Tag: Change

A Fragile Keepsake

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Family10 Comments

In every conceivable manner, the family is a link to our past, a bridge to our future ~Alex Haley

When I graduated from college thirty years ago in May, my mother presented me with a family heirloom. The opal ring-set in twenty karat gold- was given to her by her mother, who in turn, received from her mother. I became the fourth generation to wear this precious piece.

The ring, for me, is a vehicle for family stories-most especially about my late great-grandmother who received the gift from her husband. She was a native of Genoa,Italy ( a red head no less!) who married a Siscilian and then came to America.  She bore 16 children (two of whom died in World War II) and had two kitchens in her home.  The second was in the third floor attic where she prepared her ravioli and other delectable treats. My mother remembered Sunday dinners at her grandparents house where her grandfather commanded the head of the table and her grandmother stayed in the kitchen waiting for him to order his next course. He would often say, “Old lady get me this.. old lady get me that…”, according to my mother. In fact, my mother told me that her grandmother’s dresses often had black grease marks on the back from leaning against the stove!  She had no memory of her grandmother ever sitting down to eat with the family. So, I guess somewhere along the way he must have expressed his appreciation for her dedication and gave her the ring.

I don’t know when my grandmother received the ring; perhaps it was given to her when her mother died. She was definitely the favored child of  her father so I can only assume that is how she came to have it given the numbers of sisters she had. My grandmother was a feisty, sometimes ill-tempered woman who often got her way. She enjoyed her whiskey and loved to gamble.  In fact, it was during a card game that the ring met its current physical state. My grandmother was having a bad night and was dealt a particularly poor hand. In her frustration, she slammed her hand down, palm side up, chipping a corner of the opal stone. The stone-fragile in nature- could not be reset for risk of shattering it completely.

I believe that my mother was given the ring when she graduated from high school. Or maybe when she married my father; I am not sure. She did not wear it as often as she would have liked for fear of losing the stone.  When it became my turn to have it, I too, wore it sporadically for a while. But then, in my mid-twenties I started wearing it daily. I had heard that the oils from your skin kept the ring from drying out and breaking apart. It was then that the ring story took an unusual turn. One night I took it off so I could exercise before leaving for a vacation with my boyfriend and friends. It was a busy time, packing etc. and in my rush I misplaced the ring. I looked all over my apartment but could not find it. I was quite distraught; so much so that I never told my mother.

Fast forward to a year later. I am on my honeymoon in the British Virgin Islands. We arrive at our seaside cottage and begin unpacking. As I take out the last of the items from my very large suitcase, I hear the sound of something rolling across the floor. It was the ring! Apparently it had been stuck in a corner of the suitcase the entire time. From then on, I wore the ring quite regularly and when I didn’t I was careful to place it so as not to lose it again. I don’t think that I ever told my mother about losing it. I wish that I did; she would have gotten a kick out of that story for sure.

For a lot of my married life, I wore the ring on my right hand. When my marriage was going south, I took off my wedding bands more regularly and place the opal there instead.  Then I stopped wearing my bands completely and put the ring back on my right hand. I suppose this was a way for me to physically accept my single state. When I became seriously involved with my fiance’, I put the ring back on my left ring finger. It was a perfect way to prevent men from pursuing me and a way for me to show my committment to my new relationship.  When I became engaged, the ring was once again resting on my right ring finger.

Today the ring sits on my dresser. Last month, I noticed a new piece had broken off making the already precarious setting even looser. I am quite afraid that it will come off altogether. My hope is that I can find a way to preserve it without shattering the rest of the stone. It is very important to me that I pass it on to a future granddaughter. I want to share the stories of not only the ring but of the women who wore it.

Seismic Shifts and Cosmic Changes

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent Woman4 Comments

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“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.”
― Lao Tzu

Sometimes I am often in awe of the changes that have happened in my life in the past six years. The tumult, turmoil and triumph have been terrifying and tremendous transitions. But why be reflective of the changes? Why not be consciously aware of the transformations as we move forward in our lives?

When changes are traumatic and dramatic, it is difficult to embrace the idea that your life will be different. And in reality, when hard times knock on your door, you just want to get them over with!  The good news is that major life changes-whether good or bad- don’t happen everyday-thank goodness!

