Blowing in the Wind

Today I experienced a beautiful music service at the UU in Fredericksburg. And while I could go on about the music and the musicians, that's not why I'm writing this. I'm writing this because of a window. A circular window above the stage area where the musicians were playing. My eye was continually drawn to that window or, more specifically, the trees outside that window. I took a little journey into the past.

For as long as can I remember, I have found staring out a window at trees a meditative experience. I remember doing it in the den in our last family home in Norfolk, Virginia. It was an addition, on the back of the house, and overlooked a sloped backyard that ended in a small creek. Directly opposite was an almost identical creek and another neighborhood with similar sloping backyards behind those homes. I would sit on the couch for the longest time, just watching the lives of people I didn't know, and stare at the movement of the trees.



And for some reason, it brought a sense of timelessness to me. No matter what was going on in my life, those trees stood through the seasons, dancing slowly or bending dramatically with the changes in weather. I would feel a sense of melancholy, knowing that I wouldn't always have the chance to sit in that spot and age along with those trees.

Many years later, a childhood friend's father died. After the service, we all went back to her family home, as her parents had never left the neighborhood. As we were sitting in the living room, telling and listening to stories about her father, our families, our growing up, our children, I found myself staring out the front window at the trees. My heart lurched, realizing these trees were the same ones I'd walked past, rode my bike (and later drove) past, stared at when hanging out with my friend in that very room. A huge wave of melancholy again swept over me, and yet also a feeling of immense gratitude.

As we move through our lives, there will be moments like this. Moments that impress upon us the timelessness and yet mortality of living on this earth. And as I sat in that room at UU this morning, listening to the lyrics of CSNY, Pete Seeger, Bob Dylan, Richard Thompson, I stared at those trees and felt a deep calm. I returned to that couch in that house on Tallwood Street, and felt the deep sense of my place in the world that I had as a young teen all those years ago. All the stress and pressures of living dissipated as I watched the trees bend and dance to music they couldn't hear, yet somehow understood better than I could ever hope to. I felt again that deep sense of melancholy mixed with gratitude. And I smiled. What a gift to have that little journey back in time, and to reconnect with that young lady I was, on the brink of a life I couldn't imagine.

Spring Snow

Winter pauses spring,
Maple and forsythia
At the ready, waiting.
Cardinals, juncos and finches
Flit and feast,
Instinct trumps weather.

Like Dark Chocolate

Like Dark Chocolate

We come into this world,
Crying and demanding,
Instinctively knowing what we want…
Sustenance, comfort, warmth, and rest.
We move through life in the same way,
Striving for the goodness life has to offer,
Accepting the bitter as a
Natural byproduct of the sweet,
Like dark chocolate.

Deep Inside

The feeling inside,
the one that I've always had.
Is it possible this is and
always has been depression?

Or is it possible, the feeling inside...
is just me...feeling.
How do we know who we really are?
Am I this feeling?

Hard to describe, this feeling;
melancholy...sadness...loneliness...
yearning...but over what?
And does this feeling define me?

How much of ourselves do we accept
as simply innateness?
How much of what we feel, deep inside,
since childhood, simply just is us?

So much brings me joy...nature,
love of family and friends, and yet there,
deep inside, is that feeling...
I think I should get to know me better.

The Hedgehog

“They didn't recognize me," I repeat. He stops in turn, my hand still on his arm. "It is because they have never seen you," he says. "I would recognize you anywhere.” ―

Muriel Barbery, The Elegance of the Hedgehog

This is what love for humanity is for me. Because there really are no true enemies or 'others'. We are all on this journey together, and it is in seeing each other, really seeing, that we allow compassion, empathy, and love to flow from us to them. I'm grateful for those in my life who 'see' me. And I endeavor to work harder at 'seeing' others.

(I highly recommend Barery's book, and the movie that followed, The Hedgehog, for more wonderful gems like the one above.)

My search for images of a hedgehog led me here, and this line jumped out at me: "Hedgehogs teach the value of friendship with those who are different from you." All of my life I have had friends of all types, and a variety of different persuasions of religion, politics, or backgrounds, points of view, and vastly different experiences. I'm the person that maintains friendships for decades, honoring the connection to my past as well as the lessons learned over the years, and open to what we might be able to learn from each other to this day (the decades long friendship with my childhood friend, Rani, is a good case in point.) I credit this in part to moving around a lot in a Navy family, both as a child and as an adult.

