Surviving...

I made it through the holiday weekend, pretty much on my own except for some guests and calls from family and friends. It was okay...the down time was good and feels like what I need right now. Sometimes it gets to be more than I need though and there's really no answer for that. Everyone wants me to get excited about the future and make 2010 a new best year ever, etc, etc, etc. I wish I had a switch I could just flip and start feeling that way. I'm trying to find 'strong moments' again, as Marcus Buckingham writes about in his new book. Thanks to it, I know where to look for them, and sometimes I do find them, but right now, the down moments feel almost as prevalent as the strong ones. I don't know how to simply 'make them go away.' I think it's a process, and I think everyone has to move through it in their own way...

What I am trying to do is focus on it less, talk about it less, get myself out with friends or just 'out' so that I can start seeing a different future. It's not that I'm opposed to having one, it's just that I have no earthly idea what that might look like. I don't think I'll be here, but I'm here right now and I have to accept that. Things are the way they are right now, and no amount of wishing or looking for a new future is going to change what is right now. It's a weird duality that I'm starting to understand one has to accept in order to have any kind of peace in life at all. Except for me, at the moment, it's not really making me feel good to know that pain will always live with pleasure. Hopefully I can get used to that idea...

In the meantime, one just has to live the best one can. That's what I'm striving for, anyway. Got out of the house today and came down to a local restaurant/cafe to work and do some writing. Haven't gotten to the actual writing yet, but decided to have a glass of wine before I leave, so maybe that will cheer my spirits and set the tone...

Christmas Day

It's snowy and in the 20s with a -1 wind chill...not a day for flitting about. I'm staying warm with cups of tea and my kitties, talks with friends and family, and perhaps watching a movie later. I'm doing what I want to do, be it a load of laundry or a hot bath. I'm alone, but not lonely. I had a note this morning from one friend then a call from another, both doing exactly the same thing--I find comfort in that. I also read this quote on Oprah, which I think is a nice summation of what Christmas is about, perhaps only in a secular way, but still a way to which many will relate.

“What is Christmas? It is tenderness for the past, courage for the present, hope for the future. It is a fervent wish that every cup may overflow with blessings rich and eternal, and that every path may lead to peace.”
— Agnes M. Pharo

I hope peace finds each of you on this day and always.

Christmas Eve

Ah, yes, I've been here before...Christmas Eve, alone, no lover to share the special moment...I could be out with friends, but I don't want to be. Suddenly, a bit ago, it occurred to me, I want to be here, alone with my cats, quiet, at peace; not anywhere else, pretending to be happier than I am. I've been here, but this time I'm accepting it. Tomorrow may be the same...I haven't decided... I only know I'm trying to get my life into some kind of order, to deal with all I've been putting off dealing with, to accept, to know the future, not as I wished it would be, but as it is... He said to me earlier that right now, he just wants to be 'alone' and yet, I know that's not what he really wants. He's never been comfortable with 'alone' time...he spends his energy on projects and then retreats from deeper intimacy. I, on the other hand, am comfortable just 'being alone.' Yes, sometimes it's lonely, but it's a place I know and can live in, if I have to, as it now appears I do...

Yet even tonight, there will be guests in the house, and my cats are here, and music fills the air, the rain falls like a timid friend, and I am at peace with the 'aloneness.' I don't need to be anywhere else but here, right now, in this moment, holding it like the companion it is, cherishing, even attempting to love it in all its imperfection. There is much to do, and life is short, so I won't waste this holiday bemoaning its lack of intimacy in my own life. I will pray, and meditate, and send loving kindness into the world, where it's needed. I will slip into peace as best I can, and the day will be full. Grief and I will find our way into hope.

Back to the Blahs

Wonder what it is that makes moods swing to and fro? I suppose from my Buddist readings I'm learning that it's all about our thoughts and our attachments. Letting go of thoughts and attachments is pretty much impossible, especially the thoughts part of that equation. At least there's some chance of learning to lesson one's attachments to things and people, but thoughts, well, we're pretty much stuck with those. What I find fascinating is how easy it is to believe everything we think is real. Even when you know it's not, or that it's an accurate perception, it's still virtually impossible sometimes to let go of believing the 'thought' is true...

So sometimes when an upsetting thought comes to me, even thought I work on letting it pass, the mood or emotional reaction to that thought is still triggered. The Buddists say to simply watch that feeling and be with it, and some psychology says that as well. The New Consciousness movement often advises that one turn one's attention to something else in order to raise your energy vibration. Figuring out which way to go sometimes even triggers a 'mood' too! Lately my mood has been 'I don't give a shit anymore.' This may seem like a negative reaction, but I don't know that it is necessarily. Mostly it just feels like I try and try and struggle and struggle and really, life is going to do what it's going to do and I have absolutely no control over it, so why bother worrying about any of it? Of course, I still worry and feel troubled...and so it goes.

All this writing about moods and philosophy and thinking makes me remember a DVD I watched and really enjoyed called 'Letting Go of God: Breaking Up is Hard to Do.' It's not for the seriously religious-minded or the serious-anything-minded. It's a roll on the floor laughing look at how people get caught up in their beliefs! Watch it and see where you get caught up...

Ok, I think that's enough philosophizing for one day...

An Almost Normal Day...

Not sure what or why...I woke up feeling the same as always lately--sad--and then somehow the day just begin to get better...not great, just okay. I had counseling, and I'm sure that helped, but somehow or another I started to remember who I used to be before all this happen...the things I did...the strong person I was becoming, even if I wasn't there yet. I started to remember and wonder if maybe I could find that person again, and maybe she could help heal the wounded child inside who feels so abandoned right now. Maybe...

I think a lot of things are helping me, and maybe it's just accepting that every day isn't going to be a good day, and that's just the way life is. It won't always be up and it won't always be down...hopefully most days will just be 'normal.' I like the counselor I'm seeing now--a man who had previously met with us as a couple but agreed to see me now that we 'aren't.' Sometimes it's hard talking to a man, but it's also nice to have more of that balance in my life. I used to have so many 'guy' friends and right now I really don't feel I have any...so this is a good thing. I also feel I'm making a few, so another good thing. Not easy, in a small town where 'coupledom' is the predominant way of life.

I also started a temporary job this week, just one day a week and that's about all I can handle at the moment. I was worried because of the location--near 'him'--and I did see him outside during the day, but I did okay with it. Maybe that's what I need, to see him going on with his life. It was good to be out and involved in the world, and making a little extra money, which I really need at the moment.

So I'm putting one foot in front of the other, even if it's hard, and most days it's very hard. Especially now, with the holidays. But I'm holding my own, treading water, not drowning... Not today.

On the Road...

Obviously I've been away for a while, so guess I'll have to catch up in 'installments.' While I was sick, I'd been planning to take a trip, but then I cancelled it, and then I decided to go after all. So I left about 2 weeks ago and drove to see friends in New York, Vermont, and Massachusetts. It was a wonderful trip, but tonight is my last night and I'll be home tomorrow. Home, where nothing has really changed, except hopefully, to some extent, me. Home, on what would once have been my 13th wedding anniversary. Home, to holidays with friends but no one to hold me at 'home.' I wonder if it will ever feel like 'home' again, because it certainly doesn't... I've spent the past 2 weeks talking to friends, trying to remind myself of the strong woman I 'used' to be. I've listened to 'self help' CDs till I'm blue in the face, and tonight I spoke briefly with 'my ex' who agrees that we are dealing with an impossible situation which is largely his fault...yet he has no real suggestions for 'fixing' it. What I have learned is that I can't count on him anymore to 'fix' anything--not even the physical things around the house, actually. The future--my future--is in my hands. I must find a way to see it differently, to believe in it...

The truth of the matter, sad as it may be, is that 'he' was never really in the marriage with me at all. I think even 'he' can see that now. A psychic told me about 10 years ago that it would never be an 'easy' relationship and that I was living surrounded by dragonflies, which according to her, symbolized illusion. It has taken me 10 years to discover the reality of this. Why here, why now? Back then, I still had my LA dreams on the horizon in front of me, and I can't help but wonder what might have happened if I'd gone there on my own...still, I'm not sure I ever would have done that. My fears all have to do with confronting life 'alone,' and now I must do exactly that. There is no way around it; I've been given no choice--it's simply the next step and there's no way to take a side road at this point. Where I go, what I do, these are all additional steps to be discovered. Some days I have no interest in them whatsoever...I suppose today is one of those days. The next step is to go home, and home is not what I wish it was at the moment. Can I make it better? I can only do my best with this one step, and hope that it leads to a happier future.

Later, I will write more about my wonderful travels...so many lessons learned along the way...I pray I can wrap them around me like the hugs of friends they are, and hold them close...

Back to the Land...

...of the living! Since I last wrote, I've been pretty much flat on my back, and not in a good way. I'd already been sick for a week by then, and it's only been in the last few days I've been back on my feet, and I'm still pretty tired all in all. Whatever I had, it wasn't fun!

I'm not sure if that's the reason or not, but I've definitely been at a 'different' place since I've started getting better. I feel like I really hit rock bottom in all ways while I was sick; now, it's as if I'm more or less emotionally 'drained.' Just seems like there's nothing else to 'feel.' Weird. It's not so much that I'm 'not' depressed; I'm just sort of 'blank.' I think life is more 'in the moment' than it's ever been for me before...strange. Maybe it's just that after you're 'down' for so long, all you want to do once you're up is accomplish as much as you can. No more time to 'waste.'