Change happens constantly and most of the time we don’t notice it because it is so subtle.  Perhaps this is one of the reasons I love to run so much. My early morning routine has allowed me to notice even the smallest of things. Winter running tests your dedication-it is mostly dark and very cold and often icy. But if you move through the short period of blackness, you begin to notice the shift from dark to dawn.  One of my favorite times is when both the sun and moon hang opposite of each other in the sky.   For me, it is a sign that living a life of balance can help provide awareness of  the beauty of each day. I also think that I have greater tenacity when my ying and yang can hang together nicely.

Back in October, I wrote about transitions and the conflict  (within ourselves and between loved ones) that can sometimes arise during these times. I wonder, though, if the conflict comes about because of either a lack of communication or because of  a lack of being cognizant of the changes taking place in our lives?  Or does it show up because we don’t always control the change? Or is it all three?

I am blessed with deep friendships and loving family connections and it is through these relationships that I have come to understand that all of us are undergoing realignments in our lives.  And let’s just throw out the old cliche’ of  “mid-life crisis” as THE major life change while we are at it. My soul sister is journeying through a small multitude of refinements in her life that include navigating through her daughter’s teenage years, seeing her oldest off to college, pondering a possible change in her long time nursing career and- most recently- preparing to say goodbye to the family’s beloved dog. A long time friend and her family (who lived here all of their lives) just moved two cities away. The move is no doubt a positive moment in their life. She finally feels at home. But it is also strange. She said to me: “For so long I turned left; now I have to turn right.”

Sometimes it is hard to watch our own parents make changes in their lives as well. I had a wonderful conversation with my seventy-seven year old father this morning. It was enlightening to listen to him as he related some of the shifts he is making in his own life. I think for some of us (including myself) it is hard to imagine that our older parents would develop new relationships or lessen their involvement in life-long interests in order to pursue new things. We want them to stay the same because that is all we have known our whole life.

I suppose the same holds true for my sons. I will be getting married and moving away within the next two years. For them, mom has been the sturdy rock in their lives. This house is their “base camp.” So it is a little freaky that I will not be here most of the time! But we are working our way through this change together.  The timing is good for their ages.  It helps that they live more in the real adult world where they can practice independence.  And the goals that  they have are ones that will have them feeling safe and secure upon my departure. I have seen my sons mature more in the last six months than I have in a long while.  This is a good sign.

As for me, I am both anxious and excited during this time. It will not be easy to leave an area that I have known all my life- a place where I have embedded community connections and relationships. But a huge part of my life is now elsewhere awaiting its next phase. I am ready to embrace it!  In the meantime, I can honestly say that I am enjoying the journey to my next destination thanks to the loving support of my fiance’,  my family and  my friends.

Unplugged

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Technology5 Comments

It is only when we silent the blaring sounds of our daily existence that we can finally hear the whispers of truth that life reveals to us, as it stands knocking on the doorsteps of our hearts.  – K.T. Jong

Yesterday I enjoyed a late lunch with my sweet love and another couple at a restaurant that had a strict no cell phone policy. (They also had a child behavior policy, which, in my opinion, was both honest and bold-good for them!) It was the first time that I had seen one specifically spelled out in a place of social interaction. Often, if I attend a meeting, concert, or lecture, an announcement is made regarding electronic device use.  More often, the request is rudely ignored. But not here! The lunch was delicious, the conversation deep and humorous and the only background “noise” was the appealing beat of Cajun music that befit the restaurant’s cuisine.

Up to that moment, I had (coincidentally) been pondering our culture’s “digital addiction” and its effects on our overall ability to communicate, concentrate and socialize with one another without the nearly constant interruption of a ringing cell or a buzzing text message.

Believe me, I am not against any of the newer ways that we can talk, gather information and stay connected to one another. Without advances in technology, I would not be writing this blog!  Moreover, I like my cell phone. It is not a “smartphone”, however; texting and talking are enough for me! I remember when I first got one. I was 42 and had received it as a birthday present. I wanted it for emergencies only. It was the post 911 and lock down era and I thought a phone was necessary. In truth, I was lucky to have it because I got a flat tire on the way home from work just two days later!  One call to AAA and the problem was solved quickly.

