Self-care Sundays

I was reading through my emails when I received a thoughtful text from a very kind person who sent me a picture of my book on the table of the Best Non-Fiction of 2024.  This was at the Barnes & Noble on the Upper Eastside of Manhattan.  How considerate it was to send me that picture.  And, how thrilled I was seeing my book in the photo.  It’s been challenging playing the promotion game, and I am not great at promoting my own interests.  Yes, I think the book would be helpful especially at this time.  I think it’s important to find the self-care tips during hardships whenever and wherever they show up.  And, thinking of what got us through past difficulties allows us to remember that we will get through this, too.  Those were a couple of reasons I wrote In the Time of Coronavirus.   I was so pleased when good reviews started to come in from those I didn’t know.  And, grateful for the couple of reviews from those who do know me, and still liked the book. 

Rather than add to the disquieting mix of this past week’s conversation, I am going to share two quotes that may be helpful now and going forward.  The first one was shared by my sister-in-law, Catherine North.  She has always been a champion for encouraging the best in those around her.  The second quote was shard in response to the first as a continuation of inspiration.  That was shared by a newer friend who I came to know during the pandemic.  Her name is Erin Falk and she lives with joy sharing her adventures as if we were there.  The pictures were taken this past week.  Walking helped me see what I love in and about the city of New York.  

In the USA we have a national and local election coming up and the stress related to that is palpable in most communities.  There is division and animosity.  Strong feelings are being played out in arguments, and in non-political spaces.  Road rage, short tempers and dismissiveness abound.  To offset that we have to make intentional choices.  Can we find lightness in all of this infuriation?  I’m working on it.  But it’s not easy.  Meditation works.  It’s not an instant fix, but the more I spend time focusing on the present the more I can stay in all the other present moments, and not get caught up in election anxiety.  Patience helps.  If I can understand that my expectation that things should go a certain way are in conflict with the reality at hand, I can calm myself down.  

I have too much stuff.  I just spent hours going through drawers and closets to clean out what I don’t want anymore and what I don’t need.  Though I’m happy I did that and now I can bring bags to the thrift store, and bags to the trash, I am still left with too much stuff.  Some things like outdated membership cards were easy to throw out.  Vitamins and minerals I rarely take, office supplies I may need at some unknown point in time, and other sundry items make it harder for me to determine their usefulness.  When I was younger and lived alone, the small apartment size made it easy to throw things out.  I simply didn’t have the space.  Though I am so grateful for all the storage space in our present apartment, I find that clutter accumulates in the recesses of those closets.  

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 a beautiful morning today.  There is a light breeze, the sun is out but not scorching, and the sky is clear.  The temperature dropped so it feels simply delightful.  I left my apartment before 7:30 am so that I could get in a destination walk to and from Trader Joe’s to pick up a few groceries for the week.  My plan was to be in and out before the Saturday rush.  I was walking on the east side of the street, which is less sunny, thus cooler, in the mornings.  When I approached 68^th Street I was in back of someone else with a cart who had a similar plan at Trader Joe’s.  She kept trying to get around a woman with her dog whose leash straddled the entire sidewalk.  When I got close enough I said, “Excuse me, we want to pass you and your dog.”  She didn’t move.  I was less polite in my next attempt.  “You’re taking up the whole sidewalk, can you move so we can pass?” “Fuck you” she said as she barely made room for us.  As I made my way around her dog, I said “You don’t have to take the entire sidewalk.”  My tone sounded as annoyed as I felt.  Even though I had been happy to be out and about on a glorious day, I quickly turned into a grouch.  Again, she repeated, “Fuck You!” This time louder so there would be no mistaking her ire.  I didn’t look back, and I’m not proud to say that I then gave her the finger with my back to her.  Only in retrospect could I think clearly and realize she’s not having a good morning.  Did I need to add to that?  

When I was in the third grade I took my first trip to an art museum.  It was a class field trip and I found the Philadelphia Museum of Art boring.  We were on a tour and it was more about history and paintings of old wars than anything that interested me.   Had the guide stopped by the Mary Cassatt portrait or explained Brancusi’s The Kiss rather than marching us past it to view Washington’s Crossing, I may have found my love for art a bit sooner.  It took me until high school and many more visits to the Museum to learn what I like as opposed to what I prefer to leave on the walls on my way to better things.  

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.  

I was surprised today when I dropped my iPhone and the case cracked that it didn’t create a tailspin in which I cracked a bit, too.  Instead, I was thankful that I gave myself a day with a flexible schedule allowing me to take Lucy and me to the Apple store to have my phone repaired.  I even sat patiently waiting for my turn as Lucy demanded treats since it wasn’t her idea to leave our neighborhood.  Luckily I unknowingly stocked enough treats for the day.  

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.  

I was nervous.  I had agreed to participate in a Zoom panel which included reading from my pre-published book, In the Time of Coronavirus. but it’s been a long time since I’ve spoken to a group.  As I was practicing, reading the blog post a few times, I noticed my voice sounded like it was stuck in my throat.  I did not think that was a good thing.  

When I was younger and I upset someone, I would replay the incident over and over again. I found it intolerable that someone would be upset or angry with me. It felt devastating. I would apologize again and again, becoming a nuisance. Sometimes people would be more upset with my groveling than they were with the original upset. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. It felt like anything I did that hurt others was unforgivable. There was no fun to be had.

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.