Encyclopedia of Me Monday: C Is For...Change

When I was a young(er) woman, I didn't give a lot of thought to creating change in my life. It's unfortuante too, because, whether from fear, immaturity, or just laziness, I let life happen to me far too often in those years, content to sit back in my pleasant existence waiting for new experiences to come to me. As I surf through my blogroll, reading the thoughts and dreams of so many other women, I'm struck by the scores of "30-something" women who are actively pursing their dreams, making huge, conscious choices to effect major change in their lives. My son and daughter in law are like that, and I marvel at the way they think about and discuss their life plans, putting things into motion to make their dreams come true.

But when I think about making life changes, I feel all adrift, completely out of my element, confused, not knowing where to start. I've read about "vision boards," collages of pictures, words, or artifacts that express meaningful ideas about life and what you would like it to be. Perhaps in putting together my own vision board, ideas about change would become clearer.

Because (contrary to the way I was brought up to think) change can be a good thing. It can mean new opportunities, revelations in ourselves and our relationships. And yes, I suppose those are scary. But the scarier thing to me right now is how stagnant my life seems. I feel the urge to create change this time around, and not rest comfortably in my easy chair waiting for the universe to move.

Earlier today, I came across this quote from a book called Ask and It is Given:

"You ask through your attention, through your wanting, through your desire--that is the asking (whether you desire it to happen, or if you desire it not to happen, you are asking...). You do not have to use your words. You just have to feel it in your being: I desire this. I adore this. I appreciate this, and so on. That desire is the beginning of all action."

What a powerful thought, that the universe can be energized to move by the power of desire. Practicing this concept in life would certainly be courting change, wouldn't it?

"Things that seem too good to be true, usually are," my mother always told me. And parts of this credo certainly seem idealized. By focusing thoughts and mental energy toward my most desirable dreams, could I have the power to steer life in the direction I (and it) need to move, creating changes that are meaningful and lasting?

I don't mind telling you, my heart flutters with excitment at the thought. All those caterpillar dreams hanging from the cobwebs in my mind suddenly have an opportunity to become butterflies.

It's a lot to think about on a Monday, but a worthy entry into the encyclopedia of me.

Rung Out

As I write, a chorus of cicadas hums outside, someones small dog (not mine!) yips excitedly, and my neighbors old riding mower grumbles as it rounds the yard. Yet to me, this seems like blissful silence. I just returned from spending the weekend ringing handbells with 13 women!

Yep, I got called into emergency service during the annual retreat weekend for Classical Bells, the community handbell group I played with from 1998-2002. Late last Thursday, my friend Barbara called and asked if I would substitute for a member who had suddenly become quite ill. (If you're not familiar with handbells, you might not realize that the absence of one person in the group can be deadly. Handbells are like a giant piano keyboard being played by about a dozen people, so taking one person away is akin to playing a piano with a bunch of its keys missing.)
My friend Millie hosted the retreat at her home on Lake Huron. It's a huge "cottage," vintage 1940's style, sitting high above the lake. We've had many retreats here, her living room becoming our rehearsal space, where we see the sun glistening off Huron's blue water and catch a glimpse of the freighters and sail boats passing by on the horizon. After a long day's rehearsal, we troop down to the deck built over the boathouse, armed with wine and junk food galore. The conversation gets louder and crazier as the night goes on and bottles are emptied, our laughter ringing across the lake in its own wild musical arrangement.
There are many things I love about being with this group of wild women (and now one young man, aged 27, who adds his own dimension of youthful craziness to this group). We share stories of our lives, our trials and tribulations with growing children and aging parents, and of course, the memories of our musical history together. The concert in Columbus when we processed onstage, took our places, and found a gaping hole in the formation where Julie had taken a last minute bathroom break and managed to miss last call. The 15th anniversary concert when Darlene, our director, literally tore an IV out of her arm, left the hospital emergency room where she was being treated for pneumonia, and played the entire concert dehydrated, with a fever of 103 degrees. Stories of tragedy, stories of triumph, stories funny, sad, poignant, exciting...the culmination of almost 25 years together, making music and sharing experiences.
I doubt that most people realize how much being a part of a musical ensemble is like being an athlete on a team. A group of people with a shared passion overcome their differences to work
together toward achieving a common goal~ winning the game, playing a great concert. In the process, they become this close knit group of individuals, closer in some ways than family. Since I left the group, this is the thing I miss most~and of course, the performances, the chance to "show off" all this musical ability and entertain people.
So, in spite of the noise and clamor of 13 adults (not to mention 81 handbells and 72 choir chimes!) sharing a relatively small space for the past three days, I quite enjoyed my unexpected weekend. I've been tempted several times over the past few years to rejoin the group. I miss being part of that level of musicianship, miss having the opportunity to improve my skills and make really good music. But, as much as I enjoyed myself, as much as I was reassured that I can still "keep up" with this group, I realize I really don't have the time or energy being a full fledged member requires. It was a good reality check, and I need that every now and again.
As I've written this post, darkness has fallen, the cicadas have ended their performance and a few tired crickets have taken the stage. Ice crackles in the glass of iced green tea on the coaster beside me. I'm about to leave my desk, and join my husband to watch a movie on his new wide screened TV. Perhaps not as exciting as an evening on stage, but certainly carrying a magic of its own. Especially to someone who's as rung out as me.