I also like the Internet for various reasons. Besides listening to NPR on the radio, it is the only way that I receive world, national and local news. I love reading the newspapers but I do not have it in my budget to pay for delivery. And, for me, most television news has seriously strayed from true journalism and factual reporting. Now, it is nothing but sound bite and crash and burn nonsense interrupted every three minutes by five minutes of advertising.  I enjoy having access to different sites where and when I am ready to read the news of the day without feeling that my intelligence is being insulted. I also love, love, love online banking and bill paying!  I am a better money manager as a result!

Email, of course, is a terrific tool as well. It helps me communicate efficiently with work colleagues and stay in touch with the  people who I socialize with in my hometown and through my volunteer work.

Still, there are inherent problems with staying “plugged in” day and night, seven days a week – now referred to as 24/7. Where do we draw the line?  For each email, text message or voice mail, there is almost an instant obligation and expectation of a response. Whatever happened to the dinner hour, bedtime, or weekends?  Think of the  oxymoron “working vacation”. WHAT? There is no such thing! If you are working, you are not on vacation!

CNN recently reported on “digital addiction” and the interviews provided an interesting insight as to how we function (or not) because of these advances. Reporter Brandon Griggs featured three “smart phone addicts” and how they use their device for nearly everything in their life. He stated that the phones are time capsules of our lives, dominating our work, our social  interactions, our purchases, our travels, our passions and our guilty pleasures. During the course of one week,  one woman reported that she sent 256 emails (part of it was work), 34 updates and comments on Facebook, 18 “likes”  and 93 “reads” of same. She also spent 9 hours of that week surfing the net. Additionally, she played games, checked her bank account and listened to audio books and voice messages. Another young  man reported that he was a “happy addict” but also stated that he could only go a few minutes without checking his text messages. He became anxious, depressed and even began to get sweaty palms if he forgot his phone at home. Without it, he says that he feels cut off from the world.

And never mind the physical health problems that doctors and physical therapists are seeing!  Doctors are now treating “Text Neck” (think of how you hold your head while looking at a screen) in increasing numbers-most especially in teenagers who now (along with 8-12 year olds) spend an average of 7 1/2 hours a day using entertainment media.

I do not consider myself in any way close to being addicted to my phone or the Internet. But it was this summer that I began to understand my need to break free of others’ expectations that I would  be available to answer emails,texts and phone calls regardless of where I was on this earth.  Having gone through a long divorce and an even longer post-divorce process, I was always in a state of digital alert for communication from either my attorney or my former husband.  I wanted and needed to break free from the unhealthy mind-set that had been dominating my existence for the last few years.

My summer vacation to the West Coast was definitely the impetus for this change.  I needed to free myself from the emotional responsibility for every possible scenario that might happen while I was away. So, I set up boundaries. Simply put: Don’t contact me unless it is an absolute emergency! I would not be checking emails, surfing the net, calling or texting.

Frankly, I had grown weary of the distracting factors that I felt were impeding the forward movement in my new life. I was just plain fed up with allowing another person’s agenda to interfere with my peace of mind. By making this decision, I was freeing myself of the idea that I was accountable for everyone else and their needs.

Now, I no longer have that sense of urgency that used to rule my life on a daily basis. I have learned that things have a way of taking care of themselves in their own way and in their own time. Becoming “unplugged” is liberating. Too many people in this world today spend their time looking down, their face basking in the glow of a screen.  We lose our perspective this way. ( Literally, people are not even watching where they are going! )

Unplug yourself so you can plug-in to see what’s in front of you, plug-in to see what’s above, plug-in to just BE.

Moving from “WE” to “I”

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent Woman2 Comments

There you go baby, here am I. You go your way baby and I’ll go mine.
Now and forever ’til the end of time.

It Doesn’t Matter Anymore~ Paul Anka

“When do you stop saying we?” my friend said to me late this summer while we were having dinner. She, like me, had been in a long term marriage with children-although she had been married for 30 years and had twice as many children as I. Essentially, she had spent half her life as one part of a unit.  She was expressing quite cogently what many of us no longer marrieds had felt at one time or another.

When at first your commitment dismantles, you feel a wide variety of emotions. The breaking apart of the “we” is at once nauseating, excruciating and outrageously surreal. Sometimes you get lost in the reverie of various scenes from your marriage that remind you that at one time you and this other person made a life together. Then, once you begin to accept that it is over, you move from loving the “we” to loving the idea of “we”.