At any rate, that's where I am at the moment, and it's a place I'd like to stay. And re 'him...' although it was hard having him around all the time, I'm thankful for his help, but now I don't feel much of anything beyond a little sad for him. More even for him than for me... I just hope I can stay in this place for the time being...it feels 'safe' here. A rather nice place to be...

Influenza Thinking

I have been brought down by this terrible influenza going around right now, but I suspect it's more than just a virus. Louise Hay says that influenza comes from 'mass negative thinking and beliefs.' I'm sure I've been hit by a ton of those bricks as well. Why is it that when you're sick, all the problems of your life seem to plague you at once? When you're at your lowest point, life decides 'why not kick her around a bit more and see if she has the stamina to get up?'

I sit in this house and think about the people who were once brought down by such illnesses and didn't have the strength--or medical advantages--to help them get back up. Not that I used medicine to overcome my 'bug,' but a least I know things now they may not have known when. I know to take Vitamin C and how to take it; I know to drink tons of water; I know to rest; I know not to wear corsets. ;) Okay, I threw that one in to see if you were paying attention! Ladies in the 19th Century caught 'bugs' like this and THEY DIED!

I don't think I'm going to die, but I can honestly say there have been moments when I felt like it might be for the best. My mind goes round and round like a nightmarish carousel ride and no matter how I try, I can't seem to get off. I want to believe I'll get better; I want to believe life will get better...but those grotesque animals on my ride are determined to keep me saddled in my negative emotions. I don't know how to change them, and the harder I try and fail, the worse I feel.

Sometimes I wonder, why can't I just be sick? Why can't I just lie here and think about nothing, let my mind wander over green meadows with waving wildflowers or sit on the beach and listen to the tide crash against a silvery white shoreline. Wouldn't it be fine just to feel peace for an entire day? Just peace...not happiness, not love, not contentment or joy or anything else...just peace. Wow! Wouldn't that be nice?

I wonder if sickness pulls other people down into this same rut. Is that why people die while they're in it? People keep telling me I need to write about all this, and here, I believe I am. But can words alone help me find my way out? I wonder...

The End of the Road

There are so many things you learn at the end of the road, but the most astonishing revelation is simply that there's no place left to run. You find yourself here, there, wherever it may have led you personally, and then it just stops. Brick wall. Point blank. Nada. Nowhere left to go. So then what do you do?

I am at that place, and I honestly have no idea how to answer the question. I am ill today, and I have to depend on the one person I don't want to depend on, the person I know I WON'T be able to depend on forever. Then what? Who will help me 'tend the guests' when I'm sick? Who will help me take care of this wonderful monstrous old house? Who can I call in the middle of the night when something unforeseen happens? Where does this road lead for one aging, uncertain, lost woman?

I pray, and yes, I do believe in a Universe where Love pervades and watches over me always. But I don't see a phone number listed by the name 'Love' in the book. So 'who ya gonna call?'

I want to believe the end of the road doesn't really end...that you simply have to turn in a different direction and go forward again. I'm just not sure you can do that until you've looked deep inside yourself and figured out how you got where you are to begin with. Because until you can do that, all roads are going to lead to the end. I know that I personally am looking, but I don't know that I've received any guidance yet about which way to turn. I hope, I wait, I pray, I cry, I scream, I beg, I yearn...Unfortunately, that's pretty much all you can do at the end of the road.

Seeing What Is...

I just realized it's been almost 2 weeks since my last blog entry--sounds sort of like something you'd say to your priest about confession, doesn't it?! I suppose I do use this blog as sort of a 'confessional,' but I've also learned it's better not to confess everything to the virtual world. Will get you in trouble every time! So back to the subject at hand--why haven't I been blogging lately?

I suppose it's partly due to the fact that I've been very busy at the B&B, but more likely because I've been at a better place, more at peace, almost feeling a sense of 'happiness' again. I think it could have been the result of Indian Summer, because now that it's cold and dreary I can't seem to get my groove back. But the weather isn't the only reason, unfortunately...

Whoever said 'pride goeth before a fall' was right on target; I was feeling more than a little proud of myself in my responses toward 'you know who.' I'd finally started responding rather than reacting to every little thing, and it seemed like we were working better together, which has been more than usual due to stuff needing to be done here. It felt like maybe we were getting more on a 'friend' basis, even, then wham! bam! thank you m'am! he pushed a button, I got hooked, and I gave him both a mouthful and an earful! Granted, the button he pushed was still a sensitive one, and he knew it, even prefaced his comment with 'I know this is going to hurt your feelings.' So I ask myself, why did he feel the need to go there, and the only answer I can come up with is that he can't stand it when things are going better, so he'll (subconsciously) do anything he can to sabotage the relationship. He's been doing that from the very beginning, over and over and over again. While I just sit back, take it, then start over forgiving him...

Ok, the question finally has to become WHY DO I DO IT? What is it in me that just can't seem to stop hoping he'll stop doing it? What is it that can't let go, quit loving him, move on, etc, etc, etc? I think I know all the issues in my past that brought me to this behavior, but I still don't know how to stop it. I have to believe that each of these little 'incidents' is another lesson I must learn in order to truly 'see what is.' This person is not, has never been, emotionally healthy. I have tried to glue the relationship together for years, and the glue has finally given way to the broken pieces. I have to pick myself up out of them and use that glue to put myself back together. I have to stop turning backward and move FORWARD. And yet I don't even know what that means. What seemed to be working, and what I must try to find again, was the daily routine, the moment by moment, the quiet peace of an instant... Unfortunately, I'm now nursing a cold along with my soul, so these few days of starting again feel tiring...but I must...the only light lies before me, not behind.

Gold Stars

I started a system for tracking my emotional ups and downs, but after a few months I realized there was something wrong with it... Remember back in grade school--some of us will remember this!--when you did something special and you got a shiny little gold star on your paper? Well, I started a 'gold star' system for tracking my highs and lows. Gold was a great day; green an ok day; blue a sad day; and red was an 'I really lost it' bad day! My goal, starting in May before my divorce was final, was to get 20 gold stars a month. (I've yet to make it.)

But the other day, I realized I wasn't really working for the gold stars; they were just happenstance, on days when I felt like maybe I would have a happy future again some day, or days when I just felt some peace in my life again. Those days came and went like the tide, and I always found myself back to mostly blue or green days. (At least not so many red days though!) It occurred to me I really wasn't doing anything to 'earn' my gold star.

Lately I've been reading a lot of Buddist philosophy, which talks about being non-reactive to situations as well as the idea of not attaching yourself to outcomes. In other words, it's okay to 'want' something, just don't plan on it. When you do and it doesn't happen, you suffer, and according to the Buddists, figuring out how not to suffer is what it's all about.

It's taken a while, but some of those teachings are finally starting to sink in, I think. Now, this does not just 'happen' nor is it an easy path to follow. I can think of numerous times during this past week alone when I've wanted to 'react.' For instance, the fact that this weekend is my ex's birthday and he doesn't want to share even one iota of it with me, makes me really, really want to react. I feel hurt, sad, rejected. He preaches to me that what I feel is a choice I make, but I disagree. I'm not choosing to feel those feelings. They just are--because I am human and humans 'feel.' What is a choice, I'm figuring out, is how I react to them. I can pick up the phone and call him and cry, or rant and rave, or spout off my new philosophies, etc etc etc. All of which accomplishes absolutely nothing--except more suffering. The story I wrap around the feelings--poor rejected me--causes even more suffering. I also recognize I rather like to suffer, which is weird, and embarrassing, and frustrating, but all in all true. And yet if I truly want to move toward a future filled with all the things I say I want, I'm going to have to stop enjoying my 'sad story' so much.

So now, on the days I can stay with the feeling, hold the 'story' at bay, not react by calling or writing, well, those are the days I get the 'gold star.' They are not good days; mostly they are days where every moment is a struggle to stay present and 'love what is.' But they are the days where I 'earn' it. They are the days on which I want to model who I am--a strong, self-loving, compassionate person. That is the person I want to be, and that is the partner I want in my life. I look at my gold stars now, little by little beginning to shine across the days of each month, and I feel good about the love I'm bringing toward me.

Mirrors and Movement

I've gotten behind in my writing, mainly because life has been busy, but also I was ill for a few days. Not sure if I had a bug or just ate something, or simply needed to 'rest' for a while...sometimes it can be any or all of the above, and you just have to stop. I had a lot of time to reflect and read and for some reason, I find myself feeling better not just physically, but emotionally as well...

I feel like something is finally 'clicking' into place and I'm not feeling the need to 'react' to every single thing 'he' does that upsets me. I'm not feeling the need to pick up the phone to call every time something goes wrong. I'm figuring out how to handle more and more on my own, and I'm finding a sense of empowerment in that discovery. Funny, I'd forgotten that not only I know how to take care of myself, but also I can be alone. I rarely even feel 'lonely' these days...I'm mostly too busy. But I won't say I never do, because there are times when it just hits. But not so hard, or so bad.

I've been reading many of the books by Pema Chodron (can't do the emphasis marks here...) which I find very soothing. She writes a lot about learning to live without 'attachment,' and I can see that this situation is certainly asking me to learn that lesson. It is a hard one to learn when you feel you are losing something you want very badly. But I'm trying, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute...

