Happy Summer Solstice, 2015 Post # 60

Happy Summer Solstice,

My sweet old friend
May you be surrounded by the joy of endless summer days,
The peace of resting in the afternoon sun
And love in the moonlit night as you bask under the stars of an indigo sky.

Another good night, my sweet solstice friend.  Summer, fall, winter, spring...and once again we will say hello.

A Spoken Word Post #59

In general, I wouldn't have responded to a message from some Sketch McSketchinson whom I barely knew.   But one night, upon going to bed I prayed from my heart to God, my guardian angels, and the universe.  Having been in a 20 year marriage and only dated one person since,  my experience is very limited and any type of internet dating/hook-ups are not my thing.

Over the past year and a half, I'd gone to dinner with a few men and was saddened to find that, regardless of social status, income, and profession, there is alot of riff raff going on with middle aged men - that which I didn't care to be a part of.   Having watched my single friends go from one calamity to the next, especially the internet daters, was like opening up a sewer drain into your home and letting all the rats in.  Then you spend the next several years of your life trying to get rid of them.  But in spite of my strategic approach to live life doing what I love (my projects) and hoping that my soul-mate prince would simply show up, the only ones that hopped to my door were toads.


So one night I prayed, asking for a life partner with the character, life passions, and energy that matched mine, and  one who would stand in a crowd of a thousand women and say, "You!  You're the one!"   And... whom it wouldn't creep me out.  I don't remember ending the prayer, but I fell asleep with a hole in my heart that only a true soul mate could fill.  But the answer to that prayer came straight out of left field.

 I woke up the next morning to a voice (not audible) that said very clearly, "You and Scott Carberry would have a blast together!"  I argued back, "Scott Carberry?!?  The freckled kid who sat 'over there' in elementary and junior high school?!"  I was offended that that was all my angels had to offer.  After all, on fb Scott appeared to be a biker and I am petrified of motor cycles and not the chicken-liver you want on the back of your bike.  He lives in Arizona and I in Alabama.  "Not gonna happen!"  But the voice goaded me, "Look again!"  Rather than waste one more ounce of energy on another toad, I threw it back  to the universe and said, "If this is a divine answer, he would have to contact me!"   I went about my way and forgot about it.

Scott took this.  I creeped it off his fb page.  :)

Three days later, I opened  FB and there was the message - seen at the end of the last post - telling me I was beautiful.  I couldn't help being shocked at the coincidence of the timing and, at the advice of a friend, responded.  I also did something else I never do; I facebook creeped him!  And in no pictures was there a motorcycle!  But I did see a bald head and realized that the hats and bandannas are for his fair skin that is no match for the Arizona sun.  I saw some of his projects which mirrored my own interests, and the pictures he posted reflected my own passions and heart.  Who'da thunked it!

Another pic that I creeped from Scott's photos

Over the next few months, our friendship grew via phone, text and fb.   Scott shared his passions for travel, refurbishing projects, cooking, and getting more fit to embark on the second half of our lives.  Although we never mentioned a relationship or talked in any way that would seem like we were more than friends,  he often referred to us in a life-long context and for some reason, that felt very natural.  Our plan was that he would come and visit me during the Christmas holidays and we would tour my area on the Gulf Coast, then the Mississippi Coast, and spend a couple days in New Orleans.  Later I would go see Arizona.

I took this at the Greer's Christmas Party in 2014.

But simultaneous to us talking, he had injured his foot getting out of a pool and it became infected.  Being diabetic, it led to foot surgery and 45 days of  treatments.  I did the math and realized he would not be released to travel.  Scott counted the weekends as part of the 45 days but in reality it was  55 days - right through the holiday season.  He was determined right up to Christmas Eve, when the doctors would not okay him travel.

   He lives in the same general area as his family and when he wasn't spending time with them the week between Christmas and New year's, he was alone and often called at those times.  For me, the invitations offered early on had expired after I declined and the would-be hosts made alternative plans.  So, being that my children were in New York, I spent the holiday season alone - hence my post, "How to Spend Christmas Alone and Not Have it Suck."  But this was the turning point in Scott and my journey together.