Write on Wednesday-Coming Out of the Writer's Closet

None of my friends know I do it. My husband knows, but basically ignores it, considering it another amusing little project that takes up time and doesn't make any money. My son probably understands it better than most, and does it himself on occasion. What is this deep dark secret I'm harboring? Writing, of course. "You know the last thing in the world people want to hear from you," writes Carolyn See in Making a Literary Life, "the very last thing they're interested in? The fact that you have always wanted to write, that you cherish dreams of being a writer, that you wrote something and got rejected once, that you believe you have it in you - if only the people around you would give you a chance - to write a very credible, if not great, American novel." Every so often, I think about telling one of my really good friends that I write. Perhaps my friend Pat, who is all about "living your dreams," no matter what age you are. After all, she's nudged me out of my musical shell, taught me to step outside my safe box and take risk now and then. Surely she, of all people, wouldn't think I was silly, or worse yet, pathetic, for writing stories and poems, for hoarding private fantasies about publishing novels. Or my friend Millie, my "other mother" as I call her, who always props up my flagging confidence with genuine caring and pride, who simply grabs me by the hand and drags me into places I'm fearful of, assuring me with steadfast certainty that I can handle myself there. Wouldn't she pat me on the back with a hearty "good for you!" and say "I'm not the least bit surprised!" So why do I always cringe at the thought of admitting my secret aloud to these women, these "real world" friends? Why is it so easy for me to share my writing dreams with all of you, and not with the people who share my life on a daily basis? Part of it, I suppose, is fear of criticism, fear that they'll look at me, smile politely, and make some sort of "that's nice, dear," remark before continuing the conversation about next weeks rehearsal or last night's episode of "The Closer." That reaction would not only bruise my fragile writing hopes, but could actually damage our friendship. Perhaps keeping the writing secret is a way of protecting it. Hemingway said that talking about your work weakens it, diminishes the magic it develops as it gestates in your head. Carolyn See writes that "the wonderful thing about your inner life is that it's your inner life." All the while you're stuck in traffic, or sitting through boring meetings at work, or spending time with deadly dull relatives, you can think about this secret world of characters and ideas living in your mind. Still, I often feel a distinct urge to spill my secret. I'll have it planned out, waiting to announce when people ask "So, what have you been up to lately?" "Well," I'll offer, "I've been writing - stories, poems, even a novel." But when the moment comes, inevitably I back away. "Oh, the usual," I'll concede. "Work, some music stuff, taking care of the parents - you know, nothing new." Once again, I pull the writer's closet door tightly closed, hoarding my secret to myself for a while longer. So, how about you? Have you come out of the writer's closet to your friends and family?

One Deep Breath-Daybreak

stumbling from bed
i bathe in your radiance
my sleepy soul awakes
~
bright eyed star your brilliance hails the morn~ sunrise salutation
My day begins early, with a steaming cup of coffee which I carry to the living room, while Jim, Magic and Molly sleep contentedly in the warm spot I've left behind. Pulling open the vertical blinds, I'm usually greeted by this sparkling orb rising above the trees across the way. I lift my mug in a silent salute to this star of stars, thankful for another brilliant daybreak.

Encyclopedia of Me Monday: B is for...

What else~Books! They excite me, inspire me, inform me, invigorate me, relax me, distract me from worries, and keep me company when I'm alone. My love affair with books began a when I was very small, and will last as long as I hold a book in front of me and read the words.

There are always at least two, sometimes three books piled on my nightstand~or more accurately, scattered throughout the house and even in my car! (Don't worry, I never read while driving, although I've been known to catch a paragraph or two at particularly long stop lights or stuck in a traffic jam.) I've usually got a novel going, along with a non-fiction book or two, plus at least one book on writing. Currently, my reading life is getting out of hand -in addition to all of the above, I've got some background material books to help me with revisions on my novel. I've been keeping a book journal since 1996, a list of all the books I read during a month, with a "top 10" review at the end of the year. Occasionally, I'll look back to certain time periods and see what I was reading, which author was helping me get through a stressful time, or what characters were celebrating with me when things were good.

Here's what's been on my list this summer:

  • Sisters of My Heart, Vine of Desire, The Uncommon Errors of Our Lives...Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
  • Echoes of the Dance...Marcia Willett
  • The River Queen...Mary Morris
  • The Divide...Nicholas Evans
  • The Post Birthday World...Lionel Shriver
  • The Emperor's Children...Claire Messeud
  • The Chinese Chef...Nicole Moins
  • Shaggy Muses...Maureen Adams
  • The Shoe Queen...Anna Davis
  • Stormy Weather...Paulette Jiles
  • The Revenge of the Kudzu Debutantes...Cathy Holt
  • It's Always Something...Gilda Radner
  • Eat, Pray, Love...Elizabeth Gilbert
  • The Right to Write...Julia Cameron
  • On Writing Well...William Zinsser

Update: Just got home from my monthly trip to the library, and what a haul! Here's what I grabbed up...

  • One For the Money...Janet Evanovich. Lots of people have been recommending her Stephanie Plum mystery series, so I got one in paperback to read on my next plane trip
  • Kabul Beauty School...Deborah Rodriguez
  • The Maytrees...Annie Dillard
  • Sheer Abandon...Penny Vincenzi. I've been waiting for this one...this British author has a series of big, fat, historical family sagas that I can't put down
  • Peony In Love...Lisa See
  • Keeping the House...Ellen Baker
  • The Water's Lovely...Ruth Rendell

Can't you tell how excited I am??? I admit it~I'm a pathetic book-a-holic :)