Life in General

Dreamweaver

My son and daughter in law got the keys to their dream house today.  It's a large and lovely home in the suburbs of Dallas - a place large enough to hold all the dreams they've been cherishing in the months since they began planning this move from their first home in southern Florida.  They've been giddy with excitement, and who can blame them?  A new home in a new city, new places to explore and new friends to share it all with.  Sounds pretty dreamy to me. I've heard it said that "dreams are wasted on the young."  I don't entirely believe that, at least not in their case.  They're actually planners even more than they are dreamers, and don't go into any dreams without first carefully plotting their course to make sure they have a fighting chance at success.  As a parent, it's enjoyable and educational to watch them set about making their dreams come true.  Such grit and determination!  Fate barely stands a chance at thwarting them.

Of course, there are some dreams that remain elusive, irrespective of the amount of effort put forth.  I suspect most of us have one or two of those, tucked away in our heart of hearts.  As we age, it's easy to forget about those dreams, let them sink deep into the recesses of our soul.  We get busy with all the details of life, with trying to stay afloat in the ever choppier seas around us, and let those dreams fade away from our thoughts.

As I shift my focus from struggling to seeking, I recall some of the ancient dreams which have been  gathering dust in the corners of my heart.   Gingerly, I pick them up and examine them, peering closely for signs of life - a tiny pulse of encouragement, a spark of excitement.  As I poke around in those forgotten corners, I might even unearth some tiny seeds of new dreams, needing only a little love and attention to blossom.

Dreams are never solitary - they weave in and out of our lives like the finest spun silks, intertwining on their journey until they create a beautiful tapestry.  I'm hoping to become my own dreamweaver once again, to reacquaint myself with some old, beloved dreams and see if they might have a place in my future.

How about you? Do you have some dreams lying dormant in your heart?  Is it time to uncover them and weave them back into your life?

Seek and Ye Shall Find

I've written a lot about struggling this winter, the word I've chosen to describe how I feel.    Struggling, like a small animal mired in quicksand, its tiny head barely above the ravenous muck threatening to pull it under. When I was a child, I would sometimes see a beetle bug on its back, working its legs furiously in an attempt to right itself.  I would watch in empathetic horror, mustering my courage to touch it with the tip of my fingernail and turn it over where it would stand, breathless and amazed, before scuttling off into it's life.

So struggle is what life has felt like.  I wrote about it to make sense of where I am with it, and, as so often happens, the power of words worked within me to help me see things I've never seen before, like the touch of an unknown fingertip gently nudging me right side up once again.

And so I come to change the word I use to describe my situation, a change that expresses not defeat but hope.  For I've realized what I  must now be about is seeking, looking for what I want rather than flailing helplessly against what already is.

Changing the word you use to think about your situation makes a huge difference.  Today, when I start to feel sucked under by struggle, I remind myself to look outward at the horizon, like the ancient explorers of old standing on the prow of their vessel, hand to forehead shielding their eyes from the sun.  I'm  scanning for  positive changes to make in the future, rather than wallowing in the sorrows and frustrations of the present moment.

I don't expect the change to be instant, I don't expect to be completely free from the struggles that have weighed me down.  But I've at least started to define them, and in so doing, begun to set myself free of them.

Most importantly, I've started to think about seeking a different future.

I'll let you know what I find.

The Joy of Snow

We had more snow today - lots more snow, actually, and while you might think that would send me into paroxysms of despair, it was actually a rather nice day. I love snow days.  Always have.  I love being able to stay inside all day, with nobody really expecting me to do anything else but be safe and warm and off the street.  I love the sense of hunkering down and cozying up, love to while away the extra time with books, magazines, hot tea, and warm puppies.

So it might seem odd, in a winter where I've done nothing but complain about cold and snow, to say I wish tomorrow were a snow day too.

But I do.

How about you?  Did you have a snow day today?  Did you love it?

Present and Accounted For

If you've been out there in cyberspace calling my name over the past 10 days, I'm finally raising my hand and saying "Present!" At least partly.

If you've been reading this space very often this winter, you know I've been struggling a bit.  Part of me feels guilty for sharing that struggle here in the open, but then this is my place to talk about life in general and my own in particular.  Lately, I'm working to find the meaning in either one.

Last night I attended a dinner concert and was seated at the table with a couple whose children were members of the high school choir I accompanied years ago.  The mother, a woman in her mid to late 40's, was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer about three years ago.  She's been fighting valiantly to save her own life - she's a hospice nurse, of all the ironies, and has no misconceptions about her chances of longevity.  However, she still has a 13 year old daughter at home, and is doing her best to give that girl a mother for as long as possible.

She speaks frankly and comfortably about death. "If I'm still here next year" she commented matter of factly, referring to her younger daughter's entrance into high school.  I overheard her talking about writing cards and letters to all her children, to be opened at specific times of their lives - weddings, graduations, childbirth.  "At those times when they would need to have their mother around,"  she says.

Looking at her - and she looks perfectly healthy and well, by the way - I was struck dumb by her courage.  I wanted to feel inspired by it, but all I could feel was demoralized.  Because in her place, I felt as if I'd never have that gumption or determination to live.   I just don't think I want it bad enough to fight that hard.

Probably I'm wrong - probably if the doctor told me tomorrow that I'd  be dead within the year, I'd start Googling medical trials all over the world, sign up for the most intensive course of therapy offered, barter my soul for the privilege of staying alive just one more day.  God knows, I have at least half a dozen friends and acquaintances doing that very thing as we speak.

But there's something about my life in particular these days that doesn't seem worth the effort.  In the great roll call of life, I may be accounted for, but I don't feel as if I'm present.

Where am I, then?

Living in a small cottage somewhere on the Atlantic coast, walking the beach every day with my dogs, eating fresh clams for dinner, spending my days writing, reading, listening to the waves lap against the shore.

Driving a convertible down the Pacific Coast Highway, meeting friends for coffee by the bay, playing music, having drinks on the terrace as the sun sets.

Sitting on the front porch of my house in Small Town, USA, drinking iced tea, talking to friends and neighbors as they meander past on their way to the market.

But I'm so far from any of these places, from any of the dreams I once had for my life, that it actually hurts sometimes to be present in this one.

I opened a new book earlier today, and the frontispiece had this line from a Mary Oliver poem as an epigraph~

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

How do I go forward into the next phase of life, the one I'm so very fortunate to have an opportunity to plan?  This time  it has to be what I need - not because someone expects it of me, someone needs me, someone wants me to do it.  I have never in my life made a choice that wasn't largely based on the needs or expectations of someone else.  Perhaps that's why I'm not present in my own life - because it isn't mine. It's my parents, my husbands, my sons - even my friends and my boss'.

It's not mine.

At some point in my wild and precious future, when my name is called  I want to jump out of my seat and shout "Here!"

I don't know how to make that happen.  But I hope I don't have to die trying.