Why I’m Glad I Work……….. #1

A few Friday’s ago, we had a snow storm and Portland schools were cancelled. I still had to go to work; our office is more dependable than the U.S. Postal Service and doesn’t close for 5:00, snow storms, weekends or even 9/11.

As I drove down Ledgewood Road in Falmouth, I marveled at the sun shining off the snow at 8:00 a.m. Early morning sunshine after freshly fallen snow is one of the most beautiful sights to me and one of the reasons we, Northerners, live where we do. We’ve not seen enough of it this winter – what with unusually warm temperatures and lack of snow. Even more beautiful were the trees heavily laden with snow, looking like the Arctic or the Snow Queen’s wintry landscape.

If I didn’t work, I wouldn’t have been out driving around at that hour and by even as early as 10:00 a.m., the scene would be lost and would look completely different – the white pristine snow now muddied and trampled; the snow on branches having long since melted or fallen to the ground; the sun higher in the sky and not as awe-inspiring.

Funny how one’s reasons for enjoying going to work may have absolutely nothing to do with the job itself.


Photo: Wolf's Neck State Park, Freeport

Intimacy

Intimacy is an elusive word. You think you’re intimate if you love someone. Not so. You think you’re intimate if you’re physically connected to someone. Not necessarily so. The definition of intimacy is “a close personal relationship,” but that seems lacking to me for what I truly think it means. I think it means to commit and give yourself over in a way that is deep and authentic. The most deep and the most authentic. It’s when you don’t hold back; you don’t reserve, preserve or protect yourself. You give yourself over in the most complete way you can – with un-abandon. Obviously, you could never do that with anyone but the closest and most trusted person.

I have participated in a Leadership Intensive course twice. I did it the first time with a very close, long term friend. Thank goodness, since I describe it in hindsight as “scared straight.” It was the most intense, scary thing I had ever done. From the course leader, I was told I had no feeling from the neck down, that I was so controlled that I probably couldn’t even recognize my feelings when they occurred, that I lived exclusively in my head and not my physical body.

I was offended. And then I thought –well, that was what I was told to be. I had worked at it. It was succeeding in the male-dominated field I chose. I did it intentionally and with lots of practice and effort. I thought that was what I was supposed to do as I got older -- get rid of emotion, buck up, say and do the hard thing.

I was brought to the abyss in my first session at the Leadership Intensive when I was told my children would mimic my energy…which sadly, was a frightening thought to me. That was the last thing I wanted. My energy can be intense. There are certain places in my life where my intensity has allowed me to succeed; it’s been a positive. But when I look at it with clarity, it’s not something I would wish on my children.

This picture of me from that Leadership Intensive that I had not seen or thought about myself, and then my foray into motherhood, showed me something new. Motherhood opened up my locked self and taught me intimacy.

It’s not that I’ve not been in love or not had deep and long term friendships. It’s not that I haven’t given myself over to someone else; I have. But what I’ve learned is that I’ve not been truly intimate with anyone but my children because with children, there is no choice. I cannot hold back. I cannot disconnect or watch from the sidelines. The beauty and most frightening thing about motherhood for me has been to become intensely intimate with my children, with absolute abandon and no control.

“Wearing your heart on your sleeve” is the phrase that I identify most with motherhood. I feel everything about my children more deeply and with more emotion than with any other aspect in my life – my own family, growing up, my marriage, my career, my friendships, my own emotions.

I’ve said having children has made me more human. Sounds odd, right? Not so. I’m more human because I’m a feeling, emotional being with no control over those feelings. And I’ve learned at midlife that that is actually a great way of being, a more intimate, authentic, human way of being. My children have given me something I never could have found or discovered without them – intimacy.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Winter

“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.”

Albert Camus





I’m not sure if I could live in a temperate climate where it is always the same weather and always nice, summer-like, and sunny. My body, after fifty years, is in such a consistent seasonal rhythm. Like the tides pulled by the moon, my body and mind both go through a seasonal cycle, year in and year out.

Fall is my favorite season. The earthy tones of fall are my favorite colors and capable of taking my breath away (think Cinderella-pumpkin orange with an emerald vine-like green leaf). Spring is a new beginning, an awakening after the cold and gray of winter. Summer is just pure fun, and all structure and force go literally right out the window. Summer is a time of complete release.

