Dear Diary, I'm in love! This relationship is unlike any other. When we're together, I'm amazed at the way my world opens up, excitement wells in my heart, and my thoughts cascade in so many different directions. Words tumble out so fast, I can barely keep up! And yet, I can be still and quiet too, and never feel pressured to say things simply to keep up my end of the conversation. Having a supportive relationship like this is a godsend, in a world that's full of uncertainty and mistrust. Many of my friends are floundering these days, unsure about their future, fighting demons from their past. They all long for someone they can trust to share their feelings with. I feel almost embarrassed to tell them about my new love~I don't want to brag, after all. And yet, I want to share my joy with them, in hopes that they could find the same freedom and happiness that I have. Ahh, yes, Dear Diary, you are my true love, my steadfast and faithful friend. When we meet each morning your clean white pages beckon me, and when I set my pen to those straight blue lines and begin pouring out my hopes and dreams, I feel the pressures of life lift from my heart. As you listen to my thoughts, protecting them from the judgement of the world, you inspire me to pursue all the crazy dreams I've confided in you. Dear Diary, you have my unending gratitude for your constant love and devotion. And I promise, when I've poured out my heart until your pages can hold no more, you will retire to a safe corner in my home, where I can revisit our special moments together and be reminded of the way you changed my life. With love, ~Becca
Me, Myself, and I
My friend Barbara is living alone for the first time in over 40 years. "How are you managing?" I ask, expecting her to say she's lonely, lost without her husband's growly voice or crusty sense of humor. "Well of course I miss Don," she says. "But I have to say, I'm really enjoying my own company!"
What a concept ~ enjoying your own company. In our culture, being a woman alone invites sympathy, pity, even scorn. Women don't get much opportunity to become acquainted with themselves, not with taking care of husbands and homes, children and pets, jobs and hobbies. In the course of a woman's lifetime, she rarely has a minute to be alone.
Another much younger friend is raising her two year old son alone. "Honestly," she said to me, "if I could only go to the bathroom alone, I'd be happy!" Families are a pervasive presence in a woman's life, and even when they aren't physically with us, their needs can still weigh heavily on our minds and hearts. Since I've become my mother's sole source of transportation, I make a point of taking her along on my errands to the market or mall. But the other day, I happened to stop at the grocery store on my way home, and was amazed at how free I felt shopping alone, meandering through the store, checking out when I was finished without waiting for her. Then, of course I was consumed with guilt for having the audacity to prefer being on my own.
While I don't consider myself an introvert, I have always been perfectly happy with my own company. Granted, I've never lived alone-at least not for more than a few days when my husband might be traveling-but I've never feared those hours when the days activity was over and I would be left to my own devices. Probably because I have always had so many interests - reading, playing music, writing, walking - there was always something to keep me busy.
My mother in law had a pathological fear of being alone. She wanted someone with her all the time, and would complain bitterly about "sitting here in this apartment all by myself." I don't think she ever liked herself very much, so it follows that she wouldn't enjoy her own company. Now she's surrounded by people all day, in the "family room" of the Alzheimer's center, and ironically enough, this probably suits her very well.
Women are taught to be nurturers, to think of others needs before our own. But we must learn to love our own company, enjoy taking ourselves for walks, to the movies, even out to dinner. It is in enjoying ourselves that we develop the confidence and assurance to become stronger women in all our roles - wives, mothers, children, and friends.
Encyclopedia of Me Monday: A Is For...
Monday's are kind of strange days, aren't they? I always have this urge to write, but I sometimes feel a bit of let down from the weekend and not very inspired. Or else, I'm all excited from my weekend, and have so many things I want to write about, I can't seem to choose just one. Now, thanks to Bella Dia (whom I found via Patti Digh, at 37 Days) I have a new Monday project~The Encyclopedia of Me. A catalog of life, one alphabet letter at a time...what fun! Bella Dia's plan is to post on a new letter every day, but my thought is to make this a Monday project, so I'll have a way to kickstart my writing week every single week, at least for the next 26 weeks. If you want to play along, feel free to do so in whatever way the spirit moves you. Aging...not a popular topic among my friends and relations, all of whom are feeling the effects of mounting years. It's not all that popular with me, either, especially today, when my bones feel stiff and creaky, my eyes aren't working all that well without my reading glasses, my pants are all too tight. Frankly, I feel decidedly curmudgeonly. But I'm trying to have a good attitude (another "A" word) about aging. After all, I no longer get carded when I buy wine, I don't care whether my shoes are stylish as long as they don't hurt my bunions, and I occasionally get "senior discounts" on hotels and restaurants. I've also found I don't worry as much about things (large or small) and I get less irritated when life doesn't go my way. "The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company... a church... a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you... we are in charge of our Attitudes.” Charles Swindoll Sure, I'm getting older, but aging is only a small percentage of what's going on in my life. I have a great family, a couple of jobs I like, lots of loyal friends who are fun to hang around with, and interesting, fulfilling hobbies. So who's to complain about a few grey hairs ( I have a very talented hair stylist, too!) Along with age, I think I've acquired a more mellow attitude about life in general, and that's not all bad!