I think that this is the part where many of us struggle the most because we live in a world of enforced coupledom. I remember the separation as a time of profound pain and grief. Yet, the first question people asked me was “Have you met someone yet?” Or, “Are you dating anyone?” I wanted to scream! As much as I knew that this person and I could no longer be together, I still longed for my family unit. Outwardly, it had the appearance of happiness and stability and success. So, no, I am not seeing anyone!

Then, of course, if you are not dating yet but your not quite ex-spouse is, you really feel like a loser. It is the ultimate in rejection once you find out that he or she has quickly moved on to another “we”.

But enough of that nonsense!  “We” can be vastly overrated. Especially when the “I” gets lost in the translation. I am absolutely certain that this happened to me over the course of my marriage. I came to believe (and still do) that as long as I was a mirror reflection of my spouse, then everything was fine. I could not ask or do anything for myself or even express myself. So, while the ending of my marriage was at first a failure to me, I began to understand that the best part of myself was about to be reborn.

In lots of ways, I had it easy. I had great a support network- girlfriends, family, my faith community, therapy. I had a terrific and rewarding job. I was in graduate school where I could hone my intellectual skills. It was in the latter that I realized once again how smart I was! Not only had I buried my emotional needs during the last part of my marriage, but I had stowed away all of my intelligence as well. My enthusiasm and energy in graduate school were legendary. I know that it was there that I began shedding the layers of the person I had become. My graduate friends were witnessing all of it and I hope that they found it enlightening and entertaining!

In other ways, though, it was quite lonely. The door had been shut on my old life. I could see the door of my new life at the other end.  But the journey back to myself was like a walk down a long, dark hallway. When graduate school was over, I spent a lot of time alone. My oldest was now in college and my youngest was spending more time with his father. Sunday afternoons were the worst. I had neither the means nor the wherewithal for the middle-aged (jeesh!) bar scene. Hey, I had had a very wild youth anyway. No need to go there again!

But being alone and at times even lonely is a good thing. You are forced to sit with yourself. The time you take to just be without the distractions of dating, drinking and drowning your sorrows in unhealthy choices is really a holy experience. I remember really figuring out what I wanted for the rest of my life AND what I didn’t want.

Then a wonderful man arrived in my life via my late mother. When we first met, I was not sure that I wanted to be in any relationship. When we corresponded and talked on the phone, I still wasn’t sure. I did like him, though. When he visited me for the first time, we spent 11 hours together talking about everything. Then I gave him my “take it or leave it” speech. He called four days later and asked if he could see me again, stating that it was the most honest conversation that he ever had with a woman. I was hooked!

So here “we” are and here “I” am too. Though we live far from each other, we both agree that we like it this way (well,mostly! ) for the time being. I like my space. I like recreating my own life here. But I also like knowing that we are both equally committed to the relationship. I am still amazed and astounded by the level of loving respect, encouragement and support that I receive from him. For me, this is the essence of intimacy. We both get to be “we” and “I” equally. I get to breathe, filling the space between so every little piece of me is seen.*

Thanks to the song, “Breathe” by Michelle Branch*

My Running Marriage

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Running4 Comments

I always loved running…
it was something you could do by yourself,
and under your own power.
You could go in any direction,
fast or slow as you wanted,
fighting the wind if you felt like it,
seeking out new sights
just on the strength of your feet
and the courage of your lungs.
-Jesse Owens

Well, I cannot say that I have always loved running.  After all, I have been involved with the sport on various levels for forty years. And like all committed relationships, we have had our ups and downs. Because I started running when I was just eleven years old, I really didn’t know what I was getting into-much like a very young bride!  My father was  a very enthusiastic runner of five years when he encouraged my brother and I to enter the sport. I  think that he saw the positive opportunities that running had offered him and wanted the same for us. Also, the early seventies was an especially heady time for young girls and women to participate in races. The support for us was very strong despite the infamous photograph of  Jock Semple’s attempt to pull Kathryn Switzer from the Boston Marathon!

