heading north on I93, some rest stop wisdom…

This post-it note was visible through a garbage bag while I waited for my tank to fill. I had to tear a little hole to fish it out (and scrape off some gum). It was worth it to me.

Was it written and then discarded or received by the person who cleaned out their car? I’ll never know. I will always wonder.

This message works for a lot of different occasions and situations throughout in my life.

You?

after the storm…

Last night we had a wild storm—tornado warnings, wind, heaving rain, lightning and thunder. I’ve always loved storms. After it passed, the neighborhood was eerily quiet. My daughter, Willa and I stayed up until things settled down.

I get up really early, always have. I don’t like to get up in the 4s…however, anything after 5:00 works for me. I fed our cat, Karen, headed out to get a coffee at Dunkin’ & listen to my book, City of Girls by Elizabeth Gilbert—sooooo good, and survey the storm damage. We only had leaves covering our deck and a few small branches here and there, nothing major to report.

I ended up at the bottom of the hill at Town Neck Beach. I was the only one in the parking lot at 5:25am…rare actually. Another car pulled up, a man got out and walked onto the beach in the rain. There was just something about him that I found quite intriquing. He didn’t seem sad, but clearly he was in a thoughtful mood. A fisherman wondering about his day perhaps? A visitor seeing his long-planned day at the beach with his young kids thwarted? Or perhaps just a guy on his way to work who likes storms as much as I do.

He took pictures of the stone sculpture that somehow survived the storm. I can’t imagine that someone built it in the dark between 11pm and 5am. It’s design is structurally mighty impressive. Damn.

I waited for him to get into his car, then I got out to get a shot of the sculpture as well. Walking the beach I found myself looking out at the exact spot a friend’s ashes were scattered a few years ago in one of the most sorrowful and stunning moments I’ve ever witnessed in my 52.8 years.

The beach reflected the generous spirit and remarkably unique inner wildness of her this morning. I know she would’ve loved the images in this post and be grateful that I didn’t mention her by name. That was simply not her style.

Sinclair Lewis & prairie stories…

I just finished reading Main Street for the third time. First, I was 20 (college), then 25 (just married) and last week at the uniquely tender and remarkably nostalgic age of fifty-two.

Lewis’ character, Carol helped me understand both why I had to leave South Dakota and why the prairie is so doggedly a part of my identity (and my art)…even though I left nearly three decades ago.

“The days of pioneering, of lassies in sunbonnets, and bears killed with axes in piney clearings, are deader now than Camelot; and a rebellious girl is the spirit of that bewildered empire called the American Middlewest.”

― Sinclair Lewis, Main Street

Main Street—Burke, South Dakota

the absurdity of midlife…

I love this stage of life…now anyway. At 52, I feel somewhat betwixt & between, not yet old, but clearly no longer young. I have to admit that loving midlife was a slow burn, a process requiring acceptance, laughter, more acceptance, a whole lot of grace and then a nap from the exhaustion of it all.

Midlife seems to have the best analog to middle school for me. Uncertainty. Flop sweats. Mood swings. Junk food cravings. Fear of what others think of me (this is waning substantially now though). Fortunately, at this tender age, I understand that trying something new isn’t so scary, it’s just really exciting.

Actually an epic fail of attempting something new might even have more value than success…at least when viewed through the lens of COMEDY and not EGO.

With that said…

My late, All-American discus throwing Dad/coach and I are heading west to compete in the National Senior Games in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I’m terrified, excited, moderately well-prepared and hoping to NOT make a fool of myself. However, if I do, I will have a funny story to share anyway. I’m sure Dad and I will travel well together. Although he might be surprised how many times I want tacos and how much I appreciate good tequila. Oh well, travel’s meant to be a perspective expanding adventure, right? I’ll eat lots of ice cream in his honor.

Throwing the discus in midlife has connected me to my younger and far more athletic self. My senior year of high school I forgot my discus on my way to the state track meet. I was so damn excited about seeing, “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom” with my friend, Jon that it slipped my mind. Using a borrowed discus, I threw my best ever distance and ended up with the silver medal. I wish I could locate my 1984 yearbook.

My goal in Albuquerque is to toss one that beats my qualifying throw of 69′ 9″ last June in Vermont. Full disclosure, there were only two of us in our age division.

I inherited this autographed discus from the many sports artifacts decorating my Dad’s office. Alfred Oerter Jr. was the first athlete to win a gold medal in the same individual event in four consecutive Olympic Games. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Al_Oerter

I throw next Tuesday morning (hopefully, I remember my discus). Wednesday evening is the “Walk of States”. We will do our very best to represent the 802.

