Kind and Generous

Going to work this morning felt hard, as did getting up for practice. I don't seem to have as much energy as I would like, or as I need.

I've been using one of my decks a couple of times a day to guide me extra during this period of transition, and this morning's card was kindness.

This made me more awake to kindness when I encountered it, which I did in at least two forms:

1) Nature's gifts - the beautiful sunny day, squirrels chasing each other up and down a huge tree, owls (my favorite) hooting on my walk, a bat in the park as I did my pre-pullup exercises (#goals); and

2) Spotify dialed up this kind and generous number:

You've been so kind and generous
I don't know how you keep on giving
For your kindness I'm in debt to you
For your selflessness, my admiration
And for everything you've done
You know I'm bound
I'm bound to thank you for it

You've been so kind and generous
I don't know how you keep on giving
For your kindness i'm in debt to you
And i never could have come this far without you
So for everything you've done
You know I'm bound
I'm bound to thank you for it

I want to thank you
For so many gifts
You gave with love and tenderness
I want to thank you
I want to thank you
For your generosity
The love and the honesty
That you gave me
I want to thank you
Show my gratitude
My love and my respect for you
I want to thank you
I want to

Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
I want to
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you

Thanks, Universe!

Beloved Wife

Riding home on the bike path earlier this week, a huge grin spread across my face as I pondered the fact that even at my age and with one marriage come and gone, I could still be married to someone for 40 or 50 years. Granted, the size of the grin was in direct proportion to how happy it makes me to be with my current love.

But even if I don't end up married to him, it's huge that it makes me happy to contemplate 40 or 50 years with anyone. I didn't feel that way over a decade ago when I met my first husband, and while that may have been influenced by who he is or what he offered in a long-term partnership, I think the bigger factors were my lack of faith in love between a man and a woman and my own lack of desire to contemplate being on this earth for 40 or 50 years, let alone dealing with someone else for that long.

Yes my friends, that's how my life felt a lot of the time before I waded through all the depression and anxiety that I carried out of my childhood. Heavy. Difficult. Lonely. Encumbered. For the most part, life wasn't something I wanted to think about doing for a long period of time.

Then along came my first child, who showed me immediately a part of myself that wanted desperately to be around as long as possible to be his mother. But I still had to reconcile how difficult life felt with how amazing my love for him was. Along came my second child, and the difficulty just got too big to ignore, so I started a long process of treatment for depression and anxiety that involved a handful of years of medication, therapy, yoga, acupuncture, energy healing, chiropractic and massage. Now I feel pretty damn psyched to greet each day, super fortunate to get to be present to my kids as they grow up, and really hopeful about the next time I tie the knot.

But before all that -- before I met my first husband and experienced just how great the love between a man and a woman can feel, and before my children introduced me to the hugeness of love -- I had some really beautiful, intimate friendships with women. Still do, but in those days, the heaviness I sometimes felt about life sometimes affected my friendships too.

This song always makes me think of one friend in particular. We shared a lot together over the years, including, for a while, a home, a bed (with a dog between us), lots of songs (including this one), and some major decisions of the heart that changed the course of a number of lives. I think of her whenever I hear this song, but now, I also think about being someone's beloved wife for 50 years. And it just feels great that it makes me happy instead of overwhelmed to think about that:

You were the love

For certain of my life

You were simply my beloved wife

I don't know for certain

How I'll live my life

Now alone without my beloved wife

My beloved wife

I can't believe

I've lost the very best of me...

I May Know the Word

Yesterday I had the first chunk of time to myself that I've had in days. It seems like there are a million things I want to do with this open space that's created when my kids go to school, or back to their Dad's, especially now that I've quit my job, but I'm finding it difficult to organize myself to do them. Particularly the larger tasks, like writing a book. It's frustrating, because it writes itself in my head all the time, but it's so much harder to sit down and do it. Why is that?

Last night, I did what I so often do when I feel like this -- I put on some music and I started with a really manageable task: cleaning up the kitchen. There's something so satisfying for me in making that little room all shiny and put back together properly. That's got to be a metaphor. As I cleaned I listened to one of my favorite old CDs: Tigerlily. I hadn't taken it out in years, and I've certainly never been struck by this song quite as hard as it struck me last night:

I may know the word

but not say it

I may know the truth

but not face it

I may hear a sound

a whisper sacred and profound

but turn my head

indifferent

I may know the word

but not say it

I may love the fruit

but not taste it

I may know the way

to comfort and to soothe

a worried face

but fold my hands

indifferent

I may know the word

but not say it

this may be the time

but I might waste it

Indifference, which Wikipedia defines as the suppression of emotions such as concern, excitement, motivation and passion, is not something I associate with myself, but there has to be an element of that going on here. If so, I'm putting out the same call Natalie does at the end of the verse cited above:

Something move me

Someone prove me wrong

Before night comes

with indifference

And I'm adding this: If I know the word, let me say it, and let me say it in a way that can benefit others. I know this is the time. Don't let me waste it.