Leavin' On A Jet Plane

By the time you read this, I'll be headed south to visit my son and daughter-in-law. It's been about three months since I've seen them, and though we talk often and stay updated through our respective blogs, it's not the same as being with them.
My son left home fairly young - he was just 18 when he moved to Orlando to go to college back in 1998, and he's not lived at home again since. As most mothers can attest, those first few "empty nest" months are horrible. Lucky me, I was able to make frequent trips to Orlando to visit. Gradually, I got used to having him far away, and spending holidays apart - I can't say I like it, but I've grown accustomed to it. And now, there's not only just my son to miss, but my daughter in law as well, who quickly won all our hearts with her gentle nature and loving ways.
My husband and I have always lived near our parents, and it never occurred to us to move far away from home. We're both only children, and possibly that's why we felt (and still feel) an extra burden of responsibility regarding our parents. So we chose our first home to be near our parents, and we've stayed here, mostly to remain near them. And now that they're older, their need for us is more acute than ever.
We bought our second home, the one in Florida, to be near our children, thinking that perhaps we might retire there someday in the not too distant future. But things change. My son and daughter in law are very young themselves. They're making new decisions about their lives, which is as it should be. Their careers allow them to the flexibility to work anywhere in the world, and they should take full advantage of that opportunity.
Along with many of our friends, we're at an awkward stage in our lives. Not quite ready to retire, but tired of working. No longer responsible for children, yet caring for elderly parents. Not as healthy as we once were, and starting to feel the pull of time to enjoy life while we still can. Longing for change, and not quite knowing how to make it happen. But there's one decision we have made. Our next home will be where we want it to be ~ don't know where that is, just yet, but we'll be looking.
Meanwhile, I'm winging my way to the Sunshine State. I'm ready for some rest, relaxation, and some quality time with my family.
PostScript: As I think about visiting my son, I am reminded again of Darlene and her son Mark. Darlene has been visiting Mark in ICU for the past week, as he struggles valiantly to recover from injuries sustained in a horrible car accident. Every day my thoughts are with her, Mark, and her family.

Write On Wednesday-Dear Diary

The idea of keeping a journal has always appealed to me. I love the thought of having a special book to write my secret feelings in, or record my impressions of people and places, even keep track of my "social engagments." As much as I love the thought of journal keeping, I've never been very good at actually doing it, at least not for any significant period of time. And when I have, often the pages have turned out to be nothing but whining and kvetching about how awful things were going at that particular time.

Last summer I started reading The Artist's Way, Julia Cameron's popular book which outlines her method for unleashing the "inner artist." One of the key elements in this process are the "morning pages," three pages of free writing done every day. The key element here is "free" writing - there are no topics, no list of must-includes. You just pick up the pen, and write whatever comes to mind. I started doing morning pages last July, and I've filled six spiral notebooks with all kinds of things, from shopping lists to plans for my future. Sure, I've done some whining, but I've also come to some pretty interesting conclusions and had more than one "light bulb" moment in the process of writing out my feelings about a dilemma.

Cameron isn't the first to advocate free writing as a means of tapping the well of creativity that lies in our subconscious. Back in 1934, in her classic book Becoming A Writer, Dorothea Brande wrote "if you are to have the full benefit of the richness of the unconscious you must learn to write easily and smoothly when the unconscious is in the ascendant." Her prescription - "rise half an hour or an hour earlier than you usually rise, and, just as soon as you can, without talking, without reading the morning paper, without picking up the book you laid aside the night before - begin to write. Write anything that comes into your head." In this manner, she says you learn to train your mind to release words easily and freely, words that can later be whipped into some sort of shape.

I also love reading the published diaries of well known authors, and one of my favorite is Virginia Woolf's A Writer's Diary. Back in 1919, she had this to say about her own diary writing:

"I note that this diary writing does not count as writing...I am much struck by the rapid haphazard gallop at which it swings along. Still if it were not written rather faster than the fastest type-writing, if I stopped and took thought, it would never be written at all; and the advantage of the method is that it sweeps up accidentally several stray matters which I should exclude if I hesitated, but which are the diamonds of the dustheap. But what is more to the point is my belief that the habit of writing thus for my own eye is good practice. It loosens the ligaments."

