The Path

Yesterday I spent some time reading through my two essay books, “Out of the Ashes” and “From There to Here and In-Between”. I had not looked back at any of that work in quite a long time, nor had I written many new essays for this blog in the past two or three years. Life had taken over my existence as I became more and more of a caregiver for a failing spouse. Even with his passing over two years ago, the desire and need to write had remained mostly dormant. So, when the urge to read my “old” work kept creeping into my awareness, I knew I needed to pay attention.

The years represented by the essays in those two collections are years which, for me, were years of painful inner reflection, acceptance of life on life’s terms, personal growth, and a response to an inner call to write as honestly as possible without fear of retribution, or rejection. Nevertheless, the essays in those two collections are a combination of wit, insight, reflection, and fun reads. “God’s Refrigerator” made me laugh again, “When Life Calls” reminded me that prayer is answered in many ways, and “Back to the Future” took me on a memory-filled trip to high school.

My path to writing was both unexpected and unintended. Yet, here I sit, some 13 years after I answered what I now know was a spiritual call, with 9 books and a blog.

What is my path now? Is writing still a part of it? Well life has changed dramatically for me. I fell in love with the man for whom I had unknowingly waited my entire life. As a result, I left the mountains I thought I would never leave, and where I produced most of my written work, for a home with him on the James River in eastern Virginia. And why did we buy that home? Because there was a “bait shack” down by the river that we both knew would be the perfect place for me to write.

And it is.

Life has taken me down a path that I never expected to walk, but a path that I am so incredibly grateful to be on. And I can feel the call once again to write, to create, to allow the Muse to inspire. I hope you will accept this invitation to once again accompany me on the journey. It’s going to be a doozy.

REFLECTIONS

Recent events in my life have reminded me of the truisms found in the Serenity Prayer. We can’t change people. We just cannot. Our refusal to remember this small and powerful fact causes us emotional upset and angst. Refusing to accept that we cannot change someone is one of the hardest lessons I have ever somewhat learned.

 In the private girls’ school I attended decades ago, many of Shakespeare’s works were required reading. The quote from King Lear - “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child” – came to mind today as I sat to write this essay. I considered whether to use that quote, but upon reflection decided that the quote was too perfect to ignore. And while I am not dealing necessarily with the betrayal King Lear was talking about, I am processing behavior from my progeny which has caused me great pain and sadness.

 Accepting poor behavior from adult children is hard. But I must also remember the corollary of accepting the fact that I cannot change anyone. I must also allow that individual to walk his or her own path. And in the case of adult children, I have to let go. Let them go to find their way in their relationship with me.

 Life is short. When we are in our 30’s and 40’s as my children are, it is almost impossible for us to discern that reality and to fully understand what those three little words mean. The shortness of life is, I think, a mental disconnect with my adult children as it would be with any person of that age. And because they are still so young – yes, young – it is impossible for them to understand how time compresses for those of us much older. Life decisions that may take a 40-year-old a year or longer to reach are no longer the luxury of those of us in my generation. It is also difficult, I think, for adult children to accept that their parents are also adults. We don’t lose our ability to think just because we have hit our 60’s and 70’s.

 This is the first essay I have written, or wanted to write, in many months. The desire to write has taken a holiday, but I am hopeful with today’s nudge to write that my Muse has returned. The topic of today’s essay had been on my mind for weeks now, living rent-free in my  head, so I thought that putting all of “this” on paper might be a good first step. As always, I hope my words have caused you to think, reflect or just enjoy.

It's Been a Long Time Coming

I think those words, “it’s been a long time coming” are from a song in the ‘70’s era – they seem so familiar to me. But when they surged into my consciousness a few minutes ago, I realized they carried a specific message.

I haven’t written in a very long time, almost a year, maybe longer. I just wasn’t interested. No Muse knocking at my door, no character from the mystery series I write insisting that there was more to tell…just nothing. Sort of blah thinking about any sort of creativity.

I was, I now think, trying to find my way after becoming a widow.

I guess losing a spouse is different for everyone. But for me, the loss had occurred over a decade earlier, more if I am honest, so that the physical death was just a period at the end of a very long and convoluted sentence. Nevertheless, there was an emotional process that I didn’t recognize but that was essential for me to be able to move forward. As I approach the 2-year mark of his passing, I realize that finally I have emerged from the shadows into the light, that I have found happiness again, and that I feel free.

And, I’ve been thinking again about writing. I was 20,000 words into a new book when the desire to write abandoned me. A new character had introduced herself, and I am curious to see what she may have to say. I read some of my old essays – the words in them encouraged me to write the one that you are reading.

Life is a journey and often the road takes us in a direction we never anticipated. It has certainly happened to me. I have found a love I never expected. Happiness has again become a companion. Life is changing for me as I enter my own ‘70’s (no pun intended), but I am content and mellow.