But the other interesting thing I read--and I can't remember exactly where I read it or heard it or what--is the idea of the other person as your mirror. This isn't something new to me--I've read and heard it many times before, but something sunk in deeply in the last week or so. Sometimes you have to stop looking in the mirror. Yes, the mirror that he holds for me at the moment represents things I've done in my own life that I'm not very proud of. But those things are in the past. Granted, I finally understand the pain our choices can sometimes cause others, and the lesson I have learned is that I will do everything in my power to avoid causing pain again. But that's the lesson, and now it's really okay for me to stop looking in that mirror. If he truly needs to go and be and do all that he says, then I have to allow that to be, and stop looking back at the hurt that decision has brought to me. I can turn away from the mirror and look for another mirror that hopefully now can reflect back the true love and compassion I feel for others. I am ready to see myself reflected in THAT light.

I even have a strong affirmation for myself: Love moves toward me in every circumstance. I can already see evidence of this. I woke up this morning with my head lying against my cat who never sleeps close to me! Then when he woke up, instead of jumping off the bed, which he usually does, he just moved to another cuddly spot! This is my fondest wish--to have love continually moving toward me, not away. I believe this is a step toward the future I haven't been able to move toward up to now. I hope so.

Curses

Ok, I'm not saying I believe in them, but I had an interesting conversation with one of my guests this morning... This is something that's come up before, because this house has a very STRONG feminine energy. Almost everyone who's been here and senses these things agrees. What's odd about that is the house through its history has been primarily occupied by women. Mary Jameson was widowed in 1901 and lived here (with her widowed sister!) for another 26 years. Charlotte Jameson was widowed and lived her alone for 25 years. The next owners divorced and the wife inherited the house. The next owners had a son who wound up in the State Hospital. My own husband left and I've been here alone nearly 2 years, and my husband has said more than once he felt the house 'drove' him away. Okay, admit it...this is all a bit weird. My guest suggested there might be a curse on the house. So I started asking myself, who would have cursed the house?

The answer came relatively easily. It must have been Sallie Tom Jameson. Since I haven't done what I intended and written much about the Jameson women, maybe now is the time to explain why it might have been Sallie who cursed the house... The truth is, I don't think she cursed the house so much as the women in the family. Here's why...

Sallie Tom Jameson was the sister of the man who lived in my house, John Jameson (Jr.). She and her sister Elizabeth (Bettie) were schoolteachers in Kentucky and both engaged to gentlemen from that state. They were to be married here in Fulton (at their mother's home north of town) on the same day. Two weeks before the wedding, Sallie Tom took ill and died. Her betrothed didn't even make it to Fulton in time for her funeral, and supposedly wept for an extended time on her grave. But her sister Bettie went ahead with her own marriage. Fine and dandy... Bettie had a son that was named after Sallie's fiance, Richard Reid Rogers. But 10 years later, Bettie's husband died...so what did Bettie do? Well, she waited an appropriate amount of time (4 years) and then she married Sallie's betrothed!! Right in this very house!! So, Bettie lost her first husband, and it was downhill from there. Sallie's fiance and Bettie's second husband, Richard Reid, was horsewhipped and committed suicide in 1884; Sallie's brother John (Mary's husband) died in this house suddenly in 1901; Sallie's nephew Harris died in 1893; Sallie's nephew John died in the early 1900s; Charlotte's husband Boulware Jameson died here in 1956; the next owners divorced and the wife got the house; Sallie Tom's niece and namesake died in this house, unmarried, at 23; Doll Jameson never married; Bessie Jameson (Bettie's namesake) died in a tragic fire at 4 years; and last but not least has been my own abandonment.

Was Sallie a woman scorned who wished no one happiness if her own couldn't be granted? It certainly didn't seem so from reading her obituary, which said she was glad to go to God, but only wished she had had more time in this life. Did she change her mind before she crossed over? Did she curse the Jameson family and occupants of the home where Bettie married Sallie's lover?

The certainly doesn't 'feel' cursed, but if it is, I wonder how one goes about removing one? ;) I have no idea. Might be something worth exploring. All I'm saying is that I don't want to live in a house that rejects men. Now or ever. I haven't become that cynical about love....yet.

When Things Fall Apart

I've been reading a book that is really touching my soul, WHEN THINGS FALL APART, by Buddist nun Pema Chodron. I've explored Buddism to some extent, through mediation and with a local Sangha. I don't know if it is the path for me, but I do find a soul connection with this woman, especially when watching her YouTube interviews. She was left by her second husband in her thirties, and the betrayal had a profound affect on her life, so much so that she was led soon after to become a Buddist nun. She talks about the idea of 'groundlessness,' and how she ultimately learned that if we lean into this condition, we find peace. I'm not explaining it as well as she does in her book, but I understand it completely.

When something terrible and unexpected happens, you realize that nothing can ever be permanent or 'safe' again, and it leaves you with a feeling of complete 'dis-ease.' My father had a heart attack a few years ago, and I think it left him with the same kind of feeling--you simply can not know if one day your heart will simply stop. Or perhaps the reality is, the only thing you CAN know is that one day your heart will stop. You just can't know which day it will be...the uncertainty, the groundlessness of that is terrifying. Yet we have no real choice but to go on, to continue walking the path of uncertainty, which in the end, will lead us to nothing less than death.

I have been feeling more 'calm' in my life, and yet, I also feel a great sadness. This world holds no real 'safety' or 'security.' That can only be found on a deeper level, by looking within and knowing there is a greater flow that holds us in its arms. The world will always hold great joy as well as great sorrow. I've written of this before, but one carves the way for the other. This makes me sad. I want to believe joy can last forever. Perhaps it can. But not in this world.

Retreat

Funny, I think my last post was called 'Returning' which might seem more appropriate for this one, since I've just gotten home from a high school reunion and 9 days in Texas! But I'll get to the reasons for the 'Retreat' in a minute... The time away was wonderful--I didn't miss a thing here--well actually, not true--I always miss my cats terribly when I travel. But I needed the break, and it was wonderful to see family and so many old friends. The reunion was a smashing success, and I'm so glad I was able to be a part of it. Even though I don't live in Texas anymore, the Internet allowed me to make a real contribution. And since I was one of the main people who helped kick it off, I felt very connected to the outcome. It was wonderful, and even though I dislike Texas and would never want to live there again, I cried when I left. I will miss those I love. There, I felt surrounded by love--here, I only feel its lack.

And so, I am home. At least I have a full house this weekend, and business seems to be picking up for Fall, thank goodness. But it was not easy to come back to the dealings with 'him.' It's simply this--the impossibility of getting 'over' the pain when it continues to present itself on a regular basis. I realized it's not that I don't want to run the B&B--it's that I don't want to run it with him. I honestly believe it is time for him to do what he says he wants to do and GO. Of course, this is not my choice to make, and I'm sure it would hurt tremendously to have him gone--but I'm starting to believe it hurts MORE to have him here...

So I am putting myself in 'retreat' mode. I suppose I've been there in some respects all along, but mostly I have retreated from others. Now, I find that I must retreat from HIM. There is nothing left to say--I have said it all, and it changes nothing. He feels nothing, and while I find this hard to believe, when I still feel such heartache, it simply is what it is, and I must not try to fight it any longer. I must be like the silly knights in Monty Python when pursued by the killer rabbit and 'Run Away!' My house is my safe haven, and it will give all the shelter I need. My two boys are the knights in armor--though I won't count on them for much protection beyond a mighty 'meow' or two! I must hold on to the belief that my love was true, that this is not some punishment sent by Heaven for mistakes I've made along the way, but rather an unexpected twist on the path that will lead me to pleasant surprises. Some days--most days--it's still very hard to believe this, but I am trying. I remain open to whatever comes my way...

Returning

Is it possible...little by little, step by step, day by day, I am finding my way back to me? I'm afraid to believe, and yet I feel something has shifted, ever so slightly, and maybe I will be able to go on... But even though today that feels true, I hold back, because it seems like every time I allow myself to think I might be letting go, I slip back into the 'dark place,' and wonder once again if I will ever find my way out? But the last time that happened, not only was I sad, I was SO very angry. I took my plastic baseball bat and I beat a picture the bat up again yesterday, and I couldn't believe it had actually bent, because it didn't seem to have any further inclination to do so. Could I have been that mad? Could my anger have set something free? I've been angry before, but I'm never taken it out on anything physical, like a photo or an object...It was my favorite photo, too, so maybe, just maybe, I truly did let something go... I only know I've felt lighter ever since, and a part of me doesn't seem to care about what happens any more. I'm allowing my life to simply 'be,' and it feels good.

Today I've gotten to play hostess to a bridal shower, and it's wonderful when the house is filled with people celebrating a special event--this is what the house loves to do, and I love to have the chance to share it under such circumstances. Perhaps it's what I am meant to do as well. Certainly it's what I'm meant to do on this day... I honestly believe this is how Mary and Charlotte carried on after their beloveds had gone. They shared this house--they shared its joys and its sorrows, and in the sharing they managed to find life again. I hope it will be the same with me, but God willing, I would like to find love again as well.

Losing Faith

I wonder how one does not...Time goes by and by and by and nothing changes really. You feel alone and you are alone; pain ebbs and flows; life has no real purpose or direction. How long does one have to live in the place before the 'light at the end of the tunnel' appears? I don't know the answer to this question...I only know I am here, and nothing has changed to lessen the feeling of isolation.

I sprained my finger yesterday, and I have to admit the physical pain is something of a welcome relief. Now I have a reason to stop, nap, rest, feel sorry for myself. I want it to heal, and yet, it doesn't matter to me if it doesn't. I feel the same about myself.