The Waiting Place Post #58

 

  Growing up, Dr. Seuss books were my favorite and, as an adult, "Oh, The Places You'll Go" captures my heart.  Perhaps it is because it's a short synopsis on the seasons of life and the writer does a great job reminding the reader that each one - good or bad - is just that...a season.  Once again, I find myself resonating with the writing style of the book as it relates to this particular time of my life.  The waiting place.


           "For people just waiting.
             Waiting for a train to go
             Or a bus to come, or a plane to go
             Or the mail to come, or the rain to go
             Or the phone to ring or the snow to snow
             Waiting around for a yes or no
             Or waiting for their hair to grow.
             Everyone is just waiting
             Waiting for the fish to bite
             Or waiting for wind to fly a kite
            Or waiting around for Friday night
             Or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
             Or a pot to boil, or a better break
             Or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
             Or a wig with curls, or another chance.
             Everyone is just waiting...."

       We all find ourselves in that place from time-to-time, waiting for an answer to a job interview, or a baby to be born, a wedding, a special event, or perhaps waiting for someone to get ready to get out the door, or for a doctor who places  no value on our time.   But there is another waiting place; one where very few lucky people never have to experience but for those who do, their lives are catapulted into a different dimension where they hang in automated suspension just waiting.  And wondering....

It is a place where a loved one is experiencing a life threatening illness or injury and revolves around ICU units and hospital waiting rooms and can often drag on for weeks or months in a perpetual cycle of bargaining, shock, anger, denial, and grief, not necessarily in that order. That is where myself and other loved ones of my boyfriend Scott have been for the past month or so when he came down with a bad case of pneumonia as a side effect from antibiotics and this led to a whole other slew of illnesses, infections , and blood clots on the lung; some of which are side effects of treatments and hospital induced.  But regardless of how it happened, his life now hangs in the balance and in the agony of waiting, everyday I wish I could turn the pages forward to the back of  'our' book to see how this crisis ends.   Yet I'm not so sure I can handle the answer and I see the divine wisdom in the concept of time and the order of which things are revealed to us.

So, rather than cheating time and frantically flipping the pages ahead, I find them gently blowing backwards as the memories play out like a movie in my mind all the way back to the beginning.

Well....almost the beginning...

Facebook - September 2014 : Out of the blue - from the freckled kid who 'sat over there'. in elementary and junior high school.  

 "Wow! You are an amazing beautiful woman in your profile pictures.  I think I'm going to have to start calling you Ms. Bella.  :)  means beautiful in Italian."

How to Spend Christmas Alone and Not Have It Suck: Post #57

            For a variety of reasons – some beyond human control and partly by choice – I found myself spending Christmas alone, something that is beyond comprehension to most, even me until it happened.  In an odd way I have passed a major cultural and psychological test; spending Christmas alone and actually enjoying it.  My kids are in New York with their dad for the holiday, part of our agreement in order for me to move south.  In the few days before, it dawned on me that the options offered early on had expired as people made other arrangements when my original plans were still in place.  There were moments of worry, fret, and disappointment.  After all, if it is my fate to spend Christmas alone, shouldn’t I have a complete meltdown into depression and despair that will take months to recover from?  Some would say, “Yes!  Definitely!”  But that is only because our culture tells us we are supposed to.  I had contemplated going across the bay to the Grand Hotel for a couple of days but in the end decided that, perhaps being alone was just what I needed.  On Christmas Eve night, as I pulled the covers up to my neck, I made a choice that basically melted me into a cocoon of peace and a sound, cozy sleep.  Tomorrow is going to be a great day!

           

On Christmas morning, I woke up with the same eagerness of a kid waiting to see what Santa left under the tree.  I put on what was left of my coffee, showered, did my make-up and hair, and dressed up for the occasion of spending the day alone.   As I put what was also the last teaspoon of cream in my coffee, it was evident that, on this special morning, my extended coffee time was not going to happen because I ran out. However, I took what I had to the living room to enjoy by the tree.  But something was missing besides my three children and the special people that I love – a fate I had already accepted.  Santa had obviously failed to show.  Perhaps I made the naughty list or something.  But then I remembered, “Oh yeah!  I am Santa!” at which point I promptly placed the gifts I had given myself, a set of cologne and a gold bag, on the ottoman by the tree so I could stare at it.  And as I enjoyed my sparse cup of coffee, I thanked God for three healthy kids, and that all those who I love are safe and sound, even if they are not with me.  Barring a loss or life-altering injury over the previous year, Christmas alone doesn’t have to suck!   The lessons of 2004 – my year from hell - had taught me well; if no one is dying, dead, or brain injured, or going through a divorce – and losing church friends because of it, we are doing real well.  And so on this Christmas day, I am just fine!

