forward – acknowledge the pain and brokenness AND to no longer allow it to darken my life for one more second.

It’s a funny thing, this supposed puff-piece of a book.  I have devoured it’s every word since I brought it home last Wednesday. And on page 258 of 276 pages, I encountered the gem that will help me remain in the light and refuse the darkness.

In all that has happened in my life – both in childhood and far more recent history – I have often wondered about the idea that all of it had to happen just as it did for me to come into the light.

The Light – at first being God’s call to me to come out of the spiritual wilderness I had created for myself some 20 years ago.  Then becoming a way of life – walking in God’s light, following that narrow path that leads to him.

Did I need to go thru all that pain and anguish to find my place in God’s light?  To become connected to a world of faith.  To find a family of my choosing that loves me without condition, in the spirit of Jesus Christ.  Did it have to happen that way?  Did I need to suffer so much, to come to the precipice of my own existence, in order to come to God?

Perhaps.  Certainly as a devout Catholic I see the parallels of suffering and I know that God did bring me thru it all; He did pull me back from the abyss. 

Yet…

On page 258 of “Wildflower”, Ms. Barrymore says this about an experience she had that changed her life: “If I hadn’t read that article that day in the diner, my whole life might be different.  Or, are we set on paths we must go on, and there are little bread crumbs out there to lure us in?”

Did my experience need to be fraught with such turmoil to be brought to God?  Or was it all part of His plan to begin with…God’s Bread Crumbs.

Oh, and The Light?  Well, that now means so much more to me; it’s not just a place to be, a resting point on the path of life.  It is now who I wish to be, where I wish to be, how I wish to be.

Of Jeans & Champagne

Crystalline.

That is the quality of the light today.  It's brilliant outside - sunshine for the first time in several days.  Illuminating the water and ice remaining from our first winter weather of the season earlier this week - there is a sparkle to the very air.  There is quite the breeze blowing - carrying away those water droplets while the meager warmth in the sun begins its bid to say good-bye to the ice.

In truth - I love the winter.  The cold air, the weak sunshine, the bleakness of the landscape...there is something soothing about it to me.  Bundling up to go outside or, even better, staying indoors in front of a cozy fire in the fireplace, watching a good movie in the better company of The Oracle.

Ah - my loving husband.  He sits across from me right now watching YouTube videos of chicken wing recipes.  We are going to a New Year's Eve open house this evening and he is planning to bring some kind of gooey chicken thing - wings & drumsticks bathed garlic & honey - or some-such.

Not my cup of tea but there will be several guests there who will, along with The Oracle, gather around the slow cooker and groan & moan with glee over the ooey, gooey goodness contained within.

Men - happy around food and drink in the company of like-minded souls.  When we gather with this group of friends it is one of my favorite things about them.  Men with facial hair (as most have some), dressed in jeans & flannel shirts.  A few cowboy boots in the mix, some LL Bean shoes and even a pair or two of slippers.  Talking and laughing.

No drama.  No, not even from the women.  :-)

We gather together in joy, friendship and love.  Everyone will bring something to complete the evening's food offerings.  There will be laughter, loudness and even times for quiet contemplation.  Small conversations between old friends.  Larger conversations that will ring out with the happiness of our gathering.

It's the perfect way to say good-bye to an extraordinarily difficult year and to welcome in a new one - filled with the promise of a blank slate on which to write a new history.

One that has peace, serenity and good health in equal measure.

Learning

Well...hello there.  Long time no talk.

Long time...no anything.  As mentioned in previous posts, life certainly was more than challenging in 2015.  As the year comes to a close I have to be honest and say...

...good riddance!

I will be so very glad to see time move into 2016 that I might actually stay awake for it.  I can't remember the last time I was awake for the change in year - it just hasn't mattered that much.  One year moving into the next is just the passage of time; nothing particularly special about it. But the coming change...may be something I not only need to see but may take a picture of.  Whatever catches my eye at that precise moment - could be a throwaway, could be profound.  Either way - the artist within me will capture it in some way that resonates with me.