A friend and I were discussing how perhaps it's necessary to 'empty' oneself in order to figure out what's next. If that's the case, I'm certainly reaching the point of complete 'nothingness.' The Tao says this is necessary...I wait to discover if this is indeed true. I don't mind so much anymore...I'm growing used to the idea that in the end, no one can help me but myself... Somehow it doesn't matter anymore what happens. I simply wait...and I feel sad.

This Is My Life

This is a hard place to be, but this is all there is. My counselor reminded me recently that even when it sucks, sometimes you just have to accept that this is your life now. There is a wonderful poem by Rumi...I don't think I've printed it here previously but here in is in any event:

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

-- Jelaluddin Rumi,
translation by Coleman Barks

I live and work in a Guest House, and I accept and greet my guests in just this manner. And yet, in my own life, I try to send the guests packing before they've even had a moment to enjoy their stay. No, I don't want them to stay forever, but the more I try to push them out the door, the more intent they are to never leave. They want me to stay present, to hear the message they've been sent to bring. Often I don't like the message, but each bids me to listen and learn.

This essence of spirit is all I have. Its only purpose in this human life is to reunite with God. I can only do that if I remain open to all the messages and all the lessons, no matter how difficult they may be to hear or learn. I must allow my soul to be the Guest House, and greet each guest with the same love and compassion I would show any guest coming into my physical home. This is the Way.

Levels of Loss

Tonight I'm sitting on my screened-in back porch--alone, as usual--thinking about the women who lived in this house before me, also alone, for much longer than I've been here, alone. It's hard not to sympathize with their losses, especially Mary's, who lost not only a husband but 7 children as well. How did she go on with so much heartache? I know it was due to her faith, that she truly believed her love ones were in a better place... This has brought me to wonder....

We feel such sorrow for those who lose loved ones to death. How their hearts must bleed, to know they'll never--on this Earth--see those they loved again. How they must ache during those years of aloneness that follow the death--or deaths--of those they love! And yet...do we really stop to think how it must be even more terrible for someone to lose a love, not to death, but to lack of love? How do we go on, knowing the one we love doesn't love us anymore...doesn't want to share a life with us...would rather even sometimes be alone than with us? Do we blame ourselves unnecessarily? Of course we do...would we be human if we didn't? Surely if someone quits loving us, it must on some level be our fault? How could we think otherwise?

Divorce may not carry the stigma it once did, but I certainly don't think people comprehend the level of such a loss. They expect you to 'move on,' but how can you move on when the life you had is still back there, waiting to be reclaimed by the two people involved, if only one of them would come to his or her senses? The things we must grieve, the things we must lose, and not in one fell swoop as death so considerately grants, but little by little, one piece at a time. First, the constancy of your companion, then the love you once believed was everything, then the marriage itself, then time spent with your best friend, then every little day to day habit and routine, one bit at a time... You watch those things change from love, to ambivalence, and sometimes even to hate... Does anyone ask how we survive? No, they ask why we don't 'move on?'

I am trying to grasp the concept that suffering is a choice. That I don't have to hold true to this person I loved so much. That I can accept he didn't/doesn't love me and 'move on.' I try to want to believe it's easy, but for me, it isn't. I just want him to be the person he was, or pretended to be; I want to be loved again, all the while knowing we can't go back; all the while trying to believe there's a greater purpose in all that's happening. When will I see it? When will I know why I'm being ask to let all this go? Days, months, years? When?

Today, I have no answers. I have only tears...and loneliness...

Finding Truth

I've long been fascinated with the idea 'what is truth?' and am trying to surrender to the fact that no matter how much we 'think' we know on this subject, the truth is, as human beings, we know nothing. It's so complicated, and I suppose one could drive oneself insane trying to figure it out. Why does someone simply stop loving another person, and is there anything that could have been done to prevent such a thing from happening? Who knows? Why are we so divided in our religious beliefs that people are still killing each other because they believe their 'truth' is the only 'truth?' Why can't we understand and accept each other as we are, on all levels?

I love the character Geoff Rush plays in SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE. Whenever he's asked a question to which the answer is 'unknowable,' he replies simply, 'It's a mystery!' How many mysteries make up our world...our lives... Mysteries that while we all might like to think we understand and know the answers to, none of us truly do.

I can come up with many answers to why my husband quit loving and left me. The truth is only he can know the real answer, and maybe even he isn't sure. It's a mystery. It could change, but probably it won't, because once someone has made a choice, they tend to stand beside it, even in the face of knowing it may have been the wrong choice... I suppose that's why I'm reluctant to make choices any more...so many of my own may have been wrong...

I have been swapping religious banter with a friend of mine who's a minister. His views about 'truth' are very different from mine, and I find myself feeling I need to defend where I'm coming from, in the face of all that conservatism has to say about religion. But the 'truth' is that I don't have to defend anything. I only have to live the life I believe God wants me to live. Believe me, if God came to me in a burning bush and told me to do something specific, I believe I would try to honor that--but so far, no burning bush. The only things I've heard from God this week are the following instructions:

--Write the book
--Give yourself permission to live a new life
--Take back your heart and soul

That all seems pretty clear. Even so, these instructions aren't any easier to follow for me than asking for a human sacrifice would be... What is truth? Where does God want me to go? I only know this moment, and all I can hear is my heartbeat. Sometimes all I can hear is the silent scream inside. Truth bids me follow the moment...because the truth is, the moment is all there is.

Star of Bethlehem

In my garden grow some 19th century flowers called Star of Bethlehem. These little star-shaped white flowers blossom in the early Spring. I think they may have been planted by Mary Jameson, the first owner of my house, who moved here on her marriage in December of 1861. From the letters I've seen, Mary was a wonderful gardener, and often people who came to visit would find her there, tending her flowers.

For some time now, I've been interested in and used flower remedies as an aid to emotional stress. Upon deeper exploration into these remedies, I discovered you could make them yourself from the flowers in your garden. Last Spring, I decided to make a batch using the Star of Bethlehem flower. I'm not sure if I realized it at the time, but recently, when looking for a remedy to help overcome grief, I discovered the one to use was Star of Bethlehem!

As I've been using the remedy, although I still feel sadness, I do sense grief losing its complete hold on me, and I feel I'm taking tiny baby steps toward some unknown but liveable future. I can't help but wonder if Mary Jameson might have used the flower in this same way. The remedies were certainly becoming known for such use in the 19th century, and who knows what 'folklore' may have handed down regarding their healing powers. Taking the remedy in this way has given me such a feeling of connection to this woman who lived in my home over a hundred years ago, and lost so much herself during her lifetime here--7 children and a husband, and who knows how many other friends and relatives. Death was such a given in those days, and faith alone kept broken hearts alive.

My broken heart requires faith as well. I trust my flower remedy to do its magic, and God to do the rest. I trust the Universe to bring me peace and new love, perhaps some day, even joy. I wait; I tend the garden. What more can any woman do?

Starting Over...

People keep saying it's a wonderful thing, having a clean slate in front of you, a life that can be anything you want it to be. I keep trying to 'get' that, but it's eluding me... I had the life I wanted, pretty much down to a 'T,' so when I hear friends saying how great it will be creating something new, well, it makes me feel pretty frustrated, quite frankly. The more I think about the 'future,' the more I have no earthly idea what I want it to be... Yes, there are many things I could do, and while some of them seem interesting and worth considering, I can't think of one particular thing that seems to be grabbing my 'passion.' The only thing that really holds my attention these days seems to be the work I'm doing on myself. I thought I'd done a lot of it, but now I can see there's a lot left to be done...

In the meantime, I suppose what I'm really trying to learn to do is 'live in the moment.' Right now, it's the only thing that really makes sense to me. Do I 'like' this moment? No, most of the time I hate it. But I have to find pleasure in the little things--a nice glass of wine, holding my cats, fixing dinner, reading a good book, sitting on the porch. They're all I have really, and as far as I seem to be able to go in 'figuring out what I want.'

I hope this changes. I hope some day I feel passion again, for living if nothing else. I hope I do have dreams. I hope I find something that makes my heart sing. I hope I can create a life that I never could have imagined. At least I do have hope. Because at the moment, that's about all I have.

Threads

I've been away on vacation, and I will write more about that later, but I need to talk about where I am today. I am working on a needlepoint tapestry, and much like a woman in Victorian times, I have it before me, stretched across a hoop, the colored threads weaving in and out of its pattern. It depicts a Renaissance woman, her heavy skirts draping around her chair to the floor, as she stitches a tapestry of her own. At her feet, two cats curl in lazy slumbering balls, and beyond the window of her gray castle walls, a lush garden beckons.

I work the tapestry one stitch at a time, wishing I could hasten the task to its completion, see it framed, have it hung upon the wall. I think of the women who lived in my house long ago, working at their own stitchery, and I wonder what happened to those fine pieces of art, none of which seem to be in existence today. I think of them living in this house, alone, sewing their lives away, one stitch at a time. Not so very different from me...

And yet, in my tapestry, there is a loose thread. A slender piece of silk, it keeps slipping loose, falling to the floor, catching itself on the chair or the rug or whatever happens to be the closest at hand, refusing to be called back. Even when I think I have it knotted, it slips loose again, forcing me to find it, pull it back, make it a part of the picture, so that the picture will be complete.

I'm tired of that thread. I'm tired of its distracting me from my work. I'm tired of the chase for it, spending my energy on a piece of thread that offers me nothing in return. I'm tired of needing its color to brighten the work at hand. I'm tired of seeing its consistency as so unique that it can't be replaced. I'm very, very tired. The scissors will cut it, but what will happen then to the spaces that color was meant to fill? I can't imagine another that will match its vibrant hue...

