I got an email from an old rugby buddy of George V in the old days (1970's) of Washington DC and Club SudAmericana. I didn't know this buddy of his as I met George afterward. But I remembered his name, the stories that George would spin.... and the rowdy and oftentimes naughty Rugby tunes.
The gent lives in New Zealand and is contemplating a return to the good 'ol USA. Another rugby buddy of theirs also lives here. And he asked me how I liked living in Sarasota.
In response to his question, I thought about my decision to live here.
I had always thought I would spend a year here before heading back to the Northeast where I grew up and went to college. I woke up one morning and the sun was shining brightly. And I realized that for an entire year, I had awakened to the sunshine... and it was like the heavens and Gods sang to me each day "Good morning to you, Good morning to you, We're all in our playsuits with bright shiney faces.... Good morning to you!" When I realized just how magical a way that is to live one's life: with light- I knew I was home, and felt lucky. I sort of backed into the decision to remain here.
George was more purposeful in his decision to live here. His small moment of epiphany came while walking the beach one day. He spotted a little old man, hunched over .... slowly meandering down the beach, and he thought "I am not waiting till I am 89 to live where I want and how I want." It was as lickety split as that. How wonderful that he didn't have to wait till 89 to seize his dream, because it may never have happened.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
A reflective week-end
It is unusual for me to go to a funeral and leave the service feeling somehow 'fortified'.
The church was packed. A beautiful building, with inspiring glass windows made by Thornton Utz along with an original and moving crucifix looming overhead made me receptive and open. It is such a tragic and devastating occasion in life when an 18 year old girl dies. It is life at its most raw. It is impossible to be a mother and not feel the pain through your own heart, as it takes a village to raise a child.... and in that sense, everyone's child is our child. The heaviness is palpable. Still.
What raised my heart and inspires me today- was listening to the mother's letter she wrote to her teenage daughter a year ago. A grieving mom, stood before hundreds and with grace and love, baring her soul, and being vulnerable in reading the deep and personal correspondence. She reached out to her daughter then, with a mother's love which was so beautifully written and then in church: spoken.
What I have learned in life.... is to ALWAYS share all those positive and wonderful and loving things we feel about each other: with EACH OTHER. Our children, our friends.... even the acquaintances we meet through the day. That is a gift we give to others and to ourselves. I always say to myself "if I think a complimentary thought about someone- stranger or not: it does me no good to have those thoughts, unless they are shared with the person they are directed towards."
In this instance, at least the mom can always live with the certainty that she told her daughter what an amazing young woman she was. What a gift for all, including those of us in the church.
Afterward, my friend and I went to see the "IMAGINE" exhibit of John Lennon's drawings and lyrics. It seemed a parallel kind of expression: of life, of creativity and of the theme of love. It struck me and intrigued me that creative people are creative is a multitude of ways: creativity comes from the pores and in various forms.
What a difference a week makes. A week ago, that beautiful 18 year old girl was alive and vibrant.
Carpe Diem. Seize the day.
The church was packed. A beautiful building, with inspiring glass windows made by Thornton Utz along with an original and moving crucifix looming overhead made me receptive and open. It is such a tragic and devastating occasion in life when an 18 year old girl dies. It is life at its most raw. It is impossible to be a mother and not feel the pain through your own heart, as it takes a village to raise a child.... and in that sense, everyone's child is our child. The heaviness is palpable. Still.
What raised my heart and inspires me today- was listening to the mother's letter she wrote to her teenage daughter a year ago. A grieving mom, stood before hundreds and with grace and love, baring her soul, and being vulnerable in reading the deep and personal correspondence. She reached out to her daughter then, with a mother's love which was so beautifully written and then in church: spoken.
What I have learned in life.... is to ALWAYS share all those positive and wonderful and loving things we feel about each other: with EACH OTHER. Our children, our friends.... even the acquaintances we meet through the day. That is a gift we give to others and to ourselves. I always say to myself "if I think a complimentary thought about someone- stranger or not: it does me no good to have those thoughts, unless they are shared with the person they are directed towards."