            For those who have ever wondered what to do if you find yourself alone on Christmas, I have devised my very own self-help list for you.

Mary Beth’s ‘How to Spend Christmas Alone and Not Have It Suck’ List

1.      For the love of God, PLAN!  Don’t wake up on Christmas with a limited amount of coffee and cream in the house.  Or whatever that first food or drink that sets your day on the right foot; especially when you’re spending it alone!                                                                                                                                 

  2.      Get dressed; fix yourself up as though you are expecting company.  You never know, you may get it and you don’t want to look like something that cat dragged home!

3.      If you are not a selfie picture taker, take a selfie or two.  If you are, take a break from yourself.  I took about my second selfie ever on Christmas morning.  My first was a disaster, intended to send to a friend to prove I was getting ready to get out the door. I immediately deleted it as it was supposed to be of my wet head after stepping out of the shower. But let’s just say, if you are not experienced at taking selfies, just remember, the camera sees whatever you would see from various angles.  Until today, that was a once and done deal.

4.      Display your gifts by the tree.  Then sit there with your coffee or morning beverage of choice and stare at them.


5.      Do your Christmas cards.  I found there was time to think about who the recipient was and write personal messages.  Without the pressures of everyday life I was able to avoid the traditional ‘wham-bam-thank-you-mam’ approach to writing out cards.

I was shocked at the number of people at the car wash.  

6.      Assess your environment.  Scope the hood for potential break-ins.  Know what’s open and what your options are.



7.  Don’t go anyplace on Christmas that you wouldn’t any other day – unless it is a treat.  Driving by Waffle House, I was surprised at how crowded it was and I wanted to find out, “Who on earth would be there for Christmas?”  I found myself turning into the parking lot, only to veer sharply back into the lane when I realized, “I wouldn’t choose to eat there alone if it wasn’t Christmas!  Why subject myself to that today?”

8.      Don’t stop at the first open gas station you see for coffee and cream because, chances are, they don’t sell either!   And don’t settle for ice cream if they don’t have cream.  There IS someplace else open that has it!  

9.        If you did buy ice cream because there was no half and half,  put it in your gas station coffee.  It’s the only way you’ll be able to drink it.

10.      Grab some wine – or not.  I opted not.  But it is a personal choice of whatever will make your day alone on Christmas more special to you.

11.      For God’s sake, get your head out of your Christmas butt and listen to the store clerk when she gives you the total.  ‘Did I really just pay $9.78 for gas station coffee and a half pint of ice cream?’

12.  Promptly throw ice cream gas station coffee away after about the fifth drink when you realize that 'ain’t nothin gonna help that coffee!'

13.  Throw away bad beans.   Nobody needs bad beans!  Especially when you’re alone on Christmas.

14.  Swing on your porch swing.  You have time!

15.  Spy on your neighbors.  We all know that anyone with a life or any regard for the privacy of others has no time to spy on their damn neighbors.  But on Christmas day, when you are all by yourself and nobody is watching, you do have time!  Because, let’s face it!  Today, you don’t have a life!  And 90% of them aren’t home anyway so… spy away!

    16.  Throw out dead flowers.  Out with the old and dead, in with new life.  It’s almost New Years and a new year!

.

As you can see, there is really no magical list that will miraculously get you through a solo Christmas.  Even the mundane things of life can keep us amused if we so choose.  It is a choice made ahead of time that, no matter what; it’s going to be a good day!  It is taking a moment to be thankful for the things that seem so mundane but, when our lives are suddenly catapulted into a crisis, we wish for nothing but the mundane.  It is gratitude for what is and faith in what may be.  It is choosing to be hopeful, reflective, nostalgic, and all those things that make the holiday season wonderful, whether or not you are spending it alone.