I suppose you could call the beginning phase of my running marriage the “honeymoon period.” At the time, I ran with lots of boys as there were no girl teams during my preteen years. The playing field was equal because many of us were first time runners. There was only one other girl (that I recall) who joined the group and we became fast friends. We ran together every day and the two of us would go on to join future teams as we approached our high school years. In fact, the very first running club that we joined had its own women’s team. I remember being amazed at the ages of some of the women on the team- could women over 30 or even 40 really run?  Weren’t they too old? I believe that these women were the true pioneers of the sport, having entered it later in life as  wives and mothers. Women whose own generation had little or no access to organized sports as young girls.

My teenage years were by far the most intense running period, no doubt. This is just like the first few years of a marriage, really. The honeymoon is over and it becomes time to settle in and get serious. So, I ran every day, logging in 50-70 miles per week  and participating on two teams-one at my high school and one AAU women’s team. (By then,My friend and I had gone on to join a nationally ranked women’s cross country and track and field team.) Also, about half way through high school, our town had finally allowed a separate girls team to participate in league meets. Running on both teams was exceptional-each had a unique running culture. By the time the high school team was formed, I had already gained a reputation as a serious runner, both for running with the boys and also for the fact that I completed a marathon at 14 years old!  Much was expected of me in terms of performance and leadership skills. Also, I had to get used to a different coach as my dad was (and always will be) my first and best coach.

The AAU team was a different entity altogether. There was a core group of girls who were the elite runners. They were highly talented and able to compete and consistently win on the regional and national level. (Eventually the international level as well- one of them won the first women’s Olympic Marathon). It was a privilege to be a part of the team as it allowed for opportunities to travel all over the Northeast region with a van full of like-minded girls and their very dedicated coach.  These were the days before walkmans and ipods so we would often blast music on the van’s radio; we listened to Bruce Springsteen (Born to Run), Queen and other big rock groups from that era. It was a thrill to travel to New York City and compete in the country’s first Bonne Bell 10k in Central Park. Women and girls were IT- Helen Reddy’s “I Am Woman” was playing loud and proud before the gun went off.  As a result of running with the team, I became a better runner because I was  running with faster women. My hard work paid off and, at 16, I was able to go with the team  to the nationals in California. Eventually, my efforts caught the eye of a college coach as well. Because I was a scholarly student as well as a devoted runner, I was given the chance to apply and subsequently be accepted to an excellent university.

And that’s when things began to shift for me. Sure, I went off to college and joined the requisite team, going to practices, running in races, eating and socializing only with runners. But it started to feel old and stale and repetitive. I was hopelessly distracted by a boy ( a runner like me, but a senior with a reputation as a bad boy) and frankly, I wanted to party on a Friday night and not get up early for practice or a race! By the time I was a sophomore, I was done competing- burned out and physically a mess. All the mileage I had put in as developing teenager had resulted in a painful, degenerative disk in my back. Looking back, as much as it spiritually pained me to leave the sport, I knew that I needed a break.

I suppose you can liken this period to a major transformation in a marriage (illness or the addition of children, for example). How do relate to one another as a result of this major alteration? At first, it was simple: very little exercise as I explored other avenues of interests and friends. Then upon graduation, I cycled a bit and walked everywhere. Still, the nagging back issue persisted to the point where I literally could not move. I have a vivid memory of trying to board a bus so I could go vote and being unable to step up. I was just 23 years old and felt 90!  Luckily, a chiropractor lived in my neighborhood and with his help, I began a very long journey to healing.

Essentially, my twenties came and went without any attention to running at all. I kept in shape by walking, riding a stationary bike and doing occasional weight lifting.  I got married and by the time I was 32, I had given birth to two babies. My back held up during the two pregnancies and subsequent births of two very big boys ( especially #2!!) Plus, I was doing aerobics regularly and pushing a carriage everywhere I went. It was at this point that my then husband encouraged me to start running again.  Coincidentally, this was the same age that my father began his running career! So, I gave it a shot- at first doing the walk/run thing and then eventually working up to Saturday morning runs with other busy moms.

My thirties were certainly the “comeback” period of running for me. I felt a renewed sense of commitment but on different terms than before. I was a grown woman who was able to make her own decisions about where, when and how far she wanted to run. Running was a choice and not the chore that it had become nearly a decade earlier. Eventually, at 38, I competed in a half-marathon. During the training, I never felt lonely and, in truth, felt a great sense of freedom and renewal during those times. I also spent time running with my father again. It was a terrific- we were both adults and our runs were filled with long conversations. I fell in love with running again!

