Out of the Darkness

There was no darkness today at Kensington Metropark.  It was a perfect early autumn day, a slight chill in the air mitigated nicely by the noon day sun.  We gathered at the East Boat Launch, about 250 of us, munched on donuts and coffee, listened to a live band play, and heard opening remarks from "Spike," a local disc jockey (one known for his rather wild and off color morning show) who talked about his family's experience with suicide.

Out of the Darkness is a fund raising event sponsored by the American Society for Suicide Prevention.  There's a double meaning to this title - certainly "out of the darkness" refers to the mental reality of people who choose to take their own life, for there is obviously a bleak darkness to their lives which they feel cannot be adequately overcome. 

But an even larger aspect of this event (and this organization) is to relieve the stigma and secrecy associated with suicide, to bring this devastating occurrence "out of the darkness" so people in danger may feel freer to discuss their problems, perhaps preventing them from taking that final step into total darkness.  Not only were we raising money to fund suicide prevention programs in high schools and colleges, our walking put a physical presence on this tragedy, put family names and faces to what many people fear to acknowledge.

I was walking with a group of friends and family in honor of Jeff Druchniak, a young man I met in my days of accompanying high school students.  A brilliant man, a much loved son and older brother, his loss has cut deeply into the hearts of his parents, his brother, his large extended family, and his teachers and friends. 

So we came together on this perfect fall Sunday, the day after his younger brother Brian's wedding, and shared our memories of Jeff as we walked.  There was some sadness, certainly, and lots of regret, for that is something no one who survives a loved one's suicide can escape.  But there was more laughter than I thought, and lots of discussion about yesterday's college games (which Jeff would have entered into lustily).  I think it helped us to be together, and to walk with others of all ages who had lived through the same horrific loss.

I'm glad I was able to be part of this event today...and I thank all those who supported it financially, and with their kind words.  I feel as if we all took some steps out of our own darkness today, and started walking toward a more hopeful future.

Write On Wednesday - Feelin' Groovy

Once upon a time, I was a very good moodler.  Yes, I remember those days with great fondness...dropping my boy at school, driving over to the local mall and doing four or five laps around, stopping at Einstein's for a bagel and coffee, dropping into the Barnes and Noble and perusing the new releases or talking with Karen, the manager about what was hot in the book world.   Two or three days each week, I might spend a few hours at the high school, playing for choir, eating lunch with my friend Pat and the year's "select students" who were allowed to join us in her office.  After Brian started driving, and then moved away, I had even more time for moodling, and I took great advantage of it.  I created a "room of my own," with a specially selected chair that was "just right" (Goldilocks style) and  whiled away a good portion of each day curled up in it, reading or listening to music - maybe even napping. That's the way I remember my mooding days anyway, although it's quite possible that the passage of time has tinted my memory a bit rose colored.  Somehow, I really believe I moved more slowly through life than I do now, for now it seems I'm forever rushing and hurrying, and consquently I'm perpetually tired and worn out.

What does this have to do with writing?

Way back in 1938, Brenda Ueland wrote If You Want to Write,  where she coined the term "moodling" and advised every writer it was important to allow time for your mind to wander, your imagination to drift, so that ideas could gestate in your brain.  People are to quick to "will" themselves to do things - to push through life accomplishing a long list of things on some imposed agenda.

I wonder what she would say if she could see us now? 

 Occasionally these days, I'm able to spend a morning "moodling" - walking the dogs at the park, then tooling over to First Cup where I grab a coffee and sit on their new patio with my book.  It isn't that I'm consciously thinking about writing during that time, but I'm often surprised to have ideas pop into my head on the way home,  or even just neat phrases or descriptions that I try to remember, so I can jot them down somewhere.

I definitely feel that I move through life too fast these days.  My greatest desire (other than world peace and a stable economy) is to find more moodling time.

Then I think I'd be feelin' groovy.

Read more about moodling here.

Feelin' Groovy

Slow down, you move too fast

Got to make the mornin' last

Just kickin' down the cobblestones

Lookin' for fun and feelin' groovy...

Earlier tonight I was tearing around the kitchen in my usual mad dash to get dinner - putting dishes away, feeding the dogs, preparing a marinade for the salmon, cleaning and chopping some carrots.  I was stymied by the lid on the Dijon mustard - despite my best efforts, I could not budge it. 

My husband, hearing the sound of my aggravated mutterings, got up from his "desk" at the dining room table, gently relieved me of the jar and popped the lid on the first try.

"If you'd just slow down a little bit things would work out better," he advised me.

I know he's right - and he certainly practices what he preaches, for he is a man who moves very slowly and deliberately through life.  His attention to detail is legend, and when he finally finishes a project it is perfect to every nuance.

Last week as we talked about writing in detail, several of you mentioned the necessity of "slowing down" in order to be aware and attuned to the details that make our writing come alive.  Brenda Ueland, one of my favorite "writers on writing," calls it "moodling - long, inefficient, happy idling, dawdling, and puttering."  It is only through taking time to let the mind and spirit wander free that our imagination goes to work generating and gestating ideas.  Because it's not enough to just get an idea, is it?  The idea has to develop and grow, and actually turn into something that words can express.