Happy Holidays!  

Monotone Me Post # 56

                One day a southern girlfriend called to say there was something bothering her and she decided to just ask me out right.  I couldn't imagine what it was and was concerned about what was about to be said.  When she shared her feelings, I was both relieved and perplexed.  Something I had worked so hard to squelch has now backfired.  Basically, she said something like this:

 “Mary Beth, when I share something really exciting with you, you have no reaction!  You just simply say, ‘Okay!’ or ‘Great!’ but there is no emotion in your voice or expression on your face!  I was talking with some other people and they noticed it too.  We can never tell what you’re thinking.  Are you happy for me when I tell you something good?  When you tell me something that you’re upset about, you show no emotion and I can’t tell if you’re really upset or just commenting on it.  And the same when you’re happy!  Your voice is so monotone and your face shows no expression!  We don’t know how to read you!  Is it a New York thing?”

I love the ‘New York thing’.   It would have been a really convenient ‘out’.  But my Yankee friends are anything but flat-spoken – most are Italian and there is never a monotone moment with an Italian.   Being the joker I am, I had contemplated telling her that I had Botox - or whatever those shots are that freeze your face - and that my face was just too frozen to make an expression, but wisely chose not to lest, giving birth to a new rumor. 

When I was young
It seemed that life was so wonderful
A miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical
And all the birds in the trees
Well they'd be singing so happily
Joyfully, playfully watching me

Supertramp - The Logical Song Lyrics | MetroLyrics

As a child, my role in the family was perhaps the drama queen.   Always an adventurer, I wore my emotions on my sleeves and the inflections in my voice when telling a story were swept up and down with the present feelings.  I talked fast and used lots of hand motions, arm movements, and perhaps a little bit of theatrical arts to get my point across.

                But then I went to college where learning to get my point across objectively and - as a psychology student - being shock proof, was crucial for success.  We were told, “Nothing will shut a patient/client down faster than a strong reaction to something they share with you in the counseling room.  Therefore, it is imperative to be shock-proof regardless of your own feelings and emotions.“   Poker face, I believe, is what they would call it these days.  For my internship co-leading group therapy, my fellow therapist and I were evaluated and filmed through a two-way mirror and after the sessions two times a week, we sat with a psychiatrist and an MSW to process our own reactions during the session.  They would pull up moments in the film to show us ourselves and then we’d discuss what was going on in our minds.  The point was to develop self-awareness of our own body language and how it may affect our patients.

But then they sent me away
To teach me how to be sensible
Logical, responsible, practical
And then they showed me a world
Where I could be so dependable
Clinical, intellectual, cynical

Read more: Supertramp - The Logical Song Lyrics | MetroLyrics

            So, shock-proof, or poker-face is what I became.  Just like my daughter, an aspiring theatre student, who is studying and striving to put more inflection into her voice and to learn to use it according to the situation, I had striven to get the inflection out of my voice, regardless of the situation.  After years of studying and practice, both in professional and in real life settings, I must have done a great job at it, hence the phone call from my southern friend.  Over the years since then, being in the south has brought back the parts of me that have long-since been buried.  My sense of wonder about the world, the magic, and excitement of waking up wondering what each new day held in store may well put a little inflection back into my personality.

          

My shy sister - who is no longer shy!

  I remember when my shy sister moved south about thirty years ago and suddenly she used more inflection in her voice and, like a good southern woman, can hold her own in a conversation.  Recently, at Thanksgiving, she joked about putting the high strung, dramatic baby sister (me)  next to the rebellious teenager (her thirty year old daughter) and it was then that I realized how long we had been apart and how quickly we get tossed back into our childhood roles when we get together with family.

            Regardless of my Mr. Spock-like demeanor, I do have emotions;  like the peace that sweeps over me when I see the moon rising over the bay, and coziness that envelops me while sitting on my porch swing covered by Live Oaks. 