By the time I reached 40, I was learning to balance running with the other parts of my life. When I had the opportunity to return to work full time, carving out a running schedule was a priority. My dedication to the sport was unyielding. I arose before dawn and would run despite the cold and darkness. I learned to be alert for wildlife and was awed each morning watching the sun rise as I finished the last mile. I was not the competitor that I was once was-only entering races sporadically throughout the year. Instead, running took on a different face-becoming my solace, stress reliever and saving grace.

Running in many ways was like taking medication. When my husband wanted a divorce when I was 46, running kept me steady and sane (or as sane as one could be during that upheaval!). I was also in graduate school, working and raising teenage boys at the time. Running cleared my head, organized my thoughts and made me more productive. By the time my forties ended, I had successfully completed graduate school (4.0!), gone through the divorce process, fell in love again and trained for and competed in a half-marathon!

So here I am, happily in my early fifties having caught the half-marathon bug.  The training schedule is not grueling and the race distance is just right for me.  I try to enter two races per year if I can. One of the best parts of the preparation is knowing that I will be running with the man I love. Our connection with one another has helped me to continuously strengthen my commitment to the sport. It is a heart warming feeling knowing that another person is there to support and guide you through the good days and bad days. He helps me keep it real-pushing me when I need it and helping me back off -especially when I am injured.

One thing that I have learned in this long term marriage is the value of patience. Too many times when I was young, I didn’t allow myself to think about what I was doing during races or practices. My body was in the game but not my head.
I didn’t think about how I was feeling and then when I did, I wanted to run from it.  I was tired of the effort. How many of you go through similar feelings in relationships? It is easy to throw in the towel and go on to something else. I think what I was experiencing during that time was a need for a separation. As I said earlier, it hurt me emotionally to leave. But the break was necessary in order for me to begin my journey back. It was the first step in learning to be patient with myself and with the sport. I needed to come back on my own terms in order to create a deeper and lasting relationship. Also, it is  a relationship that allows for balance. Now I supplement running with hot yoga and three days of strength training.  They enhance my practice and at times substitute for it.

Any healthy relationship is one in which you use your heart and your head. Runners do not always use the latter (or else they let it get in the way but it is the same idea). We suffer from a burning desire to move; we want to see how far our legs and feet will take us. As long as we are not running from something it’s okay. Run to please yourself. Run because you find joy in the going. Run with others. Then you’ll know that your heart is in the right place!

What is Your Cultural Groove?

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn FamilyLeave a comment

Upon first glance, working class suburbia would seem a place devoid of an authentic culture.  After all, my childhood hometown was, and continues to be, a place that is overwhelming white, filled with small ranch houses, older capes, and a main thoroughfare that is packed with strip malls and small office buildings. However, if I were to define my culture based on this shallow exterior, I would be doing it an injustice.

Both my parents grew up in two different small cities just outside of a larger city in the Northeast. Like all young couples that married in the late 1950’s, they were drawn toward dreams of homeowner-ship. Within seven months of my birth, they left their small apartment behind and moved to the town that my brother and I were to grow up in.

I have come to realize over the years- through stories that my mother told me and through example-the great sacrifices that my folks made in order to offer us a better life. Early on, my father needed to work two full-time jobs so that he  could support his family. Back then, of course, it was nearly unheard of that women worked outside the home once the children were born.  But for many working class households, it was an absolute necessity to have a second income. Frankly, I have always wondered why this past phenomenon isn’t  part of a larger public discussion today. These days we always talk about the need for both parents to work. In my day (gosh don’t I sound old!),  the money was needed for food and the  mortgage for the small ranch house- not for lavish vacations and other material items. Please don’t get me wrong- I know that the need for two incomes just to feed your family still exists today.  But I also see the pursuit of more tangible things in my generation- a great shift in the overall culture to be sure.