I must put this work aside for now, and wait...hope...live with uncertainty of the outcome. I must accept that the space on my wall will remain bare for now...

Atunement

It sounds like such a lovely word, doesn't it? Like something you'd use when singing in harmony, or playing musical instruments with a group of friends, or even just getting in sync with someone. But in the therapeutic world, atunement is actually a bad thing. It means you're enmeshed, co-dependent, someone who leans on another person, and this isn't a good. This is what has happened to me and Jim, and the task now is to 'de-tune.' I do not like de-tuning. De-tuning means no sharing, no personal relationship, no connection beyond what is needed to maintain a 'working' relationship. De-tuning means he's not there for me, and I'm not there for him. De-tuning replaces all that was. It makes me sad...

I learned this today when I attended a session with Jim's counselor, who is a wonderful woman I really like a lot. I feel she did more than anyone has to help us come up with a 'plan' for de-tuning. It appears that plan may ultimately lead me away for a while this winter, and it seems we are 'both' okay with that. For me, detachment IS going to take distance...I'm not even sure I can do it until then, but I will try my best. I don't like it; I don't understand it; but I suppose it is something that must be. I don't see that I have any choice in the matter, and this also makes me sad.

I feel that to save myself, I must find a way to escape all this for a time. I feel a certain amount of 'lightness' in that, and I'm eager to see what opportunities life may bring. I can't look back; I can't regret; I can't miss; I can't love; I can't do any of the things my nature SO wants to do. Here is a poem I found recently that sums up my feelings:

I know
it's hard to be reconciled
not everything is exactly
the way it ought to be

but please turn around
and step into the future
leave memories behind
enter the land of hope. -----Zbigniew Herber, from A Life

Dreams of Destruction

I have been following my dreams very closely for the past few weeks. I'm finding it more and more fascinating how the psyche works things out through dreaming. Lately I'm not sure if things are really being worked out, or if the issues are just making themselves known. For instance, last night I dreamed (and I can't always remember all of them, but you'll get the gist...) that I was moving and some of the things from my 'old' house were being destroyed. Two large old Victorian-type trunks were 'bulldozed' completely into pieces, and as I watched it happening, I realized I had no idea if any of the valuables had been removed from the trunks. As a result, I managed to salvage two other trunks--another old Victorian, and the other a wooden--get this--hope chest. I didn't need to open them--I knew I would do that when the time was right, but that they would be items I would want to keep for my 'house.'

The next piece of the dream was my moving into a 'single' room, a small room with only a bed. I wanted to place a writing desk between two windows in the room, but I realized sadly the desk I wanted had been lost to me many years ago. It was something from my childhood that I hadn't brought with me through the years. But somehow I knew the right 'desk' would present itself in time. The room felt comfortable, but sadly empty.

Finally, the last part, showed me a woman who had once been my 'best friend.' She had given birth to a child, much to my surprise, as I'd never known she was pregnant. We were discussing the house where she had once lived, and I saw the place in my mind, but now it was an ugly mowed down vacant lot--the house had been completely destroyed.

I see the symbols and the pieces of my life in this dream: Everything I loved has been 'bulldozed' yet I managed to save a 'hope' chest; a single room for a single person; windows to see a new world; loss of my writing but 'hope' it will return; a best friend with a secret child; the friendship mowed down with only an ugly vacant place left. The images left me feeling sad, empty, frustrated, alone, and yet, by day's light, a bit lighter than I had felt before. Perhaps little by little, this is God taking back the emotions and the pain of loss, promising to replace them when the time is right, letting me know there's still 'hope.'

The excavation of the self is fascinating work.

What To Do

People say you don't have to decide, live in the moment, breathe. All good advice, I know, but not easy. How hard it is to make peace with pain! How do you make choices, move on, let go, when essentially you are still faced with the 'problem' on a regular basis? It's something I'm having to seriously consider... Am I taking on too much, trying to stay here and be 'strong' when I'm the one feeling all the pain? Perhaps it's time for him to step in and take things over for a while? Yes, that would be letting go too--letting go of worry that something will go wrong, that only I care enough about the house and the business to keep them on track. So what if he doesn't? If I have to take a 'time out' to save my sanity, then perhaps that is the right thing to do...

Every time I go away, I feel stronger, but when I return, I feel oppressed. I love the house; I love the business; I love the simplicity of my life here--but the emotions take over at the slightest thing. There are so many memories, too few opportunities, too few friends or family, too much alone time, too little relief. Is it right for me to stay with it, or give myself an extended break, or even a complete break? What would happen if I gave myself permission to do that?

I leave on Sunday for 10 days on Sanibel Island, and he will be here, taking care of things. Perhaps I'll feel differently when I return. I don't want to make rash decisions, and I don't want to dump everything on him. But perhaps it is truly time I started asking myself what will it take for ME to feel better. Perhaps it is past time....

Love's Addictions

This is a hard one...is it addiction, to feel the loss of someone and to still that need connection with them, on whatever level, until you reach a place where you can genuinely move on? Or is that simply grief and the heartache trying to let go of someone who was a part of your life for 15 years and who in many ways, still is, divorced or not, your family? Is it dependence to still love and believe in someone to whom you gave the biggest part of your heart, or is it simply that, as I mentioned in another post, it takes time to refill the hole left by their absence? I honestly don't think I know the answer to this.

People who consider themselves experts--and even those who aren't--seem to find it so easy to say 'you're codependent,' 'you're hanging on,' 'you're addicted to love,' etc etc etc. I can certainly see elements of that, and knowing my past history, I suspect there's a certain amount of truth in it. But at the end of the 'day,' what's wrong with wanting to reach out to that person who who once promised to be there for you 24/7? What's wrong with wanting that connection, in whatever new form it may need to take? I think it's only when someone insists on pulling away completely that you're left with absolutely nothing to fill the empty space...

He tells me it takes time and space and neutrality to find peace for us, and while I believe this, I know it takes him twice the time and space it would take me, so somewhere between his time and space and mine, the 'need' kicks in and I'm left with the emptiness to fill. And yes, there are other ways to fill it, but what about when you've exhausted those and again, it's still empty. What about when you pray, and you still feel empty?

I am looking for that place inside where I don't need to feel loved by a 'person,' and yet on some levels, I hope it's a place I never find. I DO want love; I DO want connection; I DO want to believe. If that IS addiction, I suppose I have it...and I can't honestly say I want to give it up. I want to be strong; to know I'm self sufficient; to respect my own boundaries and those of my partner...but love, yes, I want it. I never want to not want it. I guess I'd rather believe that's 'hope,' not addiction.

Weekends at the B&B

Business has picked up slightly, which is a good thing for the 'big picture.' I don't mind really, because it's nice to have others in the house. I love sharing the house. This weekend I have a trip on the horizon, so I have lots of work to do in preparing for that, as well as dealing with guests. Still, it's good to be busy...

Underneath all that lies the 'aloneness.' I can be alone; I've been alone in the past, and I know how to do it. I just don't want to. I did that already, and I don't want to do it again. I do the affirmations, the positive thinking, etc etc etc--maybe it's just me, but it's not what I want. I want a companion, someone to share the ups and downs, the journey, the work, the good and the bad... I want to reach out, but what's the point--as my sister tells me, it only continues the 'insanity.' It is what it is...I am alone now, single, here with my two cats, my guitar, my pain. This is my life.

For these things I am grateful--friends near and far who console me, business picking up, my guitar, my cats, beautiful weather, a good glass of wine, trips to look forward to, good books to read, my journal, walks, did I mention friends? I keep reminding myself everything is perfect, just the way it is. I wish it felt that it was...I don't.

Spiraling

They tell me this is the way grief works...one day you're fine, the next you're back in a spiral of heartache, sadness, fear, loneliness, or whatever emotion has elected itself your captor this time. On the good days you think you're finally getting over it, moving on, feeling hope again, then suddenly, you feel like you're right back where you started. That's how I feel today. The only difference is, I've finally learned I can't reach out to him. That no good will come of that.

I've been using all my tools to try and hold the despair at bay. I suppose you could say they're working, but I'm still not through this particular rutty spot. I'm holding my own; that's the best I can say about where I'm at. Someone once labeled loss like this: When you're with someone, you spend years digging a big hole that becomes your relationship; when loss happens, you have to fill that hole back in, with a teaspoon! In other words, it's going to take a LONG time to fill it! Don't I know it?

And then there are the shadowy spots you try to avoid while you're digging--the places that say why doesn't he call; why isn't he hurting; why is it so easy for him to just 'move on'; why do I feel so very alone? Those places must be avoided at all costs. The insecure ego pulls you there--it's pulling me there, telling me terrible things about myself that at my core, I know aren't true, and yet this little self would have me believe all those hurtful lies. I choose not to believe them, but that choice is a hard-won fight, a moment by moment battle.

I think of those around me, my friends; those before me in this house. How did they do it? How did they suffer one loss after another, greater losses than mine even, and continue to have faith that all would be well again. Yesterday I knew that; today I'm not so sure. But I continue to tell myself, moment by moment, it's only a feeling. This too shall pass. All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things shall be well. (St. Julian of Norwich)

Hope

I haven't written in a few days because I was in Chicago visiting an old friend. Not 'old' in the sense of age, but rather, someone I hadn't seen in over ten years. We belonged to a women's spirituality group when I lived in Dallas, but she moved to Chicago with her family to do a medical residency. I visited them once after she moved, but after that we lost touch. The last contact I had with her was a Christmas card telling me that she and her husband were getting a divorce. I tore the corner with her phone number off of the card and saved it, somehow knowing someday she and I would reconnect. I won't go into those details here, because that's her story, and it wouldn't be fair of me to share it without her permission, but having her back in my life again, at this particularly difficult time for me, has meant the world to me. Things happen when they're supposed to--I just wish I'd been there for her then, and I wasn't. My life had carried me to a different place, and for whatever reason, I didn't make the effort until this past year to try and find her again.