I'm not one to make resolutions but the coming new year may also be an exception in that regard. I've spent so long in a dark cave of depression that I have neglected my physical health.  I'm seriously overweight, I'm ducking doctor appointments and in general ignoring myself to the point of danger.

So the first thing on the personal schedule in the new year - beyond getting back into the swing of working after a 2 week break - will be to make a series of appointments so I can get back on top of my health.  Which should, in the long run, help with the depression, with general energy levels and desires to be productive.

And yes - we have been away from work for 2 weeks now. Part of it planned and part of it not.  I got my every-few-years-at-the-holidays bout of bronchitis.  Diagnosed 4 days before Christmas in fact; it came on fast and as part of this "New Life Resolution" thing I've got going on - I got to the doctor as fast as I felt the symptoms rising.

Drugs - are a good thing.  By the day after Christmas I was starting to feel like myself again.

Of course that's quite the loaded thought these days - feeling like myself.  I'm still not sure what that is exactly but I do know - unequivocally - that it has GOT to be better than the "myself" I've been feeling for years.

I lost my way a bit on the idea of allowing the artist within me to come out.  Too many upheavals in the past year have been allowed to get in the way of any hope on my part of immersing myself in the sacred sounds of the piano, the spirituality of needlework, the God-given gifts of my photography.

The storminess outside of me became the tornado within me; consuming everything in its path without regard for health, well-being, mental stability or even basic happiness.

I have willed that storm to subside...and am focused on that artist within again. To the point where I am working hard on the piece above - one of Beethoven's most beautiful piano sonatas - the 2nd movement of The Pathetique.

This is significant my friends - incredibly significant in my life.  Because this piece of music was once the playground of another pianist in my family - people I don't speak to or of anymore for so many reasons that have been the major part of that aforementioned storminess.

The Pathetique was this particular family member's favorite piece of music.  And whenever one of my music books would fall open to the notes of it - I'd run away in fear and anguish.  As if the very notes held my life's torment within them.

My friends - they don't. They hold nothing within them except whatever Beethoven put there and whatever I bring out of them for myself.

For. Myself.

It took such emotional strength to let my fingers even rest on the piano keys with this music open before me; such physical strength to tease the notes out of my very soul - to let that glorious music speak to me in my own language.

Not the language of pain or abuse; rather the language of a person slowly recovering.  A person learning who she is again.

Learning what it's like to feel like myself.

In The Silence

Crisp.  Chilly.  Breezy.

Beautiful.

That is the order of our day today.  A quiet morning - indulged in a lovely, decadent second cup of coffee.

And now - fresh bread is baking, laundry is whirring and soft, gentle music pours forth from the Bose docking station.

This soundtrack music is - well, it's just...hmmm..........

I really have no words.  I have - feelings. Oh, so many of those. This music stirs my very soul, the essence of my being.  It is the musical form of my Tao.

The movie - Saving Sarah Cain - is a gem of a little film.  A story of true redemption.  About a person who seemed - unredeemable.  It is a story about acceptance, honor, sacrifice and the kind of true love that goes so deep its roots are not traceable.  It is a film I highly recommend to anyone...no matter where you are in your life, Sarah Cain will remind you of a part of yourself that, perhaps, you have ignored - or worse, forgotten - in the rush and hum of life.

Life - it does intrude, doesn't it.  It steals time so quietly that it's almost too late before you realize it.  You must be vigilant - ever-protective of those quiet moments that can just come upon you.

Moments of such perfect peace that they take your breath away.  Moments that allow the quiet to settle on you like a warm, comfy blanket; cocooning you in peace & serenity.

Sounds good, doesn't it?

Seek it, my friends.  Seek out that kind of quiet because if you don't - as The Oracle and I have learned in such dramatic fashion in the past few months - you might lose a piece of yourself and never get it back.