But I digress. The better life that  I am speaking of included endless times of running around in the woods with the neighborhood kids, swimming in the pool and long bike rides to lakes and the coast. And along with the traditional culture of 1960’s and 70’s suburban childhood, came a more subtle change-one that broadened my family’s horizons. Since the work my father did was closely associated with a university and since he also was becoming a dedicated runner, our family crossed paths with people from all generations and ethnic backgrounds who enjoyed the sport as well. Our home became a haven for hungry graduate students and other idealistic youth as well as people old enough to be my parents’ parents! Because my brother and I met so many different kinds of people, we learned compassion for, and an understanding of, others who existed beyond the borders of our little town.

These changes set the stage for  a newer definition of culture and its accompanying values for my family as well as myself.

So, as I was growing up, running became our focus for family time as well as our social network.  It was especially  exciting to be a female runner in those days! Women were just beginning to become more visible in the sport and I can say for certain that running gave me strong self-confidence and leadership skills in other areas of my life.  Moreover, I witnessed my father sacrifice his own running career in order to provide increased opportunities for my brother and I. Additionally, both my parents helped to support various youth in the neighborhood and town in their running endeavors.

My parents taught me that culture is not just about your ethnic heritage and where you live but how you live.

Therein lies the “groove”!

Certainly, too much of the 21st century’s “busy and distracted” and selfish culture creeps into our lives today and attempts to throw us off track. But even if it has, it doesn’t mean that we’ve lost our groove! Sometimes it just gets put in a pile of someone else’s agenda for a while.

The trick is that you have to learn to create a way of life that fits you and those you love. It means staying grounded and resolute in that idea. What is it that you value? How do you want to live your life?

When I think of how I grew up, it can be summed up in two words: Building Relationships. Now, I cannot say the my life thus far is an exact replica of my parents’ . That is impossible.  I can only  say for sure that I wanted that life and tried darn hard to bring in some of the same experiences. In truth, it has only been in the last five years that I can say my life fits into this mold. And guess what?  It came from letting go of all that I had known in my adult life.  The life that I once lived was shallow and not what it appeared to be.  I had a hand in making sure that it looked perfect because I was too afraid to face the fact that I thought I had been a failure.

But good gosh! It wasn’t failure; I had lost my groove. I wanted it back- not just for myself but for my kids. They deserved to enjoy a legacy where they had an opportunity to understand that life is about relationships with others. They needed to know that Community-, whether it is a faith-based, family-based ( in any incarnation), school- based, town- based, athletically- based (or all of the above)- was where it’s at.

Sometimes finding your cultural groove means risking the end of relationships that are detrimental to how you want to live. If it is harming you, then it will harm those you love in the long run ( no pun intended). Pick it out of that pile and make it your own again my friend!

I have come to understand that you have to ride the rough waves at times -and for a lot longer than you want to- in order to find that spot on the shore that allows you to live more honestly and freely.

And yes, it is absolutely worth it.  I guess you could say that I’ve reclaimed my spot on the beach. Boy,  it feels good to sink my feet in the sand!

Traveling Light

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent WomanLeave a comment

“Sometimes you’ve got to let everything go-purge yourself. If you are unhappy with anything-whatever is bringing you down, get rid of it. Because you’ll find that when you’re free, your true creativity, your true self comes out.”

-Tina Turner

This summer I took a trip to a far off place with my sweetheart. As with any trip, I fretted about how much to pack. And it was not because I needed to have fancy clothes and the shoes to match each outfit.  As a runner and a yogi, there will always be the extra clothes and the mat factored in for my trips. Still, it was important to me that I not have the luggage be a burden in my travels.

I am sure some of my thinking was due to the fact that I was once the mother of young children ( ooh the items necessary for survival!) and the fact that in my profession, lugging a bag and a laptop-along with my lunch-is part and parcel (ha!) of my daily existence.

But I am weary of the burden of carrying things with me all of the time. I want to feel light and move quickly- in spite of my age!

Since the trip, I have decided that the one thing that I did bring is one of the metaphors for how I have begun to live my life. I absolutely adore my tiny, tri-colored shoulder purse! It is just the right size for my small wallet (how many plastic cards does one really need anyway?), my reading glasses and cell phone. I have been using it for just 5 weeks and it has proven to be all that I need in my everyday travels.

So, this small item has really gotten thinking about how my life in the last five years has been made lighter as well. I am no longer married. Therefore, the person and his large amount of  accompanying accessories left the house.(Listen to Miranda Lambert’s song “Baggage Claim” if you want to catch my drift!) Truthfully, when this happened, I think that I not only exhaled for the first time in years but the house did as well.

