Love

Have you ever done something that makes you so happy you can feel the sadness below the surface?  That is exactly what I’m experiencing now.  I went for a run.  The weather is beautiful in New York City.  Perfect for a run.  The sun was tucked under the clouds so that I could see a gleam, but I didn’t have to shade my eyes.  East End Avenue, right by the water, was free of traffic so that I could soften my steps with Asphalt rather than pounding the concrete pavement.  I was happy to get out after too long a break from running.  I didn’t overdo it.  I went as far as I could while respecting my limitations.  All was good.  Yet, while I felt gratitude and joy, I also felt heavy hearted.  There is much in the world that saddens me.  I see no easy fixes.  And, too many are struggling and even suffering due to dehumanizing beliefs, powerful weather forces, war, bullying, and judgement with righteousness.  Need I go on?  

Marilyn Maye is a legend.   Perhaps you haven’t heard of her?  She is a 92-year-old cabaret singer who gives her audiences stylized singing and beautiful arrangements of standards.  I had been meaning to see her for years and it finally happened this past week. A dear friend and I came to see her at 54 Below, the storied cabaret underneath the Studio 54 Theater.  Marilyn’s first album came out in 1965.  She appeared on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson more than any other singer, 76 times.  I could go on, but you can easily look her up.  

This weekend I walked in the steaming heat enjoying Summer Streets while traversing Park Avenue without cars.  I will miss the next two Saturdays, so it was a pleasant reprieve to have more than enough room while walking among pedestrians, runners, and cyclists.  I am going away.  Initially I packed for a hot summer, but according to the lower temperatures in Dublin I was ill prepared.  Following my lovely and tiring walk, I  unpacked and repacked for a ten-day trip to Ireland.  Instead of tank tops and sandals I’m bringing sweaters and socks. 

It’s something of an irony that my and my husband’s 27^th wedding anniversary is on the 27^th week of this year.  I like coincidences like that.  When the stars align, I feel good all over.  Twenty-Seven years is probably the longest commitment to anything I’ve done in my life.  I like variety, so in the past I could do something for a while and then I’d move on.  I took a very different tactic for our marriage.  While Larry is someone who likes routines and enjoys what he knows, I like to try new things, preferring to being adventurous rather than staying in place.  Though we were a bit older than our contemporaries when we got married, I was 38 to Larry’s 45, we had a lot to learn about relationships, particularly long-term relationships.  

We are officially halfway through 2024.  It’s a great time to reevaluate then manage any expectations we’ve had for this year.  This is the year I’ve had my first, and perhaps my last, book published.  It feels good to have accomplished that.  I am now in the weeds attempting to promote the book while working full-time.  Promotions do not come naturally for me so it feels like I’m rolling a big bolder uphill uncertain if like Icarus is will roll down again.   But I’m challenging myself to do what I can and then challenging myself yet again let go of the results.  When I measure my self-worth by the results I produce I may experience a fleeting high, but in the end I try my best to be proud of going beyond my limits no matter how things turn out.  

This Tuesday I become a published author with In the Time of Coronavirus, Reflecting on the Past to Embrace a Joyful Future.  To that end I am doing everything I know to do to promote this book, working to get it into stores, sites and libraries and into readers’ hands.  It is a daunting task.  I am overwhelmed, yet very excited.  

Having lived as long as I have, visiting friends and family sometimes means travel. Following our amazing time in Mexico City we took a drive to the Teotihuacán Pyramids, which were magnificent. It’s a pre-historic Mayan city. To walk in the same steps as those who resided there thousands of years ago is a powerful experience. From there we traveled on to San Miguel de Allende, a lovely small city with an artistic soul.

“Almost everything will work if you unplug it for a few minutes….including you.”  -Anne Lamott-”  

There are some days that I just don’t want to do anything.  And if I have to do something it can feel particularly labored.  I woke up this morning with a strong case of I don’t wanna.  I was still tired, though I received eight hours of sleep.  I was achy even though I’m stretching more given the needs of being in my mid-60s.  I was able to get away last weekend, though it now feels like it was weeks ago.

I made a trip to DC this weekend. I was going to visit family, see a musical, get to the National Portrait Gallery and enjoy the cherry blossoms. I was able to enjoy time with my family and see a most wonderful show at Arena Stage Theater. Bu it turns out the Cherry Blossoms were premature this year due to the warmer winter months. I thought I was early enough but that was not the case. I saw trees with waning petals, the best in Takoma Park, MD. But the city failed to provide me with the simple joy of full flowered trees wherever I went.