The Oracle and I have been on a self-imposed exile since the last weekend of July.  We cleared our calendars of obligations and commitments so that we could focus on ourselves and each other.  At first we said - let's do this thru the end of August.  Then we said - thru the end of September.

Now...it's thru the end of the year.  We do what we have to and we delicately pick thru what we want to do - and even in that we are judicious about what we say yes to.  We have focused our time, attention and energy on - just the 2 of us.

It's been - rewarding, boring, exhilarating and peaceful.  A time to renew our own Tao both as individuals and as a couple (though I think The Oracle would look at me in that oh-so-tolerant and bemused way at the word "Tao").  A time for deep, personal reflection.  Some days it's a time to talk - so much talk, so much conversation.  Other times, like today - it's quiet.

I sit here - typing away madly.  The Oracle sits across from me - just idly surfing the 'web.  We break our stride every so often to look at each other - maybe ask a question, maybe talk about something we are thinking about.

Sometimes - we just sit quietly and say nothing at all.  Because in that silence, we say so much.  We hear God between us in that silence.  His grace fills us, sustains us, nourishes us.  His love - is our love.

The Art of The Scars

Well - haven't had much to say in the past month or so - clearly.

Except that I've had far too much to say and no desire to articulate it in any way.  These have been darks times in my life, my friends.  Dark times indeed.  The very darkest to date.

Yet, now there is light. With constant prayer, being ever vigilant over my thoughts, my words, my every physical movement...

...I have finally reconnected with the joys in my life.

Wandering thru a dark woodland you are scared by every movement, every sound.  The very shadows hold portents of negativity and fear.  Each action you take is measured against the risk of a simple footstep.

It's exhausting. It wears you out like nothing else; your very breath becomes something to be welcomed and avoided in equal measure.

Frankly, my friends, I've been thru just one too many of these "dark times" in the past decade or so. I am so - over - these feelings.  I just want to - be me.

To even find out what that means...a new journey at an age and time in life when most people have already answered that question - who they are.

Since I have spent the better part of 10 years fighting off darkness, demons and the expectations of others...I am delayed in finding out what I expect of myself.

No more delays will be allowed. This ship is sailing and nothing is going to make me turn back now.  With God's grace, I found my joy again.

I found that part of me that can sing with abandon - on the inside.  A major stress point in my life the past few months has finally resolved itself; and in so-doing as revealed a clarity and truth that I didn't expect.

You see, dearest ones, my marriage fell apart this past summer.  For reasons far too complicated and personal to ever recount in any space of any kind - my 32 year marriage formed cracks that quickly turned into canyons. Divides so wide that The Oracle and I soon lost sight of each other.

If I'm to be truthful - these divides began about 6 years ago from forces outside of our relationship.  We never noticed those cracks; they were small, subtle.  Fissures deep in our souls that finally grew to a size that we had to notice, but choose to ignore.

Finally, the great canyons between us opened up and it seemed, for a long while, that we'd never find ourselves - or each other - again.

We fought - hard.  Like warriors in trenches, we were bombarded by our own inadequacies, our own faults, our own pains flung like grenades at each other.  And in between, long silences of such incredible anguish.

Darkness.  Devoid of light from any source.

But fight we did - in it to win it as the saying goes today.

With God as our commander and ceaseless prayer the only rules of engagement we had, we retreated in a haze to find strength to get back in the trenches.  Day after day, struggle after struggle, battle after battle.  We persevered with God's enormous grace we remained committed to this relationship begun when we were just children really...making grown up decisions that would reverberate through our lives for 30+ years.

And in a moment of such exquisite harmony and gentleness, joy finally broke thru the smoke of a marriage broken in two.  It's impossible to find any other source but God himself; speaking thru the all consuming darkness to tell me - Kris, be calm my child.  Words spoken to me in stillness many weeks ago, their impact finally felt in the past few days.