The thing of it is, for the first time in a long time, I felt hope again. I loved visiting with her; I loved Oak Park where she lives; I loved Chicago; I loved the Jameson connections I brought with me and got to see firsthand. (A digression about that--one of the sons of my home, Harris Jameson, visited the 1893 Columbian Exposition with his sister Dollie. While there, he fell ill of appendicitis and died 5 days later. He had written a letter home just days before his death, telling of the wonderfully exciting time he was having. If you've read Devil in the White City, you know what an event that was!) So my friend and I had a great adventure trying to explore Jackson Park and the one building and few relics left from the fair. Instead we wound up sitting in traffic due to something called the 'Old School Picnic,' which seemed to consist primarily of an African American over-35-crowd that unfortunately kept us from ever getting out of the car to explore the area where the Exposition was held. But at least I got close...

We spent the next day visiting the Ba'hai Temple--their faith is an interesting attempt to unify the world's religions--good luck with that! The temple was fabulous, rather reminded me of an Illinois Taj Mahal! It's very near Evanston, where Daniel Burnham (architect of the White City) once lived with his family. Wish I'd realized that before I got home, or I would tried to find his house, too! A friend of my friend spent that day with us, and we had a nice lunch, sitting outside with sushi and Asian food in perfect 'Santa Monica' weather. Later that evening we relaxed and sipped wine on my friend's deck--a wonderful day!

It's all these little things that help me remember that life does indeed go on. Harris didn't leave Chicago, but his sister did, and he wrote the letter that I found, and all these years later I'm living in his house and coming back to visit the place he spent his last days. I'm visiting there because one aspect of my own life has died, as one aspect of my friend's life died ten years ago. Like it or not, we all go on--even Harris in some sense has 'gone on.' Perhaps someday, someone will read this blog and decide to re-visit my life in some regard. We never know how we are connected, but more and more, I'm coming to accept that we are. ALL of us.

Belonging

It's been a busy week, as I'm leaving tomorrow to visit an old friend who lives in Chicago. I haven't seen her in over 10 years, and am really looking forward to the getaway...

But I've thought a lot this week about my house, and the possibility that I'll be having to sell it soon, and how for the first time--here--I've felt a sense of belonging. Maybe that's just something that happens in an old house, the energy of the ages is present, and you're adding your presence to that, and when they finally become one, you realize you are now--forever--a part of this place's history. No matter if I stay or leave, a part of me and mine will be imprinted on this place for all time. That makes me really happy, to know that I'm now part of the 'Jameson' history.

I wonder though, why 'belonging' is so important to us, almost from our very beginnings? We want to belong to our parents, to those who love us, to our peer group, to our family, to our social network, etc, etc, etc? We want to believe we are a part of something greater...of God, the Universe, time itself. And so we are...and yet, nothing of this Earth lasts, which is the part that frightens us. To let go, to feel unloved, to release attachment to everything, physical, emotional, to find what...what is beyond all this?

For some it is God, heaven, eternity, to others it is nothing. Is there a right or a wrong? Is there, as my friend suggests, truly a 'Camelot,' that perfect place where it never rains and all is peace? Is the hope of that what keeps us going? I love what Geoffrey Rush's character says in SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE, 'It's a mystery.' For indeed, it IS a mystery. My greatest wish is that, in the end, we all discover we're right in whatever we chose to believe...but most especially, that we all come to know we 'belong' to something greater.

Small Graces

Yesterday did indeed turn out to be a good day. It was so wonderful to visit my neighbors and know that I have an open invitation to their 4th of July party from now till eternity! They had recently rescued a baby kitten, about 2 months old, black with traces of white, and it was just starting to develop that fat little belly that kittens get once they start eating real food instead of just milk. What a precious little treasure to hold, to play with, its tiny little teeth nipping at my fingers while I teased its belly! There is nothing quite so wonderful as a kitten!

Later, before I had to leave for home, one of my friend's gave me a precious gift. She told me how very much she admired the way I had handled my separation and divorce. She said she had been so impressed that I never 'trash talked' my husband, and that I'd shown amazing strength in the face of a very difficult situation. She said I should be 'proud of myself.' Her comments made me feel so good, and proud as well. Stronger, like maybe I really will make it through this. Of course, I don't think I've shown such strength with him, but she said the face I'd shown the public was one of courage. I'm glad for that, because I never wanted others to see me as a 'victim,' nor do I want to see myself this way. I really appreciated this positive feedback...so many times people don't say what they think, and this meant a lot.

After my friends arrived who had come to cook out at my house, we sat on the screened-in porch and had a lovely visit over glasses of wine and fresh basil, mozzarella, and tomato salad. Wonderful conversation and laughter. Our cookout didn't work out quite as expected because it turned out the propane tank was empty, but we quickly switched the plan to an inside meal. My friend's father grilled the steaks, I made the salad, and she had brought the dessert and fresh ears of corn. When we finished our dinner, we drove to the park and watched the fireworks, which were amazing as usual for such a small town.

Once home, they asked me to play my guitar for them before they headed home, so I played my 'best' and oldest known song, Puff the Magic Dragon. I've added a little touch of my own to it, and while I was nervous and messed up some, she thought my playing was improving. I hope it is, as I like playing for others sometimes, but mostly, right now, I like playing for myself. It gives my evenings a new routine to follow, and I believe I am definitely a person on routines.

All in all, it was a good day. Grief stayed at bay, and I felt blessed in that, and my life in our free country, my new life as a 'free' person.

Today, after the guests all left, I decided to truly enjoy a day of rest. I read, sat on the porch and enjoyed the great weather, journaled, napped, just had a lovely relaxing day, which I desperately needed. All is well.

Independence Day

The 4th of July has become an interesting holiday for me. Four years ago, shortly after moving to this house, we found our beloved cat Boo Radley (Boodle) on the 4th, just a block up the street, a tiny kitten, starving, who could barely walk. We just 'happened' to have guests that weekend who were vet students, and who have now become some of my closet friends, not to mention Boo's 'godparents.' Boo has become a lifeline for me now, along with his step-brother, Jack Sparrow, as well as my vet friends.

Last year was a terrible 4th of July. My husband and I had been separated 3 months, and he was at a cook-out with our friends who live across the back fence. So while I sat on my porch, alone except for my cats, I could hear the festivities that I wasn't invited to be a part of. I'm not proud of my behavior--let's just leave it at that. At least it was primarily between me and him, rather than a public scene that caused everyone embarrassment. But it was bad. Things were truly terrible for me at that point, trying to understand why he'd left and couldn't even spend a holiday with me when he knew how alone I was. At least now I have a better grasp on it.

Today has been better. I am truly trying to claim my own 'independence,' and am setting better boundaries to deal not so much with him, but rather with my own inadequacies when it comes to him. When you keep reaching out, and are consistently pushed away, it takes its toll. It might be wise to learn to quit reaching out, which is where my mind is these days. So I wrote him a letter to let him know how I felt we should handle our business relationship at present, and then I wrote him another letter (which I will not send) attempting to tell him goodbye. This isn't easy, and it may take many (unsent) letters before I truly feel I have released him. But at least it's a move toward freedom and independence. A move I need to make.

Today has been better in other ways too, and it isn't over yet. I took a bike ride on a new part of our hiking/biking trail and discovered, of all things, there's a LAKE in our small town. (Actually, there's another park with a lake, so this is the second...) This wonderful little ride, and a park with a lake at the end of it. Amazing! This town never ceases to delight me with all the beautiful places it has to offer...

When I finish this post, I will walk to my neighbor's house for a short visit with a group of friends before my guests arrive. (I just had another booking, so I now have a FULL house tonight!) Wow! After I get everyone settled in, I have a second set of friends arriving, to cookout here and then watch the fireworks tonight. That's another small town surprise--they have amazing fireworks, something I always enjoy, but now find bittersweet without the one at my side who always enjoyed them with me. Lots of life is like that for me now.

Still, I feel good that I am taking baby steps toward moving ahead. It will be a long time before I don't have bad days, I suspect, but at least I have a better sense of 'hope.' This, when all is said and done, is the best I could ask for at the moment.

Happy 4th to all my fellow Americans! And even if you're grieving like me, know that someday freedom from it will ring once more.

Here is a poem I found, which I love, and shared in my 'sent' note...it's called 'Woman With Flower.'

I wouldn't coax the plant if I were you.
Such watchful nurturing may do it harm.
Let the soul rest from so much digging
And wait until it's dry before you water it.
The leaf's inclined to find its own direction;
Give it a chance to seek the sunlight for itself.
Much growth is stunted by too careful prodding,
Too eager tenderness.
The things we love we have to leave alone. (Naomi Long Medgett)

The Hardest Days

I'm going to leave the 'family' behind for a moment, or maybe they are actually part of this in some strange way. Heading into this 4th of July weekend, my heart is already heavy. I will be alone, as I have been alone on many holidays now, and will be alone for many ahead. I don't mean I won't be with people, because unlike last, this year I do have plans to be with others. But I am still struggling with the idea that my own family--my husband--won't be present. It isn't even the same to be with parents, or siblings, or children. When the special person in your life no longer wants to be part of it, well, there's nothing that can fill that kind of loneliness.