Sunday Scribbling-Goosebumps
A high B-flat~the one two octaves above middle C, cutting through the overcast sky on a grey day in Washington, DC. Seventy five high school students, and 10 adults, standing shoulder to shoulder, each one holding tightly to a small portion of the gigantic American flag blanketed in front of them. The last verse of the Star Spangled Banner~"the land of the free"~the held note on the word free, and one soprano lifts her voice above all others, bravely jumping the octave and landing squarely on that high B-flat, which soars like an eagle in flight. Recalling it now, 15 years later, my arms are covered in goosebumps. I love musical goosebump moments, those instants when the music, the performer, the atmosphere, all come together and create a moment of such power and beauty that a shiver runs down your spine, and your flesh prickles with delight. I've been lucky enough to hear quite a few in my years as a musician. Often, it's not just the music itself, or even the performer, but the circumstances that lend the magic to the moment, setting the goosebumps to rise. On that choir trip to Washington, we visited Fort McHenry, where they unfolded the largest American flag in existence, allowing us to stand outside holding this massive piece of cloth which symbolized all the hopes and dreams of the American people. Singing the national anthem at that moment was thrilling enough - to hear that beautiful high note, completely unplanned, was certainly the icing on the cake. Since that day, every time I've sung the anthem, I hear that note in my head, and remember Kelly McBride, the young girl who sang it. My emotional involvement with the high school students adds to my enjoyment of their performances, and increases the opportunity for goosebump moments. But I also have them listening to Measure for Measure, my husband's men's choir. Last winter, eighty five men, the last verse of Franz Biebl's Ave Maria, the funeral of the groups beloved founder and director~a huge goosebump moment. And when I was playing regularly with Classical Bells, I had a few such moments ~ a bell festival in 2000, our solo piece, Debussy's Arabesque, watching the festival director (who was French) listen to the flowing arpeggios with his head back, eyes closed and a wonderfully satisfied smile on his lips~sent shivers down my spine. Playing music, listening to music, creating music, is a natural high for me. It stimulates some nerve center in my brain that fills me with delight and deep satisfaction. As a musician, one of my goals is always to have the listener experience one of those thrilling moments when the music touches them deeply enough to cause a physical reaction~ that little frisson of pleasure you feel down your spine or in the pit of your stomach. Last spring, our final concert at school, a fabulous arrangement of How Can I Keep from Singing, my husband hugs me afterward and says, "Wow, I can't believe how well you played that - it gave me goosebumps!" for more goosebump moments, go here
Bored
This might be the only time you ever see that word on my blog~ but there it is. I'm bored. I know, you're all shaking your heads saying "What the heck? First she complains about never having any time to herself, and now she's bored?"
Human nature is perverse. From September to June, when I'm working two jobs, performing in three or four musical ensembles, and trying to run a household, my body is on overdrive. I'm always longing for just a day or two of empty calendar space. Then, during the summer, everything shuts down. Even my office job fizzles to nothing. For about six weeks, I love the quiet, empty hours, the time to read, write, play whatever music I want, stare out the window, lie in the grass...all that summertime stuff. But, now it's August, and the back to school ads are popping up everywhere. Maybe it's just my body kick-starting itself, but I feel restless and itchy to do something different.
When my son was small, he was always dreaming up creative projects for himself. I've never known a child who was always so busy. But occasionally, he'd meander out to the kitchen or family room, hang around momentarily, and then utter sheepishly..."I'm kinda bored." "Well," I say, rather nonplussed, "you could go for a bike ride. Or clean your room. Or..." "Never mind!" he'd say, brightening suddenly. "I just thought of something!" Off he'd go, back to his room or the basement, where he'd disappear for hours completing his next story, drawing, video...whatever great idea had popped into his head.
I guess he gets that from me, because boredom is a rare occurrence in my life. I'm not one who can sit still for very long (unless I'm writing or playing music)~truthfully, I don't even like to go to the movies because sitting still for two hours is painful. Lurking in the back of my mind is always a long list of other things I'd like to be doing.
But this week, I must admit I'm "kinda bored." I could wash windows, or clean the basement, or catch up on some ironing...actually, never mind. I think I just thought of something....