This marriage - that has defined my life for so long now - has been brought to beyond the breaking point.  And with God's love and strength to guide us, we have put those broken pieces back together.  The whole of the thing looks - different now.

Like the Japanese art of Kintsugi - the practice of mending broken things with gold. The philosophy that the breakage and repair is part of the history of the thing, not something to be hidden but something to be embraced.

Like this bowl, we will never be the same whole that we once were.  The canyons that we have repaired will always retain part of their own shape. The landscape of our marriage, indeed of who we are...those scars show a battle hard-fought and hard-won.

A battle born of true love, a fight waged to keep the total darkness at bay.

I am no fool; I know there will still be dark times ahead as we navigate this new way of being - getting used to the scars. 

Yet joy - has been rediscovered.  And it has changed, like the cracks in the tea bowl above.  My joy is different - and in many ways it is far more beautiful now than it ever was.

The battles have made it beautiful.  The battles have made me - beautiful.

14

She was but one of 2,996 innocent people whose lives were cut short by an act of terror so unspeakable in its scope that even now - 14 years later - it is difficult to comprehend.

Hers was a “soft” countenance and spirit – meaning that everything about her was kind, non-threatening, approachable - she was a perfect reflection of all that was good in humanity. She loved her family fiercely and was devoted to her parents. Those parents are dear friends whose lives have been ripped to pieces by the acts of monsters.

Her wedding to her gregarious, wildly successful fiancé was to have been early October 2002. By now there would likely be a child or 2 running around – she'd have made a wonderful mother, loving her children with a ferocity that is equal parts love and fear. Any child of hers would have been a much beloved niece or nephew and would have been deeply spoiled grandchildren. She was cherished by anyone who knew her. She had a thriving career – much sought after in the fields of real estate and finance. Her future was bright – filled with promise and surrounded by love.

The end of her life can be summed up in a few, meager sentences: Heather Lee Smith woke up at 5:00am on September 11, 2001. She kissed her fiancé good-bye as he snoozed and she grabbed a cab to Logan Airport. She went to the American Airlines counter to get herself on a stand-by waiting list where she was able to board Flight 11.

And just like that, Heather’s story ends. No more memories to be created.

The stories of nearly 3,000 other people ended on the same date – leaving a hollow place in the lives of so many. Think of how many people in your life would miss you should you leave them suddenly - think beyond your family, to your friends, coworkers, the guy at the coffee truck who always gives you a kind smile with your morning shot of caffeine. Is it 10, 20, 50, 100, 200 - likely more? Each one of us touches a few hundred lives in the course of our existence – multiply your own “number” by 2,996 – the number of actual victims of 9/11/01. It’s more than staggering isn’t it – all those people with a howling void in their lives.

Like so many others there isn’t a grave for Heather’s family to tend; no final resting place the family can visit for holidays, birthdays or no special day in particular; no place to leave Heather’s favorite flower - the humble sunflower.  No physical place to ensure she is never forgotten. For her parents and their family & friends there will be nothing more than a marble panel or granite sculpture at a public museum to mark the final resting place of their much loved daughter. They have their memories of a life cut short at age 30; her mother once said to me that the hijackers stole her future.

As I have said in years past – we talk of these things, these unpleasant things like the pain and suffering and terror of the passengers, the nightmares in the WTC when people jumped rather than be trapped when the buildings collapsed, the brave souls on Flight 93 who forced the hijackers to die never reaching their target – so that we remember. 2,996 lights were extinguished by pure evil and we must remember them; we must show great courage in remembering them, for the memories can be so painful.

But remember them we must. For their sake, and ours. We must remember the sacrifice they made unwillingly. We must remember those who perpetrated this crime against the innocent people of our country. We must remember the pure nature of the victims and the evil nature of their killers.

Remember them we will – as Americans we share the burden of grieving for the victims of 9/11/01 and their families. If we forget Heather or the other victims, or if we abandon their families & friends, we do so at our peril.