State of Contentment

contentmentWhen we moved to Brookwood Court, I had this pretty vision of how I wanted my daily life to be - the early morning coffee in my bedroom reading nook, walking the pups along the ponds, writing or working in the sunny corner of my upstairs office. Afternoons chores and errands, followed by reading in the living room with a cup of tea, or curling up in the cozy library corner of the basement when the weather was cold and gray. Preparing meals in my large, bright kitchen, with some Chopin, Debussy, or Secret Garden playing softly in the background. Well, guess what?

My vision came true.

That doesn't often happen in life, does it?

Real life rarely looks like what we picture in our minds. And even when life mirrors imagination, sometimes it doesn't turn out to be as fulfilling as we had hoped.

But a good number of my days play out exactly as I imagined they would, and they feel as right as I had hoped.  I have such an overwhelming sense of contentment here, a feeling of being in exactly the right place at the right time. The restlessness that plagued me for the past few years is gone.

I feel at home.

If you know me, either "virtually," or  in real life (or both!) you know how much of a homebody I am. Sometimes I love my home too much, want to cocoon myself safely away from the rest of the world which seems more and more cacophonous and intrusive. I don't fight it anymore, but simply indulge myself in the need to nest, trusting the instincts that tell me to say home, be quiet, revel in the stillness.

The real world constantly urges our participation, invites us to expect big things, exhorts us to make something happen.

We're forever being nudged to the next big thing.

Right now I'm just letting contentment happen, and for me that's something big.

How about you? What's the big thing in your life right now? 

 

 

 

 

Write On Wednesday: Fear of Writing

400px-fujisunrisekawaguchiko2025wp-1Sometimes writing scares me. I have things I want to write about, exciting ideas that often come to mind while I'm doing something completely un-writerly like grocery shopping or exercising. My heart races a little bit, a shiver runs down my spine. I rummage around looking for a notebook and pen, a leftover to-do list, something to make a note of this amazing idea before it gets lost in the detritus of everyday thinking. Then comes the scary part.

No matter how good I think the idea is, I'm afraid to start writing about it. Afraid to sit down in front of that blank computer screen and do the labor to bring that idea into the world.

What is so frightening? What is it that stills my fingers and pushes that idea to the back of my mind? Is it the fear of failing - that I won't be able to do this thing justice, make of it what I know it could be? Am I worried that this magical notion really isn't magical at all, and that once I begin to flesh it out on the page it will turn into a deformed monster rather than a beautifully realized story?

Could it be that I'm terrified of what I might discover about myself if I go deep enough inside my heart to bring this story to the world? Terrified to take the risk of exposing myself, my talent (or lack of it), my story?

"The risk of writing is an internal risk," says Laraine Herring in her book Writing Begins with the Breath. "You brave the depths of your own being and then bring it back up for commentary by the world. Not the work of wimps. Many writers would likely rather climb Mt. Fuji than go in there, but in there is precisely where you must go. You can't really prepare yourself for what's in there because you don't know all that's in there."

I'm not a mountain climber. Sometimes- especially when it comes to writing- I'm a wimp. I'm afraid of the unknown, afraid of change.

I don't like taking risks.

But I do know that the well of ideas and emotions living inside me need to find their way into the world, need to come to life on the page. And I must find the courage to start putting them there.

Anaïs Nin once wrote this: And the day came when the risk it took to remain tightly closed in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to bloom.

I think I'm ready for that day.

How about you? What fears stop you from writing? Are you able to take the risk and bloom?

*this post was originally published on the Write On Wednesday blog, September 28, 2011

Loud and Proud

Sunday night I spent some time watching The Golden Globe awards. I'm not really star struck, I  just like to see what everyone is wearing. I know that sounds suspiciously like the old excuse men used to give for having a Playboy magazine in the house. ("I only read the articles, honey!" Right.) Anyway, I wasn't giving the show my entire attention. The other half of my brain was surfing the internet, looking at bracelets on Etsy. (What can I say? It was Sunday night, it was late, I felt like doing something mindless.)

ecda16f7a0fa1ca5_jodie.previewWhen I realized that Jodi Foster was getting some sort of  lifetime achievement award, I started paying closer attention. Jodi Foster is younger than I am. Why were they giving her a lifetime achievement award? I wondered. Did she have some terminal illness I hadn't heard about?