It was a quiet day. Not the reading a book while sipping tea on a rainy-day type of quiet. It was quiet because I wasn’t plugged into a device. The TV was not on. The quiet came from not connecting my phone to my earbuds to listen to a book, a podcast or music. It’s even quiet now as I’m writing this. Lucy, who is asleep next to me isn’t even snoring. She must be enjoying the quiet, too.

This past week I heard of the death of two people from my past. I heard from three people presently who are ill, and we are all hearing about too many in our world who are in pain, who are suffering, or who have experienced significant losses. Life is precious.

We can be shiny and perfect and admired, or we can be real and honest and vulnerable and loved. But we actually do have to choose. --Glennon Doyle Melton

I listen to Glennon’s podcast, “We Can Do Hard Things.”  On one of her podcasts she said that she used to worry that no one was listening to her.  Her audiences were small, her readership small.  But then she started seeing and hearing the few who were listening.  She realized that each person was important, not the number itself.  It was so meaningful to hear that.  I have taken it to heart.

As a psychotherapist I’ve noticed that so many people in and out of my office will say, “I know this is boring, but…” Traditionally therapists don’t respond, we only listen. I’m more interactive, so I respond to the statement that they think what they have to say is boring. I’m curious. I don’t find what they tell me boring. But I want to know how they see it themselves. The subject matter is secondary to their perceptions and experiences of living their lives. I am fascinated by that. Luckily my profession affords me to privilege of hearing their insights and opinions regarding their lives.

There’s nothing like a flower show in the middle of a cold winter to warm our souls.  That was my thinking as I embarked on the member preview of the Orchid Show at the New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx.  My plan was to get there early so I could get in and out and home for work.  I walked in the chilly weather to the subway where I got on the number 5 subway to Bedford Avenue.  However, it was the number 4 train that I needed, so I had to reroute, getting off at the Grand Concourse and then settling in for a 45-minute ride to the Garden via the Bx 19 bus.  This was an hour detour in total, getting me to the Garden with the throngs of people who also wanted to enjoy the tropical flowers.  

“Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent”
Victor Hugo

Yesterday I was in sweats, my hair, stiff, frizzy, and dry while getting paperwork done in-between laundry loads.  Nothing glamorous about the day.  I was comfortable and perhaps a bit tired from a late night.  The late night was very unexpected.  I had a subscription to the New York Pops at Carnegie Hall.  It has turned out to be a marvelous series.  On Friday night I, along with a sold-out house, thoroughly enjoyed an evening of Gershwin music featuring the vocalist, Montego Glover and the pianist, Lee Musiker.  

“Procrastinate now, don't put it off.”
― Ellen DeGeneres

t

I spent yesterday  procrastinating.  I cooked, I baked, I looked things up online.  What I didn’t do was tally my expenses for budgeting and taxes.  I am not fond of bookkeeping.  Nonetheless, I was able to sit down and focus after I did everything I could to avoid the inevitable.  It wasn’t as bad as I anticipated.  Nor was it as fun as taking the day off.  

“True empowerment comes from knowing and embracing your own worth.”

Beverly Johnson

I just saw the new one woman show, In Vogue, in which Beverly Johnson shares her life’s story with a backdrop of photos of her, the culture, and other iconic people, movements, and moments in history.  

“Just do what works for you, because there will always be someone who thinks differently.”  Michelle Obama

I love quotes.  When I first started my psychotherapy private practice in the mid-90s before there were iPhones and Facebook, I had an answering machine, and the recording included quotes on there.  I changed them monthly or so, and it felt nice.  But I was a new therapist and I wanted to do things right.  It felt right to me.  Nonetheless, I was told by a senior therapist, one who I respected, that I might want to rethink having something so personal on my outgoing message.  The common practice was to be as neutral as possible. Her thinking was that a chosen quote could possibly be sharing unnecessary private information about me or, it might be misconceived.  

This week I’m sharing some past sunsets.  Seeing sunrises and sunsets makes me smile.  Sunsets remind me that nothing is permanent.  And sunrises are an apt metaphor that we always have a chance at a new beginning.  Both sentiments give me some peace.  And we could all use peace.