In this instance, at least the mom can always live with the certainty that she told her daughter what an amazing young woman she was. What a gift for all, including those of us in the church.
Afterward, my friend and I went to see the "IMAGINE" exhibit of John Lennon's drawings and lyrics. It seemed a parallel kind of expression: of life, of creativity and of the theme of love. It struck me and intrigued me that creative people are creative is a multitude of ways: creativity comes from the pores and in various forms.
What a difference a week makes. A week ago, that beautiful 18 year old girl was alive and vibrant.
Carpe Diem. Seize the day.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Breezy, easy Sarasota day
I have hesitated writing, much like I hesitate getting on my yoga mat. It is an interior struggle between being productive and not being able to take that first step. It is amazing how much we get in our own way....
As I write this, I hear little Pip-squeaks as he is playing in the pool- carefree, naked and filled will all the potential that each day brings to us. It is the sound of pure joy. That is truly one of the beautiful parts about our life experience: we get to create each day- NEW. We get the opportunity to have squeaks of joy. If we don't get in our own way, that is.
I am feeling particularly philosophical today. The eldest daughter of a gal friend of mine died yesterday. A beautiful young woman- of 19 or so. Tormented without the coping skills to survive her hurdle. How many times have I thought to myself: "There, but for the grace of God, go I." How many times I have put myself in a position that had someone wanted to: they could have harmed me. And, after 6 decades, I could also say: How many times have I put myself in a position that I could have harmed myself? It sometimes takes only a smidge.... in life, to make that difference.
My heart aches for her mom. And her sisters. For her. And for all those whose life she has touched- just by being in it- and then vanishing too soon.
Years ago when my Georgie was only a year old, I went to the funeral for the daughter of friends. She too, was a beautiful young woman, aged 19. She was killed driving home from college for summer holiday. I remember sitting in the church that day, hearing what was to be a profound and life-changing question raised. The minister, who was also a cousin of the parents, asked: "Would you rather have known the joy of this young lady for 19 years, and also know the pain of losing her?" OR.... "Would you sacrifice that pain by sacrificing ever having known her?" The answer is simple. To love- even for a day is a gift. To have that gift each and every day afterward- is the GIFT. Our kids are lent to us, and however much time we have- is the GIFT. Being aware of that concept on how to look at life- has carried me and lifted me when most needed. I have never- had to face the loss of a child. And, that is untenable to my heart, as it strikes horror in the heart of all moms. So, I know that her mom and her sisters' journey will be a hard one, and for that I am heartsick.
As I write this, I hear little Pip-squeaks as he is playing in the pool- carefree, naked and filled will all the potential that each day brings to us. It is the sound of pure joy. That is truly one of the beautiful parts about our life experience: we get to create each day- NEW. We get the opportunity to have squeaks of joy. If we don't get in our own way, that is.
I am feeling particularly philosophical today. The eldest daughter of a gal friend of mine died yesterday. A beautiful young woman- of 19 or so. Tormented without the coping skills to survive her hurdle. How many times have I thought to myself: "There, but for the grace of God, go I." How many times I have put myself in a position that had someone wanted to: they could have harmed me. And, after 6 decades, I could also say: How many times have I put myself in a position that I could have harmed myself? It sometimes takes only a smidge.... in life, to make that difference.
My heart aches for her mom. And her sisters. For her. And for all those whose life she has touched- just by being in it- and then vanishing too soon.