And I feel pure bliss when I smell the ocean breeze and feel the sand between my toes, and my spirit soars when I hear Celtic music and American Indian wind instruments, and I  may feel a little sassy when I hear southern jazz – New Orleans style, and happiness when the phone rings from those I love.   I may never have the voice inflection that will give my southern girlfriends the cue that I am engaged in what they are saying.  But I certainly am present and am forever amused at those who can and do converse like they are the star of their current life drama and, as long as that drama doesn't spill over into my life, I will certainly walk through it with them.

Jubilee! Post # 55

                It was February of 2008 and I still lived in NYS but had known for the previous four years that I was Alabama-bound.  After realizing that Alabama also lies on the Gulf of Mexico, my lifestyle research about Birmingham was refocused to the coastal towns and cities.  I began calling yacht clubs and bed and breakfasts to get information about life in Southern, Coastal Alabama.

                Calling a B&B in Fairhope, the owner was eager to share his love of this area, particularly Daphne and Fairhope.  He, too, had lived in Upstate New York in the Niagara Falls area and had moved south thirteen years before.  When I asked if the move really made the difference he had hoped in his well-being and outlook in life, he said, “Oh!  Mary Beth, Fairhope is magic!  And so is Daphne!  This whole side of the bay is magic!”   That stuck with me, though I didn’t know how much until I have been able to experience it myself over the years.  I have since moved to Mobile which is on the opposite side of the bay and has magic of its own.   Being that it’s only a 10 – 25 minute drive, depending on where one is going, I ‘cross over’ often, particularly when touring out-of-town guests, or simply when I find myself in need of the captivating beauty that puts me into a dreamlike, happy frame of mind.

                One of the magical things about Daphne is Jubilee, an anomaly that happens in only two places on the planet:  Japan, and Mobile Bay.  

 Daphne prides themselves nationally as being the town of Jubilee.  That is when the bay does something weird, like flips upside down, forcing all the oxygen to the top of the water, thus all the sea life also comes to the top for air.  This means easy catch!  Daphne, which is a few miles up the bay from Fairhope, where one must drive through to get from Mobile to Fairhope, has a jubilee bell.  The natives know that Jubilee happens at certain times of the year and many arm themselves (and their cars) with buckets, nets, ice chests, flash lights, rain boots, and anything else they may need for the occasion.  When the bell goes off, people stop what they are doing and run to the bay to scoop up their seafood dinners, which include crabs, oysters, shrimp, and all kinds of fish.  The newspapers are called and the media is fast on the spot to announce to the world that there is a jubilee going on in Daphne.  That’s what brings the Mobilians over to grab their share.  And now with facebook and twitter, it’s just a matter of seconds before word is out and the seafood frenzy is on. Employees will leave work, and businesses that are not dependent on walk-in customers – will close their doors for a couple of hours while workers dash down to the bay to snag up their catch. 

               

                I imagine dinner tables those evenings are lush with delightful treats, ranging from fried soft-shelled crabs, crab cakes, grilled oysters, and Cajun shrimp, and neighbors are sharing grilled feasts straight out of the bay.  Wine is flowing and people of all ages and walks of life are bubbling with merriment.  A charmed life, it is.  It is magical, whimsical and I imagine that in struggling households, it is like a celebratory feast.  It gives me a much better understanding of the biblical stories about jubilee.  But apparently, it doesn’t just happen in Daphne.  Fairhope boasts of it too, but not so loudly.  And across the bay, let’s hone in on the Buccaneer yacht club in Mobile and hear what they have to say about jubilee.  

One of my favorite, no nonsense Alabamians, Jimmy Wacker, says it like this.  “We get jubilee over on this side of the bay too!  It’s just that we’re not dumb enough to ring a bell and call the news media and tell everybody!  We keep it for those who live and work here!”   And with all the sports fishermen and the families who thrive on the seafood lifestyle, I’m certain that the same jubilation happens with the celebratory dinners in Mobile, just a little less show casing.