How hard is it in your busy day to slow down?  We definitely "move too fast," don't we?  I can't remember a time in my life when I've even been in more of a hurry than I am these days.  Perhaps it's because there is genuinely more to do, or perhaps it's because I'm getting older and feeling the pull of life's time clock.  Whatever the reason,  I believe the pace of life is much too harried for most of us.  And it's a lifestyle that is not conducive to creativity.

"Our idea that we must be energetic and active is all wrong," Ueland continues.  "Presently your soul gets frightfully sterile and dry because you are so quick, snappy and efficient about doing one thing after another that you have not time for your own ideas to come in and develop and gently shine."  (If You Want To Write)

Interestingly enough, Ueland wrote those words in 1938.  So it isn't just a 21st century dilemma after all! 

The lyrics of Paul Simon's song have always made me smile, ever since I first heard them back in 1968 (or thereabouts). I think they perfectly describe the concept of "moodling"...tripping down a cobblestone road, looking for fun on an endless sunny morning...what could be more "groovy?" 

And what better way to let the imagination rejuvenate, so it can fill with wonderul ideas.

How about you?  Do you find yourself moving too fast through life?  What's your favorite way to moodle and make the mornin' last?   How does slowing down affect your creativity?

Ring Reminders

About three weeks ago, I went to visit my mother in law for what would turn out to be one of the last times.  She was slightly delirious, I think, and was twisiting her wedding ring around on her finger.  Sometime during the last year, her engagement ring had disappeared, which isn't an unusal occurrence in nursing homes I'm sure, but it saddened me nevertheless.   I didn't want her wedding ring to get  lost as well, so I took it off her finger and placed it on my own. I've been wearing it ever since.

Somehow, when I placed that small gold band on the middle finger of my right hand, it immediatly felt comfortable, settled, not the least bit foreign.  As a matter of fact, it felt odd that night when I took it off before bed, and I was anxious to put it back on the next day.  Every morning since then, I've put it on right after I put my own wedding ring on...it's already a practiced, habitual part of my morning routine.

When she died two weeks ago, I considered placing it back on her finger before she was cremated.  As we drove to the nursing home that morning, and then again to the funeral home that afternoon, I kept twisting it round and round on my own hand, trying to decide what to do.  But somehow, the thought of this little ring being destroyed pierced my heart- I felt as if I needed to keep wearing it, needed to keep it safe for at least the remainder of my lifetime. 

Today, I was cleaning out my kitchen sink, scrubbing some stains and then rinsing it with hot water.  The ring clattered a little bit on the stainless steel- the same sound I heard it make many times when she herself was rinsing out this very same sink, in this house which she built and where she spent most of her married life.  She always cooked Thanksgiving dinner here at our house...it was about the only meal she ever cooked for us, but it became a tradition and probably the one my son remembers most fondly.  After an absence of many years, today her ring was back cleaning that kitchen-a task she undertook with great pleasure. 

I don't know how long I'll wear this ring.  Sometimes I look at it and set arbitrary timetables in my mind - first I thought "until her ashes are buried," but that was done on Tuesday.  Perhaps until their wedding anniversary (November 21), or until her headstone is carved.  Maybe until her birthday (September 11) or her death day (September 13).

Maybe forever.

I realize that at this moment, I'm wearing three true "keepsake" diamonds...my own wedding ring, my mother's diamond engagement ring which (I've made into a pendant I wear around my neck) and my mother in law's tiny diamond encrusted wedding band.

They are all good reminders of the lives of women.

Even Keeled

As you might imagine, I've recovered from my "horrible, no good, very bad day."  (Remember that wonderful children's book by Judith Viorst, Alexander and the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day...and that marvelous tag line..."I think I'll move to Australia."  Love that :) At any rate, the past two very normal days have done wonders to restore my equilibrium.  And the weather here...well, no one could paint a more perfect picture of early autumn.  I must say, I have loved being a Michigander for the past four months.  If only the economy here were as glowing as the climate.

But no talk about depressing things like the economy (or teeth or gynelogical disorders). Instead, here are a few of the things that have improved my mood and my outlook on life:

• A stellar concert last night at the Detroit Symphony, featuring the orchestra's own principal french horn playing Gliere's Concerto, as well as a rousing Leonard Bernstein transcription, and a Sibelius symphony.  The DSO is such an exciting orchestra these days, with lots of new, young faces and good energy surrounding the appointment of Leonard Slatkin as music director.  It's extra fun for us, because we happen to be friends with another of the horn players, so we occasionally get to "hob nob" with the musicians and hang out around the back door.  In addition, Jim and I have both been involved with musical groups that performed as guests with the DSO at Orchestra Hall, and when you do that you get to sign your name on the wall backstage - yep, there's our signatures in black Sharpie, along with everyone from Vladimir Horowitz to Billy Joel.  Cool.
• Getting an email totally out of the blue from a high school friend whom I haven't heard from or seen in 27 years...she found me on Facebook. 
• Facebook is making me smile because I'm connecting with so many of my former high school students.  It's such fun to see where they are in their lives these days.
• And best of all, Brian and Nantana are coming on Wednesday night to spend a few days with us.  The prospect of seeing them always makes me feel better.

All in all, a much better day today.  

How about you? What's raising your spirits these days?