While I'm working to allow a deeper 'spirituality' to take up that empty space, some days it just doesn't work. It's not so much looking back, or looking forward, but rather a space in the 'present' moment that won't be filled. Perhaps in time--or so they tell me--it will be different. I'd like to believe that's true, but it's hard to imagine when your heart is aching.

So in regard to my house and its family, I often wonder how those women survived the heartache? Especially Mary Jameson, who lost 7 of her nine children while living in this house. Granted, some were babies she never had a chance to know well, but others died in youth or young adulthood, and one died in a tragic fire practically at her front door. She lost her husband when he was 61, and lived here for 26 years without him. How did she go on? How did she manage the endless days (and nights!)? At least she didn't have the heartache of knowing she was left from lack of love. Back then, while it certainly happened, life mostly presented other cruelties.

From the old letters I've read, for Mary it all came down to faith. She, and all of those around her, believed so strongly that being carried to one's 'Heavenly Father' would insure a life so much better than any earthbound soul could hope for, dying seemed a blessing. Even little Bessie, burned in a terrible fire, cried to go 'to Jesus.' And although Sallie Tom Jameson, Mary's sister-in-law, taken by illness two weeks before she was to have wed, wished for a bit more time before God called her 'home,' she knew she would find peace on the other side.

When did we lose that faith in what's beyond? Where is the comfort we're promised when our hearts are filled with pain? There's a song by contemporary Christian band The Fray called 'You Found Me.' In it, the singer laments 'Lost and insecure, You found me, you found me, Lyin' on the floor, Surrounded, surrounded, Why'd you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you? Just a little late, You found me, you found me...' Evidently there's been a lot of criticism about this song by listeners of Christian music. But don't we all wonder that sometimes--why'd you have to wait? Did those Victorians understand what we don't about waiting? That regardless of today's heartaches, something greater awaited them?

So amidst the pain, I remember how much others, too, have lost in this house...and I wait.

My Dead Friends...The Beginning

So...I started writing this blog because I wanted to jumpstart my writing again, and I wanted to write about my house. I want to write about my house because I know there's a 'book' in here somewhere... Now that I know my days with my house and all its history may be limited, it's time I started writing about the topic I originally set out to write about. It's interesting, why we put things off...I have no idea. Fear of failure, fear of success, not know the 'right' thing to say, not letting the words come from a higher place? Perhaps it's any or all of these things...

When I first came here, I didn't love my house. Ok, that's not exactly true, I did love it but I didn't connect with it. There really wasn't that much to connect to...for all that I knew about its history, I didn't know much about its 'people.' Once I began to learn about them, I didn't have a bit of trouble finding a connection to the house itself. Now, I love it...but not in the way that you love a possession. I love it because it's a part of history; it's a stewardship, to care for it, and I don't take that task lightly. But I'm realizing more and more that to have a life of my own again, I will have to let it go. This is another doorway to grief, and I'm not ready to open it yet, but soon that time will come. Maybe saving this writing until now will help me in my release of my home. I hope so...

In the beginning, I knew very little about this place. It had belonged to a family named Jameson. The father of the man who owned my house had been a Missouri Congressman (the first, I believe), and he was also well-known locally for defending a slave girl named Celia, on the grounds of sexual abuse. The Jameson who lived here was also an attorney, but eventually started a livery business as well, and eventually the family owned a local Ford dealership. The house itself was in the Jameson family from 1861 until 1986 (or thereabout). Anyway, a LONG time. That's pretty much all I knew. Only a couple of photos remained from the 'old' days, no letters, no journals, no nothing. The man who lived next door to me had grown up here, but being in his 80s and a bit 'crotchety,' he claimed he didn't have any other information about his forefathers. That was so not true....

When he died 2 years ago, his children found letters, photos, newspaper articles, all boxed up in his office. Perhaps he never read them; perhaps he really didn't know what he had. But he had a lot. I used all that information as a starting point--I went to the library and looked at old newspapers; I started transcribing the letters; tried to identify the photos. I'm happy to report that although the local townfolk might not agree with this, I am probably the prominent authority on one of this town's founding families. I also love them as if they were my own. Seriously. They have become my friends, even if they are all dead. They have taught me so much about life, and loss, and the things that were important back then. Mainly, family. Today, with our blended families and our lives in all parts of the country--and the world--we understand so little about what it meant to be 'close' and to depend on each other; to value your history, and your relatives, and to want it to be handed down to future generations. But they did, and in learning about them, I've come to value those lost values as well. So in future entries, I will try to start sharing not only how they've helped me, but also these people whom I've come to know as friends. I hope you find something in our stories to help you regain a sense of connection to your own family and history. Because I truly believe, beyond anything, connection is what it's all about...

The Little Moments

When life is difficult, sometimes all you have left are the little moments. Even though it may be hard sometimes, I know it's important to find them. I have a little routine, and it hasn't changed that much from the 'before' times; I suppose it's a bit lonelier now than it used to be. When I don't have guests at the B&B, I like to get up slowly, savoring those last moments of sleep, then letting my cats wake me up with gentle nudges of 'feed me.' (Jack, the tabby, is particularly insistent with scratching at the quilt--he's not going to be happy tomorrow, because I just ran out of can food and forgot to pick up some more!)

Once I'm up, it's time for tea and my daily meditation. I enjoy reading Unity's Daily Word (as does Oprah!) and I'm also reading Wayne Dyer's translation of the Tao Te Ching, which I find very helpful in guiding me toward awareness. If it's not too hot, I have my tea and reading on the screened-in back porch, where there's usually an interesting display of bird activity and sometimes a rabbit or two will join the fun. It's my favorite place in the world, and I think my cats would agree, as they spend a good portion of their day curled up napping in the corner.

Today was busy, so I couldn't spend too much time in 'reflection,' but after checking email I did manage to squeeze in a walk before bulking down to my editorial work. My favorite walk is through Hillcrest cemetery, about which I've written previously, and today the weather was perfect. After a work-related conference call, I headed to Columbia for my guitar lesson, which is always a highlight of my week, then afterwards met a friend at a local wine bar, where we enjoyed a nice evening on the patio sipping a new wine from Oregon.

It wasn't a perfect day, because my heart still hurts almost every moment, but I try to just be present and see the good in my life, even if my life isn't the way I'd like it to be right now. My sweet cats are always here for me, the weather is cooler and bright, the wine flows freely, friends give support in so many ways, and I am loved on a deeper level than I'm fully able to comprehend. Life is as it is, and at least I have these moments of peace to see me through.

Being Silenced

I feel I should try to write, and yet I'm not sure I have much to say today. It's not that I don't have a lot to say, but I'm being asked not to say it. Who would ask you not to express yourself, you ask, and my answer would be 'who wouldn't?' Evidently I am one of those people who expresses themselves 'to a fault,' and evidently this is not an asset to my character. Oh, it's not that I'm always spouting strong opinions, or negativities, or judgments, rather, I am a person who likes to share their feelings, and it appears a good majority of the people in the world either don't want to hear or misconstrue them...

The most immediate concern is figuring out how to no longer share my feelings with the person I've shared them with for the past 15 years. Because, according to our counselor, a business-only partnership is no place for 'feelings' or emotional interactions. And, through no particular fault of his own, my 'partner' can no longer share anything else with me. So, I must learn to 'stop the madness' of sharing...

Somehow I find that sad, and it leaves me feeling very lonely. Yes, the lesson for me may well be that I need to learn to rely on myself and not others, to keep my innermost thoughts, well, inner mostly. This I can strive to do, and yet, I wonder where it will lead. Will it lead to a deeper understanding of myself, a closer connection to Spirit? Or will it lead to being shut down and cut off from others?

I have no idea the answer to this. All I know is right now I am tired, and sad, and wondering where life will lead, and how solitude will suit me in the long run? But it's out of my hands, and so I wait, in silence.

Why People Don't Heal

I'd like to believe I'm not one of what author Caroline Myss calls the 'walking wounded,' but perhaps I am. I know I'm trying to heal, truly I am. I also know that it's almost impossible as I'm constantly thrust against my weapon of mass destruction -- my lost love. He lives three blocks from me in this tiny little town and we own this house/business together until I decide to sell it and move on. Just when I think I have a handle on things and can work with him, he goes into some kind of 'funk' and either isn't available at all, or if so, is in a bad or angry mood. I recently discovered what's probably part of the reason for this, and it's brought back to mind the Myss book and why some people refuse to heal, be it illness or psyche. Besides refusing to do the majority of the work a counselor might suggest, to get any kind of physical activity, the drinking/sleeping issues, he decided not to take his antidepressants either. So while I understand that it's his choice to remain one of the 'walking wounded,' I fail to see what purpose it serves. Is it so that he never has to take a chance and live the life he says he wants to live? Is it an excuse not to be close to anyone? So that he doesn't have to be responsible or committed to the decisions he makes, i.e. marriage, the B&B, etc? I suppose it could be any of these, or all combined.