                 It seems to happen at different times to each area.  Whether it is shouted to the world, or kept a secret, it is just one more reason why Fairhope (and Daphne) are so enchanting.  And apparently, Mobile is too!  But good luck finding out when it happens until long after the fact!   It’s not uncommon to hear a Coastal Bay Mobilian say, “Oh yeah!  We had a Jubilee a couple weeks ago!”  

http://www.fieldandstream.com/answers/fishing/bass-fishing/where-fish-bass/has-anyone-ever-experienced-jubilee-or-even-heard-it-it

The Coffins Are Loose Post # 54

 “Only in New Orleans”.   Every place has those things that only happen there and, to the rest of the country, seem so foreign that some would wonder if it was fact or fiction.  Living on the Gulf Coast in the Deep South – snuggled in between Pensacola, Florida, Gulf Port, Mississippi, and on to New Orleans – Mobile has its own plethora of ‘believe it or not’ incidents.  These are occurrences that happen more than once and will likely happen again.  And these will be the focus of some of my next few posts.  But in this one, let’s go visit our western neighbors over in New Orleans.

I woke up one morning to a text from my sister in Oklahoma City that said, “Turn on the news and look what’s happening to your neighbors over in New Orlean!”.  Not having TV or internet, I had to wait till I got to work to discover what she was talking about.  On Yahoo news was the story of flooding over there and coffins coming out of the ground and floating down the street; something that has happened before and will happen again.  A co-worker came through the room and, seeing several of us huddling around the computer watching the news clips, she happily exclaimed, “Oh!  The coffins are loose again!”  And then she continued on as though it was just another day in the Deep South – which is exactly what is was!

My first thought was, “Only in New Orleans!”  But I was not referring to the flooding that happens occasionally.  Or the fact that the city lies in a bowl and is a sitting duck for storm surges.  My thought lied in the fact that in New Orleans, they really know how to turn any occasion into a grandiose affair.   A street car driver told us if a native New Orleanean catches a cold or flu, that’s cause for a party and many have been thrown for that reason.  Aside from their well-known Mardi-Gras celebrations, there are the jazz weddings and jazz funerals in which people parade the streets, and St. Patrick’s Day parades that they throw – yes throw – heads of cabbage and bags of potatoes and carrots to the crowds.  So much in fact, that nearly everyone who attends goes home with the ingredients for dinner in hand, but I often wonder, ‘How many people floating in those caskets died from getting hit by a cabbage, a bag or potatoes, or a bag of carrots on St. Patricks day?’  Then there are the many street musicians, all of which make every day feel like vacation and it is what gives New Orleans that slow moving ambiance that rendered the name ‘The Big Easy”.

Living in Mobile, often called ‘New Orleans Lite’, has rubbed off on me and I have learned the art of living well, right, and freely.  Then I think of dead people, particularly the northern dead, laying up there freezing their dead asses off in their graves during the caustic, bitterness of winter.  My mind shifts to the southern dead, sweating the pants off in their southern caskets and it is a toss-up deciding which I want to ultimately end up being.  But then I think of the New Orleans dead – particularly those who get to make a reappearance and float around in their caskets while the rest of the world is in chaos.  I mean think about it - and I can say this because my mom is dead but she had a great sense of humor.  You are sitting at the dinner table with the fam when suddenly you hear a crash at the door.  Your kid runs to look out the window and says, “Hey Mom!  Grandma’s back!”  Or another scenario:  “OMG!  Somebody go out there and catch Mom and Charlie before they end up in Lake Ponchartrain!” 

Now, I know this post is morbid and many with dead loved ones would not see the humor in this but think about it!  We spend our childhood thinking about what we want to do when we grow up.  We spend our adulthood thinking about what we want to do with our retirement.  We spend retirement thinking about our care should we need it when we are old.  But when was the last time you thought about what you want to do when you die?  And don’t give me the big, “I don’t care I’m going to heaven speech!”  or the more glorified version,  “I’m going to be dancing in glory before the Lord!”  Hell!  I know that!  But what does your body want to do when it dies?  And now that I know there is a choice, I know for damn skippy, if I  have the option to escape and float around during storms, I choose that!  Yes!  My body chooses the floating option; a more relaxed version of death.    And my downline of people – kids, grandchildren, and so forth, will always have to mind themselves and make the right decisions in life because they will never know when Grandma will come crashing at the door!

Celebration of Summer Solstice Post #53

A day early - I have no internet at home so I can enjoy things like this!