No, it seems the Cecil B. DeMille award is a prize that recognizes "outstanding contributions in entertainment." So not really a "lifetime" achievement, even though she is the second youngest person every to receive the award. Judy Garland was the youngest, receiving it in 1962 at age 39.

I digress. The award isn't the interesting thing here.

Her acceptance speech was the real stunner. Af first it seemed like some rambling stream of consciousness diatribe. But then it took a different tack, although her tone continued in the same satirical and humorous vein. "I guess I have a sudden urge to say something that I’ve never really been able to air in public," she said. "So, a declaration that I’m a little nervous about...but I’m just going to put it out there, right? Loud and proud, right? So I’m going to need your support on this. I am single."

Of course that wasn't the important declaration at all - Foster was talking about the fact that she is gay.  She went on to say she "did her real coming out about a thousand years ago, back in the Stone Age, when a very young girl opened up to trusted friends and family and co-workers and, gradually, proudly, to everyone who knew her and everyone she met. She poked fun at the current trend of celebrity confessionals, but then stated something quite thought provoking. "Seriously, if you had been a public figure from the time that you were a toddler, if you’d had to fight for a life that felt real and honest and normal against all odds, then maybe you too might value privacy above all else. Privacy.”

I have to make a confession of my own. I didn't even GET it until the next day, when I read about it on the internet. While I was watching the speech, my attention must have strayed for a moment (those dang bracelets on Etsy). I missed the "loud and proud" reference, missed the reference to her "real coming-out about a thousand years ago."

Now she's become the center of a little whirlwind, is being both praised and vilified by Gay Rights activists and the general public. Praised for at last verifying what inquiring minds apparently have wanted to know for the past 20 years, vilified for not being more forceful about her declaration, for not be "loud and proud enough" to come out and say the words "I am a lesbian," but only to dance around it with rhetorical humor.

It doesn't matter to me what Foster's sexual orientation is, which is probably why I missed the reference in the first place. I admire her acting, her directing, the classy way she has conducted her long life in show business, but I've never given her private life much consideration because she herself has never made an issue of it (unlike many celebrities whose lives become part of their "brand.")

But I'm wondering (because I'm always all about why people do what they do) if she does indeed "value privacy above all else," why did she feel the need to make that public declaration now, after a lifetime of maintaining at least of modicum of privacy about her personal life. What compulsion led her to jump on the Honey Boo Boo bandwagon and put it all out there in this particular forum?

Because it seems to me she has defeated the decades of privacy she evidently worked so hard to establish.

Perhaps she was simply thumbing her nose at the public or the entire celebrity culture. Or perhaps, as she told  her two sons who were in the audience, "this, this whole song, was all about them," about demonstrating honesty and forthrightness and being proud of who you are.

About being able to tell your story.

I believe so much in the power of stories. They connect us, they equalize us, they inspire us, they provoke us. Telling your story to one person or one million people is a gift to you and to the listener.

But I also believe the way we tell those stories is important, that it should be in kind with type of life you've lived, the type of reaction you want to inspire, and the reason you're telling it in the first place.

And I wish Foster had chosen a different way to tell hers.

The Sunday Salon: Some Tame Gazelle

Some tame gazelle, or some gentle dove:

Something to love, oh, something to love.

~Thomas Haynes Bayly

Ah, something to love. That is indeed a major focus in Barbara Pym's delightful novel, Some Tame Gazelle, in which we find a small clutch of English matrons looking for someone on whom to bestow their ardor. For Harriet Bede, it's the village curate of the day, the hapless young man who has been assigned to their parish and by default becomes the objet du jour of Harriet's affection. In today's parlance, she would be called a cougar for the merciless way she flirts with the young men. But in the confines of the 1950's when this novel is set, there's something rather sweet about it- even though Harriet keeps refusing the marriage proposals of the ever so proper Count Bianco, who would be a perfect match.