I have almost always been able to find value in each person I meet, even if I don't necessarily agree with them about one thing or another (or a lot of things...) I realize that this is what makes it difficult for me when someone cuts me out of their life. Where I accept differences and disagreements as a natural part of being in relationships with others, some people feel more comfortable cutting out those people who rub them the wrong way or present a different perspective or point of view. Not everyone wants to bridge the gap, but rather prefer to burn the bridge. I have always found this difficult to accept. I prefer to have a conversation and clear the air, because I value people in my life. I realize that we, all of us, when confronted with a difficult relationship, are often responding to an aspect of ourselves we see in others. We choose to acknowledge that aspect of ourselves and, in doing so, accept it in both us and them; or, we deny relationship with that other, and in doing so, dishonor that part of ourselves.

Funny how a prickly little animal and a book led to this train of thought. Thanks, hedgehog.

Fashion Matters

So, recently I posted the following photo on Facebook. Supposedly it is meant to illustrate the differences in values of the two women, based on the cost of their outfits.

Understandably, a friend's response was, "WTF difference does it make what they were wearing?" And the answer, of course, should be that it shouldn't matter. And I've been thinking about it ever since. What is the obsession with first ladies' (or potential first ladies) styles, and what difference (if any) does it make?

My brief search on First Lady Fashion (FLF from here on out...) reveals a long history of following what they were wearing. Indeed, society columns 'then and now' made a point of describing in detail the clothing of the ladies of the time at various high society events. Yes,the ladies. Men's fashion really doesn't change that much, although these days men on the red carpet at the Academy Awards do get asked, "Who are you wearing tonight?" Still, it remains true that it's what the ladies are wearing that we really pay attention to.

FLF has a place in history...specifically, the National Museum of American History. But why does it matter? From the NMAH site: "Clothing, especially on mannequins, can give a sense of a person’s physical presence. It helps make even the most distant historical figure feel closer. Clothing and accessories illustrate the personal style of a first lady or the official style of a presidential administration. And they can represent the events to which they were worn—from inaugural balls, state dinners, and public appearances to everyday life in the White House." And political conventions.

Right. And you and I both know that a lot of thought goes into the outfits in FLF, for the very reason that the individual wearing the outfit is representing so much. Which brings me back to the above photo and whether or not it really matters what they were wearing. I say yes. And even though I had a difficult time articulating why it matters at the time the photo was circulating, I knew then and I know now, it matters. Because I know that each individual had a strong say in what they wore, who designed it, what colors would be involved, and what statement they wanted to make. In each case, the image presented is a combined result of personal taste and desired reaction.

Whether we like it or not, fashion matters. Fashion represents cultural and fiscal values. "Fashion is born by small facts, trends, or even politics, never by trying to make little pleats and furbelows, by trinkets, by clothes easy to copy, or by the shortening or lengthening of a skirt." (Elsa Schiaparelli) And in politics, like it or not, FLF matters.

To listen to the story that re-sparked my interest in this topic, click here.

A Weight

I continue to shake my head at the discordance between me and the ex. Everything I've done since we split has been in the interest of Rebecca's safety and happiness. Yet I continue to be blamed for his lack of involvement in her life, and apparently I've done a bad job of raising her. Despite this, I encourage her to understand that he does love her, he just has a difficult time expressing it in a way that shows he supports her. Unfortunately, she overhears him and his wife discussing me, which upsets Rebecca. She is so frustrated that she has twice now contemplated out loud the idea of cutting ties with him. I do not, of course, encourage this. I want my daughter to have a healthy relationship with her father. I could over-analyze this for days. But the bottom line is I'm watching Rebecca grow further and further apart from her dad, knowing the full while that he blames me (based on my initiating the split), and knowing that all she really wants from him is his support and approval...the very things that he wanted from his own parents growing up and as an adult, and yet never felt he had. I'm at a loss. There's a heaviness in my heart.