Hello again, my sweet summer solstice,
our meeting place of celebration
The sun rises early, painting the skies in pink
And the birds wake me with their melodies
Singing sweet lullibies of days long past

The Live Oaks drape my world as though framing a precious memory
And the warm breeze carries the scent of Gardenias and sweet olives,
Lulling me into daydreams of secret gardens with wrought iron gates;
Each leading into different seasons of life.

I once heard,  "Important encounters are planned by the souls long before the bodies meet."  (Paulo Coelho, Eleven Minutes)
In the depths of my secret garden I remember….
And the beauty of summer solstice once again fills me with peace

Basking in the wedge between spring and summer
Enveloped in the warmth of the farthest place from winter
Seasons come and Seasons go, each carrying it's own theme;
Perhaps the lessons our souls are summons to learn.

And as one season melts into the next,
and the moon lays its head to say good night to you,
My sweet friend,
I will always be thankful when remembering the soul of summer solstice

Who, after embracing me in the folds of summer,
Relinquished me like a butterfly
to find my own path through this magical journey called life.

Farewell my friend,
Come summer, fall, winter and spring,
and then we will meet again.

Come Sail Away Post #52

            Come Sail Away” by Styx, I guess you can say, is the theme song for my life. Several months ago, I was cooking dinner when my kids were in the next room talking and I heard Shanon say, “You should hear Mom sing Come Sail Away!”  To which they said, “I love when she sings that!”  Though I’m not much of a singer, I’m certain what they love is my heart and passion when it comes on.

I'm sailing away,
Set an open course for the virgin sea,
'Cause I've got to be free,
Free to face the life that's ahead of me,
On board, I'm the captain, so climb aboard,
We'll search for tomorrow on every shore,
And I'll try, Oh Lord I'll try, to carry on

               

As a child I was the adventurer of the family and on hikes, my sister Kare and I always led the pack anxious to see what was around the next bend.  Many times, while walking somewhere I would notice a path and veer off to find out where it went; probably not the smartest thing to do but I couldn’t stand not knowing.  In 2007 I began studying the mind, body and spirit connection and started looking at things from the ‘energy’ perspective.  Everything either feeds or bleeds, and some things that initially feed will ultimately bleed if we linger too long. 

I look to the sea,
Reflections in the waves spark my memory,
Some happy, some sad,
I think of childhood friends and the dreams we had,
We lived happily forever, so the story goes,
But somehow we missed out on the pot of gold
But we'll try best that we can to carry on

            Since childhood, I often stop to look back and reflect;    “Where have I been, where am I at, and where am I going?”   Failure has been my companion more times than  necessary, and there were ‘happily ever after’s’ that never happened.  Being more than half way through life, every so often I ask myself, "How do I get to where I want to go?" At times I have questioned God, myself, and my alleged Guardian Angels and even contemplated kicking some Angel butt and telling them they were nothing but a bunch of dumb asses.   But again I would find myself praying…to God,  the universe, and even to my Guardian Angels,  seeking direction and asking  for wisdom.

A gathering of angels appeared above my head,
They sang to me this song of hope and this is what they said,
They said come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me lads,
Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me,
Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me baby,
Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me

               

And one day, the answer came and it is quite simple; the ‘power of next’.   Who is standing next to you?  Who are you investing your energy – time and resources - in?    Until then I thought that most people had been a positive experience.  But it was as though I was being probed further.   How long have I hung on to relationships that have outlived the purpose of our lives intersecting?  Who has been let in that shouldn’t have?   Who did I keep out that should have been let in?   I thought back to my college years;  a boss saw leadership qualities and begged me to stay with the company and let her mentor me into a management position but I didn’t have the confidence and moved on;  the young men who stepped forward and offered their friendship and love, the same men who actually turned out to be great people.   

But there were times when opportunity knocked on my door and I brought the wrong people along because I could see the potential in them, while at the same time, pushing my own horizon further away.  

       My eyes were opened to well-meaning people who come along and, rather than walking with us thru overcoming our fears and failures, they help us repackage it so that it looks prettier, more palatable and convenient to them.  Yet we find ourselves eventually doing nothing more than the hokey pokey but to a different song.  