And then there is Harriet's sister, Belinda, who reminds me of a tame gazelle, all gentleness and shyness, trying so hard to please. Alas, Belinda was not fleet enough to snare the love of her life, the imperious Archdeacon, whom she has loved since the days of her youth but whose affections were given elsewhere. And now she follows him around the parish like a sad puppy, hoping for a crumb of attention here and there.

Barbara Pym (1913-1980) was a very young woman when she wrote this (it was the first of her novels to be published , in 1950  but was written years before), and I'm amazed at how well she captures the poignancy of middle age spinsterhood at her young age. She later said the novel "proved therapeutic, and helped her release some feelings she had been having difficulty with at the time." One can only imagine what those might have been.

Pym's novels all extol the virtues of life in the English countryside, and she has been compared to a modern day Jane Austen with her keen eye to manners and relationships. If you love Austen, you will enjoy Pym. She examined relationships -especially unrequited love - with an amusing and loving eye. Her work is laced with a deliciously ironic sense of humor, and I alternately laugh and cry about her characters the quietly absurd situations in which they find themselves.

2013 is Pym's centenary, and apparently LibraryThing is hosting a year long reading event to coincide. I first read about it at Ali's blog so decided to join in. I've had several of Pym's books on my shelves since the early 1990's when a friend introduced me to her. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to re-read my favorites and introduce myself to the rest. I also hope to read a bit more about Pym herself.

Here is the reading list if you're interested in joining in this event:

• January 2013 Some Tame Gazelle (1950)

• February 2013 Excellent Women (1952) • March 2013 Jane and Prudence (1953) • April 2013Less than Angels (1955) • May 2013 A Glass of Blessings (1958) • June 2013 No Fond Return of Love (1961) • June 2013Quartet in Autumn (1977) • July 2013The Sweet Dove Died (1978) • August 2013 A Few Green Leaves (1980) • September 2013Crampton Hodnet (completed circa 1940, published 1985) • October 2013 An Unsuitable Attachment (written 1963; published posthumously, 1982) • November 2013 An Academic Question (written 1970-72; published 1986) • December 2013 Civil to Strangers (written 1936; published posthumously, 1989)

There's An App for That

Last night we were channel surfing and happened across Piers Morgan speaking with Ariana Huffington about gun control. I was impressed with some of her comments on that subject, but then she spoiled it all by changing the subject to new technology. She was speaking from the 2013 Consumer Electronics Show, being held in one of my favorite (not!) cities - Las Vegas. According to Ariana, the focus for consumer electronics this year is on health and wellness, and she introduced the Huffington Post's new app in this genre called, appropriately, "GPS for the Soul."

12170672143dQnYUBased on something called "HeartMath," the app is designed to help you enter into a state of "coherence." You can read all the details at their website, but the basic idea is that our heart rate varies throughout the day, and these variations can be caused by emotional and physical factors. The naturally occurring HRV (heart rate variations) are not all alike, however. Those caused by  pleasing factors are of a different and more healthy nature than those caused by stressful or emotionally unpleasant situations. The positive changes in HRV lead to a state of "coherence" of heart, mind, and body.

It is that state to which we should aspire.

And yes, there is an app for that.

When you detect that your heart is in a state of IN-congruence, when your soul has lost its way, simply whip out your phone, dial up the GPS for the Soul app, and there you will find some lovely paintings, music, inspirational sayings, and all sorts of nifty digital ways to dial down your emotional stress and put your heart back into a state of congruence, thereby restoring your soul to its "center".

Friends, might I suggest an alternative? How about a walk outside, or listening to some music, or petting your dog? Why not try reading some poetry or knitting a sweater? For some, a good game of racquetball or tennis might be effective. Others might prefer to bake or throw pots or pull weeds in the garden.

In other words, aren't there a lot of non-digital ways to relax when we're stressed? Must we have an electronic solution for everything??

I hope we haven't become so dependent on our technology that we can't even unwind without it telling us how.

That thought alone is enough to put my heart into a permanent state of incongruence, one that no amount of apps could fix.