Years ago when my Georgie was only a year old, I went to the funeral for the daughter of friends. She too, was a beautiful young woman, aged 19. She was killed driving home from college for summer holiday. I remember sitting in the church that day, hearing what was to be a profound and life-changing question raised. The minister, who was also a cousin of the parents, asked: "Would you rather have known the joy of this young lady for 19 years, and also know the pain of losing her?" OR.... "Would you sacrifice that pain by sacrificing ever having known her?" The answer is simple. To love- even for a day is a gift. To have that gift each and every day afterward- is the GIFT. Our kids are lent to us, and however much time we have- is the GIFT. Being aware of that concept on how to look at life- has carried me and lifted me when most needed. I have never- had to face the loss of a child. And, that is untenable to my heart, as it strikes horror in the heart of all moms. So, I know that her mom and her sisters' journey will be a hard one, and for that I am heartsick.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Jovedi
That's Thursday, in Italian. Having just come from a grand Italian repast alla bona fide Italian transplants- chowing down on spaghetti vongole... pronounced "vohn goh lay". Much more musical than "clams"
Started my day helping a friend get her home 'ready' to welcome 500 guests on a HOME TOUR for charity. Well, I didn't get it exactly 'ready', as that implies work. I walked through and pointed out all the 'distractions' to her home and decor that needed to go away. Like... multitudes of shampoos in the shower, for instance, dusty candles: the stuff of life, not home tours. In my frenzy of help, I grabbed a vase with beautiful stargazer lilies to change the water. Turning abruptly, I walked the vase right into a column, shattering the glass and water everywhere, including smudging my brandy new white blouse with the orange staining stemon (sp?) I couldn't have been less helpful, and less ready to greet the president of one of my alma matter colleges for lunch! I was a whirlwind of truly dorky energy.
Sandwiched between the beginning and the end: was my luncheon. I went to an all woman's college: so all the guests were women, except one. I love it. There was one husband. The token man. A man with an adorable wife, who you just KNOW, was a spitfire as a young woman- because that sparkle and spunk is still with her. It is inspiring. I am 60, and I was the 3rd youngest gal there! I have been going to these alumnae gatherings for 40+ years.
I can't wait for Friday's adventure.
smiles,
Judy
Started my day helping a friend get her home 'ready' to welcome 500 guests on a HOME TOUR for charity. Well, I didn't get it exactly 'ready', as that implies work. I walked through and pointed out all the 'distractions' to her home and decor that needed to go away. Like... multitudes of shampoos in the shower, for instance, dusty candles: the stuff of life, not home tours. In my frenzy of help, I grabbed a vase with beautiful stargazer lilies to change the water. Turning abruptly, I walked the vase right into a column, shattering the glass and water everywhere, including smudging my brandy new white blouse with the orange staining stemon (sp?) I couldn't have been less helpful, and less ready to greet the president of one of my alma matter colleges for lunch! I was a whirlwind of truly dorky energy.
Sandwiched between the beginning and the end: was my luncheon. I went to an all woman's college: so all the guests were women, except one. I love it. There was one husband. The token man. A man with an adorable wife, who you just KNOW, was a spitfire as a young woman- because that sparkle and spunk is still with her. It is inspiring. I am 60, and I was the 3rd youngest gal there! I have been going to these alumnae gatherings for 40+ years.
I can't wait for Friday's adventure.
smiles,
Judy
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Back in the Blogsaddle, again
I am trying to acclimate myself into writing every day. Like learning how to put flossing into my daily routine or having an old dog do new tricks. Despite the fact that I can be a slow learner, I will forge ahead with a tenacity that seems more like timidity to me, at times. And, this whole 'new age' blogging thing feels rather self indulgent. Or self important. I am uncomfortable with both those ideas, which makes me feel a bit NY neurotic- as that is the entire point of a Blog: to draw attention to an asset that I want to peddle.
I am inviting you into my world of story telling. And, will go about my blog with the same voice that chirps at me on a daily basis. Hope you enjoy.
Have a Wednesday of wonder.
Judy
I am inviting you into my world of story telling. And, will go about my blog with the same voice that chirps at me on a daily basis. Hope you enjoy.
Have a Wednesday of wonder.
Judy
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