I've become quite accustomed to "loosening the ligaments" of my mind each morning as I sit in my favorite chair, warmly snuggled in a cozy flannel blanket, with a steaming cup of coffee at the ready (sorry, Dorothea, I have to get up and make the coffee first!) I just replenished my supply of spiral notebooks - I've found that if I use just an inexpensive school style notebook, I don't feel any constraint about writing something worthy of a lovely bound book full of nice thick paper. I do like a smooth writing, fine tipped pen - right now my favorite is the Vision Elite by UniBall - it's gel ink glides effortlessly across the page but doesn't soak through.

How about you? Do you have a journalling habit? What kind of journal do you keep?

Sunday Scribblings-Change

I don't watch much daytime television, but I love to watch the Oprah show when she features makeovers. I get crazy excited to see ordinary, frumpy people with outdated hairstyles and clothing become miraculously transformed into attractive, chic, confident looking men and women. There was once a 60-something grandmotherly type who hadn't cut her long grey hair in about 30 years. When she walked through those curtains wearing a stylish bob, close fitting jeans, a cute beaded jacket and boots, I actually burst into tears. It's my secret wish - well, its not secret now - to be on one those makeover shows. I want to be changed, at least on the outside. It's not that I'm really unhappy with the way I look. I try to keep up with the style trends, and I can wear most of the new fashions without looking ridiculous. My weight is about normal for my height, and people always tell me I look younger than my age. But there's something extremely appealing about being made to look so different ( i.e. beautiful, stunning, glamourous) that my own mother barely recognizes me!

Now that I think about it, perhaps this desire for a metamorphosis is more than just superficial. Could it be that I'm longing for changes that go deeper than hair, eyeshadow and lip gloss? Am I really looking for something to jump start my life, not just my appearance? Hmm, could be. I know that beauty is really only skin deep, and lasting radiance can't be applied from a jar. It comes from satisfaction with your relationships, excitement about your work, and positive expectations about your future. And, in all honesty, I haven't had any of those things in abundance recently.

So maybe I should really be thinking about ways to makeover my life instead of just my looks? Perhaps I should be making the kinds of changes that don't wash off in the shower or get ruined by a windy day. Changes that would result in an inner glow of confidence and satisfaction that create lasting beauty no matter what your hairstyle or wardrobe is like.

Oprah, are you listening?

That's A Wrap

They came from all over the country - New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Washington DC - as well as from just around the corner. Literally hundreds of young men and women, between 19 and 35 years of age. They are singers, actors, politicians, restaurant mangagers, firefighters, teachers, parents. But last night, on the stage of their high school auditorium, they were all students once again, gathererd to honor their music teacher at her last concert. My friend Pat directed her final concert last night, at the school where she has taught music and acting for the past 19 years. A long standing tradition at these holiday concerts is the singing of Handel's Hallelujah Chorus, for which any alumni in the audience are invited on stage to join in. Last night, the huge auditorium stage could barely hold all the singers, some of whom led their own children by the hand to be part of the event. There could have been no greater gift for her than to see all these "kids"- men and women now, pursuing their dreams just as she encouraged them to do.

Some people have a gift for inspiration, and Pat is definitely one of them. She has some magic way of prodding her students to give their best, try their hardest, take risks and accept consequences, and mostly to enjoy every experience of life to the fullest.

This gift isn't offered to just her students, however. When I started working as her accompanist 14 years ago, I was insulated in my own small world of being a stay-at-home wife and mother. I had let my music skills languish, hampered by a fear of performing. Within three months, I had played for her choir at a standing room only Christmas concert, and on stage at the University of Michigan. At the end of that first year, I traveled with over 100 students to New York City for a choral competition (my first trip "alone" if you can believe it!) where we walked the streets of the city en masse at all hours of the day and night, ending up on the observation deck of the Empire State Building at 12:00 midnight. There was a pay phone (this was long before cell phones!) and I called home to tell Jim where I was, knowing he would be incredulous that I had overcome my near crippling fear of heights and was absolutely glorying in the twinkling city lights spread out all around me.

That experience sums up quite well one of the most valuable lessons my friend taught me and all those people who stood on stage to honor her last night. You can overcome your fears, and when you do, the possibilities will sparkle endlessly before you. What a great gift, from a great teacher, and a woman I'm proud to call my friend.