It’s time to write – it’s been a long time coming.

A Time To Wait

 I’ve been struggling to write the past several weeks. I’m about 20,000 words in on the next book in the Allison Parker Mystery series that I write, but the characters have gone silent on me. No nudge. No urge. No magic. Not sure what’s going on there. Yesterday I re-read what I have written to this point, and I like the story, like the new characters, and wonder where the story is going – yet have no desire to write. So, this morning I thought “why not try an essay?” As soon as that thought came to me, so came the title “A Time to Wait.”

In retrospect, I’ve been doing a lot of waiting in the last year since my husband died. I wasn’t ready to move forward on hardly any level – a reality I am just now understanding. I had accepted his death – he and I knew it was coming and had prepared as best we could – but my life moving forward afterwards was an unknown. I’m basically a big chicken, so adjusting to living alone in the mountains had its challenges. When it’s dark here, it’s really dark. A loaded Glock 19 and my dog assuaged my fears to a degree, but some nights were, and are, still very hard for me. It doesn’t help that I am sensitive to those across the veil, and at times can feel “others” there with me.

I’m 72 now, and while the number sounds “old” I don’t feel old. As the one-year anniversary of my husband’s death approaches I wonder if there will be another love for me. I hope so, but I know I can’t go looking for it. When I think about that part of my life, I hear the words “a time to wait.” I am impatient, but I know when I hear a message that I need to pay attention to. (Dangling participle be damned).

Fall is my favorite time of year. A time when nature rests and goes quiet for the winter months. Is this also a message for me? To enjoy the vibrant colors that Fall brings, but to know that Winter is a time to wait, to wait for renewal and new life.

I wish I had a crystal ball.

Where Life Takes Us

When we are young, we have our lives all figured out.  Or at least we think we do.  For example, when I started college I thought that by the time I was in my early 30’s my life would be perfect, I would be settled in a wonderful marriage, whatever “job” I had - if I even had one - would be stress free, and that my free time would be spent at the country club.  Life, however, had other ideas.  The decade of my 30’s turned out to be the living epitome of Dickens’ comment “it was the best of times; it was the worst of times”.  I was divorced, lost custody of two young children, and became an alcoholic.  Fortunately, before that decade ended, I also found recovery and AA.  

In the intervening years - over two decades now - I have become a changed person.  Someone with expectations quite different from those held by that young woman in her 20’s, and someone with a much more realistic and accepting view of life on life’s terms.   Hitting an emotional and spiritual bottom, which is what happens to those of us who are alcoholics or addicts, is a prerequisite to focusing on the necessary spiritual cure for the disease of addiction.  From the point where we admit our powerlessness and turn our lives over to the care of a Power greater than ourselves, we begin a new life journey and an interior change.  Most of us, however, do continue to live a traditional life.

Today, I happened upon an article written about a man from Chattanooga who was my classmate in elementary school.  Although not an alcoholic or addict, he too underwent a complete spiritual rebirth which did, in fact, cause him to undertake a totally non-traditional life.  Randy Weinberg was a scholar, an athlete, and an achiever.  Valedictorian at Baylor School, five Mid-South wrestling championships, Phi Beta Kappa at Princeton, Rhodes Scholar to Oxford, delaying his acceptance to medical school.  His life of achievement and success was laid out before him.  And then he went to Thailand, had a spiritual experience, and became a Buddhist monk.  You can read the entire article about Randy here: http://www.timesfreepress.com/news/2013/apr/28/cook-column-the-monk-and-the-wrestler/?opinioncolumns.

Reading about Randy this morning I was struck by the fact that none of us ever know what life has in store for us.  I am sure growing up, Randy never expected that he would relinquish all of his worldly possessions to wander Thailand owning only a bowl and relying on the kindness of strangers to feed him.  Randy’s comment in the newspaper article that really hit home for me, however, was this: "I was 24," he said. "And felt so weary and exhausted. I didn't know how to appreciate what is. How to enjoy ... being. I was so busy becoming successful."  I knew exactly what he meant.  Trying to be successful by marrying the right person, trying to be successful by having that country club membership, trying to be successful by being in The Junior League, trying to be successful by living in the “right” neighborhood, being a partner in the right law firm, yada yada yada.  For me, those drives for success were deadly and nearly killed me.  Truly.  Nearly killed me.

My journey has been, of course, quite different from Randy’s, but both of us had life experiences which turned our feet to an interior path.  Although I do not practice Buddhism, I found that the acceptance of its teaching that “life is difficult” was one of the most freeing concepts which I embraced in recovery, and remembering that truism has helped me in my own journey.  Life is so much more than things, than status, than having.  Thank you, Randy, for reminding me of the true nature of our journey.