Our team has an 84-year-old decathlete, Flo. I can’t wait to watch her compete. Talk about aging with some serious grit. https://www.mysuncoast.com/2019/03/12/year-old-vermont-woman-still-travels-world-pole-vaulting-competitor/

I encourage everyone to seek out competing in your state’s Senior Games. It’s really fun, the stories and the people are so inspiring. Your only qualification is that you have to be fifty-years old by the time of registration. Here’s the link: https://nsga.com/

Wish me luck and try throwing yourself into something new…there’s always added value in having another story squirreled away in your comic arsenal.

our virtual connectedness…

Yesterday in therapy it was suggested to me that perhaps I try only check my mail once or twice a day and put myself on a “news diet”. Well, this sounded a bit drastic when all I said was that the world seems far too anxious right now. However, this morning thanks to David Brooks at The New York Times I have a better understanding of what our hyper-vigilant (and virtual) relationships are doing to our collective consciousness. Yikes!

VIRTUAL:

1: being such in essence or effect though not formally recognized or admitted

2: being on or simulated on a computer or computer (Merriam Webster)

This is a very quick read.

EXCERPT: People ensconced in social media are more likely to be on perpetual alert: How are my ratings this moment? They are also more likely to feel that the amount of attention they are receiving is inadequate.

If you orient your life around money, you will never feel you have enough. Similarly, if you orient your life around attention, you will always feel slighted. You will always feel emotionally unsafe.

—David Foster Wallace, Kenyon College commencement address

The crybully starts with a genuine trauma. The terrible thing that happened naturally makes the crybully feel unsafe, self-protective and self-conscious to the point of self-absorption. The trauma makes that person intensely concerned about self-image.

The problem comes from the subsequent need to control any situation, the failure to see the big picture, the tendency to lash out in fear and anger as a way to fixate attention on oneself and obliterate others.”

I’m going to try to check my mail only twice and get away from my computer today. My eyes have been extra tired lately and would really welcome the break, as would my consciousness it seems.

i was going to write a post about…

ego death and then about a bunch of stuff I’m interested in right now. I find myself wanting to post less and less lately. For what it’s worth, here’s a list of my recent sparks. I see patterns emerge when I look at what’s taking up most of my thought time.

Sarah Blondin’s mediation on the INSIGHT app: Our Warring Self vs. Our Infinite Self. The time I showed up as a warrior for far too long when what was require of me was heart space. I noticed. I hope I can keep noticing. https://insighttimer.com/sarahblondin/guided-meditations/our-warring-self-vs-our-infinite-self

I really miss my Dad...the term Fatherless Daughter just hits me at the oddest times…especially with my girls are home from college now. Damn.

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/35-hilarious-quotes-about-fatherhood-from-jim-gaffigan_n_5b3a9b01e4b05127cceb56ea

You Tube discus throwing videos, The National Senior Games are really soon. This is also about my Dad and connecting with my inner young athlete again.

Bowen Family theory https://thebowencenter.org/theory/eight-concepts/

Addiction is a primary, chronic disease of brain reward, motivation, memory and related circuitry. The brain uses an equal opportunity reward system, unable to distinguish drugs from behaviors or thought loops. https://www.asame..org/resources/definition-of-addiction

Low residency MFA programs, writing workshops, retreats where I could write, do some chores and go horseback riding out west. Any suggestions would be most welcomed. (Most google searches now.)

Patti Smith, Robert Mapplethorp, Andy Warhol, Janis Joplin, Sam Shepard…1960-70s New York City photographs.

New York Times Persian Food recipes I want to make, but probably won’t.

I want to go horseback riding out west and in Iceland.

What’s dominating your thoughts and google searches today, this week or year?

morning mind…

I woke up with a different sort of clarity than I’ve had for a while. I thought it was worth memorializing. I slept well. My energy is different. I love rainy days. I’m spending the afternoon with my daughter. I’m traveling to South Dakota to visit my family on Saturday. It’s spring. It’s trivia night at our social club. I’m alive and that simply on its own is something to be truly grateful for.

Excerpt from James Comey’s New York Times Op Ed: “You can’t say this out loud — maybe not even to your family — but in a time of emergency, with the nation led by a deeply unethical person, this will be your contribution, your personal sacrifice for America.”

It’s a curious process to see where the mind goes first thing in the morning.

women of deliberate backbone

ancient, adventurous, creative & protective

I’ve been so inspired the stories of women lately exhibiting remarkable backbone, even in light of very challenging circumstances. I think we all have a little more backbone in us when it’s required. As I created the stories of these women and the various backbones they’ve had to summon to carry on: ancient, adventurous, creative and protective.

What type of backbone is required of you right now?

fluid memories. girlhood…