       There were times I was too shy to step forward with what I had to bring to the table when I spotted people with shared passion, goals and energy, only to find out years later that they had identified the same in me but the message I gave was that of disinterest and it discouraged them from stepping out.

But one thing I will never stop doing is ‘sailing’.   I will continue to ‘Face the life that’s ahead of me’ and ‘search for tomorrow on every shore’.    I’m more conscious of who is allowed into my life and will be quick to part ways with those whose shared path is only meant for a short part of the journey – as hard and painful as this can be.  I’m committed to walking with those I love, through their fears and pain rather than repackaging it for my own convenience.   I will travel and explore the world and all life has to offer as I can.  But most of all, I will step forward – both in friendship and love – and accept the risks and potential pain that may come with that because one thing I have never stopped believing in is ‘happily ever after’.

Mardi-Balling Post #51

Mystic Stripers Queen

            Since moving to Mobile in 2008, I have done anywhere from three to eight balls per year during the 4 week season.   Working from home  my first five years here afforded me the option of sleeping in on the following mornings.  Last year, I started a fulltime job outside the home in late January, right at the start of the carnival season.  At the same time, I had the flu and eight ball invitations at hand.  Adjusting to a corporate schedule for the first time in 10 years, by the time the balls rolled around, I was already exhausted and didn’t want to mess up things at work so it was imperative to come up with a new approach to ‘Mardiballing’.

            The key thing to know is that maneuvering through whole season means balancing the parades, balls, and peripheral activities such as brunches, lunches, receptions and dinners during that time with real life.   I learned the art of doing the ‘doll and dash’;  doll up, dash to the ball, watch the callouts (tableau), have a bite to eat and a drink, greet the host, perhaps a dance or two, and dash back out the door between 10:30 – 11:30.  I’ve become quite proficient at being home in bed by the pumpkin hour.

Order of Persephone - Emblem

  Talking to others in the same situation, they would do things differently –  either come for the long haul and deal with the repercussions in the morning, or to skip the tableau and show up to eat and drink, enjoying the latter half.  But contrary to most Mobilians - who were born and raised here - the one part I wouldn’t miss is the tableau (call-outs) and there are a few reasons for that.  First it is what the society members live for all year; to parade and their ball tableau.  It is their time of recognition, as silly and funny as it can be.  In my own opinion, making that part of the ball shows appreciation and respect for the host who invited me – though having 20 plus balls per season (as many do) could very well change my mind on that. 

Order of Persephone - Queen

But the main reason I love the tableaus is, because after six years of living here, I still haven’t gotten over the fact that this even goes on; that there are forty plus balls per season and each entail hundreds of people in brand new costumes, a king and/or queen with robes that start at around $10,000 and can go up to six figures – from what I’ve been told.  I still can’t believe that everyday people are willing to dress in silly costumes, parade around the city, spend hundreds of dollars out of their own pockets to throw beads, toys, moon pies and other goodies to crowds that can be 50,000 to about 120,000 when the season is in full swing.  And then after that, they host their balls and are introduced on the stage as they bow to the king/queen and dance down the stairs in the spotlight.  I mean, seriously!  You would never see such a thing where I came from and anyone who even thought of it would be considered a fool.

Venus Queen & Court - Pre-robe.

Yet, here’s literally thousands who do just that, and then tens-of-thousands more who show up to watch the stuff and celebrate.  All those years back, while shoveling snow and holding my breath while running from the car to the house to keep my lungs from freezing, never in my wildest dreams would I believe that there was a place that actually did this even one time, let alone over and over for a period of four weeks every year.

But now that I know this, there is no turning back.  No matter how tired I get, how many times I find myself in tears when I remember that I have a ball that night and I’m already exhausted, I will still muster up the energy to go, if only for the call outs.  There is something extremely empowering about going to parades and balls when the news and my northern Facebook friends are sharing their struggles with the horrible winters.  It is almost a feeling of cheating death.  Perhaps I have the fear of forgetting the suffocating feeling that I constantly felt while living in that weather, and the immense amounts of time that were spent managing the snow; time that is now spent on parades, balls, and all of the other festivities.  For me, Mardi Gras is a way of celebrating freedom and my own escape from my ex, whose name is ‘Old Man Winter’.