I am sure that this major event caused a seismic shift in my outlook on life. I began to realize that there was space between things: thoughts, actions, relationships. Life was moving towards a easier path. Not challenge-free by any means, but one that opened up my heart and home to new people and experiences.

Even though money was very tight, I began to give things away. As a result, the house underwent a karmic shift. Among the few new things I got was a new bed (of course) and, in turn, I  gave the old one to my youngest son. Suddenly, it seemed that my small house became the place for all sorts of social interactions. My sons’ friends spent regular time here and they didn’t mind my company! We ate, talked, and watched movies together. My sons threw me birthday parties. My graduate school friends made this the place to work on our projects. We never laughed and swore so much during that process! And we all got  A+s to boot!

Love came back into my life in a way that I never expected.

So I guess you could say that my little purse is about letting go and letting in. Just as I have the three necessary things for my purse, so in turn I have what is necessary for my life: family, friends and love.

When the things in your life don’t allow you to move, think clearly, or to even breath, you have to unpack them!  Then you have to either give them away or throw them away. When this happens, newer, more positive experiences can occur if you let them in your heart.

Do You Have Strong Woman Syndrome?

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent Woman1 Comment

Do you ever get tired of those ads or commercials which promote the latest pill or cream that supposedly will fix your disease, dysfunction or defect?  Besides insulting our intelligence, these so called “cures” run the risk of making it appear that our own human uniqueness is somehow weak.

While I certainly have had times in my life when I have  been challenged, pushed to the edge and most definitely suffered,  I would never ever ever say that I have been weak!  In fact, it was five years ago that I was “diagnosed” with Strong Woman Syndrome (SWS).

This syndrome presented itself while I was experiencing what was at the time, a devastating personal loss (more on that in a future entry, perhaps!). The term was coined by my then 16 year old son whom I am sure was worried that I might fall apart.

One thing that is true about SWS is that it is not something that you can quickly figure out. It is a condition that has a tendency to build up over time. First, you must be willing to take a deep, long look inside yourself ( a good therapist helps!) and then begin the process of deciding how your new life will be shaped.

The first sign that you have SWS is knowing how to take care of yourself first before you even consider taking care of others. You are no good to anyone if self-care is not your number one  priority.  I am part of that generation that bought the line “you can have it all”.  Truly, what a bunch of hooey!  What has gotten lost in the translation is our own identity.

The second sign of course, builds upon the first one. Simply put, you gain the ability to speak up for yourself.  This is not easy! Depending upon your life situation, it may be the riskiest thing to do! Start with the smallest of steps. Because when you learn ” Yes indeed I do have my own voice!” , you start to make your own decisions wisely and in your own time and for your own future (Sign #3).

Independent decision making helps you to control your own destiny and most importantly, create a life full of dignity and grace (#4).

This my friends, is a legacy you can create for yourself, your friends and your family.  I try every day to stay strong and resolute in what I believe in and how I live my life. Truthfully, it is not easy but it is empowering!

Strong Woman Syndrome has helped me move those rocks that get put in my road and most significantly, stay true to myself.

Hello world!

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Uncategorized1 Comment

“Writing is about some of our deepest needs: our need to be visible, to be heard, our need to make sense of our lives, to wake up and grow and belong.”-Anne LaMott

Many people have asked me why I wanted to enter the world of blogging. I suppose Anne LaMott’s quote sums it up for me.
As my father says: “There are a million stories out there.”  And it is true!  Real life is stranger than fiction and more true than those banal “reality” shows that dominate the airwaves these days. One of the positive aspects about where I live has been just that-sharing our stories with one another. Sometimes the conversation can last just 2 minutes; sometimes 2 hours. But they are all very deep and very moving.

I also suppose that turning fifty a year ago gave me the experience and wisdom that comes with reaching that age. You certainly get reflective as you begin to  think about your own mortality and the mark that you have so far left upon the world. For some reason, I felt the pull to tell stories, share my views and satisfy this creative urge that I am sure was buried for a long time!

I believe that this new decade of my life is a cause for a daily celebration! I love not worrying whether I am liked or not. I don’t feel the need for approval anymore. I no longer identify myself with another or others. I am ME!!

Happy Reading!