alone at last

Big Steve my beloved is gone for a bit and I am alone, somehow feeling like I NEED to be alone. I am alone seeking some kind of inner solitude and peace. Not sure at all how the search is going, but I know a couple things:

1. We need some spaces to let our souls catch up with our bodies.
2. The fruit of walking gently comes to you later, like a sweet ambush.
3. I love listening to good funky eclectic music on the radio. Don't know why. I just do. Right now it is awesome.

So today was a day of trying to live well and gently and watching for epiphanies. (Friday was Epiphany, feast day, so this is the season to be surprised by something new!) I built a fire in our fire pit around noon to burn all the junk mail we got this week. Laid myself back on the wooden swing and let the sunshine on my face while the smoke swirled around me. Walter came by and curled up on top of me, so it was a good moment. I stayed there quite a while.

Life, I think, is made up of a collection of good moments, and for me, some of them have to be out in nature.

I picked up some curry from my favorite indian restaurant. They are magicians in there. Curry is the food of the gods, I swear.

While I was waiting for my curry order another woman, Mary, came in, ordered her curry and I invited her to sit with me while we waited. The server brought us some chai tea. We talked a bit and she started telling me about her husband who is dying of cancer. Then told me other things, including the fact that they have been married five years and it has been worth every moment. He is pretty much unwell now, and she is the caregiver. I told her I would pray for her when I thought of her... like now. She asked me my name. We smiled and were silent. I liked her. Odds are I will never see her again but somehow we were women friends sharing tea for that moment. When I left with my bag of food I saw him in the van, leaning a weary head back on the head rest.

Everything in life seems pretty temporary to me at my age. I know the futility of hanging on. But there is still so much LIFE to engage in. Tastes, smells, moments in the sun, and people. These are good things. Very good.

puberty and the sequel, puberty two

So I was thinking... people have written books for girls in grade three and four that talk about their body. "Things are going to change" the book reads. And page by page it outlines what to expect and how to handle this new body that is emerging. New products are introduced. "Girls, you will want to buy deodorant. Keep your body clean and fresh."

But where is the training book for a woman who is in her second puberty? A book that says, "You will wake up tomorrow and not know who you are! Don't be afraid. This is normal. Remember when your mother started acting crazy and began eating her hair? She went through this stage too!" And the book could have pictures of bodily changes. "Hair will start growing in strange places. Don't be alarmed. Men will notice but since no one is lusting after you they likely won't pay any attention to it" and "if you've had children you are likely to begin to lose bladder control in certain situations. The key is to never ever under any circumstances join your grandkids on the trampoline. Ridiculously loud laughter might create this problem too but we do not recommend allowing a slightly damp situation keeping you from laughing your head off as it offsets your probable growing depression."

Actually - I am being silly but this season is about rediscovering a whole lot of new truth. Truth about beauty and comfortability in one's own skin. Truth about rhythms and practices of life that are not so jarring. Truth about how to understand others and engage them in ways that are not self referenced. Learning what peace means to one's own self, and pursuing it.

I find that I cannot live the life other's want me to live. I cannot be who others want me to be. If ever there was a season for a woman to know herself and be that person as fully and openly as possible, it is this season of puberty two.

But the up side (and it is big) is that there is less to compete about. Fewer people really care how I wear my hair or if my choices are eccentric. I think it was Elizabeth Taylor who said that fifty was glorious because one became invisible and could live life much more freely. (Obviously it didn't work that way for her, but for us plebes I think there is something in this.)

So women, we must stand up for each other's need to express our lives freely and with strength in very uniquely personal ways. Let's be the ones who say loud 'yes' to each other, and celebrate each one's choices and eccentricities and forget about competing, comparing, status and pecking orders. Who cares if the towels match? In this season become the artists, writers, dancers and lion tamers we were created to be.