But it is winter, I think, that moves me forward in my development and my life, because that’s the time I pull inward and become introspective. It’s when I have time to create and dabble. It’s when I cook the best meals. I’m free to read in the daytime and stay inside without feeling forced to get out and play. It’s when I write. It’s when I find how deep my well runs and how strong and secure are my reserves.

Winter gives me what I need to appreciate all other times of the year.

Photo: Two Lights State Park, Cape Elizabeth, ME

Sabbatical

To a mother, one day alone is the equivalent of a 3-month sabbatical for non-mothers.

I had the good fortune to have to drive my son to Sunday River for the day...and chose not to ski myself. I discovered it’s so much fun to be at a ski mountain and NOT ski. Where I’m normally in ski-boot-amputate-my-calves pain, freezing cold, and laden down with the weight of too many layers of clothing, ski equipment and 100-pound bags of gear (and again, the damn boots), instead I traipsed all around the grounds in warm, soft winter boots, my favorite jeans, and a fleece and down vest, believe it or not in January.

I was also fortunate that we are having such an unusual winter that it was nearly thirty degrees and sunny when it surely could have been ten and overcast. The difference, in Maine, between ten degrees and thirty is vast. (Naturally, I fear global warming, but it sure is more comfortable with practically no snow and balmy!)

As Ben headed to the slopes, I took a long walk to the right, up steep mountain roads and could just feel the roundness slipping off my butt! Then, I explored by car every dirt road at Sunday River including the side-of-the-mountain-scary one to the Grand Summit Resort, which, with snow blowing and other-worldliness way up there on the mountain reminded me of The Overlook in The Shining. I took photos, smiled ear to ear, basked in the quiet and sunshine. Brunch was a spinach omelet and a bloody mary sitting alone at a little table overlooking the mountain’s trails, again the sun streaming in the gi-normous windows in the ski lodge/restaurant.

After lunch, it was another long walk to the left, stopping to look at babbling, icy cold streams, ice completely broken through due to the high temperatures. I stopped and looked; I meandered; I smiled and did whatever I felt like all alone.

As Ben hopped into the warm car at day’s end, beat from a day on the ski trails, he asked if I’d been OK alone All day. “Oh, yes…..” and a big smile was all I needed to respond. We both rode home happy, spent in a good way, and rejuvenated.

Photo: Sunday River

A Good Resolution

“Living better doesn’t always mean trying harder. Ease up.”

Whole Living Magazine, December 2011 issue.



I wouldn’t have even seen such a quote thirty years ago; it wouldn’t have registered with me. But on the eve, (well four months to go), of turning fifty, I saw it; I got it; and now I share it.

I became an adult in the heady 1980’s, the Regan years, which were all about hard driving capitalists and prosperity. We all had the opportunity for success providing we got a good education, were competitive, and willing to work long hours. A lot has changed since then, both in our country and in our small towns, and not totally for the worst. One positive that has come from the recession which began in 2008 is that it woke a lot of us up. It changed us. It caused us to choose more carefully how we spend our money and our time. It made us more grateful for what we do have since we saw how precarious everything is – possible of disappearing in an instant for any one of us.

What I’ve learned as I’ve aged is the beauty of an ordinary day. I’ve learned that I love making meals for people close to me. I love setting a beautiful table, sitting quietly each day in my backyard, running my household as a gift to my family to make their lives more calm and smooth. I love books and candles and quiet. Buddhists have told us for years about the importance of quiet and introspection as a way toward finding inner peace.

What did our hard driving society give us? Heart attacks, anxiety, stress and anger? What does rest and easing up give us? It gives us life. And life with those we love.

Here’s to easing up in 2012 - Happy New Year!