But where does that leave me? I have this house -- this monstrous, beautiful, warm, peaceful, ancient, Victorian house. I know I bring my own gentle spirit to it, and I know I'm an excellent hostess. I know people come here and find rejuvenation and peace. But it is SO much for one person to handle, not to mention it doesn't make any money, and my freelance work doesn't supplement enough to hire extra help. If I give this up, I will truly be adrift, because I have no idea where I would go or what I would do; not to mention that I don't feel clear guidance about whether I even should give it up. With the terrible market, who knows how long it might actually take to sell it? I keep telling myself maybe I should list it, because I still wouldn't have to sell until I felt ready. It's what he wants, to let it go, take his half, and be done with it--and me. This is a terrible burden to carry, in addition to knowing I must give up the house itself. And yet, staying here among the broken dreams is just as terrible. What to do...


Mostly I am working to find a way to heal, without him, this house, or any worldly thing. I feel I must start taking baby steps toward freedom and somehow saving myself. Perhaps I will find another way or place to serve in this manner, if such is meant to be. I only know that he will never be happy until it -- and I -- are gone, and perhaps not even then. Perhaps he will always continue to walk with his wounds. It breaks my heart -- so many dreams, so many disappointments. I must let it all go, good and bad, and somehow wind my way to peace. Some days the task feels unbearably daunting. Like today...

Sunshine

I'm at an interesting place at the moment. Feeling better, not sure if I'm just on an upslide again, or if it's due to being more 'at peace' lately in relating to the 'ex.' I wasn't a few days ago, and I think it's partly because he's very inconsistent about his interactions with me and the B&B. I try to remember to tell myself he can do what he wants to because he's 'single' now, but sometimes the responsibilities of this house feel overwhelming, and I hate to call him because that would be intruding on his 'space,' but then I start feeling resentful. It's a cycle that comes up again and again, so at least we agreed to go speak with 'our' counselor on Monday and try to get some objective feedback about how to handle things for now. I know eventually I will need to sell the house, but I'm really trying to turn that over to the Universe. One thing I've learned is that I haven't done real well 'steering my own ship.' So, for now, I wait for guidance.

But today is a sunny day, inside and out, yet the 'sunshine' in this title actually refers to a movie I watched last night. It's futuristic, the sun is dying, and Earth lives another glacial period. After the failure of the Icarus Mission, a team of eight astronauts are sent to the sun in the Icarus II Mission to explode a weapon generating a supernova within the sun in the last hope of planet Earth. Essentially they plan to 'jump start' the dying Sun into a new star. It's very reminiscent of 2001 and beautifully shot, but I thought the film could have gone deeper into some 'spiritual' issues. Part of it led back to the whole idea of whether or not God should be the only 'creator?' People so often try to take that on themselves, often with disastrous results. (Such as my steering my ship.) I think we need to learn to view ourselves as 'co-creators,' and when we forget to go with the flow of the Universe, God, Source, etc. etc., then it's likely we're going the wrong way.

The end of the film was lovely because even though there was 'death' for the physical, the aspect of dying within the birth of a star was amazing. What is death really, but rejoining your energy with that of the Universe? What would it be like to die -- and be born -- in the midst of the creation of a star? Maybe that's what happens when we die; maybe that's what all the stars in the sky really are, life after death, watching, guiding, protecting. There could be a million answers to the mystery. The one I believe is this -- there really IS eternal life. Somehow leaving 'form' to become a part of everything doesn't seem so bad...

*SideNote: Michael Jackson died yesterday, at 50 years of age, cause yet to be determined. While I wasn't a huge fan, I did respect his music, if not always the choices he made in his life. But as I listened to a song of his on the radio today, I realized none of that matters now. All will be forgiven, and mostly forgotten. He is a legend now. He is at peace, and he IS a part of everything that is. Go with God, Michael. (And you as well, Farrah Fawcett, Texas sister, who died the same day.)

Framing the Past

I had lunch with my 'ex' today, at his invitation. We've agreed to go on Monday to the counselor we saw previously, to discuss some issues regarding how to deal with the B&B. I'm sure it's very similar to having children, but it this case maybe even worse, because it's forced us to work together to keep things going until we decide what to do with it. And I, for one, am still very uncertain about that. I honestly believe I'm supposed to 'let life happen' and not try to force events one way or another. What that tells me is that if a buyer is supposed to appear, that person or persons will appear. Now, whether or not that means I need to do more to make the place available, I don't know; I'm waiting for that 'message' to be revealed. I know that he wants to sell and move on, but when I ask what that means for him, he doesn't know. I also know that he doesn't see moving on being in any direction with me, and while that still hurts, I'm learning to accept it.

But at lunch today, we talked a bit about how people re-frame their past. In his case and my case with our childhoods, we remember most of it in a negative way. While I'm sure there was good, we're more in touch with the pain we experienced. With the relationship, I have pretty much always framed it in a positive way, while he frames it as more negative. I can't change this, and I know the Truth is really somewhere in the middle. What I wish for us, that we could both be healed and find our way back to one another, may not even be possible. When the house is finally sold, more than likely I will 'move on,' and what he does remains to be seen. I know that 'moving on' more than likely means chances are slim I will ever even see him again, with probably little or no communication. I have seen this happen in his past relationships, and I can't see why he would want ours to be any different. But with all my heart I wish this wouldn't be the case. I wish that a dream or a vision or something from Above could come to him and help him to re-frame it all in a more loving light. There's no way to know if that will happen, and I suspect the chances aren't leaning in my favor right now.

But I choose to frame our relationship, still, in a positive light. No matter what he did or will do, I know it comes from his past and his ability or inability choose the path of love. And I'm sincerely hoping I can learn to re-frame the rest of my past in a loving light as well. I'm ready to claim my good in life. I'm open to it and ready for it. I'm willing to sell this house, if that's what it means; or I'm ready to stay, if that's what it means. I'm ready to love, but if need be, I'm prepared to be alone. I'm ready for whatever is to come, but my fervent wish is that it might be good. I'm ready for the Blessing. Now if I can just find the patience to wait.

A Tropic Depression

Lush green damp days.
Skies drown in heavy gray.

Mornings limp with moisture;
Middays laze lassitude;
Evenings clasp the sweaty sighs
of a broken heart.

Cicadas buzz sorrow;
Frogs croak woe;
Trapped beneath oppressive heat
My tune fades into mist.

Days beg for rain,
Nights pray for wind,
I look only for release
Caught in a swirling sea of grief.

Sitting With It

This is NOT easy. This is NOT fun. This is NOT what I want to be doing when I'm unhappy. This is what it takes to get happy.

I'm not saying this because I've completely grasped this concept and swear by it. I'm saying it because when I convince my ego to shut up long enough to do it, it works. Yes, it IS painful. Yes, I usually DO cry. Yes, my ego reminds me every other second I could get up and do something else, something less painful, something more painful -- it doesn't care what, it just wants to be in control. Sometimes I manage to (literally!) sit it out.

I've just come out of a lonely weekend. It wasn't lonely in the sense that I didn't see anyone all weekend, but in the sense that right now I'm trying to learn I don't need someone to dump all my troubles on even though that's exactly what I think I need. I'm really trying to sit with them and see what happens. What I've decided so far is that I really don't like it. ;)

But that's what I'm doing. Right this very moment, before and after I write this, I'll be sitting with my troubles. It won't be forever, just for now. Tonight I have my support group, and then I'll have a chance to share. I'm meeting a friend for dinner, so I'll have companionship. I'm going to explore EMDR with a counselor, so I'll have therapy. Everything I need is right on my path today, so just because I'm a bit down, or alone, or sad, or hurt, right now it's ok to just be with those feelings. Or better yet, open a Dove chocolate and be with that. And sitting with a chocolate isn't so bad after all!

Getting Through the Lonely Days

Ok, I'm not sure I have any real answer to this one...it's tough, no doubt about it. Especially living in a small town with no family nearby and only a handful of friends. Since I work at home, both with the B&B and my freelance, I also spend a LOT of time alone. Some days, I'm really good with this. I actually like being alone, for the most part, but there is such a thing as 'too much aloneness.'

Sundays are the hardest. I normally can't get to church because by the time my guests leave, I'm exhausted. Sometimes I go to a contemporary service in the evening, but sometimes after the weekend, I just need some down time. See, I work 7 days a week, not just the normal 5. Sunday was the day I liked just lounging around the house with my hubby, or if we were in the mood, we'd take a drive somewhere. Now, I mostly lounge, but the conversation is pretty nil with only my cats for company.

Still, I'm working hard to get used to living a solitary life, and I re-found an author who's really helping me accomplish that goal. Her name is May Sarton and she was a poet, novelist, and journaler, who died in the late 90s. I had read many of her books a while back, especially the journals, but now I'm finding them particularly useful in adapting to my new life of solitude. It's not that solitude is a bad thing -- I have plenty to do -- housework, writing, work work, laundry, gardening, the list goes on and one. When I'm at a good place and I just do my work, I actually feel pretty 'content' at the end of the day. Today has been one of those days.

But I do wonder when I'll stop missing the companionship, sharing the things that happened with my husband, laughing, cooking, living together. I still miss all that desperately. He says he doesn't miss it; that his life alone is 'content.' I can't help but wonder how long that will last, or would even be relevant if his life were as solitary as mine? He's with people all day long, so spending evenings alone probably isn't much of a big deal. But at the end of my work day, I find it draining to always be 'going out.' I'm just not that much of an activity person, and while I do push myself not to spend too much time by myself, alone is where I'm at my best. Reading May Sarton's journals has helped me realize alone can also be a good life, if that's the life the Universe is bringing. For now, such seems to be my lot. Funny, even in her book, she says we must learn how not to be the 'driver' but to simply 'let go.' Different words, same message...might as well befriend my solitude yet be open to life bringing a companion back when the time is right. Till then....