Photo: Evergreen Cemetery, Portland

Christmas is......

 a freshly cut Evergreen tree from Maine

 the smell of pine

 sparkling white lights and red ornaments

 the first snowflakes falling on a dark winter night

 children padding down the stairs in footie-pajamas

 steaming hot cocoa in Santa mugs, crowned with whipped cream and
chocolate shavings

 candles

 the soft light of night in a warm home

 stockings hung on the stairs' banister

 the little "o" of a three-year-old's lips when he sees Santa has come

 "O Holy Night" at evening mass

 beautifully wrapped, colorful gifts beneath the tree with big bows

 the smell of cinnamon from baked French toast on Christmas morning

 an orange and a quarter always in the toe of my stocking as a child


Photo: The Old Farm Christmas Place, Cape Elizabeth, ME

Giving

‘Tis the season of giving…and I love it. I love to give. I love to think of what someone would like to have. I love to wrap presents beautifully and have spent oodles over the years on colorful paper, cloth bows, and fancy gift cards. Aesthetics matter to me and I get an oomph of pleasure just looking at beautiful packages under an evergreen Christmas tree.

In this month’s issue of O, The Oprah Magazine, an article asked what my own personal all time favorite gift was. What popped into my mind was so unexpected that I paused and thought deeper. Then I asked Frank his favorite gift of all time, and then I asked others. I love to ask probing questions like this that make people think because oftentimes, I’m amazed at the answers.

My favorite gift of all time came from my friend and next door neighbor, Sheila Sneider. When I gave birth to Ben, as we arrived home from the hospital, Sheila delivered the most beautiful gift basket filled with a hot meal – a delicious chicken/stuffing/swiss cheese casserole, salad, home-made dinner rolls, dessert – the works. Sheila is a wonderful cook and can create and bedazzle for get-togethers like Martha Stewart. The reason this gift meant so much to me is that it was unexpected and exactly what we needed at that time – it was like a loving embrace to two tired parents coming home with anxiety and a new baby boy.

I’ve loved so many gifts I’ve received over the years and have enjoyed them in the year they’re given, but when asked my “favorite gifts of all time,” the few that come to mind surprise me. None are from my childhood, and just think what we parents buy and spend over the years on kids’ gifts. My “ all time favorites” surprise me because they’re not necessarily from the closest people in my life. A couple were material, but it wasn’t the cost that made them special; it was the unexpectedness and the thought and meaning behind the gift.

•

a brilliant gold and pink sapphire necklace sent to me from my Aunt Georgia the Christmas after I spent a weekend with her earlier that year. It was a gift from her first husband and she wanted me to have it. No one had ever given me such an expensive gift. My son, Ben, said when he saw the necklace – “…and you only just met her? And spent one weekend with her? And she gave you that??? It must have been quite a weekend!” It was. I had met her once at 15 and then flew off to meet her again in my mid-forties for a weekend of a lifetime.

• a picture painted in Japanese writing by her second husband which means “less is more” from a phrase she read in my book, Away at a Camp in Maine, a phrase he said to her often and when she read it written by me, she knew I had to have it

• a painting of the Observatory in Portland given to Frank and me as a wedding gift from my boss at that time, Dave Kangas. The Observatory marked the top of the street on the Eastern Promenade where my husband and I began our life together as a married couple. It still hangs proudly in my home and always will – a marker of our beginning and the long road we’ve traveled since.

• The trip to Mexico my husband planned 100% - the best family trip we ever took. I lead and plan and arrange every day, at home and at work. To have someone else choose and lead is the greatest gift to me and I’m so appreciative of it! Everything about that vacation was perfect.

• Forty, white, long stemmed roses delivered to me on my 40th birthday at home from my boss at that time, Brian Noyes. That was the most beautiful flower arrangement I’ve ever seen – breathtaking.

• A few Hallmark cards given to me by my son, Matt, as an adult whose words mean everything to me – they are so touching coming from him. I keep them in my top desk drawer and read them whenever I feel like a perk.

I think of the WalMart guitar my sister Elisa gave my son Matt in the 7th grade – it changed the trajectory of his life and certainly is the most meaningful gift he ever received.

My son, Ben, said his favorite all time gift was the drum kit we bought….when we were supposed to be school shopping for clothes, on a whim, and it became a huge part of who he is. It’s a gift he uses most days. It is fun and shows a talent he never knew he had…and it’s a stress reliever on days when that’s the most pressing need.

What was your favorite all time gift?

What can you give others this holiday season that might mean the world to them….due to unexpectedness and the thought, not ever the cost?